by Hailey Smoke
It was nearly seven before I lifted my head. I stood and stretched, stifling a yawn as I did. As I gave my brain some breathing space, it wandered and found itself back in the conversation I had left before coming to the library. I brushed the thoughts aside but kept coming back to bits and pieces of it, especially where he had commended my work.
I sat once more and, on a whim, opened a google page. I typed in the name Henry Arleigh. Almost immediately, a professional link popped up, and I clicked it. As I scanned the information, my mouth fell open. Article after article lauded his work in the field of Literature. There were earlier articles that spoke of his academic prowess and showed his transcript of perfect A’s and his perfect GPA. He had traveled all over the country and the world in his brief ten-year career and had attained some of the highest recognition worldwide. Henry Arleigh was nothing short of a genius. He was precisely the sort of example I wanted to follow. If only he were not a Arleigh.
I sighed and closed the page, turning my attention back to my original reason for being in the library. I put in about an hour more before calling it a night. When I finally left the library, it was a little after eight and dark outside.
6
Henry
I watched as Juliet left the office, and I released the breath I had not even known I was holding. I leaned back in my seat, staring at her empty desk. It had been an exciting week with her. But even amidst the tension and petty arguments, she was an academic force with which to be reckoned. And I was just the one up to the challenge of reckoning with her.
I genuinely admired her work after only one week. I should have known I was dealing with no ordinary girl after looking at her plans the week before. But if the truth was to be told, I had been quite petty simply because of her name. There had been little things that I had not needed to be up in arms over, and I had been a beast.
When I had sat waiting for her to return from class on Monday, I had played the conversation over and over. As the hour had ticked down from twelve to one and I saw no sign of her, I had become irritated. As soon as she had come in on Tuesday, I had gone in blazing, and the week had gone downhill from there. I had to confess, though, that her work and input in the project were up to my usual standard. It was just on the principle of who her family was that irritated me. It was not until Thursday, however, that I took another look at the real source of my irritation.
Her practicum classes were on Monday mornings and Tuesday afternoons. The rest of the week was shared between her tutorials and working with me on the project. On Thursday morning, just before I went to my second tutorial, I left her with another task list. The list was long and cumbersome, and I knew she would be kept occupied until I returned. It was not until the one-hour tutorial had ended, and I found my steps quickening as I approached the office that a realization dawned on me: I was hoping that she was still in the office. I had discovered on Wednesday that once she did not have a class or a task working on for the project, she opted to not be in the office. But I realized that I wanted to see her there. I pulled up short. Why did I want to see her in the office? How would I feel if I opened the door and she was not there? A wave of disappointment had flooded my consciousness, as, with a pounding heart, I came to grips that I was attracted to Juliet. Immediately warning bells went off as the pros and cons rushed at me.
I had stood looking blindly at the staff notice board while I processed what was happening to me. She was a brilliant woman, one who was on an even academic footing. She was meticulous. Her brain was quick on the draw. She reminded me of how I had been as an undergraduate more than ten years ago. She was a naturally beautiful woman and not given to being overly made up. I had seen the admiring glances from males in the two freshman classes she taught. She moved with a natural grace and confidence that I liked in a woman. So what was the real problem? She was s student, and she was a Hudson. But were these negatives strong enough to override the positives? I would see in the next eleven weeks. I had continued my journey to the office and was relieved to see Juliet still at her desk. A few minutes later, we both left for lunch, and I had been tempted to ask her to come back and have lunch in the office with me. As it was, I waited until she returned at one o’clock. I continued to steal surreptitious glances until she packed up and left at four. It had been a stroke of genius on Tuesday evening to move her desk so that she would have no choice but to face me each day. At first, it had been with the sole intention of provoking her, but now it worked in my favor.
Now, as I sat processing the week which had passed, I wondered how I was going to make it through the next eleven weeks with these conflicting emotions. I took up my recorder and pressed ‘record’.
” Tape #3. Excelsior College. Semester 2. Week 1. Refer to previous recordings where necessary. This week was the first official week of classes. I have two freshman groups, one sophomore, am one senior. I carry the full load for the sophomore and senior groups as I conduct both lectures and tutorials in ‘Seventeenth Century World Literature’ and ‘Contemporary Literature’. The curricula for these courses remain the same. With the freshman groups, however, the blended curriculum is what is being used for the ‘Foundation of Literature’ as well as ‘Literary Criticism’. I have these groups for tutorial sessions only. My Teacher’s Assistant, Miss Juliet Hudson, who is also doing her teaching practicum, takes charge of the lecture sessions for both groups. Group 1A is taught ‘Foundation of Literature’ from nine to twelve on Mondays. Group 1D is taught ‘Literary Criticism’ from one to four on Tuesdays. The blended curriculum has so far been received well as the students have not yet expressed any undue difficulty with understanding the content. This may be due in part to Miss Hudson’s manner of engaging the students.
