“She started as a stranger,” I admitted. “Ended up being my professor.”
“Your professor?” Her eyes widened.
I nodded. “But in between that she was something else. I met her at your wedding. Met her before I knew she was my professor.”
I couldn’t tell her what that something else was because, truth be told, I didn’t know. I just knew it felt like I’d fucked this up.
December tapped her fist on the coffee table, and before I knew it, she was dipping below it and sliding out a wood chest I kept an old chess set in.
“What are you doing?” I watched her dump the pieces out, getting them arranged on the board. After, she pulled up my leather ottoman and took a seat on it.
“I feel like this talk requires chess.” She laced her fingers, then grinned. “You have until checkmate.”
Chapter Sixteen
From: [email protected]
Subject: Class Transfer
Hey. I just wanted to let you know I took care of that class transfer. Had my mom sign off on it since she’s the department dean.
Before you ask (because I know you will), she had no idea it was your class I was trying to get out of. She didn’t ask. Just signed it, but I don’t think she would have cared anyway. I know you care so that’s why I’m telling you. It’s taken care of and I’m sorry for dragging my feet on it. I could blame work and being busy, but it’d be just an excuse. It was simply two more days of you.
’Nuff said.
Anyway, the changes are effective immediately. I’m no longer your student, but I’m emailing because this is technically school related. And well, because you’re not texting me back, and I don’t really have a choice.
Hope you’re well and thanks,
- R
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Class Transfer
Ramses -
Thank you for letting me know. Sorry, I haven’t been texting you back.
I think you understand why.
I hope you’re well too, and I wish you nothing but the best. I really enjoyed your friendship. It was really special to me.
- Bri
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Class Transfer
Well, since I both have and don’t have you—since I know you’re watching and reading—there’s this too.
I had a talk with December after you left, a long one, and I’d like to tell you about it. It won’t be over an email, though.
I value your friendship too so let’s be friends.
The ball’s in your court, Professor.
- R
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Class Transfer
I wish I could.
I wish I was strong enough.
- Bri
(Recalled)
Chapter Seventeen
Bri
I’d agreed to go on a date.
Because I was an idiot.
Like I didn’t completely have enough drama in my life, I agreed to go on a date with a man from the history department. Okay, so it wasn’t a date per se. It was a charity event, and he needed a date.
It was a date.
I’d put it out there I wasn’t looking for anything, though, and Guy had been understanding.
Yes, that was his name: Guy Donahue and Evie had completely vouched for him. I’d met the man during a staff meeting. The three of us had casually chatted after, and Evie had just so happened to mention her son. She’d asked Guy how Ramses was doing in his class. Apparently, Ramses had signed up for Guy’s shortened seminar and mentioned doing so at their last weekly dinner.
Guy had said fine, of course, moving on, and Evie did too. People often chatted and socialized after staff meetings, all of us getting together rare, but after she parted off from Guy, I eased him into conversation.
Now, I was well aware how this looked. That I’d gotten to know Guy just because I’d been checking up on Ramses. I’d mentioned that day at the staff meeting—casually—that Ramses had happened to transfer out of my course and I just wanted to know how he was fairing. I had been ignoring Ramses’s texts at the time (which had stopped eventually). My student was persistent, but not a stalker. Yes, his texts had eventually stopped, and also yes, I’d wanted to know what happened to him. I had just wanted to make sure he was okay.
And so, a friendship with Guy began.
Of course, that was just how it had started. Casual lunches. Guy taught American history, and that was the class Ramses had gotten into since it had started later in the semester. I’d told Guy I didn’t hold that against him, a jab at him teaching American history instead of something as “exciting” as early western civ. I’d been joking, of course, and it had lightened the guilt a little. A friendship with Guy had been intentional. I’d been nosy and wanted to hear any and everything he had to say about Ramses. The casual exchanges hadn’t been much but gave me enough to let me know my previous student was okay and had settled into his new environment nicely. And duh, Ramses did well.
It was Ramses.
Something told me he could adjust in the most turbulent situation, but I needed to know and after I had, I planned to stop the lunches with Guy. The meetups shifted into something less intimate after that, others from the department eating with us, but during those socializations, the charity event came up. Faculty members tended to go since the funds did go back to the school. It was a small event, in Chicago, and that was when Guy had made his move. He needed a date.
And I needed my head checked.
I was not interested in anything romantically, at all, but I’d already committed. I also felt bad about my hidden agenda inquiring about Ramses. Going as Guy’s date would get me off the hook with that. At least, in my mind, so we met up at the event after a three-hour drive. One we’d made separately. I needed those clear boundaries with Guy, and he’d been cool about it.
“Brielle, I want you to meet Blake and Daniel.”