“He is gorgeous! Do you think he’s single?” I heard the whisperings of two excited girls behind me. I glanced around and one of them grinned at me. Her hand shot in the air in response to something Sam had said, he was taking questions. “Why did you decide to suddenly take up teaching instead of continuing on with your work?” A tall, blonde guy near the back asked, a slight smirk lurking on his lips. Sam looked at the ground and seemed to be avoiding my eyes. “Well, I began to lose inspiration so I spent my summer with family in Italy and ended up doing some teaching there which I found I enjoyed.” The girls behind were now craning their arms in the air practically bouncing in their seats, Sam pointed to the girl who had smiled at me. “So, does that mean you can speak Italian?” She asked huskily. His cheeks flushed a little but he confidently spoke in Italian and told them that he could. The second girl eagerly called out, “Is there a Mrs. Beneventi?” I watched him cough and squirm awkwardly, not wanting to look directly at me. Instead of answering he continued with other questions as if he hadn’t heard.
“That means no,” whispered one of the girls. “How do you know?” They bent their heads together. “Because if he was with someone he would simply say so. He can’t be seen to be encouraging flirting with students now can he.” I couldn’t stand to listen to their gossiping. I leaned forward, away from their whispers, and begged Sam in my mind to look at me once more. But Sam spent the next hour and a half acting as though I didn’t exist. I grew increasingly nervous as the lecture came to a close. What was he going to say? Why was he teaching at York? Did he know I was studying here? Why were his eyes so angry?
At the end of the class Sam stood with his back to the room as everybody filed past him through the exit. I pretended to be having trouble with my bag and dawdled until I was at the back of the line of students. Once everyone had left I closed the door and took a seat in front of his desk. He sat on the other side and placed his head in his hands, tugging slightly at his hair before finally giving me a long, desperate look. He folded his hands together on the desktop. I desperately wanted to entangle my fingers with his and throw myself into his lap, but his body language was cold and the kind green eyes that had once looked at me so lovingly were now glaring, all their warmth had disappeared.
“Ana, what the fuck are you doing here?” My head snapped up and I narrowed my eyes, he had never sworn at me before. How dare he turn up out of the blue, after not contacting me in weeks, and speak to me like that. I raised my chin challengingly, my cheeks flushed with anger. “You told me you hate Universities, what are you doing here?” He threw his weight back in his chair and ran a shaking hand through his hair. My stomach twisted and I squirmed in my seat at the sight. He still had an effect on me. “You said you were doing a night course, not doing a degree for Christ’s sake!” His palm slammed against the desktop as he stormed out of his chair, it tipped backward and toppled to the floor. He ignored it and stood with his back to me, hands splayed on his hips and staring at the whiteboard as if looking for answers.
I stared at the chair on the floor, so surprised at his show of anger that I sat in silence at first. Soon the words came and they were accusing. “Why do you think you have the right to know what I’m doing here?” He whirled around to face me, his brow creased in confusion. “You didn’t email. You didn’t call or text. You practically abandoned me.” Within a second he brought our faces within an inch of each other, “I’ve been frantically trying to find a job here. Trying to establish a life here so that we can be together,” he hissed. I breathed in his scent and stared down at the few beautiful chest hairs peeking out through his open shirt collar. I was confused, why was he in York? I fought to find my voice, quiet and suddenly shy, “York is nowhere near Surrey.” He didn’t move away and I could feel his eyes burning into my forehead but I couldn’t look at him. “It’s closer than Pisciotta.” His voice had softened significantly which made me peak up through my lashes. I saw the warring emotions pass over his face, his breath caught in his chest, and I lifted my hand to touch him.
The conflict was clear in his eyes but with a slight sigh he pulled me to him, entwined his warm lips with mine, and kissed me as though we had been apart for years, not weeks. My skin flushed with heat, I felt my heart rate suddenly accelerate and my fingers ached with the need to touch him. I moved with urgency, massaged his tongue with my own, and ran my hands down his solid chest until I was over his hips. His breath was quickening, he pulled away and shook his head vigorously. It was like I had flipped a switch. I watched as the anger returned and he shoved himself forcefully away from my touch, his chest heaving with the effort it had taken him to resist.
