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The doorbell sounded once more. I crawled out of the bed and worked my way back down the stairs.
It was only when I cracked open the downstairs door that I remembered I still wore yesterday’s jeans and sweater which I’d fallen asleep in. That, with the lack of hangover symptoms, made me aware that my Groundhog Day theory was invalid.
“Heya Jemma!” Holly’s bright face poked through the slightly ajar door. In the sun, the copper ends of her hair shined a more golden-red.
“Holly?” I croaked. “What are you doing here?”
“You stormed out of class so fast yesterday, you forgot your bag!” She pushed my beige knapsack up against the space in the doorway, covering her face as she did so. I took a deep breath.God, my bag…
“Umm, wow, thanks. Thanks so much.” I pulled the door toward me just enough to reach for the knapsack. “Anyway… have a great day…”
I latched onto the bag as I pushed the door shut.
“Hey! Wait!” Holly’s muffled voice cried from the other side.
“Umm, yes?” I cracked the door a smidge.
“Not to overstep or anything but… could I come in a sec?”
“Umm… yes?” I crinkled my forehead. Then I exhaled, relaxing the muscles in my head as I realized the poor kid could have driven from who-knows-where to get me this bag. The least I could do was invite her in for some tea. I continued, my voice a bit lighter, “I mean… god, excuse my manners. Sorry, yeah, come on in.”
We stepped into the kitchen, and my insides tightened from embarrassment. This house was bare as fuck, including the kitchen. No furniture. No paintings. Not even a random goddamn knickknack. I wondered if good ol’ Holly had imagined her teacher living like this.
Her eyes widened with wonder as she took a seat on one of the upside-down cardboard boxes. I’d placed four cardboard boxes on top of each other—per makeshift seat—and pushed them down just to make sure that they would support the weight of an adult. You know, in case I had a random guest like Holly who had come to return my purse after I randomly left class.
Holly glanced over the ledge which separated the kitchen from the den and then back over to the kitchen, totally inspecting the place.
“Cool house,” she said.
“Pretty cluttered, huh?” I asked, giggling at my own silly joke.
“I’ll say.”
“Coffee or tea? Though, fair warning, my coffee selection is as scarce as this place. Meaning… if you want Portland’s finest brewing, you’ve come to the wrong coffee house.”
“Then, definitely the coffee. Portland’s worst stuff is sometimes the best.” She smirked, tapping against the box with her fingers. “Thanks for letting me come in. I wanted to ask you if you’re okay.”
“You mean, after I ran off like I’d just seen a ghost or something?” Calling it like it was before anyone else had a chance to.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, I’m okay.” I shrugged my shoulders as I dumped some Maxwell House Coffeehouse grinds into the coffee brewer. “Hey, Holly, how’d you get my address, anyway?”
“That creepy dude… what’s his name… the guy who runs Pen & Dagger.”
“Justin. His name’s Justin.” And, boy, was he creepy in a he’s-probably-a-pedophile kind of way. If I didn’t enjoy teaching and, you know, getting out of the house sometimes, I would have never agreed to teach there.
“Yeah, him. Justin,” Holly said. “He gave the address to me… because no one in the class knew what happened to you. Don’t worry. I covered.”
As the coffee brewer spurted, I welcomed the bitter aroma that filled the space. At least something to make the place feel a little homelier. I twisted around and leaned my back against the counter.
“What do you mean… covered for me?” I asked. “What did you say?”
“I lied and told them that you told me a family emergency came up… so they wouldn’t think you had just ditched the class. But, uh, what really happened?”
“Oh… you know… pretty much what you told them.” I smiled. “Thanks for doing that.”
With the final sputtering of the coffee, I spun back around and readied an empty Styrofoam cup. I lifted the carafe and poured the dark contents into the makeshift mug.
