The Marriage Contract (26 page)

              “Every room you step in, becomes a mess,” I began. “You either drop something on the ground and refuse to pick it up, or you sit on the bed too hard, and distort the sheets. Basically, you don’t give a crap about any room in the house, except this library. How come?”

              James walked towards me, dropping the book on my lap, and turning towards the door. The novel, I noticed, was ‘A Farewell to Arms’ by Ernest Hemmingway, and for a moment, I wondered why he chose that particular book to give to me. After all, the heroine dies a tragic death at the end, and though it wasn’t my favorite novel, it was one of the saddest I’d ever read.

I frowned as James began to exit without answering my question, but to my surprise, he stopped before the open door. The rush of sunlight poured over his back, as his navy t-shirt waved against the passing wind. White shorts rested by thick knees, as his long athletic legs stood before the door.

              “I cherish what I love,” he said.

              I stared at his back, my lips pursed in a rigid line.

              A few seconds of silence passed, as I cleared my throat, sitting up in my seat. The novel rested in my lap, as I stared at it, placing my palm over the cover.

              “What about the things you don’t love?” I spoke slowly, cautiously.

              “They don’t matter,” he replied.

              I hesitated. “Do I matter?”

              I cringed. I shouldn’t have asked that.

              My eyes closed, as I gripped the novel with both hands, awaiting his answer which I feared would sting like a bullet through the heart. I imagined James laughing inwardly at my question, possibly feeling awkward that I’d asked.

              I was always so direct with how I felt about him, yet he had yet to respond. Ever since the day I’d kissed him, he kept a kind of distance from me, and though he would tease me, I couldn’t decipher how he really felt.

The wait of his answer was beginning to frustrate me, as I sighed- my shoulders slumped against the chair.

Then, in a matter of seconds, he walked towards me. His hands cupped the sides of my cheeks, as I kept my eyes closed. The room had stiffened to a warm silence, as the soft tip of his nose brushed against mine, twice, as though giving me an Eskimo kiss.

A smile escaped my lips- my eyes fluttering open, as he crouched before me, staring warmly at me.

“You’ve got something,” he whispered.

“What?” I breathed.

He grinned. “There’s a piece of tuna stuck at the center of your teeth, and since your class starts in about an hour, I think you should get that fixed.”

I blinked slowly, my mind registering his joke, before scowling at him. I jumped to my feet, slapping him on the arm, as he laughed, feigning hurt.

“You’re never serious,” I snapped. “You’re so frustrating.”

He stuck out his tongue as though he were a child, walking past me with his head held high. My eyes burned holes through his retreating back, as he exited out of the room, leaving me in a terribly annoyed mood.

Since the incident with the video of me and Professor Bukowsky aired on YouTube, class had been a kind of silent rumor mill, to say the least.

I sat in my usual chair, my legs crossed, as my red maxi skirt trailed an inch above my ankles- silver sandals tapping lightly against the wooden floor. My hands fiddled with the ends of my cotton white blouse, feeling Edgar, Andre, and Helga’s eyes pinned on me. I lifted my gaze, staring back at them, as they quickly looked away.

A cotton candy scent filled the air, as a pair of stiletto heels stalked their way towards me. I didn’t have to turn to know who the perky energy belonged to, as Stacy sat in the seat beside me, scooting two inches towards me.

              “Hey, girly girl,” she sang, nudging my elbow. “You will not believe what happened to me over the weekend.”

              I glanced at her. “Did Alex finally ask you out? You were telling me about it last night, remember?—”

              She clapped her hands like a seal, her sunny blond locks wagging against her pony tail.

              “No, but someone else did,” she said. “I’m over Alex. I heard a rumor that he has a foot fetish, and foot fetishes totally aren’t my thing. Anyways, I met this guy at a bar a few minutes after we talked, and we kind of hooked up—“

              “Wait, you hooked up with a guy you just met?”

              She frowned. “Don’t be a prude, Dory! We’re college girls, so hookups happen. It’s no big deal.”

              I shrugged. “I’m not judging. I’m just surprised. Anyways, I’m happy if he makes you happy. Will you see him again?” 

              She stared at me- then laughed so loud that everyone turned to stare at us. I sighed, feeling a bit amused that she didn’t even notice their stares, and continued laughing as though I’d said the funniest thing.

              “Oh, Dory, you’re such a child,” she said, lowering her voice. “It was a one-time thing. You know…we had a great night, but I’d never want to meet him again. He has this weird snorting laugh.”

              I frowned. “You should be more careful, Stacy. I worry about you. I mean, what if that guy had ulterior motives. What if he hurt you—“

              “Chill out,” she smiled. “He’s rich.”

              “So?”

              She dipped her head, flashing her off white teeth- her pink lips, glossed under the light of the room.

              “A rich guy wouldn’t waste his time hurting a girl that isn’t worth his time,” Stacy whispered.

              Her sparkling blue eyes lingered on mine for a moment too long- staring at me in a way that sent a chill down my spine. I looked away, straightening against my seat, as Mr. Bukowsky made his way up the stairs, his bald head shining under the ceiling bulb. The tall open window at the end of the stage- blew out a brisk wind, swaying his multi colored Hawaiian shirt as he walked towards the center stage. The classroom went silent, as we all stared at him, watching as he sat at the seat at the head of the room, placing a worn out briefcase beside the chair.

              “I’m assuming you’ve all memorized your monologue for the final exam,” he began, a leg crossed over his knee.

              “Professor,” said Eloise, sitting at the other end of the circle. “There’s only a month left till the semester ends, and I think everyone would agree that we’re not at all prepared for the final. Can’t you just extend the test?”

