by Ilia Bera
He finished filling out the course applications, writing “As soon as possible” into each of the start dates. Tarun was smart enough that he could balance all of the classes at once, if need be—He had, after all, finished them all with flying colours before.
He hurried home to help his father with his ambitious and slightly illegal renovations. When Tarun returned to his house, Vish was drenched in water.
“Dad! What happened?” Tarun asked in his native Hindi tongue.
“The manual said to turn off the water and give it two hours to drain before changing the main stack. I saved two hours.”
“You’re going to kill yourself, you know that—right?”
“A wise man once said that you can live a lifetime in a minute. I just bought myself one-hundred and twenty lifetimes.”
“Did the same wise man say to rip piping out above your head that could be filled with boiling water?”
“Why would it be boiling? I’m not running heat to anything.”
“We have a tenant, dad! He could have been taking a shower or doing the dishes.”
“Oh, right.”
Tarun walked into his suite to grab a towel for his father.
“So are you official a sbu student?” Vish asked.
Tarun handed his father the towel. “Not exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“They need me to finish a few courses first.”
“A few courses? But you’ve finished every course there is to finish.”
“It’s complicated.”
“So they said no?”
“Yeah—For now.”
Vish stared at his son for a moment. “So why do you look so happy?”
“Huh?”
“You’re grinning like Charlie Sheen in a whore house,” Vish said.
“Do you even know what you just said?” Tarun asked, laughing.
“Yes,” Vish said sternly. “I watch tmz.”
“Since when?”
“In The West it’s important to stay up to date with the celebrities—Very important.”
“Right…”
“Do you know who Jennifer Aniston is currently dating?”
“No, dad. I don’t.”
“You need to know these things here, son.”
Tarun tried his best to hold back his laughter.
“Did you know that George Clooney is getting a divorce? That didn’t last long, did it?” Vish said in a shockingly serious tone.
Tarun burst into laughter.
“What?” Vish said, confused. “I’m just trying to embrace the culture.”
“You’re doing a great job, dad. Really—you are.”
“Come help me move the hot water heater,” Vish said, ignoring his laughing son.
EIGHT
a burning reality
Hanna’s eyes slowly opened up. As her waking vision unblurred, she realized that she wasn’t in her own bed. Startled, she swiftly looked around the room. It was filled with hockey memorabilia, men’s clothes and schoolbooks. The room was messy and disorganized.
Then, Hanna noticed the heavy muscular arm that was resting on top of her small light body. Connor was asleep behind her, cuddling her with his warm body. Quickly, the memory of the previous night came rushing back to her, and she relaxed. She had thought everything had been a dream.
Careful not to wake Connor up, Hanna nudged her body back, snuggling deeper into Connor’s comfortable warmth. The sleeping hockey player adjusted his body, pulling Hanna in tightly to his body, like a child nuzzling a teddy bear. Hanna smiled and let herself relax into Connor’s body.
A dark curtain, blocking most of the sunlight from entering the room covered the lone window. Only a sliver of light crept into the room from the gap between the curtain and the wall.
Hanna didn’t want the moment to end. Never in her life had she felt so safe, comfortable and happy. For once, she didn’t care about all of the hardships of her past. She couldn’t care less about the mean things people called her.
Connor suddenly yawned and stretched out his arms. He propped himself up onto his elbow and looked down at Hanna through his sleepy eyes.
“Hey,” he said, with a smile on his tired face.
Hanna smiled back. “Hi.”
“How’d you sleep?”
“Great.”
“Good—Me too.” Connor ran his fingers gently down the side of Hanna’s face, ensuring that she was real, and not some fever dream. “I’m happy,” he said.
“Why?”
“I just am—It’s hard to believe you’re here with me.”
Hanna smiled. “Why?”
“I’m just not used to getting the things I want.”
“I’m happy too,” Hanna said.
Connor smiled as he leaned in for a kiss. The couple’s lips gently pressed together as Connor’s hand slipped around the back of Hanna’s head. “You’re so beautiful,” he said.
Hanna blushed.
“Really—It’s hard to think that someone can be so beautiful.”
“Now you’re just being sarcastic.”
“No, I’m not. It’s what I truly believe.”
They kissed again. Suddenly, Connor rolled his muscular naked body over Hanna playfully. Hanna let out a little scream in surprise, which tapered off into playful laughter.
“Now that I have you, I’m not letting you go!” Connor said, hugging Hanna tightly with his arms.
Hanna squirmed, trying to free herself from the horseplay. “Let me go!” she said, laughing as she played along.
“Never!”
The naked couple wrestled for a moment. Then, Connor went in for another kiss—a much more passionate one than its predecessors. The kiss filled Hanna’s heart with warm joy. She slowly reached her hands around Connor’s muscular body—her fingers sliding across his thick muscles.
Then, Connor pulled his head back. “What time is it?” he asked.
Hanna looked around the room for something with the time. Connor reached over onto his nightstand and checked his phone. “Shit—I should probably get going.”
“Do you have to?” Hanna asked.
“Unfortunately.”
