The next few weeks of summer passed far too quickly for my liking.
My friends and I had taken up yoga at a studio near our apartment and swore we would do it all year long. We'd done the same thing with kickboxing and rock climbing in years past but we swore up and down that yoga would be different.
Hayden and I continued seeing each other on "dates" which oddly meant that we'd stopped hooking up with each other altogether. At least, for now. Our relationship hung in some weird limbo land.
The peer tutoring program I worked for started their training sessions for the upcoming semester and I dreaded them. I registered for the LSAT so I would take it over winter break and I dreaded that too.
We drank, tanned, and gossiped a little too much, but it was exactly what I needed from my last few weeks before I dove headfirst into schoolwork. With a double major in Legal Studies and Environmental Heath Engineering with a minor in English Lit, there wasn't a lot of crossover in my course load, so I normally overloaded my schedule and took classes in the summer. Fortunately, those had all wrapped up in time for me to enjoy my last few weeks of summer.
Because I'd been drowning in school the past three years to fit my nuanced majors in, this year I was only missing a few credits. One was my stupid performative humanities requirement: theatre 200 at 8 am on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Fortunately, Gisele was in the class with me.
Unfortunately, Gisele was never ready on time. Even on the first day I left without her, knowing that she'd roll in twenty minutes late with a Starbucks cup in her hand.
The class was held in our theater auditorium. I was a little ashamed to admit that I'd never been in it before, but it was big and the professor directed us to sit in one of the audience chairs according to the seating chart he'd made up. I sat in the front and Gisele sat in the row behind me. It was unlikely that I'd know anyone else in this class, as it was usually taken by underclassmen trying to get their prerequisite courses out of the way early.
"Alright! Let's get started," the professor began.
He was one of those younger, eccentric looking professors that you knew smoked a lot of weed in college because it was 'artistic.' That was the assumption, at least, after looking at the corduroy pants and tie dye shirt. Probably a good one, at that.
Gisele was still nowhere to be seen.
He started describing his classroom policy and I knew I was spot on as he described himself as 'a chill professor.' At least I knew the class would be easy enough.
"We'll have one big performance at the end of the semester that you'll be graded on. You'll do this performance in partners," he explained and I tapped my foot anxiously. If he told us to pick partners and she wasn't here, I would kill her. "Since most of you probably don't know each other, I'll go through and pick them based on last names."
I took a deep breath, relaxing a little. I hadn't looked at the roster, but Gisele and I's last names were close alphabetically. The professor continued explaining the assignment but I zoned out to check my phone.
Gisele: not coming today. Didn't feel like it. Take notes for me!
With a laughing face emoji. I groaned inwardly.
The professor started calling out names to assign us to our partners and I was barely paying attention. I hated group work and the only thing worse than group work was group work with strangers. Especially on something as stupid as—
"Donovan Starr with Kendall Sampson."
I choked on my own spit. It was very ladylike.
My neck snapped to where the professor was looking and, of course, there was his dark hair and those stupid blue eyes. He was raising his hand. There is no way the universe hated me this much. At this point, it was just peeing on me because it felt like it.
"Looks like Kendall isn't here today so we'll pair you up with someone else... Gisele Teixeira?" He called out, but nobody answered. The professor's eyes traveled to where her empty seat sat and clicked his tongue, disapprovingly.
"Don't make me start taking attendance guys," he rolled his eyes dramatically and continued down his list and I already knew before he spoke the words, "Josie Troutman. Troutman, are you here? Troutman?"
Would he stop saying my last name?
I considered not raising my hand, but he peered down at his seating chart and scanned the chairs till he found me. I sank lower in my seat so Donovan couldn't see me. As the professor moved on in his assignment, I pulled my phone out to text Gisele back.
Me: You. Are. Dead. To. Me.
Gisele: Harshhhhh.
Me: I just got partnered up with Donovan for a project bc you decided not to come to class.
She sent back a winky face. That asshole.
I spent the rest of the class, shrinking in my chair and practicing what I would say to Professor Hirsch in order to convince him to let me switch partners. He described himself as a "chill" professor so maybe he would be cool about it. I doubted that Donovan wanted to be my partner anymore than I wanted to be his.
