Bliss Creek

Chapter 5: Conrad

Promptly at one o'clock, the doorbell rings. 

My mother wipes her hands on a dish towel, smiles at me, and moves to get it. 

Behind the door stands a guy who appears to be a bit older than me, but I think if he took his glasses off and unbuttoned his starched button-down shirt a couple of notches, he might look a little younger. He has a beautiful toffee-colored complexion, his eyes are the color of caramel, and his hair, black as night, is cut short and tight. He is about a foot taller than me and has a gorgeous smile. When he flashes it, I find myself weak in the knees. He is fit, but not too buff, more lean than anything, perhaps a runner. He has a sharp jawline and an easy but inquisitive look about him. He is intelligent, and you can tell by looking into his eyes that he doesn't miss much. He has a five o'clock shadow that gives him just a hint of mystery and ruggedness. Despite his rugged good looks, he is warm and welcoming and oozes charm. I am afraid I will stutter when I try to speak. I feel like I have seen him before, just a certain familiarity to him, but I quickly shrug that idea off, because if I have, I wouldn't know. 

He introduces himself to my mother with all the confidence of a general. His name is Conrad Stephens, please call him Conrad. I am going to enjoy my tutoring. He turns to me, and his look does not falter. He smiles so perfectly at me. I notice as his eyes sweep my head, and I immediately reach my hands up and realize I have forgotten my head scarf! I must look frightening. I am mortified. I excuse myself as my mother settles Conrad into a seat at the kitchen table, and I run to my room to grab a scarf. I am not particular about which scarf; I grab the first one I reach and wrap it around my godawful head. So much for first impressions. 

I collect myself, take a quick peek in the mirror, and head out the bedroom door into what I hope to be the first of many sessions with Conrad. I take my place at the table in the chair next to Conrad's. I catch myself staring at him and have to really concentrate on keeping myself in check. He is just so charismatic. His smile is so warm and inviting, strangely, in a familiar sort of way. My mother clears her throat from across the room, and I tear my eyes away from his face and look down at the book he is speaking of. I am a little ashamed and embarrassed by my reaction to him and my lack of control. I feel my cheeks burn a little just thinking about it, how attractive he is. It takes everything I have to focus on the book and his words, and even then, it's not easy. Conrad says we will cover English first, then see where I am in math, then work our way to history, geography, and politics. We will meet for three hours four days a week until I am caught up enough to join my classmates in eleventh grade. This is not going to be easy, but it just might be fun. He has breathed some life into this dry, dull place. I breeze through my English lessons, which take up the first hour. But math is a different story. I don't seem to remember much about quantitative techniques or the Pythagorean theorem, but we trudge through. Conrad assures me I will get the hang of it once my brain gets adjusted to being used again. I wonder if that was meant as a joke. I humph outa laugh.

"Let's take a small break, and when we reconvene, we'll go over some tenth-grade geography," he says as he stands up and takes his leave. He asks my mother, who has been quietly reading (and I suspect listening in on the lesson) in a nearby chair, where the bathroom is, and I hightail it for the one in my parents' room. It turns out I really enjoy geography. It has a symbiotic relationship with history, so we sort of cover both at the same time. 

"Our country as it is now," Conrad says as he points to a map, "is distinctly different than it was forty years ago." He points to a second map. "This is a result of the Great War. Prior to that time, the area we live in now was once the United States of America, in an area near what was once the heartland of America. After the Great War, the United States was shattered as a unit and became what we now know as the Independent States. The Independent States are comprised of Zones and Towns. The Zones and Towns are heavily protected by militia. The relationships between the twenty-two Zones are currently volatile at best." He takes a sideways glance at my mother, as if to see if she is listening.