On the point of Miss Juliet Hudson. She is a senior in the faculty of Education and has been given the rare opportunity of doing her three-month practicum at the college rather than the high school, as is the norm. After working with Miss Hudson for the past week, I can see why she has been given this dubious and rare honor. She is an exceptional student and delivers her lessons with a little more finesse than the average teacher in training. If one does not know, she could be mistaken for a lecturer. Her plans are impeccable, and her engagement effective. She articulates well. Not only is she an exceptional teacher, but she is also the perfect assistant for the project. She is detail-oriented and organized. I have deliberately tested her mettle with tasks that are not yet required. Suffice it to say that those tasks are completed. I could not have asked for a better person by my side than Miss Juliet Hudson.”
I clicked the little device to end the recording. I played it back to ensure that I had captured the pertinent data. As I heard what I had to say about Juliet, I pondered the glowing words I had used. I thought about her professionalism and carriage as she came to the office each day. Her outfits of the previous week had been the trademark college attire of jeans and top. But on Monday and Tuesday, she had appeared in dress pants that showed off her long, lean legs to perfection. She also wore loafers, which were more comfortable for her being on her feet for three hours. Each time before going to class, she had pulled her riot of red curls into a bun. She had also switched her backpack for a briefcase. She looked and acted the part. The rest of the week, she had become a student once more and resorted to her jeans and t-shirt. One morning I had arrived and caught her in the middle of slipping on her shoes and had seen her pretty toes painted in outrageous neon colors. So it seemed as if the shy Juliet had a little wild side after all.
I tried to think of all I knew about the Hudson’s. The most I could remember as I grew up was that there was a boy who was around Pamela’s age. Then I had heard that there had been another child. These were all snippets of conversation overheard by children who were supposed to be seen and not heard. I must have been around ten when I had heard that ‘those horrible Hudsons had added to their clan with a frightfully ugly baby girl’. Looking back, if it were Juliet to whom my mother was referring at the time,
I would beg to differ.
Juliet was physically perfect in every way, from the crown of her redhead to the tip of her neon toes. Her eyes were bright and intelligent, and she had the cutest of dimples whenever I caught her smiling. I could only hope that during the coming weeks, some of those dimpled smiles would come in my direction. I sighed and gave up the battle and denial I had been in for the past couple of days. Regardless of her family and student status, Juliet intrigued me. I wanted to know more about her. And where better to find information than in the college records.
I went to the records bank of the school and typed in her name. Immediately, I was able to see her records from her freshman year to the present. I gave a long, low whistle. Every grade was an A. Her GPA was a perfect 4.0. I dug further into her records and realized that she was not all work: she played just as hard as she worked. Not only was she involved in several clubs and societies, but she had held leadership roles in most during her time in college. I went back to the beginning of her profile and made a note of her high school. I opened another tab and was soon on the high school website. A plug of her name yielded a plethora of information that left me speechless. She was an all-rounder. She had again maintained a straight-A average throughout high school and a perfect GPS, all while balancing her extra-curricular activities. I saw where she played basketball and wondered what it would be like to go head to head with her on the court. Outside of school, she had been involved in several charitable endeavors in the community. With everything I read, I became more and more intrigued by this phenomenal woman. She was, in short, a younger and feminine version of myself. My admiration knew no bounds.
It was becoming more and more difficult to accept that she was the enemy: a Hudson. I thought a little more about the details of what had caused the rift between the families in the first place. I wondered where it had started in reality, who was genuinely responsible, and whether or not it had been taken out of proportion. A daring thought hit me. Maybe Juliet and I working together amicably and without any adverse incident would prove to the families that peace between us could be brokered.
I sighed as I continued to browse. When I felt as if I had exhausted all that there was to know Juliet Hudson, I closed all the tabs and went back to my task. When I was finally done, it was close to eight. I drew the shades against the darkness outside and packed up my bag. Within a few minutes, I was on my way to the parking lot. I thought about any number of meal options between her and home, and my stomach rumbled in response. As I got to the parking lot, I saw a vehicle at the other end with the bonnet up. I thought nothing of walking over to tender some assistance where possible. In the dimness of the night, it was hard to see who was bent over the engine. Retroactively, I recognized the potential dangers of this being a staged car trouble only to be robbed. I was about to turn and head to my vehicle when the figure straightened and moved from under the bonnet. I recognized the red bun immediately.
“Miss Hudson?”
7
Juliet
I could not believe I had spent such a long time on campus. It was fortunate that it was Friday night, and I could look forward to sleeping in on Saturday.
I hurried to the car park, conscious of how lonely it was. On a Friday, no one hung around campus for very long, and so the parking lot was nearly empty. I jumped into my vehicle, already planning what I would get to eat along the way. I turned the key, preparing to put the car into gear. I was met with a grating, choking sound, then silence. I tried again with the same result. I looked around the deserted parking lot—what a time to have car trouble!