Connor gave Hanna a little peck on the forehead as he rolled off of the bed. Hanna admired his naked physique for the remaining moments before he got dressed.
“You should come with me. I’ve got about enough time to stop for a coffee on the way. I’ll buy you one.”
“Um,” Hanna said as she looked towards the window. The sun was up and at its highest point in the sky. “I think that I’ll just stay in bed for a few more hours, if that’s okay. I’m pretty tired.”
Connor walked over to the window. Without any warning, he grabbed the curtains and pulled them open, letting the room fill up with deadly sunlight.
Hanna screamed as the burning hot light singed her naked skin. She quickly rolled off of the bed, away from the sunlight.
Her skin was red where it made contact with the sun. Even with as little as a single second of exposure, it burned as if she was sprayed with hot oil. Tears welled up in her eyes as she tried to fight back the pain.
“Hanna?” Connor yelled with concerned. “What’s wrong?”
He ran around the bed to the pained girl. Hanna quickly wiped away her tears and hid her burns with the bed’s blanket.
“Are you okay? What is it?” Connor asked.
“I—I thought I saw a mouse,” she lied.
Connor concern quickly dissipated as he began to laugh. “That’s the sound you make when you see a mouse? I thought you’d been shot by a sniper or something!”
Hanna forced a laugh through her excruciating pain.
Connor held out his hand. “Let me help you up.”
The curtains were still open, and the room was as bright as the brightest day. Hanna was hidden in the only shadow in the room.
“Come on,” Connor said.
“I—I think I just need a minute,” Hanna said.
“You
really don’t like mice,” Connor said.
“I’m sorry—I hope you don’t think I’m insane.”
“Of course not. Everyone has their quirks.”
Hanna smiled. The pain was finally starting to subside.
“I should probably get going. I’ll see you at school okay?”
“Okay,” Hanna said.
“I’m going to lock the front door. When you take off, just use the backdoor.”
Hanna smiled as Connor took off for work, leaving the curtain wide open. Hanna was trapped. There was no way that she could make it to the door on the other side of the room without serious burns, and going to the window to close the blinds was also out of the question. Also, the house was loaded with uncovered windows, so even if she did make it past the bedroom, she wouldn’t have anywhere she could go.
Instead, she would have to wait three or four hours for the sun to set.
Tears began to swell up in Hanna’s eyes again, but not because of any pain. This time, she was crying because reality was setting in—she was going to have to tell Connor her secret. Either that, or break it off with him. The thought of both options stung deep.
NINE
it’s late
It did not surprise him, but it did not fail to frustrate him. Wade Fenner tapped his foot anxiously as he sat at the front of the classroom, waiting for his students to show up—nearly all of whom were late.
Andrew was the only student who showed up on time. He was actually thirty minutes early, which was just as annoying for Wade, because it meant making awkward small talk while he waited for the rest of the class to show up—and Wade hated small talk more than anything else in the world.
It was no secret that Wade wasn’t the best conversationalist. All he wanted to do was teach kids, mark tests and go home to his family—he wasn’t the best when it came to relating to the younger generation.
“Thanks for being early, Andrew,” Wade said with his deep, commanding tone.
“It’s my pleasure,” Andrew replied.
There was a long awkward pause while Wade stared anxiously at the clock—which had already struck class time.
Wade took a breath and looked around the room. “Did you see the game last night?” Wade asked.
“Which one?”
“The Leafs-Wings game.”
“That’s hockey?”
Wade groaned. “Yeah. It’s hockey.”
“Sorry—no. I’ve never really gotten into hockey.”
There was yet another long awkward silence.
“Then what are you into?” Wade asked.
“Me?” Andrew asked.
Wade looked around the empty room. “Yes, Andrew. You.” Wade meant well—he was just painfully introverted.
“Um,” Andrew thought. “I like to travel,” he said.
“Is that why you’re taking English?”
Andrew laughed. “To travel?” he asked. “No.”
“Why is that funny?” Wade asked. If you didn’t know Wade, it was easy to think he was a brooding, grumpy man. People generally found him intimidating and uninviting.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” Andrew awkwardly apologized.
“No—I’m serious. Why is that funny?” Wade just genuinely wanted to know what was so funny.
“I don’t know—It’s just—Why would I take English so I can travel? I already know English. You’d think I would take something like German or Spanish—Languages that are useful to know when you travel.”
“Oh,” Wade said. “I thought that maybe you were trying to get into travel writing.”
Andrew laughed. “I’ve never been into blogs.”
“What’s a blog?” Wade asked.
Andrew laughed for a moment, and then noticed Wade’s unimpressed expression. He stopped. “It’s like a website where you keep an online journal.”
“That sounds stupid,” Wade said.
Andrew laughed.
“I meant travel writing for travel magazines, and guide books. It’s very lucrative right now, and they only hire people who have been everywhere, so that they can draw comparisons. One of my cousins writes for Lonely Planet. He makes a load of money, and they pay for him to go everywhere in the world. He’s in Lebanon now.”
“That’s a thing?” Andrew asked.
