by Hailey Smoke
“Hmmm. So all my talk about choosing happiness has fallen on deaf ears?”
“No, they haven’t. It’s just not as cut and dried a decision as you make it seem. Not everyone has your mettle.”
I nodded. “That’s true. But remember what I said about living in regret.”
“I will as long as you remember that you now have our own horrible Hudson to deal with in the morning. Now you will see some of what the rest of the family has faced over the years.”
“Please, don’t remind me.” I rolled my eyes dramatically, and she laughed
Shortly afterward, I walked her out to her car. She hugged me tightly before getting in, and I closed the door. I stooped down to her level as she turned the key in the ignition.
“Drive safely.”
“I will. And thanks for the chat. I have a lot to ponder.”
“Just remember happiness first.”
She nodded, and I stepped back. When her taillights turned onto the street, I walked back into the house and headed up to my room.
My things had not yet been unpacked completely, but would be by the end of the week. I stripped and took a long hot shower, washing away the cares of the day. I found showers cleansing. I was able to strip away the day that had passed and look toward the day to come. So much had changed in twenty-four hours. Last night I had recalled a collision with a stunning red-head. Tonight I was washing away the irritation that she had turned out to be one of the horrible Hudsons. Now I had to figure out how I was going to work with her for the next three months without blowing my cool. I was sure she was well aware of the family feud. What other reason could there be for her coldness as soon as she heard my name?
As I toweled myself dry, I remembered the plans she had sent. I had to admit that I was duly impressed with her work. She was thorough and meticulous, two qualities that worked well for me. Had she not been a Hudson, it would have been an exciting three months. But as it stood now, I would have to grin and bear her presence and hope that we both survived the ordeal.
I slipped on a fresh pair of underwear and booted up my laptop to check my email. Almost immediately, I saw a message from Juliet.
Please find the adjusted plans attached.
Juliet A. Hudson
I downloaded and opened the attachment. I skimmed the document. My heart raced at the perfection of it. If the truth were to be told, the only adjustment her plan had needed was to incorporate the blended genre approach. It would have been a simple cut and paste job from one part of the document to the other. And that was precisely what she had done. The timestamp showed that it had been sent just a few minutes before. I started typing a response then had an inspiration. I reached, instead, for my cell phone. I quickly found her name and typed a text.
Plans received. Kindly format for printing and binding a copy for my records and reference for further perusal. Ensure that the print date is in the name of the document. Regards. Arleigh.
I pressed ‘send’ and tossed the phone aside. She would need to have my number sooner or later anyway, so there was no time like the present. I was halfway through reading another email when the phone vibrated. I checked and saw that Juliet had responded. I swallowed the little skip my heart made when I opened the message.
Noted.
I was mildly disappointed at the single word but then thought better of it. It could have been worse. She could have chosen not to respond at all. I closed the message and resumed checking my emails. It was not until I was in bed and falling asleep that I pondered the thought of why I had been disappointed that her response had not been one that invited further conversation.
5
Juliet
After dinner, I had hurried to my room. I was determined to work all night to fix the plans and email them to him before my head hit the pillow. I showered quickly before sitting at my desk in my bathrobe. I turned on my notebook and opened my email. I downloaded the document Arleigh had returned, mustering up the courage to see his scathing critique. I skimmed the paper anxiously. When I got to the end, I scanned it again, just to ensure that I was not missing anything. The few remarks in the columns were not in any way distasteful. He had very little to say about my content. It was more the placement of the material to reflect the blended genre approach. I almost laughed out loud, scoring myself a mental point in a game I now created: Beating Arleigh. I could only imagine how it must have galled him to find such an impeccably presented document from an undergrad student.
I made a few cuts and pastes from one section of the document to another, then scanned it to ensure that everything was intact. Without thinking twice, I opened an email new message box and attached it with a brief message. I clicked ‘send’ and shut down the notebook. I moved around my room doing my nightly routine of hair and skin and had just out on a sleep shirt when I heard my cell phone chime. I opened the message from the unknown number and felt my heart race a little bit as I read the name at the end. I typed a quick response then saved the number with his name. I would have needed it sooner or later, anyway.
As I continued to wind down, I looked at the phone, half expecting another message to come in. It was no until I found myself staring at the phone that I wondered at the sense of disappointment I felt at the silence of the phone. I sighed and rolled over and closed my eyes.
The remainder of the week went by without incident.
The next morning, I placed the printed and bound document squarely in the center of the desk at approximately eight-thirty. I had hightailed it to campus and had been the first in the print shop when it opened at eight o’clock. I was at my desk working on my research paper when he entered at eight forty-five. I could barely conceal my smirk when he saw me, and his eyebrows shot up. I dutifully kept my head focused on my work when he did a double-take at the document on his desk.
“Good morning, Miss Hudson.”
“Good morning, Professor Arleigh.”
He hefted the bound plans. “I see you had a sleepless night getting this ready for presentation to me this morning.”
