Beautifully Broken

The podium pear

As everyone begins fumbling through their notes and pulling out their books, Deanne elbows me and I look up to meet her gaze as she whispers, "You're not going to turn out to be one of those psycho chicks are you?"

I shake my head in reassurance, but also to shake myself out of my numb state before turning to my messenger bag. I pull out my copy of Walter Scott's novel that was all but being held together by post-it notes and Deanne chuckles when she sees it causing me to return a smile. I know then with her at-ease personality she's going to become a good friend and sitting in Lecture hall three of the Department of English I find am thankful for it.

~ ~ ~

"I really don't get it," Deanne says after finishing a mouthful of her turkey and avocado sandwich from the Ankara Cafe down Common Wealth Ave. "He's hot and all, but I don't understand why girls go so crazy for him. I mean, you really have no idea what it's going to be like in there now. The mixture of perfumes we will inhale over the next four months could quite possibly be hazardous to our health. Not to mention the amount of cleavage that is bound to show up."

I look up from moving my lemon grass chicken around my plate, "Well hey, at least they will be paying attention right? It's hard to fail when you're trying to look good."

Deanne laughs, "God, I hope so. Otherwise, they are just going to make us look like fools for nothing."

Deanne invited me to lunch after today's lecture. In the past forty-five minutes I'd learned that she's twenty-six, almost twenty-seven years old and has just began her graduate degree after doing her undergrad at a community college back in Tennessee. Daughter to a single mother, a nurse, Deanne also worked full time to save money and pay her way through school. When she saw the impressed look on my face, she had explained that her mother had always encouraged her, but also expected to see a strong work ethic that reflected the passion she had to pursue her dreams. Not to mention, when money is tight, there isn't always an alternative.

After Debating Walter Scott over our food for the last twenty minutes a couple of BU undergrads walked in loudly gossiping about Professor Davenport while they ordered their meals to-go. This led Deanne back to the inevitable what-do-girls-see-in-this-cocky-self-serving-perpetual-man-whore rant. She clearly has issues with this guy. I can understand, more so than most, but...

I looked up from the spoonful of food I was finally about to eat mid stride and lock Deanne in a gaze, "So, if you don't like Professor Davenport, why did you put a pear on his podium?"

She smiles and runs a hand through her straight crimson locks, "I don't hate him. I just think he's a cocky bastard."

I furrow my brow in confusion as she grabs my bruised to hell apple that is sitting on our table to check it out as if it's an ancient artifact before setting it back down.

"Davenport is my Advisor." She finally spills before sighing, "I used to leave a pear on Professor Hanley's podium last semester. Davenport found out and teased the hell out of me. I can't help that I have a crush on the old guy, he's just so handsome in that Pierce Bronsan way. Anyhow, he promised to keep it a secret if I brought him a pear everyday too." Rolling her eyes, "He can be quite arrogant."

Note to self: I may not be into the silver foxes, but apparently others my age are.

Wait...

Just then a look of understanding must have dawned on my face along with another thought I was about to put into words because Deanne quickly spoke up again.