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Six o’clock arrived, signaling her release. Slinging her maroon backpack onto her shoulder, she lifted the counter’s partition. It was yet another out of style feature that added to the building’s nostalgia, making it seem like she worked in a centuries-old research library. That wasn’t entirely untrue; the place hadn’t been renovated in God knows how long.
Her replacement, Ravi, arrived as Kenna was on her way out. They nodded in passing and she noticed a new patch of dark hair below his lip. She remembered kissing those lips with unimpeachable clarity, the silken feel of his face.
It was a drunken mistake at a bonfire party freshman year, two shy students free of their inhibitions for one night, crumpled cans at their feet and the acrid stench of smoke swirling around them. They’d applied to fill part-time shifts at the library, and Ravi had offered to retract his application because he didn’t want to make things weird for Kenna. She’d always smiled a little brighter at him after that.
Her robin’s egg Beaumont City was waiting where she’d left it, chained up to the otherwise abandoned bike rack. The juvenile mode of transportation landed her at the center of endless mockery to which she’d built a resistance. She was saving money and getting exercise while they emptied their pockets and polluted the environment.
With no car, distance was the primary factor in pursuing the mentorship with Dr. Merino. If she were to spend the semester at an office off campus, she’d have to bike at least 10 miles each way. An oppressive heat boiled within her despite the 37-degree weather. Kenna mounted her bike and pedaled along the concrete path, slicken from the midday rain. She channeled her frustration into the worn pedals, letting them carry her away from the university, away from the maddening predicament. Turning onto the main road, her agitation quieted. Her grip relaxed on the handlebars as calm wove through her like a sedative.
Her greatest resource had not been exhausted. Kenna had great faith that if she couldn’t make Dr. Merino see reason, the dean would.
He killed the lights in his office, their glow fading with reluctance. The orange-tinted lampposts of the campus followed in their wake, providing sufficient illumination for Dayton to finish packing up. His gaze fixed on the narrow desk drawer as he slid on his sherpa-lined coat.
Even in its resting place, the piece of paper taunted him. The representation of delayed research. He was at a standstill with himself, his work, and their distasteful intersection.
Three semesters had passed since his tryst with Jasmine, though it seemed like a decade. Guilt had kept him away and he equated the resulting dormancy to priesthood.
Deprived of what he lusted after.
Though, he was far from saintly. A new subject had fallen into his lap and he refused to let the opportunity pass him by. The dueling hunger and shame within would soon be quieted by the acquisition of the O’Callaghan girl. Did her pale, slender body hold the cure he’d long searched for? Dayton scoffed and slung his briefcase strap onto his shoulder.
It was utter nonsense. He was incurable. A beast without the hope of the rose.
Staring ahead at the crisp white wall shadowed by orange light, he thought of the box resting below his bed at home, the progress and insights he’d collected over the years.
A fire roared to life in his mind. Its flames parted to frame a face whose features came into focus and resembled Kenna O’Callaghan. However unwittingly, she had entered his realm of chaos of her own accord. Etched herself into his thoughts and desires. A raw ache lavished his chest.
They were acquainted. That was all it took.
Dayton locked his office and pocketed the keys. His footsteps echoed in the darkened hallway, obscuring his mumbled, preemptive prayer. “Lord Jesus Christ, you are the Lamb of God …”
The stench of charred sweet potatoes and broccoli overwhelmed Kenna as she entered her shared apartment. Kicking off her dampened, grass-covered boots, she waved a hand in front of her nose as if to ward off the pungent odor. She had taken to burning candles, but found that the scents competed rather than eliminating the detested one.
Alex, her roommate, pulled the tray of vegetables out of the oven. A monstrous pot of quinoa sat on the stove and an army of identical plastic bowls lined the counter.
Meal prep day. Alex was a graphic design major who ran a branding business on the side; so when she’d discovered the art of meal prepping, it changed her life. She preached about it like it was a religion. Never-ending diatribes about batch cooking aside, Kenna admired her hard-working spirit. Alex served as the big sister she’d never had. At home, Kenna had been the oldest, the role model by default, and she had fled.
Had the others followed her example?
“Hey, hey, Special K. How was your day?” Alex asked while scooping a spatula full of vegetables into each container.
Kenna refrained from rolling her eyes at the despised nickname and climbed onto one of the bar stools at the kitchen island that doubled as their dining table. She questioned whether she could verbalize just how wrong her day went. Dr. Merino had been more terrifying in his office than at Mass, with his scarred skin and cold denial and eyes so empty she wondered if he had ever known joy.
A sour taste spread in her mouth. “Disastrous.”
“I know that look. Should I crack open the moscato?”
“No, it’s okay. It’s my internship. My plans are sort of off the rails.”
Alex flipped over her caramel-highlighted mane and gathered it into a messy bun. Once the bun was in place she scraped the last of the quinoa out of the pot, weakly shrugging a shoulder. “It’s the first day of term. How bad can it be?”
“I’ll figure it out. You’re right. It’s not a big deal.”
It was, but after her demoralizing day she didn’t have the stamina to articulate the full scope of the dilemma to Alex.
She pointed to one of the portioned containers. “Buddha bowl?”
“Hard pass.” Kenna wrinkled her nose. “Although, I’ve given more thought to the moscato.”
