Page 24 of House of Bass

“Nothing. Why is this any of your concern?” I whisper, confused by the conversation at hand and her insistence on knowing. “Where did you even hear about this?”

“Can’t reveal my sources.” Has to be Wren Hasan, the two were best friends.

The truth is that she is far too obsessed with others’ lives because hers is entirely too miserable to deal with. There are too many of us walking around like that, caging in the way we feel because we are all a range of personality disorders bubbled into one, suffocating from the stench of our lives.

“I know nothing, Val. Bother someone else with your parochial gossiping,” I reply, glaring.

“There’s no need to be so catty, darling.”

“Don’t call me darling.” With a glare, I turn back to face the class and notice David is staring at me as he speaks, and my chest flutters with trepidation, but being saved by the bell stops me from dwelling on it any further.

“Ms. Bass, can you please stay behind for a moment?” our lecturer calls out. Perhaps I spoke too soon… I give him a forced nod.

“Have fun,” Valentina’s sultry voice says behind me and it causes a shiver to creep down my spine. Again, I glare.

The rest of my course files out and the door shuts, leaving us engulfed in the silence of the large theatre.

David continues to pack up his desk, not engaging as I stand there shifting. Silence is the opposite of a reprieve. I hate it; I can feel my brain closing in, like a fist tightening in my chest. These days I try to learn to sit with it, because now the noise has become too much.

He gently leans back on his desk, his sleeves are rolled up with muscles bulging out of them, inked with tattoos. He doesn’t look like a regular teacher, I am sure he is in his early thirties at best–chiselled jaw and a face you’d expect on magazine covers instead of teaching young adults exchange rates.

“I’m aware it’s only been a week but it has been three two-hour lectures where you are the only person who refuses to participate in conversations,” he finally says, his voice steady and soothing. “I’ve seen your grades and work. You’re the brightest student on paper, and somehow you put no effort in my very interactive lectures, and I’d like a reason for it.” I preen internally at the compliment, although I am already well aware of this.

It’s strange, something in me tells me I can be honest with him, so without further thought I try it. “I don’t want to be here,” I say plainly.

He raises an eyebrow, implying I continue, so I do. “My father chose my course for me, I do what he wants.”

“This is your final year. I’m confused, is this only just registering to you?”

“No, I’ve always thought so, but there’s been a recent change in my life that has left me less than motivated to even want to be in this room with these numbers.”

“And these changes are impossible to ignore when you’re in my class?”

I nod. He looks unconvinced, “You are aware how this makes you sound entitled?”

“I get how it sounds but it’s not that. Have you ever loved something so much but had to give it up because of choices beyond your control?”

“I’m thirty-six years old, Annabel. There’s nothing you’re living through I likely haven’t experienced myself.”

“Exactly, so you understand.”

A soft smile touches the tip of his lips and I see no real judgement in his eyes. “I have a solution for you if you’re willing.”

Giving him the go ahead, he says, “Like you said you have no choice but to complete your course, what you do get a choice on is enjoying what you’re learning. I was meant to pick a phd student to be my teaching assistant but you’re miles ahead of any of them, so you’re going to help me teach my first years.” Now it is my turn to raise eyebrows at the finality of his statement. “You need to find a way to fall in love with it in a context where it isn’t so serious. Watching eager-eyed students fumble their way might bring some much needed perspective and also provide you some joy in the hilarity of it all.”

“Can I say no?”

“No,” he says, with a sharp, barely-there smile that brightens his serious demeanour.

“I’m going to be in the showcase in December, and we don't receive our roles until tomorrow, there has been a minor setback. Along with our rehearsal schedule too, so I’m not sure how busy I will be.”

“Leave that to me.”

Wait. “Are you telling me you can find the results early?” A slow, surprised smile works its way onto my face, wondering how he would manage that, as Gigi was nothing if not strict and secretive.

Picking up on what I am alluding, “Tsk tsk, that’s between me and Gi.”

“Gi?!” I exclaim at the familiarity in his words. A full blown smile is now on my face, “You call her Gi?”