by B. B. Hamel
I felt a little at a loss in that moment. Somehow, her knowing someone in one of my classes made things much more serious. I didn’t want to completely freak out, at least even more than I already was, but I felt out of control.
Above all, I was torn.
Although I loved my job, Emma was the first girl I was remotely interested in since Amy Woodall had rejected me. I thought I was in love with Amy, really in love, more in love than I ever had been before. But looking back on it, the only reason I professed anything to her was because she had left the café and was dating someone new. In contrast, Emma struck me immediately as someone I wanted to get to know. Amy had been like that, but I never really tried to pursue it beyond a friendship. I had to decide whether or not I wanted to follow that same route with Emma, or else wind up in the same pathetic position as before.
Before I could get too deep into the introspection spiral, George’s phone started to ring. He lazily looked at the caller ID, and then suddenly sat straight up.
“I think it’s them,” he said.
“Who, the label?”
“Yeah man, Sub Pop. I think.”
“Answer it!”
He swiped and put the phone up to his ear.
“Hello?”
I was on the edge of my seat, literally. I tried getting as close as I could, and maybe catch the other side of the conversation.
“Yeah, it was good meeting you, too.”
George looked serious, which was rare for George.
“Okay, that’d be great. What time?”
“What are they saying,” I whispered. He gave me a look.
“Sure, we can do ten in the morning on Wednesday. That’d be great.”
I stared at him. Was he setting up a meeting? Why wasn’t it on speaker?
“Yeah, sure. I’ll pass that along. Thanks so much. Yeah, you too. Looking forward to it. Bye.” He put the phone down in his lap, his expression shocked.
“What the fuck man?” I said.
He looked at me. “They want to meet with us.”
“What for?”
“They want to sign us.”
“Holy shit.” I didn’t know how else to respond. That was huge. Sub Pop wasn’t a major label, but they were one of the biggest independents. It would be an enormous boost to the band to get a record deal with them. Actually, it would make us legit. We’d be able to tour and make actual music in a real studio. No more basement tracks and awful local gigs, we’d have a label behind us. I was in shock.
“Yeah man, holy fucking shit,” George said.
“What else did they say?”
He shrugged. “Not much. We have a meeting on Wednesday at ten. We’ll go over the contracts and the details then. But he said they’re interested in a two album deal.”
I stood up. I could feel my joy bubbling over. “George!” I yelled.
“I know dude.” He looked like he was about to explode. I started to pace around the apartment, nervous energy flowing out of me. I couldn’t believe it, everything we had done, the struggle and the hard work, was finally starting to pay off.
“We made it,” I said.
“I know man. I know.”
“George!” I said, and then jumped on him. We hugged, laughing, not caring how weird it was, not caring about anything but the incredible news we had just gotten. Finally, I climbed off him, and started pacing again.
“We have to call the others,” I said.
“Yeah man, I’m on it.”
“And we have to make sure Tom doesn’t fuck this up.”
“Absolutely we do. But I don’t think he will, not something like this.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Holy shit man.”
“I know, I know. Let me call the others.” George stood and walked into my bedroom. I kept pacing back and forth, imagining the future. We’d tour the world, become real rock stars with actual fans and records. Our music would be everywhere, on the radio and in record stores. We’d play all the talk shows! I couldn’t sit still let alone calm myself down. It was probably the happiest moment of my life, or at least in the top three.
I pulled out my phone and wrote a text.
11:51am Me: Just heard from the label. We have a meeting on Wednesday.
11:55am Emma: wow, what does that mean? Are you getting signed?
11:56am Me: I don’t know! I don’t know. I think so.
11:57am Emma: Jim! That’s amazing! Congrats!!!!
11:58am Me: I’m in shock honestly.
11:59am Emma: I would be too. I’m so happy for you!
12:00pm Me: Thanks. You’re the first person I’ve told.
12:02pm Emma: hah I’m honored.
I had no clue why she was the first person I told, but I couldn’t help myself. All thoughts about the job had suddenly vanished from my mind. The only thing I cared about was the meeting, and what would happen after that. If we really got signed to Sub Pop, my life was about to change in a serious way.
12:03pm Me: Want to meet up on Tuesday?
I didn’t know what I was doing, but I suddenly needed to see her. I didn’t care if her friends knew, or if anyone knew. I just wanted to see Emma, and maybe celebrate. I didn’t care where we went or what we did, as long as I got to do it with her.
12:05pm Emma: okay, sure. What do you want to do?
12:06pm Me: I don’t know. How about lunch?
12:08pm Emma: It’ll have to be after my class. How about at 2?
12:10pm Me: That’s good. Meet me outside the student center?
12:11pm Emma: See you then.
I was beyond excited, almost shaking. I was about to meet up with a student I was seeing on campus. It wasn’t like we were about to make out in front of the dean of students or something like that, but it was still a serious move on my part. I figured we could grab lunch from a truck and hangout, which wasn’t totally unusual for a professor to do. Lunch wasn’t breaking any rules. And besides, I didn’t care about the rules at that point. My life was on the verge of tipping over into something different and great.
And all I kept thinking was how badly I wanted to share that with Emma.
