Language of Love

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Language of Love Page 8

by Ruby Kiss


  Wrapping up my phone call with my parents, I was surprised to see the day was half gone already. I jogged back across campus to the dorms to pick up my suitcase and Lauren. Ridiculous though it was for her to public transit all the way to the airport and back, she insisted, and I was more than happy to welcome the company. A lonely subway right was not what my mental health needed right now.

  By the time we stood on the sidewalk together outside the terminal at JFK I was too emotionally wrung out and exhausted to cry anymore. I was pretty sure Lauren was feeling the same way. We clung to each other for several minutes, my suitcase stood on the pavement beside us.

  “Promise you’ll text me everyday,” Lauren said into my ear, “and send me pictures cuz I’m gonna miss your face.”

  “I promise,” I replied, “you’ve been the best roommate Laur’, seriously. And you have to come visit me during reading week next year okay?”

  “Won’t I freeze to death?” she asked, and we finally let go of each other to giggle, sleep deprivation making us sillier than usual.

  “Omigod it’s Canada not the Arctic!” I said, once I had caught my breath again.

  “I know,” she replied, “it’s just so easy, I gotta pick the low hanging fruit sometimes you know.”

  “Fair enough.” I nodded, pulling my phone out to check the time. “I’d better head in but,” I began, but hesitated. I was loathe to ask any more of Lauren—she’d already done so much for me.

  “But what? Spit it out Max,” she demanded, hands firmly on her hips, her signature don’t fuck with me expression right back where it belonged, which was a relief.

  “I wonder if you would give this to Julian for me?” I said, looking down at my feet. I shoved a hand into my bag and dug out a letter I had written. “I couldn’t face him in person,” I explained, “I’d never have been able to walk away, but I didn’t want to leave him with nothing you know?”

  “Yeah, of course I get it,” she said, taking the letter and slipping it in her jacket pocket. “It’s gonna be hard not to be pissed at him you know.”

  “It’s not his fault!” I insisted.

  “I know, but angry is better than sad right? I gotta be mad at someone or I’ll be a blubbering mess, he gets to be the unfortunate target,” she replied with a shrug.

  “Well I guess I can’t stop you,” I resigned myself to accept that I couldn’ t expect to control things that happened once I was gone. “I really should go in now.”

  “I know,” she said, “I just didn’t wanna say it.”

  “You’re an awesome person Lauren, I’m so glad I met you. I’ll see you soon eh?” I leaned in for one last hug.

  “Hehe, you said eh, you’re so Canadian,” she replied, voice shaky. We released each other, both of us wiping our eyes.

  “Nice callback,” I said, and before we could get drawn in for more hugging and tears I grabbed my suitcase handle and headed into the terminal.

  The time it took to get through customs felt interminably slow and also somehow rushed by in a blur. The sun had set by the time I took my seat next to the window, New York lighting up around us in the dark. I tipped my head back and closed my eyes, exhaling slowly, trying to breathe all the stress and anxiety out of my body. It was all over now, I’d never see Julian again, his job and reputation would be protected and our lives would go on.

  I opened my eyes when the plane started to move and was startled by the person in the next seat staring intently at me.

  “Are you alright?” he asked, a young man in a business suit, briefcase held tightly on his lap.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” I replied, perplexed.

  “You’re crying,” he said.

  My face flamed in embarrassment and I mumbled out a quick, “Sorry,” turning away to look out the window. The plane left the ground and the twinkling lights of New York City danced below us, hot tears streamed down my face as I watched the city, home to the man I loved, disappear under the clouds

  Chapter 13

  Thursday morning I stood in front of my closet, surveying the contents for a long moment, even though I was well aware of what they were. My disciplinary committee meeting was scheduled for that afternoon, one pm, and I knew better than to be tardy when Dr. Dempsey was involved. Determined as I was to get ready with plenty of time to spare, my mind wandered as it so often had recently, to Mackenzie.

  I tipped my head back with a sigh, and I could see her beautiful eyes, sparkling with half shed tears from our last time together. The image of her was clear as crystal, but the details of my own home that surrounded her in that moment faded into the background, blurry and unimportant.

  I blinked my own eyes open, but held on to that image of her. The one that had come back to me over and over again since Tuesday morning. It helped strengthen my resolve for the decision I had made. Though if I were honest with myself, I was choiceless.

  I had fallen so completely in love with this enchanting young woman who had so boldly strode up to my desk on her first day at our institution. I’d tried to hold myself back,keep my feelings to myself—I was well aware of how inappropriate our relationship was.

  But something inside me broke at the sight of her tears, pain and worry etched in every inch of her face broke my heart, and when she confessed her own love—unintentionally I’m sure—I couldn’t help myself. I had to reassure her, to stem the flow of tears and wipe the sadness away.

  I knew right then what I would do, what I would give up, for this woman. In truth I had known ever since I followed her out of the karaoke bar and into the alley, ever since I had thrown all my restraint and rational thought out the window to kiss her, which only led to so much more.

