"The job is yours, pending how well you do on this exam," he says. After he speaks those words, it's like my brain short circuits. I'm watching him, his lips, his mouth. They’re moving, and I'm nodding my head and smiling, thanking him. But nothing else is registering completely. I know he's talking about scheduling and I think I heard the word “email,” but my brain is completely clouded over and all I can hear is the clicking of his pen and that damn wind chime every time the fan hits it. It's about ten seconds. No, thirteen, every thirteen seconds. Chime. Chime.
“What do you think of that?”
"Yes, sounds great!" I say, hoping that's an appropriate answer for whatever he just said. "Thank you, sir." My grin is so damn large I think my face could crack.
"Sure," he says, "I'll contact you once everything is graded and we'll talk more then."
“Okay.” I reach over the table to shake his hand, then wait for him to stand since I don't want to look like an eager kid. Even though I'm trying my damnedest not to jump up from my seat and break into an end zone dance.
"I want you to consider what you're getting yourself into. I am teaching two classes this summer and three classes in the fall. I'll be relying on my assistant to keep up, and I don't tolerate bullshit."
"It won't be a problem," I say before turning toward the door.
"I'll see you in class, Mr. Black."
I respond with a short nod, my eyes falling on the camera again as my curiosity gets the best of me.
“Sure. If you don’t mind my asking, why do you have a camera?”
He looks from me to the tripod and clears his throat. “Labor of love,” he says. “I love teaching, but I also love creating. Sometimes ideas for my business will come to me at random times. So instead of writing them down, I turn on the camera and record my ideas while I grade papers and what not.”
“Oh.” I nod. “That makes sense.” I head to the door and step into the hall.
“No way. No way.” I say, once I finally make it to my car. I don’t even remember the walk here, just that my jaw is starting to hurt with how big I’m smiling. Before I start the engine, I grab my phone and type out a message.
Me: Zee. I got it. I think I got the fucking job.
Less than a minute goes by before I get her response.
Xia: I knew you would. Congratulations! You so deserve this!
Me: Thanks. Are you doing all right? I wait a few seconds, but she doesn't respond right away so I start my car and head home.
I’m still on a high as I pull into my parking space back at the apartment complex. I nearly trip over Roman’s football cleats and shin guards as I enter the door.
“Fuck, Roe,” I yell, looking up the staircase toward the hall. He doesn’t respond and it only takes me a second to realize why. Near his shin guards is one shiny pink high heel shoe and the other one lies about three feet from the door.
I slide the shoes and gear over to the wall with one foot and walk into the apartment toward the kitchen. My stomach feels like it's trying to turn inside out, I’m so hungry. Somehow, between being nervous about the meeting and fucking around with Murphy’s Law all day, I didn’t have a chance to eat. Once in the kitchen, I make my way over to the refrigerator and craft the biggest sandwich possible without depleting our meat and cheese stock. Then I grab a bag of chips, a soda, and head to the couch. I'm halfway through my sandwich before I remember that Xia never responded to my last message.
Digging my phone from my pocket, I check my inbox, but it's still empty. Instead of texting again, I decide to call.
The phone rings twice before she answers, and the sound of her voice puts me in full alarm mode.
"Hello?" she crackles before clearing her throat.
"Zee, what is it? What's wrong?" I sit forward and swing my feet from the coffee table. They hit the floor with a thud.
“My father was here.” She exhales deeply and pauses before continuing. “And… we were right.”
"What? No! Are you sure?"
"He told me, Jordan. I asked him if he cheated and he didn't deny it. He just looked… guilty." She attempts to sniffle, but her nose sounds completely stuffed, making her voice nasally. "God, Jordan. What the hell?" she cries.
My heart crumbles for her, for her mother, for the shadow of a man that I thought I knew. One who I’d always looked up to. A guy who’s been like a second father to me. I knew there was a chance that our assumption was right, but I didn’t expect it to be true. I just thought there must be a logical explanation for it, somehow.
"I'm coming to get you. Are you still at the dorm?" I slide my feet into my sneakers and turn off the TV.
"Yes. I'm here. But don't. You just got amazing news; you should be celebrating. Go out. Have fun. I’ll be okay once I get over the shock of it all." My phone is tucked between my ear and shoulder as I lean forward, grabbing my plate and empty cup from the coffee table. My stomach is in knots. I can't believe Ben would do this.
"Fuck that, Zee. I'm on my way."
“Jordan, I’m fine, really.”
“I’m coming to get you.” I struggle to hold the phone against my ear as I finish my sandwich quickly before tossing the dishes in the sink and patting my pockets for my car keys. What the hell did I do with my wallet?
“No, you’re not fine,” I say as my eyes fall on my keys and wallet tucked off to the side on the kitchen counter. “And I’m not leaving you alone anymore. My interview is over, I kept my promise. Now, pack a bag and be ready in ten minutes.”
Xia is pretty quiet during the ride back to my place and I don’t press her to talk. She looks devastated. Her curly hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail, causing random spring-like tendrils to hang down from the back and sides. The oversized CHU hoodie she’s wearing is wrinkled, and her skin, usually rich like the color of honey, seems duller than usual. Her eyelids are swollen and puffy. I hate Ben at this moment, I hate him for hurting her this way.
I can tell she’s lost and I have no idea what to say, but I can imagine how she’s feeling. In her eyes, a person she loved ceased to exist, almost like a death, and I get how it feels to lose a parent. I know how close they are and I wish I could do something to help ease her pain.
“Does your mother know?” I ask as we walk up the few steps that lead to my apartment door.
“I don’t know,” she says as she slides her backpack on and pulls her hood over her head, reminding me that we both have a ton of studying to do to prep for finals next week. “He wants me to come over for dinner tomorrow night so we can ‘talk about this as a family’ or whatever.”
“Seriously?” I unlock the door and hold it open for her, feeling grateful that it’s quiet inside. Roman must still be upstairs with pink heels girl. The two of them get along great, but I doubt Xia would want anyone to see her like this. She steps in front of me and walks directly to the stairs.
“Yeah.” She huffs. “Like I really want to be there for that. I don’t even want to see him.”
I’m at a loss for words again as we climb the stairs slowly and I feel the urge to place a hand on her back, to help her until I remember she’s not weak, just sad. This inner turmoil is nothing new to me; I’m always fighting the urge to touch her. Sometimes I don’t even realize I’m doing it until it’s too late. I wonder if she notices. I wonder if she thinks I’m just a touchy-feely person, or if she sees it’s only with her.