I was confused, we were finally together again and he seemed at a loss. “Why are you so angry with me?” He grabbed at his hair again, turning his back to me. “York was the only school hiring. This is the only decent job I could find and still do what I love. I never thought I’d get it, you made me want it, you made me fall in love with teaching.” He turned to talk to me directly but could not meet my eye, “The university has a strict policy that a member of staff can not be in a relationship with a student and still be involved in their education or assessment. I’m teaching half of your classes! I can’t date one of my students, Ana!” My brow furrowed and a creeping sense of dread washed over me, I slowly leaned forward in my chair. “What are you saying?”
He was pacing fitfully in front of his desk now but came to an abrupt halt in front of me, a haunted expression on his pallid face. “Your reputation would be ruined and you haven’t even built it yet. I’d lose my job. We can’t do this.” His voice was decidedly firm. “I can’t be with you while I’m a teacher here. I can’t jeopardise this opportunity, and I won’t ruin your academic career. I won’t make you just another girl who slept with her lecturer.” It felt like a slap in the face and being hit by a dump truck all at once. Is that what he thought of me, and what we would be? That I was just a girl, the doting student he had just been sleeping with all summer? The weight on my chest got heavier and I could barely take a shuddering breath. I snatched my bag up from the floor and hugged it tightly, “You already have,” I gasped and ran out of the door, making it to the car park before my tears began to fall.
* * *
I had grabbed my bike and left campus immediately. Tears streamed down my face but the wind dried them as I pedalled hard down the main road. Cars screeched around me as I swerved all over the tarmac but I had no control of how I was steering the handlebars, my mind was spinning in all directions. I finally reached the house and stumbled off the bike and onto the front garden. As I entered the hallway my chest tightened, I struggled to take in any breath, like I had sunk beneath the ocean waves and could see but not quite reach the surface. My back hit the wall, I slid to the floor and the hyperventilating began.
As the room spun and the panic increased, a face appeared in my tunnel vision. Tom had found me on the floor and grabbed my shoulders. “Ana, focus on me ok? Just breathe, watch my breathing ok?” He breathed deeply and placed my hand on his chest. I focused on the movement of his ribs expanding against my palm and tried to match my breathing with his. It took some time but my vision gradually became clearer and my breathing slowed. My hand fell from his chest and my head fell forward as I sobbed. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and let me lean into him as the tears flowed. We must have sat there for a good ten minutes or more. When my tears had dried, and I was in that rather unattractive snivelling stage, he pulled me to standing and lead me up the stairs and into his apartment. He sat me on the sofa and disappeared to the kitchen.
I felt exhausted, I could barely lift my arms and I just wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep. Tom reappeared from the kitchen with two glasses in hand containing an amber liquid. “Here, drink this, it’ll help with the shock.” I took the glass and downed the whiskey, coughing slightly as it burnt my throat and warmed my chest. He was right, I did feel better. Once my senses returned to me I was filled with a mortifying emb
arrassment at the display I had made. I covered my face with my hands trying to hide my burning red cheeks and teary eyes. “I am so sorry! I don’t know what just happened.” He sat next to me on the sofa, elbows on his knees, and sipped slowly from his glass. “You had a full-blown panic attack. You shouldn’t be embarrassed, I’m just glad I was here to find you or you could have passed out.”
I slumped backward into his sofa cushions and took a deep shuddering breath. Closing my eyes I saw nothing but the image of Sam’s pale and confused face, the hurt behind his eyes as he told me we would no longer be together. If I hadn’t have known heartache before I was getting a good dose of it now. “Can I ask what caused it?” Tom looked at me warily and I bit at my bottom lip, unsure of how much to share. “You don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable.” He shrugged and sat back on the sofa next to me. I sighed deeply, “I saw my boyfriend.” He sat back up, “The one meant to be in Italy?” I nodded. “The very same. Only he’s not my boyfriend anymore.” Tom raised his eyebrows and relaxed back into his seat. “Boy trouble then.” I scoffed and smiled for the first time, “Hardly a boy, he’s about the same age as you!” His eyes widened and he nodded in appreciation. “Well…you are a dark horse aren’t you.” I shrugged and took his glass out of his hand to down the rest of his whiskey.
“Why’d you break up?” I shook my head, not wanting to discuss the particulars so soon after the event. He took the glasses off me and stood to take them back to the kitchen. “More?” He asked, shaking the crystal under my nose. “No, thanks. I’d actually better get going, I have more lectures this afternoon and I kind of missed my last one after fleeing campus. Thank you, for helping me.” I stood to leave and he followed me to the door. “Are you sure you’re going to be alright? I don’t want to leave you alone after the attack and forcing strong alcohol on you.” I nodded and wrapped my arms tightly around myself. He opened the door and I left without looking back. Halfway up the stairs, he called my name, I stopped and glanced down at him. “Just for the record, he’s a complete idiot for letting you go.” I blushed slightly but didn’t reply. Instead I rushed off up the stairs until I was locked safely behind the door of my flat.