  I intended to present myself for the hearing today and resign my position. When she came over for dinner this evening, I would be able to tell her I had taken care of things. I wasn’t so naive as to believe it would be that simple, but the major obstacle—that of me being her professor—would be dealt with. We would be free to pursue our relationship without secrecy or fear of being caught.

  I chose a suit from my meager collection—professors salaries don’t pay much, there’s no Armani in here. Besides, what does one wear to quit their job after being caught in an illicit affair with a student? I’m sure there’s not a handbook for this.

  I was surprised by the calm sense of acceptance that had settled over me. If someone had told me two months ago, at the beginning of this semester, that this would be where I was by early November, I would have laughed out loud. Yet here I stood, planning my resignation speech with ease and fretting over the dinner I had planned for later.

  Dressed and ready to face the music, I headed out of my apartment, leaving my briefcase behind. I was sure there would be a myriad of paperwork to deal with later—I had cancelled my classes for that day, but I would have to make arrangements for my students for the remainder of the semester. There was no getting around the fact that this was going to be messy, but I was sure it would be worth it, more sure than I had ever been about anything in my thirty two years of life.

  It didn’t take long to reach the faculty office building near the centre of campus. The brisk almost winter air encouraged me to walk just a bit faster than normal. I steeled myself for the task ahead, and knocked on the door of the small meeting room on the second floor.

  “Come in,” the austere voice of Dr. Marianne Dempsey rang out from within. I turned the knob with a deep breath to steady myself and stepped across the threshold. To my surprise Dr. Dempsey was the only occupant on the side of the door. “Mr. Quinn,” she said by way of greeting, “punctual as always.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way ma’am,” I replied. “May I ask, where is the rest of the committee? I was under the impression that there was to be a hearing?”

  “There was, Mr. Quinn,” she said, fixing me with a disapproving glare over the rim of her glasses. “As it is, the situation has changed. Quite rapidly I must say, and it was decided that I would meet with you my
self.”

  “Changed?” I asked, heart sinking. What happened? Did they kick Mackenzie out of her program?

  “Yes, but before we get to that I must ask, do you know why you’ve been summoned here today?” she began, infuriatingly avoiding my question.

  “Yes,” I answered, my voice clipped, ruder than I would have normally spoken to a superior, let alone someone as legendary in the faculty as Dr. Dempsey.

  “May I then ask, what on earth you were thinking?” she continued, eyebrows raised in incredulity.

  “With all due respect ma’am, that’s none of your business as I don’t intend to be a member of this faculty any longer,” I replied. I was growing quickly frustrated with this line of questioning following her cryptic remarks about the changed situation.

  “I assure you that won’t be necessary Mr. Quinn. In fact, we are prepared to forget this entire incident ever happened, provided you swear—in writing—to never commit an indiscretion of this nature again,” she continued. Her calm voice was inexplicably infuriating. I knew I was in the wrong in this situation—she was simply acting in her capacity as head of the disciplinary committee.

  “Why on earth would the committee agree to that?” I asked, confusion and panic vying for my attention in equal measures.

  “Well the student in question, one…” she paused to check her notes. “Mackenzie Lowell, submitted papers just yesterday to withdraw for the semester. As she is no longer a student here there is effectively no longer an indiscretion to be punished, and the faculty does not wish for this to become a matter of public record. You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Quinn.”

  My mind reeled as though I’d been struck across the face. Had she just called me lucky? Mackenzie dropped out? What was going on? I needed answers—I needed to see Mackenzie.

  “Am I excused then ma’am?” I asked. I knew it was rude, that I should thank her or some other absurdity but my entire being was focused on Mackenzie in that moment—I could care less if I offended the great Dr. Marianne Dempsey.

  “You are.” She nodded once. “I hope to never see you in here again, Julian.”

  I made my way back out of the building without pausing to say goodbye, ignoring the quizzical looks of my colleagues. The bracing pre-winter air filled my lungs as I stepped outside, grounding me and I stopped for a moment. It was imperative that I got myself under control.

  I couldn’t imagine why Mackenzie would have dropped out. She spoke repeatedly during our time at The Coffee Bean about her long time desire to spend at least one semester at a school outside her home country. Her adorable Canadian mannerisms notwithstanding, I was immensely glad she had chosen New York instead of somewhere in Europe.

  What could have possessed her to throw away her whole semester? It was past midterms, too late to scrub the classes from her transcript. Not only would she be missing out on finishing her semester abroad, but she would have a series of incomplete courses negatively impacting her academic history.

  Heedless of the potential consequences, I headed for the graduate student housing. It was relatively easy to find her building and once inside the directory gave me the room information that I needed. I bypassed the elevator in favour of the stairs with the hope that it would give a much needed moment to calm myself.

  I arrived at her door, decorated with an endearing photograph of herself and Ms. Riedlmayer, Lauren, judging by the large cartoonish script posted below their photo that read Max and Lauren. I took a second to catch my breath and knocked on the door.

  The door swung open. “What?” Ms. Riedlmayer stood with one hand planted on her hip, her gaze narrowing as she registered my presence. “What the hell do you want, Professor?”

