I'm Normally Perfect (re-upload)

Chapter Three

On Fridays she left precisely at 5.30 so at five after the hour I packed up very neatly and smoothed the parts of my appearance I most worried over and set out for her building. At the porter's lodge for her college, Eglesfield, I said I was on an errand for Professor Burrows and the head porter let me in with a nod.

Unfortunately, I chose to go on this little outing at the end of November, which in that part of the world is rather nippy. I had been standing patiently for ten minutes, trying to figure out how to look like I had a legitimate reason for loitering, when I realised I couldn't feel my toes. After another five minutes I began to think I'd never feel my toes again. Then I realised that in the cold various parts of me would turn bright red and I'd look frightful. That would not do as a first impression. I went inside.

While being enveloped by the warmth of the cavernous main hall I was struck by the thought that she saw this room every day. It was like going backstage at a performance I had seen several times, the actors were intimately familiar with it, but audience members never saw it. As feeling returned to my extremities I tried to figure out which way her office would be; spatial relations were never my strong suit, but as it had to be up two flights and on the west side of the building I wandered in that general direction, absorbing everything in my path.

Eventually I came upon a door denoted 'stairway' and entered. Upon gaining the second landing I saw through the window the library where my table was, but could not discern precisely which window was mine and cursed myself for not having paid closer attention. I crossed the threshold into the hallway. As I stood trying to figure out if her office was three or four windows from the end of the building a door opened and she stepped out, locking it behind her and began walking toward me, straightening her greatcoat. I forced myself to walk toward her as though on my way to a meeting with a don. A meeting, absolutely, that's why I'm here.

Look straight ahead, relax, look straight ahead, you have every reason to be here, you have an appointment. If she speaks to you, don't pass out and try not to sound like a nasal American. She didn't speak to me; though she did pass by very closely, a ghost of jasmine trailing behind. When I heard the heavy door to the stairwell open I turned to a door across from hers as though reaching my destination. Yes! That's why I'm here, just visiting this don. I looked back (coolly) to watch her leave and she glanced at me before stepping into the stairwell. There did not appear to be curiosity in her expression, but she was not the sort of person whose thoughts would be plastered all over her face.

I crossed the hallway and found her door. 'Professor A. A. Pristin, Professor of English Literature'. I thrilled that she taught the subject I was reading and wondered what could the 'A.' stand for? Amy, Amanda, Anna, Annie weren't suitable names, I thought. None of those were stately or elegant enough for her, and decided to stick with 'Lavinia'. After checking both ways to be certain no one was around, I grasped the doorknob. Still warm. I was dizzy with the idea that my heroine had been in this very place only a moment before. I imitated her locking the door, trying to place my hands exactly where she had placed hers. Then I walked slowly back to my rooms, light-headed.

As I was coming back through the front gate I crossed paths with the boy who had helped me carry my bags the first day.

'Hey Perfect! Look at you, grinning to yourself. What's got you so chuffed?'

I assumed a playfully snippy air and stuck my nose up, 'None of your business.'

He smiled, 'Well, excuse me, milady. Glad to see you a mite less morose.'

I was tempted to stick my tongue out at him, but restrained myself and continued on to my rooms, where I wrote about the entire episode in the hallway in minute detail.