“Far from sleepless, sir.” I kept my head bent to my work. From my peripheral vision, I knew he was scrutinizing me. Still, I kept my head down.
The rest of the morning had been silent as we both tapped away at our respective devices. If this were what it as going to be like, working in silence, I would survive the next three months for sure. The day drew to a close, and it was with a sigh of relief that I headed home at four. Thursday was almost the same. The only exception was when he spent an hour on Thursday morning discussing the blended genre approach and how it was expected to work. I asked the pertinent questions at the relevant times and received the appropriate responses. I made my notes as I went along. Then it was back to silence.
On Friday, we examined the room which had been assigned for my classes and discussed where he would sit as my supervisor. We went back to our office to work silently. I breathed a sigh of relief when the weekend arrived. It had not been as horrible as I thought it would have been. We had barely spoken and barely interacted. I could work like this.
Monday was a different ballgame. As soon as I walked into the office at eight-thirty, I felt a crackle in the air. Arleigh was already at his desk.
“Are you aware that your first class is at nine this morning?”
I looked up at the heat in his tone. I made a point of checking my watch. It showed eight thirty-two.
“According to my watch, I am twenty-eight minutes early, sir.”
“So, do you intend to walk in at nine, along with the students?”
“I intend to be on time for my class, sir.”
“I would suggest that you ensure you are in place by five to nine to do your preliminary greetings an introduction. At exactly nine, I expect to hear the first content related sentence leaving your lips.”
I bit back the hot response that rose to my tongue and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
I bringled under the heat of my anger as I sat at my desk. I finished
the smoothie I had blended for breakfast that morning and gathered my notes. At approximately eight forty-five, I grabbed my cosmetics and headed to the ladies’ room. I was back in two minutes with my lips freshly glossed, and my hair confined in a somewhat wavy bun. I picked up my bag and a bundle of papers and left the office. When I was halfway down the corridor, I became aware of footsteps behind me and turned to find Arleigh a few steps behind me. He had slipped into a jacket and cut quite a dashing figure. I screwed up my face and continued my journey. If he was not who he was, I could easily have described him as handsome. But right now, he looked like lucifer hot on my trail. I maintained my pace, forcing myself not to walk faster to indicate that anything was unusual.
We both arrived at the class at the same time, and I entered the room ahead of him. It was only eight fifty. A few students were milling around and took a seat as soon as they saw us. The room filled up quickly. At five minutes to the hour, I spoke.
“May I have your attention, please?” The class quieted immediately, and I felt a surge of adrenaline. I did not realize that standing in front of a class carried as much weight as it did.
“This is Professor Henry Arleigh, your instructor. However, I will be his assistant and relieve him of some of the duties. I am Juliet Hudson, a final year student in the field of Education with a specialization in English Literature. I will be teaching you for the next three months. You will, however, have Professor Arleigh for your tutorial sessions. Without ado, allow me to take the register and begin.”
For the next three hours, I talked and talked and talked. I could hardly believe it when I looked up and saw that it was five minutes before noon. At precisely twelve, I ended the class, and the students filed out. I spent a few moments packing up and talking to one or two students who had remained behind. When I was done, I looked up to see that Arleigh had left the room. I felt as if an invisible load lifted from my shoulders, and I was able to breathe. I had taken my bag with me and did not need to return to the office. I went, instead, to one of the many restaurants on campus and then went to my research tutorial afterward. I thought nothing of my actions until the following morning.
“Where the hell were you yesterday?”
I looked up at the anger in his tone. A nerve ticked in his jaw, and his brows were knitted in a scowl.
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“Yesterday, after class, where were you?”
I frowned at how he bit out the words.
“I went to lunch, went to my tutorial, then went home.”
“Without checking in with me first?”
My anger flared. “Excuse me? The last time I checked, I was a grown adult. I am not answerable to anyone regarding my movements, least of all you.”
“Contrary to your beliefs, Miss Hudson, you are very much answerable to me. You conducted a class and did not return to speak with your supervisor regarding your evaluation after said class. Note that I will be making a note on your evaluation on this matter.”
My heart felt as if it was being held in a vice-grip. Shit! He was right. But the need for immediate feedback had been the furthest thing from my mind yesterday. How could I have made such an error? Quickly I busied myself with taking a seat. I felt his eyes boring into me.
“Well?”
I looked up at him. “Well?”
“Don’t you have something to say? An apology, perhaps?”
“And what would I be apologizing for exactly?” I looked at him, allowing him to see my anger. I knew my eyes were flashing and that my face was probably red.
He regarded me coldly. “I’m sure an intelligent young woman such as yourself can figure out where your error was made and make amendments accordingly.”
