What Remains

by Sandra Miller

  “I’ll be there—quaking in humiliation at the corner table I’m sure, but I’ll be there.”

  “They’re going to be putty in your hands, you’ll see,” Gregory told her, making one last attempt to reassure her before their conversation ended. Leaving Tessa to admit that hearing from him had helped alleviate much of her anxiety, which had been replaced with a slight flutter caused from the memory of the night before.

  “So, today is the big day,” Seth announced unnecessarily as he entered the kitchen while Tessa was pulling the muffins out of the oven.

  When he witnessed the pained expression on her face, he chuckled and came over to pat her on the head as consolation. A lot had changed between them since Martha’s Vineyard. Their relationship had morphed from a strained professional one into something that felt more as if they were family than mere friends. Which Tessa didn’t mind in the least, because the Collins’ Estate had become a place she referred to as home of late, not merely a place of employment. Even Seth appeared more at ease in the house he grew up in, choosing to return to Amherst almost on a daily basis when he wasn’t forced to go out of town for work.

  Over the past month, the two of them began sharing their evenings together, having dinner, watching TV, playing cards, or taking late evening walks with the dogs. On the weekends, when neither of them had other commitments, Seth drug her along on trips to Martha’s Vineyard to see his grandmother. And in turn for putting up with the old woman’s crotchetiness, Tessa forced him to stop at every flea market and farmers’ market along the way. As a result, she was building up an impressive collection of antique quilts, and he had acquired quite a liking to fried green tomatoes.

  It had even gotten to the point where she would catch him having long conversations with her children whenever they called and he happened to pick up the phone. Family was exactly what they had become, and Tessa treasured the peace it brought both of them.

  “Yes, it is. I was trying not to think about it, so thanks for bringing it up,” she grumbled.

  “That’s what I’m here for.”

  Smacking his hand as he reached over her shoulder to grab a muffin out of the hot pan, Tessa giggled. “No, you’re here for the food. Now stop it before you burn yourself.”

  “You’re awfully belligerent for a hobbit.”

  “Though I may be small, I am fierce, especially when I’m busy trying to get us both out the door. Now go sit down and I’ll get your coffee.”

  Laughing at her moodiness, Seth poured his own cup of coffee and leaned against the counter, seemingly content on watching her as she bustled around the kitchen preparing his lunch that consisted of leftover beans and rice and blackened chicken; blackened only because she lacked any skills when it came to grilling over open flames. In fact, she was lucky the fire department hadn’t been called out by a concerned neighbor who happened to pass and see the smoke billowing up from behind the gates of the estate.

  “Are you sure you want this? We still have some shepherd’s pie.”

  “I’m sure. Everyone in the office wagers to see who can come closest to guessing what I brought for lunch.”

  “That’s just mean,” Tessa exclaimed, throwing an oven mitt at his head.

  Seth caught it easily and tossed it on the counter. Laughing at her momentarily, he suddenly became very quiet, causing Tessa to turn around and study him with concern.

  “Is everything okay, Seth? I mean, with your grandmother?” As hard as it was to admit, considering the amount of insults she usually had to endure on their visits to her, Tessa was growing very fond of Mems, and had a suspicion that Mems felt the same.

  “Huh,” he answered at first, as if he had been too preoccupied with his thoughts to hear what she had asked. “Oh, yeah…nothing has changed.”

  “Then is something else on your mind? Something you want to talk to me about?”

  With his expression growing more serious, he nodded. “Unfortunately there is.”

  “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

  “It’s not so much something I need to tell you, as it is something I need to show you.”

  “Of course.”

  Following his lead, the two of them headed outside toward the carriage house. Tessa watched him curiously as he punched in the code that opened one of the bay doors. When he motioned for her to step inside with him, she obeyed willingly, though with some apprehension.

  “I got this for you, yesterday” he announced sounding almost contrite as he rested his hand on the top of a brand new luxury crossover.

  “What?” Tessa asked in irritation. The last thing she wanted was to be even more indebted to him than she was already, her pride already wounded beyond repair from the scholarship offered to her son.

  “I don’t want you driving back and forth to Amherst everyday in that death trap of yours. You need something dependable.”

  “I heard what you said,” she told him with a wave of mixed emotions. “But my car is perfectly fine. It may not look so hot, but it runs well and has never given me a bit of trouble.”

  “Is that why it takes you ten minutes just to get it started?” He was disappointed in her less than enthusiastic response, and it could be heard in his tone of voice.

  “I wish you would stop doing these things behind my back, Seth. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and my children.”

  “I’m not saying you’re not. I just wanted you to have a car to drive that’s not going to leave you stranded somewhere in the middle of the night. I worry about you every time you pull out of this driveway, especially when you don’t get home until two or three in the morning.”

  “What is this? You consider yourself my father now?”

  “I don’t have a razor strap to beat you with, so no, I don’t. Although, I would like to on occasion when you’re being unreasonable.”

