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Wanda sighs. “It’s always tricky to determine what’s just kids being kids and what constitutes dangerous crossing of the lines. But if they’re breathing toxic air, that feels pretty deeply into the territory of bad decisions. All right. I’ll need to speak to their parents. And to tell Dr. Moreau. Send me the students’ information right away, please. I want to get this taken care of this morning.”
When I consider Wanda’s job here, I think of her as a fairy grandmother, wandering around campus and smiling at everyone, attending meetings and making us laugh, speaking at assemblies, being a benign authority figure. But at times like this, I remember that she’s managing a huge endowment at a prestigious school with a long history. There is much more to her work than matchmaking and knowing everyone’s names.
I hang up and email her the medical details of last night’s incident. It’s legally less complicated to communicate this kind of thing when we’re dealing with minors who are all under the medical jurisdiction of the school, but I’m still careful to be informative rather than emotional in my report. Stick to the facts, report the outcome, let the board decide how to move forward.
Over the next hour or so, I give a few flu shots and remove a nasty sliver (and don’t ask me how a kid gets a sliver in the back of the arm—he didn’t want to share details) before lunch.
I decide to get outside for a few minutes, and I offer to pick up food for Kimberly. She holds up a reusable container and tells me she’s reheating yesterday’s burritos. “So you’re free to go wherever you’d like, see whomever you want, do whatever seems like a good idea.”
I think Kimberly’s in training to become the next Wanda. Not that anyone will ever replace Wanda.
Maybe it’s the sunshine hitting the reddening trees. Maybe it’s the excitement of the morning’s visit with Sage. Maybe it’s general possibility. Whatever it is, it feels amazing outside. Like everything is going right in the world.
I grab a sandwich from the Caf and call Sage while I’m in line to pay for it. “I’m eating a portable lunch,” I tell her. “Are you around?”
“I’m actually taking a walk on campus. Where are you?”
I eat the sandwich, which is very good, and we keep chatting over the phone and moving toward each other (science building, history building, art building) until I can see her, the sunshine making her curls glow.
I wave, and she sees me. I want to run across the grass and hug her, lift her in my arms and spin her around, but it’s student lunch time, too, and the lawn is filled with kids sprawled out letting what could be the last of the warm autumn sunshine touch their faces. I don’t want to embarrass her or make a scene.
She points in the direction of the woods where we once took a very short walk. I can’t stop myself from jogging over to meet her.
The October air has her cheeks glowing, and her smile is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen. “Hi,” I say, feeling eloquent. I can’t stop smiling. I want to hold on to her and never let go.
She looks at her watch. “It’s been almost two hours since you last kissed me,” she says, moving a few steps into the shade of the woods and putting her back to an ash tree.
If that’s not an invitation, I don’t understand a single thing about human communication.
Her smile tells me I understand just fine.
I lean in close, my arm resting on the tree’s trunk above her head. “Two hours? That seems like a long time.”
She grins up at me and lifts her hand to run a finger along my jacket’s collar. “It’s a very long time, and I don’t think it’s healthy for me to be kept waiting.”
I tip my head closer to hers. “Do you mean, like, medically?”
A tiny shrug. “I don’t pretend to be the medical expert here, but I’m pretty sure I’m wilting. Wasting away.” She sighs dramatically and sags against the tree bark, her hand clutching my collar.
“We definitely can’t have that,” I say, putting my other hand to her back. “You need your strength.”
I could stand here all day, looking down at her upturned face.
She moves her finger from my collar to my lip. Nope. Never mind. I’m not wasting another second. I kiss the finger. She lets her eyes drift closed. I place a kiss on her forehead.
She breathes out a sigh.
I kiss her left cheek, then her right. My arm still rests over her head, my other hand on her back. I press my fingers against her spine and feel her muscles tense as she stretches toward me, reaching both hands around my neck. I drop my head lower and kiss the corner of her jaw, right beneath her ear. She giggles and ducks away.
“Ticklish?” I whisper, letting my mouth linger close to her ear.
“Everywhere.”
I slide a kiss down her throat and she arches her neck to receive it, just like I imagined she would. I feel her pulse at my lips. Her hands slide into my hair and she tilts my head until our lips meet, continuing the gentle exploration.
I could keep this up for hours.
But of course, my phone vibrates in my pocket and I know it’s time to go.