I had a sudden inspiration as I spotted a loophole in our deliberation. “Well, I’m sure as a supervisor, it is within your purview to make contact with your understudy and ensure that there is a clear understanding between you both regarding when debriefing is to be done after any teaching session. It must also be noted that as per your schedule, you would have been fully occupied with tutorials in the after lunch session. Pray tell, when would we have had time to meet yesterday? Certainly not during my one hour entitled lunch break. And certainly not after four.” I tilted my head to the side and fixed him with an exaggerated look of innocence. I batted my eyes for emphasis and saw his lips tighten.
He cleared his throat. “Well, as per both our schedules, we are both currently free. Kindly take a seat at my desk and take your notebook with you.
The next hour was spent in an agonizing debriefing as he highlighted every area in which he thought I had erred. He spoke about the pitch of my voice, the projection level, even how I wrote on the board. Inside I was seething but somewhat smug. I had caught him when I pointed out that yesterday would have been impossible for the debriefing. His nitpicking was a small price to pay. The week went downhill from there.
Professionally it was fine. I had my second and last session on Tuesday afternoon and did the debriefing Wednesday morning before going to a tutorial for my course. We spent the remainder of the week working on the curriculum document. From a professional perspective, we worked well together. He knew his material, and I was in awe. He was the kind of professor I wanted to emulate.
But when I walked in one morning and saw that my desk had been moved from a perpendicular position to one where I would have no choice but to see him each time I looked up, I was livid. I was halfway through moving it back when he arrived.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Putting my desk in its correct position.”
“Who says that where it was before was the correct position?”
“I say it was correct.”
“Do you even want to know why I moved the desk?”
I rolled my eyes and reminded myself it was still the first week and that I needed to be polite. I found the sweetest voice I could.
“Good morning, Professor Arleigh. Could you kindly tell me why you moved my desk?”
“It was blocking a cabinet I needed to access.”
I had the grace to look ashamed. He was right. I scored him a point.
But then as the week rolled on, there were other little things: where should the dustbin go? How open or closed should the shades be? Who does what when they are the first to get in or the last to leave? How should the books on the shelves be organized? And inevitably, we were never on the same page. By the time I returned from lunch on Friday, my sanity was hanging by a thread. I was almost sorry that when we had examined our schedule, we had set Friday evenings aside for our weekly debriefing on the project. There was nothing I would have preferred to do than get the hell out of the office and being in the same space as the insufferable Henry Arleigh. I sighed as I sat at my desk and placed my bag in the bottom drawer. I took out a note pad and pen, preparing to write. For the next hour, we discussed the pros and cons of the revised curriculum and the phased implementation to take place across the department. I was pleased to see that it was not yet three, and we were finished. I intended to spend some time in the library on my research.
“Will that be all, sir?”
He nodded briefly. I quickly packed my bag and was about to stand when he spoke.
“Could you give me a few minutes more, please?”
I stifled a sigh. I was so close to escaping. I sat with my bag on my lap, waiting. I watched as he got up and came to stand in the space that separated my desk from his. He leaned on his desk and stretched out his long legs to touch the front of my desk. I looked up, still waiting. I watched as his chest rose and fell on a sigh.
“I just wanted to say that although we had a rough week as it pertains to settling into being near each other, and with our preferences and quirks, that on a professional level your work is admirable. You pay attention to detail, and you are very good at what I have seen you do so far.”
My mouth fell open. “Th-Thank you, sir.”
He nodded. “On another note
, and quite possibly the reason for most if not all of the tension we experienced this week, is the issue of our families. I know who you are, and I know you know who I am.”
“Are you sure you want to assume that I know you know who I am?”
He quirked an eyebrow and smirked. I couldn’t help the tiny smile that crept out. He spread his hands.
“See? We can smile after all. But I know that you’re a Hudson, and you know that I’m a Arleigh.’
I gave a mock shocked face. “You don’t say? No wonder we’ve been at each other’s throats. And here I thought that you didn’t like me for no reason.”
He shrugged. “Be that as it may, given our family history, I think we both came into this arrangement with a fair amount of resentment and pre-conceived notions of the other person. But as I said, your work ethic speaks for you.”
I nodded. “So does yours. All things aside, sir, I see where I could learn so much from you in the next three months.”
He gave a boyish grin, and my heart did that little somersault it had done when we had first bumped into each other.
“There is a lot I would love for you to learn. You have a lot of potential. You are one of the best I have seen in a long time, and it would be interesting to see how far you go.”
“I intend to go all the way, sir.”
“All the way sounds like a plan. Call me, Prof.” He stood and went back to his chair.
I nodded and stood. “May I go now?”
“Sure. Have a good weekend.”
I smiled and walked to the door. I opened it and looked back. “Same to you, Prof.” The last thing I saw was a glimmer of a smile in return.
I found a campus restaurant and got a sandwich and a bottle of water. I ate quickly, then headed to the library. Though the research assignment was due when the semester ended the fourth week of April, I wanted to have it complete in five weeks, which would take me to the middle of March. I was already far ahead of the class and had received permission to move on to other areas. I was looking forward to getting a fair amount of work done this evening.