At the end of class, I was proven correct. Donovan was already speaking to him about switching.
"I'd be happy to switch," I interjected, hearing the tail-end of his request.
Donovan didn't even turn to look at me, he just continued his piercing stare at Professor Hirsch. I'd been on the receiving end of the ice in his gaze, and it wasn't fun. Remarkably, it didn't seem to phase our Professor.
"What? Did the two of you have some sort of a bad break up?" He asked, putting his folders back into his work bag.
So much for "chill" Professor—our odds were not looking good.
"What? No! Of course not!"
"Hopefully, you'll be a better actress by the end of the semester, Ms. Troutman."
"I'm not acting-"
"We don't work well together Professor, that's all."
"Do you think anybody works well with their exes? No, but the show goes on," Professor Hirsch mused.
"We're not-" I looked frantically at Donovan. He seemed amused, looking at our professor.
"Did you really just say the show goes on? Is that a real thing people say?" he asked.
Professor Hirsch chuckled a little, amusing himself with his own words and Donovan's teasing. Oh great. I recognized the little twinkle in our Professor's eye as he regarded Donovan. Of course, he'd fall under the spell of the King. It appeared that nobody at South Harmon was immune to his charms.
Except me. I wanted as little to do with his bullshit this semester as possible.
"Look," Hirsch began, "one day you two will look back and be grateful I didn't switch your partners. It takes practice to work with people you don't like without murdering them. Consider this a lesson in that. Toodaloo for now."
He gave us both a finger waggle wave and strode out of the auditorium. Donovan was watching after him with pure amusement written on his face and when he looked down at me, it was still there.
"He really just said 'toodaloo'? Right? And unironically?"
I ignored his fascination, inwardly groaning, and walked back to my seat to retrieve my things. My Constitutional Studies class was in fifteen minutes, but I was strongly considering making a pit stop at home to murder my roommate. And I had a shadow.
"What do you want?" I didn't turn around to look at him as we walked out the double doors into the quad.
"Should we make a plan on when to practice this thing?"
When he asked, I realized that I hadn't paid attention when the professor had really described the assignment. I'd hardly admit that to him, but now I was concerned on how much effort I'd need to put into it. There was absolutely no way I was letting Theatre 200 screw up my GPA. Nor would I let some dumb jock either.
"Sure, I guess. I'm late for my Con. class so we can figure it out another time over text."
At least, then I didn't have to see him anymore than I had to. Alas, he followed me.
"I'm headed that way, we can talk about it now."
"I didn't say where my class was," I eyed him suspiciously.
"Well, we're both walking in the same direction..." he trailed off rolling his eyes. "You were the stalker, if I remember correctly—"
"You don't," I cut him off, "remember correctly."
He rubbed his forehead, massaging his temples with his thumb and his middle finger. There were dark circles under his eyes and a nervousness in his walk that had never been there before. This was not a version of Donovan that I remembered. He didn't even acknowledge my snarky comment. Even his taunting seemed half-hearted. Good, I thought, maybe he's getting fed up with his own shit.
"I'm free Wednesday nights. You?" He asked and I nodded. "Cool."
And he walked off.
As far as our bickering sessions went, that one was pretty tame. Simply because I was a nosy person, I wanted to know why he seemed so exhausted. It was the beginning of the semester so there was no way he was already stressed out.
I let all thoughts of Donovan slip through my mind as I went through my next two classes.
My nose was buried in my syllabi during my tutoring shift at the library. It was the beginning of the school year and not many people needed help this early so I took the time to write all of my major assignments in my planner. Color coded, of course.
I was just finishing when my phone vibrated and I realized it was likely going to be a much worse day than I'd first expected. My thumb pressed the little green answer button, I pressed the phone to my ear, and said absolutely nothing as I made my way out of the library.
"Josie?" My dad said on the other end of the line. "Did I reach you?"
"Yeah."
He seemed to let out a sigh of relief on the other end and waited for me to say something else. I didn't.
"Well, I'm glad I did. I'll be in town this week and I'd love to take you and Marcus out for dinner. Are you free Friday at 6? Marcus said he was available then."