Chapter Ten: Emma
I walked to my Tuesday morning class, head down. I hadn’t heard much from Jim since Sunday morning, and I figured he was busy with his band, preparing for their big meeting. I had been wildly swinging between wanting to text him to make sure we were still on to meet, and wanting to ditch out on him entirely. I had been spending way too much time analyzing our conversations with Lane, and not enough time studying.
The day was drab and rainy, so I wore my green raincoat and boots. I was nervous about class and about meeting Jim after, and my stomach was in knots. I kept thinking about the night in the hidden garden, kissing him softly, the way his hands felt on my hips, the press of his hard cock against me, and the problems that were keeping us apart. I couldn’t let myself slip up just because of some boy. I had to admit to myself that part of the excitement was the forbidden aspect of it, although that was really more of an added bonus than anything else.
I made my way through the crowded, between-class hallways, found my room, and took my usual seat toward the front. I wasn’t the type to speak up every day, but I did like to be close enough that I wasn’t tempted to be distracted by anything. I kept thinking about Jim and our impending meeting, and more or less glossed over the professor’s entire lecture. It wasn’t an important class, but I usually took much better notes. I looked at my notebook and realized it was mostly full of doodles.
As the lecture finished, the professor looked out over the class and pulled some papers from his bag.
“Okay class. Good job today,” he said, and everyone started to pack up. “Before you leave, I have your tests from last week graded.”
He went around the room, passing out the papers. There were maybe twenty of us total in the American Civics class, and he passed them out quickly. Finally, he put mine down on my desk. My heart was pounding as I turned it over.
I stared at the paper while the class stood up and packed their bags. They chatted quietly, but their usually friendly-sounding hum felt like bees in my ears. I couldn’t believe my grade: a C-, the worst grade I’d gotten since coming to college. I looked through the papers and couldn’t believe all the stupid errors I made. I had studied hard for that test, and when the time came I didn’t perform. Shock and terror ran through my skin. Finally, I packed my things, and made my way out of the room and into the crowded hallways.
The world moved around me in a daze. I knew I had to meet Jim, but he was suddenly the furthest thing from my mind. I couldn’t remember the last time I got below a B-. It was probably in high school math, but even then I had managed to pull off a B average in the end. I couldn’t believe I had gotten a C- on an easy Civics test that I had studied for. I could already see the disappointment and anger in my parents’ eyes, although I wasn’t going to tell them anything. They were forever bugging me about my grades, and I’d have to hide the test from them. I couldn’t even imagine what would happen if I ended up with anything below a B+ in that class; they’d probably freak and threaten to pull me out of school. I knew I could take out loans or something to make it work without them, but they had been a huge support system for me financially, and I wasn’t ready to break off completely on my own.
I moved back outside, into the rainy day. I trudged along, lost in thought, over toward the Student Center where I promised I’d meet Jim. It took me a second, with the crowd and the rain, but I spotted him standing nearby, holding a big black umbrella. He waved at me, and I went over to him.
“Hey Emma,” he said, grinning.
I managed to smile back. “Hey there yourself. How’s it going?”
“Pretty good. How about you?”
“I’m okay I guess. What are we doing today?”
“Let’s go grab some lunch at the Noshery.”
I nodded. “Lead the way.”
He stepped closer to me so that I was under his umbrella. “No need for you to get wet.”
“That’s just an excuse to get close to me,” I said.
“Don’t pretend like you mind.”
I smiled and he started walking. I kept pace with him, but my mind was somewhere else. I was thinking about what my parents would say about my grade if I showed them, the disappointment in their eyes, and the frustration I felt at being so helpless. I wanted to succeed in everything, but a bad test grade was not the way to do it. I liked being so near to Jim, but I also was afraid that he had distracted me from the test. I knew that was crazy, since I had been studying before I had even met him, but I couldn’t help but somehow link Jim with my bad performance. It was exactly what I had feared: a new person in my life was keeping me from achieving what I needed.
We crossed Broad Street in the splashing rain, stepping around puddles. Jim said something, but I missed it. He looked down at me, and then said it again.
“Have you ever been here?”
“Oh, sorry. Yeah, I’ve been here a few times.”
“Good, I like this place.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty good.”
I lapsed into silence, and he seemed to sense that there was no use in pushing me further. I felt bad, but I couldn’t shake the funk of my bad grade. It was like a shroud had fallen over me. I shifted from my normal self into this bad mood, a walking cloud of anger and frustration. We walked toward a small strip mall, a block-long chain of stores with a movie theater on top, and entered one of the smaller shops. The Noshery was a nicer sandwich place that did delicious specialties. I was a big fan of the Noshery, but for some reason it felt cluttered and smaller than usual.
Jim closed his umbrella and shook some of the excess water off outside.
“After you,” he said, nodding to the counter. I approached, suddenly pulled out of my self-introspection. I ordered a spinach, turkey, brie, and pesto Panini, and Jim ordered a spicy fried eggplant sub. As I gathered our food, Jim beat me to the cashier and paid for everything.
“You really didn’t have to do that,” I said to him as we carried our trays to an empty table. The place was pretty small, and we were lucky that nobody else was there. I guessed that the big lunch rush had already ended.