              “She’s right,” said Emanuel, a thin haired, gangly looking guy sitting across from her at the other side of the room. “We need an extension.”

              Everyone, including me, nodded. I had two other classes including this one that I had to study for, and like my classmates, I wasn’t keeping up.

              “I have an idea,” Stacy chirped.

              We all turned our eyes to her, as she tucked a blond strand behind her ear. There was an excitement in her gaze, as she stared shyly at Mr. Bukowsky, as though ready to unveil a juicy secret.

              I called that look, her gossip face.

              “What is it Stacy?” Mr. Bukowsky asked.

              She cleared her throat dramatically.

              “Well, the thing is,” she began, looking around the room. “Why don’t we ask Dorothy when the final should be—“

              “What do you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her.

              “Oh, don’t get me wrong,” said Stacy. “I’m just saying that if you so kindly request Mr. Bukowsky here to extend the final, he would happily do so.”

              There were whispers around the room, as the students stared at me, then at the Professor. I breathed evenly, glaring at Stacy, who simply shrugged as though nothing was the matter. There was something infinitely weird about her, and not in the good sense of the word.

              “And why would I be happy to extend the exam upon Dorothy’s request?” Mr. Bukowsky asked.

              Every head turned back to Stacy, eagerly awaiting her response. She giggled for no apparent reason, continued to smile in a way that was starting to annoy me.

              “Well, isn’t obvious, isn’t it?” She grinned. “Everyone can tell that you’re attracted to her. Am I wrong?”

              The room went silent, as I gaped at the girl I thought was my friend. She ignored my stare, crossing her long legs, as her yellow skirt flowed by her knees. I felt every eye staring at me, waiting for my next move.

              A lump rested at the center of my chest, as I exhaled a deep breath, not believing what she’d said. As I gawked at her, I no longer saw my classmate, but a woman with two faces. Stacy turned her head towards me, raising a brow, as though challenging me to say a word against her.

              “I don’t feel the need to answer your question, Ms. Kendrick,” said Professor Bukowsky. “Now, if you’d like to continue spreading false rumors, you may do so after class. For now, let’s start practicing the monologues for the final, shall we?”

              Stacy’s smile fell, her cheeks flushing red. Everyone took out their monologue from their notebooks, reading it quietly amongst themselves. Some worked in pairs, while the rest, practiced alone.

              Stacy took out her sheet of paper as well, reading it silently to herself.

              I stared at her for a moment, withholding the urge to push her off the chair.

              I stood. “I have something to say.”

              All eyes turned on me, as I walked to the center of the circle- my back facing the Professor.

              “Now is not the right time, Mrs. Bellevue,” said Professor Bukowsky. “Perhaps, after class-”

              “No, I need to say this right now!” I insisted.

              A few seconds of silence passed, as the room went quiet- all ears ready to listen.

              “I have an idea of what everyone in this room thinks of me,” I began. “You all think that I’m some gold digger that hit it rich when I married an heir. I hear your whispers, and I’ve gotten used to it. I’ve been through a lot worse than petty rumors. Say whatever you want about me- think whatever you want about me…It doesn’t affect me in any way. I don’t have a job to keep, I don’t have a reputation to uphold, and I sure as hell don’t have kids to feed. But Professor Bukowsky does! I shouldn’t even have to explain myself, but I will. That video you all saw was of a teacher and his student discussing a novel, and eating lunch. That’s all! It’s not our fault that some psycho decided to record the event and make something out of nothing. Stop the rumors, stop the hostility, and let’s just end the semester peacefully. I don’t need you all to like me, but don’t accuse Mr. Bukowsky of creeping on a student, when he did nothing of the sort!”

              I had imagined they would roll their eyes, telling me to sit down and stop preaching. But instead, they spoke words of encouragement.

              “I’m glad you finally stood up,” said Regina, sitting at the corner seat.

              “I agree,” said Chad. “I would have changed schools, or at least dropped the class. You’re not the shady chick I thought you were.”

              “If I hear anyone talk smack again, I’ll tell them to stop,” said Augustus. “But, I’ll admit this has been the most interesting class I’ve taken all semester.”

              I smiled at them, happy to hear their kind words. Mr. Bukowsky, who had been silent for a long while, sighed.

              “If you’re done, let’s continue class, shall we?” Though he sounded bland, the warm look from his dark eyes told me how grateful he was.

              Class went by fast, as we all practiced our monologues out loud, giving ideas, and suggestions to make it better. After class ended, Stacy shot me an annoyed look, then stomped out of the room. I would have ignored her completely, had she not dropped her wallet on the ground.

              I had the urge to kick the wallet across the room, but of course, my conscience advised me otherwise. Bending down, I picked up the bubble gum pink wallet, holding it firmly in my hand. But as I stood, a small, thumb sized photograph fell from the edge of the wallet, onto the ground.

              As I went to pick that up, I noticed the people in the photograph looked a bit familiar. Scooping the picture up, I stood straight, ironing the wrinkled photo.

              Wait…no…it had to be a mistake. Stacy might mouth off from time to time, but she wouldn’t ever do anything with bad intentions.

              But as I stared at the picture of me and Mr. Bukowsky sitting in a table at the diner, smiling warmly at each other, I felt as though I’d called the wrong person, a friend. The picture in my hand- was the same one posted on the YouTube page of the person that had uploaded that video a month ago.

              But what was that picture doing in Stacy’s wallet?

              My mouth dried, as a feeling of betrayal seeped through my chest, resting like a heavy chip on my shoulder.

              The sound of heels lifted my gaze, as I watched Stacy run up the stairs to the stage, making her way towards me. Her ocean like eyes found the photograph gripped against my palm- her face hardening to a cold unfamiliar expression.