I opened the hood and went outside to prop the bonnet up, taking my cell phone and turning on the flashlight as I did. I knew what the problem was: the battery. I was due to get it serviced and had been putting it off all week. I sighed as I looked at the battery as if staring would change the current situation.
I quickly realized that I needed a game plan. First of all, I was going to fiddle with the battery, and I needed someone to be testing the ignition as I did. As if on cue, I heard footsteps coming across the parking lot. Thank goodness!
I straightened and turned, expecting to find a security guard. Instead, I was facing Professor Arleigh.
“Miss Hudson?”
“Good evening, Prof.”
“With the haste that you were in to get out of the office after our debriefing, I thought you left hours ago.”
“I had work to do for my research. I’m just leaving the library.” I stepped aside as he came closer to the open bonnet.
He placed his briefcase on top of the car and rolled up his sleeves. “What seems to be the problem?”
“It’s the battery. I’ve meant to get it serviced this week and just haven’t gotten around to it. I was hoping it would last until I did.”
“Well, let’s check to ensure that it isn’t just a loose terminal. Let me jiggle it a bit, and you try starting it.”
I slid into the driver’s seat, waiting for his cue to turn the key.
“Go!”
I turned the key, hopefully. This time there was not even a choking sound: just a click. The battery was completely dead.
He stood and came to the car door. “Wait right here.”
I looked up and smirked. “I don’t think there’s anywhere else for me to wait right now.”
He grinned. “Well, you could be waiting over there by the light post, or down there by the guardhouse, but right here by your car is where I would like you to wait, okay?”
I giggled. “Okay.”
I watched as he strode across the parking lot to a truck parked in the corner. His back view told me precisely what I would have seen had I given in to the temptation to watch him walk away the day we met. He had a long stride, and his lean body swayed with a natural athletic gait. With his height, I wondered if he had played basketball at any time. It would be fun to have a run around the court with him.
He brought the truck over and stopped in front of my open bonnet. He popped his hood and came to stand between the two vehicles with jumper cables. He quickly connected his battery to mine and went back into the cab of the truck. He revved the engine slightly and held a steady rev for a few minutes.
“Try it now!” He yelled over the sound of the engine.
I turned the key, and there was not even a click. The battery had given up the ghost completely. I pushed my hand out the window and waved it back and forth. He turned off his engine and came out to disconnect the cables.
“This battery needs a funeral. There’s no moving on your own tonight, that’s for sure. Do you have a tow company that you could use to get it to your mechanic?”
“There are any number of tow companies. But at this time, I’m not sure if any are open.”
“Nothing beats a trial but a failure. Give it a try.”
I nodded and pulled up an online directory of tow truck company’s in the area. I did not get an answer until the third call. They were fifteen minutes away and would keep the car overnight and deliver it to my mechanic the next day. While we waited, Arleigh moved his truck to the side of my car then closed my bonnet.
“I can give you a ride home. Put your tings in my truck.”
I did as he suggested then came back to lean against my car while he leaned against his truck. I started the conversation. While the whole battery issue had been unfolding, I had thought how wonderful it would be to just communicate with him naturally, despite our family history.
“I thought you had left hours ago, Prof.”
“I had some preparations to make for next week. I never did ask you for your feedback of the week. I guess now is as good a time as any to ask since we’re both not going anywhere. What do you think of the project?”
“It’s interesting. I’ve never looked at a Literature curriculum from that angle before. But I think it bears real merit for success.”
He shrugged. “Considering Excelsior is the third college I’ve been to in the rollout process, I would say it has
proven its success. How did you feel about your first two classes?”
“It was an exhilarating feeling to stand in front of the room. Now I know what you lecturers see when you look down at us mere mortals.”
He threw his head back and laughed, and I could not help but smile. “It’s a powerful feeling, isn’t it.”
“It certainly is. It’s a feeling I would love to continue having.”
“Well, as I said, you are an excellent teacher. Keep doing what you did this week, and it’s a feeling you will be having for the rest of your life.”
I nodded. I opened my mouth to add to what I had said about the power of a teacher, but I’m sure my net words shocked him as much as they did me.
“What do you think about this whole family fuss? Why can’t we all just work together?”
He stared at me as if four eyeballs had sprouted on my face. “I think this whole fuss is just that a fuss. I didn’t realize until I met you that I have not had any experience, whether negative or positive, with a Hudson. My sister and your brother have not been that lucky. But on family principle, I was told to hate you.”
I nodded. “So was I.”
Just then, the truck came into the parking lot, and we waved it over. Soon we were the only ones left in that section of the parking lot. Silently he helped me into the cab before climbing into the driver’s seat. He started the vehicle the turned to me.
“I was on my way to grab something from Andy’s. I’m sure you’re just as hungry as I am. Would you care to join me? Or I could take you straight home if you’d like?”
I did not have to think twice about the offer. “I am starving. I would love to join you, Prof.”
He smiled. “After what we’ve just been through, I think you can call me Henry. I’ve already decided that I’m calling you Juliet.”