  Their eyes locked in mutual contempt and hurt feelings, neither of them willing to back down or apologize.

  “Is this really about my car, or the fact I come home late?”

  Seth dropped his eyes briefly and sneered, “Look, you’re welcome to sleep with every young man at UMass, if that’s what you want, I really don’t care. I just don’t want to be the one who has to call your family and tell them their mother has been in an accident because her breaks gave out, or her car blew up on the freeway.”

  “You’re such an asshole,” Tessa said calmly, even though repressed anger was causing her whole body to tremble.

  “Yes, I am—an asshole who wants to keep you safe.”

  The sweetness of his statement took some of the indignation out of Tessa’s tirade, and Seth must have seen it in her expression, because he grinned and took a step toward her. First looking at the car, and then back at him, Tessa crossed her arms and shook her head in defeat.

  “Thank you,” she told him. “But you have to stop doing these things; you make me feel like a charity case.”

  Taking her head in his hands, Seth tilted it back, forcing her to look at him.

  “I just want to help,” he scolded soothingly.

  Tessa sneered, “Is this a tax write off, too?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Knowing that she was going to have to face Gregory in a few hours with the memory of their make out session still fresh in her mind, helped keep some of Tessa’s focus off the fact that she was about to teach her first class as a post grad. As the freshmen filed into her room and found their seats, she sat at her desk wondering how she could face him without becoming a basket case of nerves. What could she have possibly been thinking? Yes, she had missed being intimate with a man, after all it had been years. But now that she had a taste of what it was like to be to be touched, to feel wanted, she knew it may very well be impossible to say no next time. Just thinking about his hands on her body caused her to react. And imagining what would most likely happen the next time they were alone made her cheeks flush with warmth.

  A loud clearing of a throat brought Tessa back to
the task at hand; introducing herself to the class. There would be plenty of time to fanaticize later.

  Walking to the front of her desk, she leaned against it casually. Facing a classroom of young people seemed suddenly less intimidating than the thoughts running through her head.

  “Good morning, I’m Ms. Maguire, and this is English 125, Intro to the American Novel, section 01.”

  A hand popped up in the back of the class. Tessa leaned to her left in order to see who it belonged to, and called on the young man who vied for her attention.

  “Yes?”

  “You mean this isn’t Communications?”

  Tessa picked up one of the syllabi and pretended she was reading it, and then offering him an apologetic smile, she shook her head while the rest of the class laughed. “Uh, no, apparently not. I’m sorry.”

  Embarrassed, the teenager gathered his books and headed toward the door, with three other classmates following him.

  “I think Communication is on the second floor,” she advised softly as the young man passed by, hoping he would find his way without too much difficulty. Because she knew all too well just how much first days sucked, no matter how old you were.

  “Thanks,” he replied with a curt nod.

  When the exodus ended, Tessa turned toward the remaining students and grinned. “I’m assuming the rest of you are in the right class.”

  When no one else made a move to leave, she knew it was time to begin.

  “Okay, well the first thing we’ll do is go over the syllabus. It’s posted on the web page, but I also made hard copies for anyone who would like one. Just give me a show of hands, and I’ll pass them out to you.”

  When nearly everyone raised their hands, Tessa gave the first student in every row a stack and asked them to pass them back. This took several minutes since it was a rather large class of fifty, which gave her time to try and calm her jitters with a cleansing breath.

  “As you can see, the list of required texts is at the top. I know how expensive they are here on campus, so if you would rather order them off line that’s fine, as long as you have them before we read them in class. This first week we’re simply going over the elements that make up a novel, as well as discuss the different genres and compare the writing styles of some of the authors we’ll be reading this semester.”

  A massive young man in a football jersey raised his hand.

  “Yes, do you have a question?”

  “Yeah, I was wondering, are we going to have to do a lot of reading in this class?”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Isaac.”

  “Thank you for your question, Isaac. And the answer is yes. This is a literature class, so there will be a considerable amount of required reading as homework, and also you will be expected read aloud in class.”

  A collective groan filled the room. Tessa laughed. Already they were beginning to turn on her.

  “Sorry, it’s the nature of the beast.”

  “Do we have to write about them, too?” a feminine voice asked, though Tessa wasn’t sure where it came from.

  “Who asked the question?”

  A young woman near the front raised her hand timidly.

  “You are?”

  “Yasmine.”

  “Thank you. After we finish each novel, you will be required to write a five to seven page paper on it, yes. I will offer several topics you can write about. They will make up one half of your final grade. The other half will be based on exam scores and class participation and preparedness.”

  Yet another question came from somewhere over in the far corner. But this time when Tessa called on them, they offered their name before stating their question. It was an older student, probably in his mid-twenties, and from his appearance, probably in the military, or had recently gotten out.

  “David. When you say preparedness, do you mean pop quizzes?”

