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She looked startled for a second, and then lowered her eyes. An unexpected reaction from a woman who wore her confidence as easily as she wore her stylish clothes.
“I had a student stop by to see me today.” His words slid out into the safe environment they’d built in this room.
“And?”
Needless to say, they both had students coming to see them. It was the nature of their business. So she’d know there was more to his observation.
“Her name is Sophie. She’s been in the theater program for the past couple of years, and I’ve had a lot of opportunity to work with her. She’s the best damn techie I’ve ever had.”
“Kind of an unusual profession for a girl, isn’t it? Don’t they have to do a lot of heavy lifting, what with sets and all? And what about pulling those curtains up and down?”
Slouching in the high-backed armchair, Matt lifted his feet to the rail on the side of her bed. “Maybe it used to be, but it’s not so unusual to see girls working behind the scenes today. Sophie’s more than just a good technical crew member, though. She’s an artist. Bring a show into the theater, and by the time she’s done with lights and scrims and sound, it has a whole new depth. Professionalism.”
“So what’s the problem?” Phyllis was frowning as she waited for his reply.
“I’m not sure.” He shook his head, not even sure why he’d brought up the subject. It wasn’t as if there was anything he could do to help the girl. Other than encourage her to stay in school. Which he’d already done.
Send her to a counselor. The words were never far from the surface of his mind when a student’s personal problems entered a work situation.
It suddenly dawned on Matt that he was looking at a counselor. Maybe not one whose job description currently included therapy sessions, but one who’d certainly been trained in the field.
“Sophie’s been…acting strange all semester.” He spoke slowly, weighing his words. Keeping the necessary distance. “She missed a couple of cues the last time she called a show, she’s been late, missed some classes, been impatient with her fellow crew members.”
She’d lost weight, seemed distracted, was dressing differently—more sloppily, always wearing bulky clothes. But those things all crossed the line that Matt was not going to cross again. The line between schoolwork and personal life.
Phyllis nodded, seeming to gather information from Matt’s eyes, as well as from the words he was saying. “Could it be boyfriend trouble?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“You don’t know if she’s recently broken up with anyone?”
The same guy had been hanging around since the previous spring. He was still hanging around.
Matt shook his head, shrugging. “I don’t discuss my students’ private lives with them.”
“Maybe not in any detail, but some conversation is only natural. Especially considering how much out-of-classroom time you spend with these kids. From the little I’ve seen, you guys practically live together during show weeks.”
“Their private lives are none of my business.”
“Of course they’re your business, Matt,” Phyllis said, tilting her head as she studied him. “You’re a teacher, just like I am. Helping kids is what we do. You can’t do your job and not know things about them.”
“Maybe in your field.”
“In any field.”
Not in his.
“It’s probably just boyfriend trouble,” Phyllis said, reverting to her original suggestion with no further argument. Matt would have left if she hadn’t backed off.
“Probably,” he murmured, although he didn’t really think so.
“I’d keep an eye on her,” she added, looking thoughtful. “A star student missing classes could be indicative of trouble somewhere.”
“Keep an eye on her?” Matt asked.
“I’ve seen you with your students, Matt. You’re good with them. Value them.”
He did? He taught lighting design. The art of putting on shows.
