Page 23 of Apparently, I’m Torture

Oh, wouldn’t the ground just open up and swallow me whole please? Please beige carpet, please?

They swapped glances and Mia was the first to slide by, shooting me a meaningful squint on her way past. Shawn was slower, choosing to study the table before gradually coming closer.

“Miss Fares,” he greeted as a surprising, devastating smile tugged at his lips, and then he walked by without another word.

I couldn’t find a minute to corner him or Mia for the rest of the day. When we were finally funneling out through the front doors, I looked up to find him watching me. But as soon as my glance met his, he looked away and stepped outside. I was about to call out to him when my phone rang.

“Mrs Hernandez,” I answered. “How are you? How’s Jessica?”

The busy street was full of cars honking in the summer heat. I covered my ear so I could hear the distress in her voice.

“The tutor you sent isn’t going to work out, Miss Fares. You sent a man to my house.”

“O-Oh. Well, uh, I’m sorry… about that? I admit, I didn’t think that would be an issue–”

“You didn’t think sending a man to tutor my daughter would be an issue?”

“No, I didn’t. What’s the problem, exactly?”

Mrs Hernandez heaved a sigh so frustrated, I almost stopped in my tracks on the busy sidewalk, with the urge to apologize right on the tip of my tongue.

“I saw the way she looked at him, and I can’t leave them alone with each other.”

I was so confused, but the urge to apologize won out. “I’m so sorry, Mrs Hernandez.”

“Well, if you’re so sorry, then make it right. Find me another tutor, a female this time. And get me someone who knows what they’re doing.”

I swallowed and nodded, picking up the pace and ending our call.

Now that I was back home in my apartment, I took stock of what the weekend held in store for me:

1. I needed to find a new female-adult-literature-tutor for Jessica to appease Mrs Hernandez.

2. On Monday, I needed to start contacting suppliers for the fundraiser.

3. Tonight, I needed to finish the seventh lecture on teaching-to-the-test methodology to meet Trevor’s timeline (He was actually tracking me. Like I couldn’t be trusted to finish the damn lessons on my own).

Task list done, I let out a breath and stretched my feet across the sofa.

Did Shawn hate me?

On one hand, we had years of friendship behind us. We used to work side-by-side, getting in each other’s way, poking and tickling. Laughing, too. My Jim Carey impression once made coffee shoot out of his nose.

He knew me. He knew my faults, my flaws, my weaknesses, and back then I didn’t think he judged me for them. Other than Mia and the members of our coffee shop family, he was the only other person who knew about my anxiety.

It was clear from his conversation with Mia that he hadn’t forgotten any of it.

So why was he still acting like this?

Yes, five years ago, right before graduation, we had a… disagreement. But I didn’t believe he meant it. I didn’t think he’d cut me out of his life.

A year after graduating, when I saw him at our first workshop, I thought at the time, “This is it. We’re finally going to get over this.” But that didn’t happen.

He spent every opportunity avoiding me, like I was the last person he wanted to see. So, what else could that mean? Other than the obvious?

But he didn’t sound like he hated me when he spoke to Mia. Although, it did seem like she was pinning all my current computer issues on him. But… Shawn wouldn’t make my job difficult on purpose, would he? He couldn’t be that desperate to get rid of me, could he?

I snorted. Maybe he was. Maybe working with me really was torture. Maybe he’d let the merchandising part of the fundraiser slip just so he could find an excuse to push me out of his orbit again.