“Yeah. They need to update all of those books every year so that they’re current. There’s one hundred different publishers, and dozens of different countries…”
“One hundred and ninety five,” Andrew stated.
“Right—I’m no math guy, but that’s a lot of books every year.”
“One thousand, nine hundred and fifty.”
“There you go…” Wade said.
As Andrew stewed over the recent revelation, Wade looked back up at the clock.
“Well,” Wade said. “Should we just start?”
Andrew, didn’t answer. He was too preoccupied with his new travel writer daydream. “I could be paid to travel?” he thought to himself over and over.
Wade groaned—he’d effectively lost a student, bringing the attendance down to zero.
Then, the door finally opened, and Connor rushed in, panting. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “My boss…”
Wade cut him off. “Connor, I don’t care. Just sit down.”
Connor sat down quickly. It wasn’t until he was fully in his seat that he noticed the room was practically empty. “Did I miss something?” Connor asked.
“Just my smiling face,” Wade replied unenthusiastically as he looked back up at the clock, tapping his foot with the metronome of the second-hand.
A few silent minutes passed. Connor dug out all of his school-work, including the finished assignment for the day. He smiled—proud that he’d actually completed something on time.
The door opened, and Hanna entered. “I’m sorry—I got…”
“Sit,” Wade said—his patience growing thinner.
The room was silent as Hanna took a seat next to Connor. Connor looked over at her and smiled, reaching for her hand under his desk. Wade could see the lovers joining their hands together. He groaned.
Another few minutes passed, and Kane showed up. Before Kane could open his mouth, Wade pointed to a seat. Instead of speaking, he simply grunted what sounded like “Sit”.
He waited another moment for Brittany, tapping to the rhythm of the clock.
“Well, she’s apparently not showing up,” Wade muttered. He stood up from his desk. “This is unacceptable,” he announced with his loud, deep voice. He was angry. He stood tall and his muscles became tense. It was like watching Bruce Banner turn into The Hulk.
Everyone was totally silent—too afraid to even breathe. “I am sick of going through this every year—Everyone showing up later and later as the class goes on. I don’t care how boring you think English is. I don’t care about the reason you are here.”
The room was so silent, you could hear a pin drop from across town.
“I do not teach this class for a chance to yell at kids! I don’t teach it because anyone makes me!” Wade continued. “I do it because no one else will—no one else cares. I am on your side—I’m the person you should be thanking—not the person you are resentful of. I don’t need the pay bump I get from teaching this class. If I stopped teaching this class, none of you would be able to take English in Snowbrooke. You would have to travel at least two-hundred miles south to take it.” Wade stopped and took a few breaths.
He scanned the room of silent students.
“Presumably, you’re all here because you want to eventually get into college—or some post-secondary program. Fail this class, and that will never happen—Ever. Plain and simple. It’s a couple of months. Suck it up. Do the homework. Be on time. Is that asking too much? If you need help, ask me for Christ sakes!”
Wade took a few breaths, relaxing the tense muscles in his body. “Who here even finished the assignment?”
Connor, Hanna and Andrew raised their hands. Kane slouched i
nto his chair.
The door opened, and Brittany walked in. She had a hood over her head, and she wasn’t wearing any makeup. On her legs, she was wearing sweatpants—and not her usual designer jeans, tight pleather pants or fashionable tights. Under her coat, she was wearing a heavy black hoodie—and not her usual low-cut tank top or revealing bralet.
“Sit!” Wade roared. His booming voice echoed through the school hallways.
Brittany stared at Wade unenthusiastically for a moment before turning and sitting at an empty desk, far from Kane. Andrew noticed the quick glance between Kane and Brittany. He turned back to Wade, hiding his sly smile from Brittany and Kane. Once again, there was a glimmer of hope that Brittany could be his.
“From here on out, if you are late, or you don’t finish an assignment, I’m sending you home—and you’re failing the class. Is that understood?”
The frightened class nodded their heads. Brittany wasn’t listening. Instead, she was staring out the window.
“Brittany!” Wade snapped.
Brittany turned to Wade. She glared at him.
“Are you paying attention?”
Brittany didn’t reply. She just stared at Wade. No matter how hard she tried that night, she couldn’t make herself care about English.
Wade groaned. “Did you do the assignment?”
Brittany was silent for a moment. “No. I forgot.”
Wade groaned as a vein on his forehead began to pulse.
“Today, we’re talking about prepositions…” Wade said, shifting into his lecture.
Brittany noticed Kane look over at her through the corner of her eye. Instead of returning the glance, she immediately looked back out the window, watching the snow endlessly fall from the dark sky.
“Brittany!” Wade snapped again.
She turned to Wade.
“Take off your hat.”
“This is a hood,” she said in a sarcastic tone.
“Take it off now or get out.”
Brittany sighed. She removed her hood, revealing her long messy hair. It had been years since Brittany left the house without her hair looking perfect.
“Was that so hard?” Wade asked.
“Impossible,” she replied.
Wade stared at the girl for a moment. He wanted to snap at her. Instead he took a breath. “Stay after class.”