Winter Jacket (8 page)

The world came rushing back into sharp focus.  Her grey-blue eyes inspected me. "I asked if you're all done for the day now?"

"Oh, right. Yeah, I am," I managed to get out. "I'm getting lunch after this.  If I don’t eat something soon, my stomach will sound like a disgruntled dinosaur."
 I found myself avoiding her eye contact more than usual. Also, it had become inexplicitly warm.  If I didn't get away soon, pretty soon
I
would be the one sweating.

She continued standing in the doorway.
She hadn't really ever fully come inside the office this whole time.  She just stayed there, hovering and twisting her folder into a tight coil. "I'm on my way to the cafeteria, too.  I could walk with you?"

“Oh, actually I’m meeting up with a friend for lunch off-campus.  It’s kind of our end-of-the-semester tradition.”
I cast my eyes back to my workbag and continued putting things inside it for something to do. By now I'd run out of papers and library books and had moved on to office supplies. 

“Oh, well, have a nice summer
, Professor Graft.  And thank you.  I really liked your class.”

When I looked back to the doorway to return the nicety, she was gone.
 I exhaled deeply, partly in relief, partly in disappointment.

+++++

Half an hour later I was at a quaint little restaurant a few blocks from campus. They were known for their sandwiches, homemade soups, and specialty sodas.  When I entered and let my eyes adjust to the dim lights, I spotted Nikole sitting by herself at a table near the front of the restaurant.  I waved at the hostess to let her know I didn’t need to be seated.

Nikole looked up from her laminated lunch menu when I sat down at the empty seat across from her. "You made it. I was starting to think I was getting stood up."

"Sorry." I pulled my sunglasses free of my hair and set them on the table by my water glass. "Hunter showed up at the very last minute and we talked a little bit."

Nikole's eyebrows rose on her unlined forehead. "Oh really?" She set her menu down. "And what did you talk about?"

"Nothing really. She picked up her paper." I grabbed an extra menu and scanned down the list of sandwiches. "She asked what I was doing the rest of the day."

"And you said?"

"Getting lunch." Maybe I would splurge and get the chicken salad and cranberry on whole wheat even though it probably had just as many calories as a fast food burger.

"Does Troian have as much trouble prying details from you or are you just being difficult for me?" Nikole huffed.

I set my menu back down on the table. "I honestly don't have much to tell you. I could hardly look at her without blushing."

My friend arched an eyebrow. "Was she showing off a lot of skin or something?"

I shook my head. I honestly couldn't recall much about her outfit. I remembered the bead of sweat that trickled down her clavicle. I remembered the deep v-cut of her t-shirt and the slight swell of her breasts beneath the top, but I couldn't even remember the color of her shirt. Pink? Green? Orange?  Had she been wearing shorts or jeans or a skirt?

"It wasn't a long conversation," I shrugged, not wanting to turn every interaction with
Hunter into a dramatic event. "I said I was going to lunch, and she offered to walk with me.  I told her I wasn't going to the cafeteria, and she left."

Nikole's eyes shut and she shook her head. “I can’t believe you.”

“What?” I asked, feeling mildly self-conscious.  “What did I do?”

"Oh, Bookworm
," she said with a disappointed sigh. "She asked you out, and you blew her off."

I nearly choked on my complimentary tap water. "She did not! I did not!"

“You’re just lucky Troian isn’t here for this.  She’d be so disappointed in you.  The Great Elle Graft is oblivious again to women’s advances.”

I felt a heat creep onto my cheeks. “You’re wrong.  She wasn’t asking me out.”

Nikole smirked, recognizing my embarrassment. "Let's think about this." She started to tick off on her fingers. "Imagine the two of you walk over to the cafeteria together. Once you’re there she asks if you'd like some lunch company so neither of you has to eat by yourself.  The two of you make casual conversation as you go down the lines with your blue plastic trays. You get to the cashier and you offer to pay for her meal because you're generous that way. She protests at first, but you insist. She reluctantly agrees, but only if you'll allow her to buy you a coffee after lunch."

"You're crazy. Why would she do that?"

"Because she obviously wants you to see her as an equal," Nikole said as if it were the most obvious explanation. "Anyway," she said, continuing, "after lunch she reminds you about her offer of coffee. You suggest going off-campus instead of getting coffee at that horrid cafe in the student center.  You tell her about this adorable little place where you often go to grade papers."

"Del Sol?" I supplied, letting myself become complicit in Nikole's
fantasy tale. If I’d thought only her girlfriend was the talented storyteller, I was mistaken.

She nodded and continued. "And you say your car is close by in the faculty lot an
d that you could drive.  But Hunter points out how nice the weather is and that she doesn't mind walking if you don't. And the sunshine bounces off her hair and you can't help but think about how lovely and carefree she looks."

I cleared my throat. "So we walk to Del Sol and then what?"

"And you talk. And you drink coffee. And you talk some more. And before you know it, it's late and Hunter needs to get home, but you're too nice to let her walk home by herself. So you walk the short distance back to her apartment together. And when you reach her apartment, you both realize what a perfectly lovely afternoon you've shared together. And she worries she's being too forward when she asks you if you want to meet again for coffee at Del Sol's next week."

"She does?"

Nikole nodded. "But she's not being too forward, and you do make plans to have coffee together again."

I whistled lowly. "You've got it all figured out."