  “Excellent question, David; and the answer is again, yes, that’s exactly what it means, and questions on the pop quizzes will come directly from things we discuss in class, so attendance will play a huge part in how well you do on them.”

  Tessa waited for another round of grumblings, but it never came. Instead, most everyone just looked down nervously at the syllabus in their hands. She had forgotten what it was like to be a freshman. The first semester of college always seemed so overwhelming. Her first instinct was to mother them, and reassure them it wasn’t going to be that difficult of a class, but she thought better of it. There was no greater teacher than forced responsibility. If she wanted them to succeed, she had to expect nothing less than their best.

  “Okay, well, let’s get started on our first assignment. Pull out your pencils and paper and write a few paragraphs about your favorite novel, and tell me why it’s your favorite. Don’t forget to include your names, along with the name of the class and the section number.”

  As the class grew quiet after an initial barrage of backpacks being opened and pencils falling, Tessa took her seat and berated herself for having allowed her fears to get the better of her in regards to teaching. It actually felt quite natural.

  A great many things were becoming natural for her, things that two months ago she would have thought were impossible; like having enough money in her bank account to be able to send her children a little bit every two weeks to help buy things they needed, or just to blow on something fun if they wanted to. Lord knows it still was not as much as she wished she could send, but at least it was something. Of course, they would never fail to call and berate her for it, claiming they did not want her wasting her hard earned money on them, they would rather her save it and buy things she needed. But that was just the kind of children they were, selfless to a fault.

  Another surprising thing that was becoming natural for her was the leisure time to actually sit down and write. For years she had been working on a manuscript, King Coal, based on her maternal grandfather’s life, the one who had fought for social and economic justice in the coal mine wars. The topic would never interest anyone but herself, today’s generation simply did not care about the struggles of the past, but the satisfaction she derived from just sitting down and putting it to paper was immense. Tess also knew that somewhere, her grandfather and her mother was looking down on her with pride, and guiding her memory and her thoughts as she wrote.

  The rough draft had been completed at least five years ago, but upon reading it again after so much time had passed, she attacked the manuscript with new vigor, and the second and third drafts were coming along quickly. Hopefully by the following year, it would be polished and ready to submit to a small publishing house. It simply didn’t matter to her how many copies were sold, one or one thousand, the only thing important to her was that her grandfather’s memory was honored. The mere thought of it made her smile.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Seth had given Tess permission to invite Gregory over for their foreign films night that had become a weekly Wednesday night occurrence for the past six months. Yet, she could not help but to be somewhat uneasy about the decision. She enjoyed the privacy they had at Greg’s small apartment. Not that Seth was going to be home until the weekend. Still, it was his house, and it just didn’t seem appropriate. But with Gregory’s DVD player on the blitz, they had no other choice, unless they simply cancelled their weekly ritual, which he insisted was not going to happen, even if it meant moving it to the Collin’s Estate. While he seemed excited about the idea, Tessa remained hesitant, but unwilling to voice her concerns.

  When she had assured Seth that they would not go beyond her own apartment, he chastised her for being ridiculous, considering the fact he had a one hundred and twenty five inch home theater in his living room. So with both men prompting her to simply relax and enjoy herself, Tessa gave in and accepted the defeat with a nagging intuition the night would result in too much anxiety to be able to do that.

  Why she was so uncomfortable with idea? It wasn’t as if they planned to throw a frat party in hi
s absence, but the thought of her two worlds colliding frightened her.

  Donning one of the half dozen aprons Seth had given her, Tess began the preparations for dinner. Gregory had decided several months ago, it would be fun to make a meal that corresponded with whatever country was represented in their foreign film of the week. Which was an awesome idea, but also very time consuming and somewhat expensive for Tessa. She was glad that he chose a movie from Germany this time. The recipes she found were not only similar to some of the dishes her mother often made, but they were easier to prepare, and their ingredients were less costly.

  Tonight’s menu was simple enough. Buletten; which was a German variation of meatballs, and Kartoffelpuffers; that were nothing more than good old fashion potato fritters. It was the Japanese and Baliwood nights that took the biggest bite out of her strict budget. Next week, she would be able to try her hand at something of her own choosing, for she had finally won the coin toss to see who would decide what they watched.

  Considering the storm brewing outside, she was relieved when she heard the roar of Greg’s motorcycle as it approached the mansion. The unusually mild weather they had enjoyed throughout fall had allowed him another few months to enjoy it, though she wondered what he was going to do once the snow started flying.

  Running frantically to the gilded mirror hanging in the dining room, Tessa checked her appearance. Not too bad. No, it was more than not bad; she actually looked kind of pretty, and that wasn’t an easy thing for her to say about herself. After spending hours combing the aisles of the three separate consignment shops, she finally found the perfect dress. It was more of a summer dress of white cotton with tiny blue rosebuds, but by adding a thin white sweater, she didn’t really think it mattered, especially with the weather still being so unseasonably warm.