by Mary Frame
Duncan requested that I speak with him at the end of my shift. His door is shut, and I can hear the murmur of voices inside. I sit on the bench just outside his office and wait.
The voices inside escalate.
“They’re unreasonable. My relationship ends through no fault of my own, and they’re pissed at me. Like it’s my fault. Like I’ve ruined all their plans for me and my future.”
I don’t recognize the voice speaking. It’s male and deep.
“Do you think that maybe they’re just concerned for you, and they want what’s best?”
“That’s the problem. They think they know what’s best for me, but they don’t. They aren’t me. They don’t have to live my life, I do. And if I try to argue or say anything against what they want, they threaten to disown me. It’s all or nothing with them. They’re completely irrational.”
“Your father mentioned trouble with your classes?”
“Yeah. It’s hard to stay focused when you’re miserable, and being forced into a major you don’t want,” the voice says dryly.
Duncan responds, but it’s too low for me to pick up.
The voices continue to murmur for a few more minutes, and then there’s a shuffling and the door swings open. The stranger steps out and I realize that he isn’t a stranger. It’s my neighbor. Granted, I’ve never actually spoken with him, but I recognize him from seeing him coming and going on the other side of the duplex we both occupy.
He’s tall, at least a head taller than my own five feet seven inches, and he has dark hair. I don’t have a chance to make any more of an assessment on his appearance. His gaze slides over me like I blend in with the wall, and then he’s stalking down the hall and out the main door.
Chapter Two
Learning must be experienced.
–William Glasser