There was the first football game of the season on Friday and, while under normal circumstances I'd probably not care so much, I still wanted any excuse not to see my dad. The last time I'd seen him in person had been almost a year ago. He'd occasionally call or text—I preferred the texts. It was much easier not to respond.
But Marcus had already agreed and hell would have to freeze over before I left my little brother alone with that man.
"Sure."
"Okay, great! I'll send you the address of where to meet. Excited to see you, kiddo!"
"I've got class, I've got to run."
I hung up as soon as I reached my car in the parking lot. My head suddenly felt too heavy for my shoulders and I rested it on the steering wheel. First Donovan and now my father? It really was starting to feel like high school again, and I mean that in the worst possible way.
Usually, I want the week to fly by to sail me into the weekend, but it never did. Until this week, when I actually wanted each day to crawl past, time seemed to blink away. Slippery thing, time—never seems to do what I want it to.
Which is why it felt like no time had passed as I stood outside the restaurant I was meeting my brother and dad at. He couldn't be cordial and invite my mom, of course. No, no. That would only remind him of how he'd screwed her over—rather, how he screwed his sober sponsor and left my mom for her. Oh yeah, it was different tiers of fucked up.
"Josephine!" He exclaimed, standing from the table to greet me.
He seemed to inch forward, as if to hug me, but I pulled out my chair and sat down quickly. Marcus was already there, twirling his straw around in his soda.
"I'm so happy to see you both again. I can't wait to hear everything that's going on with the two of you."
"How long are you here?" Marcus asked. Dad didn't catch the snide tone. Or if he did, he didn't let it show.
"I'm only in town for a few more days and then I've got to rush home."
His dark hair was graying in some places, but his face hadn't changed much from the last time I saw him. He and Marcus still appeared remarkably similar, except for the eyes. The slightly upturned sea green eyes and long lashes—those were mine and sometimes I hated that he'd given them to me.
"Why are you in town?"
He shuffled a little in his chair and took a drink of the water in front of him. Apparently he'd been sober for two years now. Which was good. I guess.
"Well, there's plenty of time to talk about that later," he said evasively, "how is the school hunt going, Marcus? Have you picked one?"
Marcus launched in to a hurried explanation of the official visits he'd been on. Apparently, South Harmon had been his favorite. He'd bonded well with the team and like Coach Lewis' coaching style. I beamed. Despite my impending graduation, I would be happy to have my brother at one of my favorite places in the world.
"And you, young lady, plans for after graduation?" He asked, the paternal gaze falling on me.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. He clearly had something to say to us, but was flitting around the matter by pretending to care about our lives.
"I have them."
"Care to elaborate?"
"No."
My therapist would likely yell at me for that later, but what right did my dad have to know about my plans? It's not as if he were there to help me achieve them. My father frowned, but he let the matter rest. He'd learned in his sobriety when to push something with me and he could clearly see that it wasn't this.
We were all quiet as we ate our dinner. Nobody was keen to start any conversation so the sounds of forks hitting plates filled the air. And not much else. Eventually, I grew tired of the tense silence.
"Do you want to tell us why you asked us here? Or would you like us to start guessing?"
Both Marcus and my father stopped chewing at my abrupt interruption of the silence. My father put down his silverware.
"Well," he began with a sigh, "I'll just come right out and say it... I'm getting married."
The reaction my brother and I had was clearly not the one my father had been hoping for. Neither of us said anything. I drank from my water glass. Marcus twirled his spaghetti on his fork.
"And," our dad winced, "I'd like for you both to be there?"
I snorted and Marcus kicked me under the table.
"Ow!" I glared at him.
"What?" Dad asked.
"Nothing!" Marcus added, "we'll be there just let us know when."
My brother's eyes narrowed on me. He was far too polite for his own good. If he'd just let me be a bitch like I was good at, dad would've rescinded the invitation so quickly.
"Sure," I said.
The moment I said my goodbyes to the two male Troutmans, I pulled my phone out and texted my roommate group message.
Me: don't leave for the game without me... let's get drunk.
Naturally, they agreed.
_______
Thanks for reading!!
Stay safe and be kind, my friends.