“I know, but I wanted to.”
“Fine, I’ll let you this one time. Since you’ll be rich soon.”
He laughed and took a bite of his food. I didn’t feel hungry, but I managed to nibble at the corners anyway. Whenever something bad happened in my life, I always lost my appetite. Some people dealt with stress by eating, but I dealt with stress by buckling down and working harder. Lane liked to say that I fought stress with more stress, and that I’d eventually die of a heart attack if I didn’t calm down. She was probably right, but an obsessive work ethic had been drilled into me by my parents from a very young age. Failure was not tolerated in my household.
“So what’s on your mind?” Jim said, breaking me out of my reverie.
“Nothing, sorry,” I said.
He shook his head. “It’s totally cool, you don’t have to be sorry. I was just wondering if there’s something you want to talk about.”
“It’s stupid school stuff.”
“Your stuff isn’t stupid. If talking would make you feel better, I’ll listen.”
I looked at him for a second, suddenly seeing him for the first time that day. He was handsome, and he looked as if he had grown up since I had first seen him. His faded, well-fitting jeans looked more mature, and his high leather boots more worn. He smiled at me, and I felt butterflies in my stomach, like a cliché, love-struck teenager. I couldn’t help myself, though; despite my terrible mood, Jim seemed to have a knack for drawing me out.
“Well,” I said slowly. “I got a bad grade on a test.”
He nodded seriously. “How bad?”
“I got a C- on a Civics exam.”
“American Civics? That really sucks, I’m sorry.”
“The frustrating part is, I actually studied. And it’s not even a difficult class. I guess for whatever reason, the material just didn’t stick, or I didn’t study the right stuff. I made a bunch of stupid mistakes.”
“How are you doing otherwise?”
I shrugged. “I’ve gotten A’s and B’s on everything else, so I can’t imagine this will hurt my average too much.”
“It’s still frustrating though.”
“Exactly, it’s the principle of the thing. I keep picturing what my parents would say.” I looked out the window at the rainy day, and got a flash of my father’s disappointed smile, and my mother’s blank stare.
“What would they say?”
“They’d be disappointed, I guess. Failure is not allowed at home.”
Jim frowned. “That seems pretty intense.”
“Yeah, it is. My parents push my siblings and me pretty hard, because they were pushed when they were younger. My dad says it’s the best gift his parents ever gave him.”
“Sounds like a really difficult standard.”
“It really can be sometimes. I wish they’d relax, but I know they mean well.”
“Do you have to tell them?” he asked. I took a bite of my sandwich, and he followed suit. We chewed for a second in silence, and I could feel my appetite starting to return.
“No, I don’t, and I’m not going to. It’s hard to explain, I guess.”
He nodded. “It’s hard for people to understand other family dynamics.”
“Yeah, that’s absolutely true. And mine happens to be a little weirder and more fucked up than usual.”
He smiled and laughed a little. It made me feel good, to make him laugh, and warmth spread through my chest.
“Yeah that might be true, but you seem pretty great despite it.”
I smiled, and we went back to eating again. This time, the silence didn’t feel heavy or uncomfortable, but a natural side effect of two people chewing. We chatted more about our families, and I told him about my siblings. My oldest brother was a young pa
rtner of a large law firm in New York, and my parents could not have been prouder. My older sister taught at an expensive private school for rich kids up in Vermont, and was a published fiction writer. In a lot of ways, I was the last hope for another doctor in the family, and I felt a lot of pressure to follow that up. Jim listened quietly, and asked questions that showed genuine interest. I was surprised at how good of a listener he was, and I felt like he really understood what I was trying to say.
He told me about his family, and about his life growing up. He had been drifting for a long time, and it was only lately that he felt like he really found purpose. Teaching was a great thing for him, and he loved every minute of it. Suddenly though, the band was maybe about to take off, and he was torn about what to pursue. We finished our meals, cleaned off our table, and stepped back out into the rain.
“Do you really need to choose?” I asked, continuing our conversation.
“I’m not sure, honestly. If I’m going to tour and devote a lot of time to the record, I should probably quit and do it full time. Then again, being a teacher does give me a lot of stability.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I mean it seems like you could do both. Or maybe come back to teaching later on when the album is out and your tour is over.”
We walked aimlessly, angling back toward campus. I had another class in an hour, and Jim had to get back home to grade some papers, but neither of us wanted to leave. The rain had let up, and the city smelled clean. The water had washed away the dirt, and it felt quiet and pure.
“So just grading for the rest of the day?” I asked.
“I’m meeting with the guys tonight to talk about tomorrow’s meeting.”
We stood by a recessed park, set down a few steps, where people liked to skate. We watched a guy jump up and grind a rail, but fell on his butt when trying to land it.
“You’re going to do great,” I said.
“I hope so. I’m pretty nervous.”
“They want you. You don’t need to be nervous.”
“That’s true, they did approach us.”
I reached out and took his hand, and he looked at me. I squeezed, and he squeezed back. I wanted to kiss him badly, to feel his soft lips against mine, but I knew I couldn’t, at least not on campus.