“That’s nice.”
“‘That’s nice?’” I question with a tilted smirk. “I thought you didn’t like him.”
“What? When did I say that?” We walk back to our seats, two hard plastic chairs tucked under a long table. The attendance is sparse. Some of the faculty are off traveling, some—according to Sylvia—are silently boycotting an early return to campus during their well-deserved summer vacation. The meeting isn’t mandatory considering it’s outside of our contract hours. Sylvia considered not coming too, but with the opportunity to show me around and introduce me to some of the office staff I haven’t met, we both thought it would be a useful way to spend our day.
“When you complained about the kombucha smell in Tommy’s apartment,” I answer.
She waves a dismissive hand in my direction with her cup tilted back.
“What happened to the ‘Breaking Bad of bacteria and yeast?’” I argue.
“I was being dramatic. He’s a good guy.”
“Okay.”
We have about five minutes left of our break before Principal Morrow recommences our meeting. She’s not as warm and welcoming as the rest of the staff has been. A little sharp around the edges but nothing that scares or concerns me. This isn’t the first time I’m meeting her. My interview was donethrough a Zoom meeting. I wore a salmon-colored blouse and flannel pajama pants while I answered questions about my work history. Generic inquiries like “Why did you become a teacher” or “Why do you want to leave Washington” or the age-old “Why should I hire you.” She prefaced the meeting by stating the position isn’t a permanent one. It’s a long-term subbing position that could lead to future jobs in the district.
And now I’m here. Sitting through a meeting I wasn’t necessarily required to be at considering I’m not officially staff.
I tear off a piece of bagel smothered in cream cheese before popping it in my mouth. Sylvia watches me like she has something held on the tip of her tongue. I look at her with my brow drawn together and ask, “What?”
She shakes her head with her lips downturned in an innocent frown. “Nothing. Just…he asked about you.”
“Who asked about me?”
Sylvia huffs and bites into her own bagel. She pushes her food to one side of her cheek as she says, “James.”
“He asked about me?”
She nods.
“Why?”
“He just asked who you were,” she answers. “You know, in that prying way people usually ask when they already know who you are but want more information. And I told him you’re new in town, and that you’re very single.”
I roll my eyes. “Sylvia, are you seriously trying to set me up with your boyfriend’s roommate?”
“Yes,” she answers firmly. As if she’s been considering this for quite some time. “I told him you could use a really versed tour guide to show you around.”
“How about I find a dentist first before finding a date?”
“You need a dentist?” Sylvia asks earnestly. “You can go to mine. I’ll give you her card.”
“Thank you.”
“Sonowcan you go on a date with James?”
Aversion. That’s the first thought that crosses my mind when I think about being set up with a complete stranger. Like if someone were to present a bag of stale candy corn in front of me. I’d probably even snarl a disgusted “blech” before I callously hold up my palm and say no thank you.
I have absolutely no business looking to be in a relationship right now. With adjusting to an entirely new school districtanda new city, adding “boyfriend” to the large stack of responsibilities is not what I need. Especially when I left home under the presumption of being an independent adult after being one-half of a mother-daughter duo my entire life. How silly would it be of me to dive headfirst right into a relationship the second I got here? Not the liberation era I was going for.
The bottom of my cup hits the tabletop with a piqued hollow clunk. “I’m not going on a date with him,” I argue. “And does he even want to? Or is this some triangulation tactic?”
“Triangulation? What’s that?”
“When you tell two people different pieces of information to get them together,” I explain. “Like a manipulation technique.”
“Kind of like the Parent Trap?”