A satisfied, smug grin settled on her lips. "And just think. All you would have had to do was postpone lunch with me and have gone to the cafeteria instead."

If Nikole had cautioned me earlier about putting too much emotional stock into daydreams and What-If scenarios, she’d just given me ammunition for the entire summer. 
When our waitress came by the table to take our drink orders I was thankful for the distraction.

+++++

CHAPTER FOUR

The doorbell rang just as I finished wiping down the kitchen countertops. I smoothed down the front of my dress, a little black cocktail dress I was wearing for the first time, paired with a long string of pearls and black pumps. I felt more at home in a pencil skirt and blouse, my typical teaching outfit, but tonight was a special occasion.
 
At the close of every Spring semester, I opened my home to graduating seniors and my faculty colleagues in the English Department. Because I taught at such a small school, I typically had the same students in my upper-level classes for English majors, and we got to know each other fairly well.  It was nice to be able to host the event, and it was the faculty's final opportunity to send off the graduates before the actual ceremony later that week. Plus, it gave us faculty a moment to unwind before our summertime responsibilities kicked in.

When I opened the front door, a platter of cold cuts was thrust under my nose.  “Sorry I’m late.” 

I took the serving tray, and Tricia, the Departmental Secretary, hustled into my house.  She was one of those people who look perpetually harried.  Her hair was always a little disheveled, her cheeks flushed.  If I didn’t know any better, I would have guessed she was rushing from one sexual adventure to the next.  Actually, maybe she was.  I didn’t know much about her even though she sent me about 10 emails a day.

“Where should I put all this?” she asked, looking expectedly unhinged.

I pointed to the kitchen island.  “Food can go in the kitchen.  I thought we could put the drinks on the buffet in the dining room so not everyone hovers in the kitchen like usual.”

“Good idea,” she remarked, nodding her head like a bobble-doll.  “Space the crowds out.”

Before I could give her any further instructions she hustled away, looking more frazzled than usual.

The first students started showing up soon after Tricia arrived with the food.  They said their brief hellos
to me before immediately descending on the food spread in the kitchen like sharks in open water.  It never failed to amaze me how one only needed to post “Free Food!” and students came running.  I knew there would be no leftovers by the end of the night.  Even the chip dip bowl would be licked clean.  It wasn’t long before the front of my house was filled with bodies, a collection of students along with my fellow faculty members. 

From time to time I’d catch a glimpse of a familiar shade of blonde near the vegetable tray or by the window overlooking my backyard or by the television, and each time my breath caught in my throat. This girl was seriously haunting me, not only in my dreams, but in the flesh as well. But there was no reason why Hunter would be at this event.  She wasn’t a graduating senior, and she wasn’t an English major.  It was
simply wishful thinking on my part – wishful thinking that seeing her in my office a few days ago wouldn’t actually be the last time I ever saw her.

I made my way over to the dining room table where Tricia had arranged an assortment of wine bottles and soda.  I gave a knowing smile to some students hovering around the drinks.  I recognized them as seniors, all of legal drinking age, but it was clear they were unsure if they were allowed to drink in front of their professors.  I filled my own glass with a merlot and left them, still warily eyeballing the alcohol.

More people had arrived when I made it back to the front of the house and the living room.  Most of the English Department had shown up. I smiled and made eye contact with them all as I continued making the rounds.  I really didn’t care for small talk, but if I kept circling, if I kept moving from one room to the next, I wouldn’t be stuck talking to any one person for too long. 

I had to laugh to myself when I spotted my colleague Thad in the kitchen by the sink, surrounded by a horde of female undergraduates and one male student whom I suspected was gay.  Thad looked like a natural, holding court among the students – their star-struck admiration was apparent in their faces.  I must have been staring for too long though, because Thad looked up from his entourage and caught my eye.  His eyes crinkled at the corners and he raised his glass to me in mock salute.  Despite my misgivings about him – I must have been feeling collegial – I raised my glass in return.  I immediately regretted it though when his grin widened and it looked like he was excusing himself to come over in my direction.

I spun away and cursed under my breath.  I didn’t want to encourage Thad.  He was annoying and aggressive enough without me smiling at him.  I went back to the dining room, hoping to discover we needed more ice or clean glasses or that someone had spilled red wine on my white rug so I’d have something to do other than chat with my clueless coworker.

On my way to the dining room,
a woman sidled up next to me and bumped her hip against mine. She leaned in conspiratorially. "Nice party, Dr. Graft."

"Emily.
" I grinned, recognizing my teaching mentor with the infectious personality. "I'm so glad you were able to make it."  She'd been on sabbatical for the semester and I hadn't seen much of her besides a few isolated times on the department floor.

"You look great, Elle." She gave me a quick hug with the arm not attached to her wine glass. "And your dress is so cute," she approved.

I looked down at my little black dress. "Thanks," I said, self-consciously running my palms down the front of the skirt. "I thought I'd try something different tonight from my typical school attire."

Emily twisted her wine glass by
its stem. "Well from the way Thad keeps looking over here, I have a feeling he wouldn't mind seeing you without
any
attire."

"Emily!" I said, genuinely shocked.
I wondered how much wine she'd had that night. She was a sharp-witted, sharp-tongued woman, but I'd never heard her talk like that before.

"I'm sorry," she chuckled. "I should feel badly for that guy. He strikes out with you more than the baseball team." Our unive
rsity team was pretty horrible, and so was Thad when it came to flirting with me.