  I squashed my instinct to reprimand her for her tone. Instead I said, “I need to speak to Mackenzie, is she here?”

  “Of course she’s not here,” she replied, her voice dripping with contempt. I was taken aback. “She’s gone isn’t she?”

  “Gone?” I sputtered, embarrassed by my own lack of composure, but too shocked to do anything but gape at the angry young woman before me.

  “Yes Julian.” She drew my name out as though it were a dirty word. “She’s gone, already back at her parents place by now. Congratulations on keeping your job.”

  “You mean she went back to Ontario?” I asked, my mind scrambling to catch up with all that had changed. Just a few hours ago I was prepared to give up my job, my livelihood and passion for this woman, and she was just gone?

  “Little bit slow aren’t you?” she replied. “Yeah, she said she wouldn’t be responsible for you losing your job. And oh yeah…” She reached away from the door frame and then thrust something into my hand. “She said to give you this.”

  The door abruptly closed in my face, and I was left standing in the hallway of the grad student dorms holding a half crumpled envelope, Mackenzie’s smiling face looking back at me from the photograph on the door.

  It took me a moment to realize I was drawing some inquisitive stares, other doors having swung open at the sound of Ms. Riedlmayer slamming hers in my face. I headed quickly for the exit, making it down the stairs and outside with no memory of the intervening minutes, my mind too full of questions and dread. Blood pounded in my ears as I tore into the envelope with shaking hands, a single page was folded inside.

  Dear Julian,

  I’m so sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused, I never intended for any of this to happen when I asked you to help me out with conjugation issues. I’m sorry I won’t be there for dinner on Thursday, and please don’t get Lauren in any trouble if her behaviour isn’t exactly ladylike. I think it’s best if I just go home and we forget this whole thing ever happened, who am I kidding, I’ll never forget you, but I love you too much to ruin your life like this so I’m trying to be responsible and an adult and all those things you’re supposed to be in your twenties right? God I’m even rambling in written format. I guess that’s all there is to say, I didn’t want to leave you with nothing but I’d never have had the strength to do this in person. Goodbye Julian. And thank you.

  Mackenzie

  My breath caught in my throat and I fumbled in my pocket for my cell phone. How did we get here? I have your letter, please tell me you didn’t do this? I typed quickly and hit send. I desperately clung to the hope that this was some sort of horrible misunderstanding as I reread the letter, waiting for the tell tale vibration of my phone indicating a response.

  Nothing happened for several long minutes. I gave up waiting, hitting the call button on her contact and holding my phone up to my ear. An electronic voice rang through my head like a siren.

  “We’re sorry the number you have reached is not in service.”

  Chapter 14

  The lecture hall was silent except for the scratching of pencils against paper, and the occasional sigh of frustration. I paced across the front of the room, supervising my last exam before Christmas break. My eyes were repeatedly drawn to a certain empty seat in the back row, as they had been so many times over the past few weeks.

  Ms. Riedlmayer glared daggers at me, as had become her custom since Mackenzie’s departure. I averted my gaze and tried to focus on anything but the sense of loss that had been crushing me since I read that letter. The letter which currently sat on my nightstand at home—I knew I should throw it out and stop torturing myself, but I couldn’t bear to part with the only thing I had left of her.

  Rumours had swirled for the first few days after she left, her dorm mates no doubt questioning her sudden disappearance. I bit my tongue on more than occasion when whispers of our affair followed me through the halls. Anything I said would only add fuel to the fire, and I had no desire to give the faculty any more reasons to haul me back in front of the disciplinary committee. Within a couple of weeks though, the student population had moved on to a newer more exciting scandal.

  I checked the time and wiped the large chalk ten off the board, replacing it with a five. Five minutes remaining in this semester and th
en I was faced with two very lonely weeks ahead of me. Normally I would go visit my parents, or in previous years, spend the holiday with a girlfriend. I couldn’t bring myself to visit this year when the only person I wanted to be with was unreachable in another country. I didn’t want to put a damper on my parents’ celebrations.

  I watched the hands of the clock tick away the last few seconds. “Pencils down,” I announced to the class, “time is up, please place your exam papers on my desk and have yourselves a wonderful holiday.” I turned my back as the class shuffled to their feet, filing past on their way out, anxious discussions of exam questions filled the air. I packed up my briefcase, and relief washed over me, this was one semester I was eager to put behind. With the exception of select precious memories I would treasure forever.

  I let myself into my apartment, dropping my briefcase by the door, with every intention of leaving it there for the next two weeks. Sinking onto the couch, I tipped my head back and closed my eyes with a heavy sigh. Mackenzie’s words floated through my mind—I’d read the letter so often since she left that I had it memorized.

  I scrubbed my hands over my face vigorously, forcing myself to sit up straight. The worst part was the abruptness of it all. I liked to think of myself as a rational man—if we had just spoken to each other, if I’d had a chance to say goodbye. Or talk her out of it, anything would have been preferable to this sense of abandonment and loss.

 

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