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“Then I guess we’re both learning that there’s a first time for everything.”
“Fair enough.” His lips curve into a smile. “If any other student had turned in your essay, I might’ve given it a B plus.”
“So, you’re admitting to making my life difficult?”
“I would’ve suggested an expulsion if that was the case,” he says, “I’ve read a lot of your other work, so I know what you’re capable of writing. That’s why I left a very generous note at the end, giving you a chance to rewrite it for a re-grade. Anything else, Miss Edwards?”
“No.” I snatch the essay off his desk.
“In that case, you can leave my office.” He turns around in his chair before I can answer.
What the…“I have a few questions about your syllabus.”
“Email them to me.” He keeps his back turned. “Leave, Miss Edwards.”
“You sat in that chair for hours and answered questions about your favorite breakfast food and music, but you can’t talk with me about some actual work?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Fine.” I head toward the door. “Thanks for your ‘generous’ help, Mr. Donovan.”
“Shut the door behind you,” he says without turning around.
I’m honestly tempted to throw something at the back of his head, but I don’t risk it.
At least, not today.
I’ll try it next week.
10
LIAM
Later that evening
“Sir, for the umpteenth time, this phone call is not about butt plugs, colon cleansing, or bowel surgery.” The telemarketer sighs over the line. “I’m trying to offer you a once-in-a-lifetime deal on life insurance.”
“What if I know someone else who wants to buy butt plugs from you?” I ask. “Can you sell me those?”
“Okay, fuck this job.” He finally hangs up, and I laugh.
Annoying telemarketers whenever they call has become my sad form of entertainment. On my worst days, whenever I was struggling to piece together a plan to restart my life, I could always count on them for a quick distraction.
Adjusting my tie, I look over my reflection in the mirror one last time before heading to the library. The senior administrators are hosting a private party for all the professors tonight with unlimited alcohol.
Two rules on the invitation sealed the deal for me:
1. No discussions about courses or students
2. See rule number 1
I’m halfway through the courtyard when my phone buzzes again. I glance at the screen and see a unfamiliar zip code. I eye the distance to the party and decide I have time for one last round of entertainment.
“Yes?” I answer.
“May I speak to Mr. Donovan, please?”
“This is he.”