I pulled my timetable out of my bag and scanned the lectures I had that afternoon. I had missed one by leaving campus but the third class of the day, a practical session learning the fundamentals of fine art in the studio, was scheduled to start in an hour and a half. The initials next to the lecturer details read “SB”, I knew Sam would be taking the class and I couldn’t face him again that day. I didn’t know if I would be able to face him ever again. I decided not to go, took my phone out of the front pocket of my bag, and slumped onto the sofa. I debated whether to text Abby or call Nonna on Skype, but I was so tired I just wanted to sleep. I pulled the throw off the back of the sofa and curled up underneath it. Sleep came to me almost immediately and the last thing that went through my mind before the oblivion of unconsciousness was the shock on his face as I said my last words to him. “You already have.”
* * *
I remained on the sofa all night and most of the following day. I didn’t eat anything but cereal and ice cream and I avoided anything to do with the university. My phone had rung a couple of times and I’d received a few text messages but I ignored them, not wanting to inflict my moping behaviour on friends or family. By the evening following what I now refer to as “The Great Knock Back” I finally felt ready to talk to someone. Abby had texted to ask how my first day had gone. I opened my phone and called her, she answered on the third ring. “Hey, hey, hey, my little artiste! How was your first day?” I lay on the sofa and pulled the blanket over my head. “Awful. Possibly the worst day of my life so far!” She made some sympathetic tutting sounds, “Tell Aunty Abby what happened.” She didn’t understand the severity of the situation, she probably thought I had gone with my skirt tucked in my knickers or something similarly embarrassing but petty in the grand scheme of things. I gave her a breakdown of what had happened at the university and the aftermath involving my panic attack.
“He said what?” She yelled down my ear. I covered my face, mortified once again, and feeling utter humiliation. “I’m so sorry, Ana, are you ok? Want me to drive up this weekend?” I knew I wasn’t ok but I didn’t want her to feel she had to drive the three-plus hours to be my shoulder to cry on. I assured her I would be fine but that I didn’t know what to do about my course and facing him in class again. “Stuff him, Ana! This is your life that you worked damn hard for. Don’t let him ruin it for you.” I nodded even though I knew she couldn’t see me. “Want to know what I think?” She had lowered her voice and sounded like she was plotting something. “I think you should show him what he’s missing. Go back there and pretend as if nothing has happened. Show him you don’t need him.” I sighed but didn’t respond. Deep down I knew that I felt like I still needed him.
I got off the phone with Abby after a further pep talk where she encouraged me to do everything from pretending he didn’t exist to dressing raunchily for one of my classes. I had a shift at the coffee shop that evening and I hadn’t showered in two days. I stood under the powerful downpour hoping the hot water would burn away my shame and anguish but I was still miserable. The bike ride back toward town cleared my head and allowed me to empty my mind. I threw my head back and let the early autumn wind bite at my face and whip my hair into wild streaks behind me. I hoped Sam didn’t frequent my coffee shop. I wouldn’t have been able to stand seeing him that evening, with a broken heart still so raw and no chance to build my walls.
I reached the coffee shop and locked the bike up next to the steps outside. Being so close to campus the shop got a lot of business in the evenings from professors that had been stuck on campus until late marking work, or from students that had stayed in the library until closing time. I was working the five until nine shift and it was my first time being responsible for closing the shop down for the night. I wasn’t sure I was emotionally ready to take on the responsibility given my recent predicament. I grabbed my apron, dismissed Danny who was finishing up his shift, and took orders from the growing queue. There was always a rush between five and six and I welcomed it, my mind was too busy to dwell on Sam and his rejection of me.
Hours passed and by eight o’clock there was finally a lull in the stream of customers. Thirty minutes before closing I rushed around to clean all the tables and gather a few stray mugs. The bell on the door rang out, I looked up to see a tall man, about twenty years old, approach the counter. He watched me clean and grinned widely as I rushed around the counter to serve him. “What can I get you?” He examined the board above my head for a moment, reached into his pocket and pulled a five-pound note out of his wallet. “Tall, white-chocolate, mocha please…and your number, if you’re single.” He grinned again as I took the money and rang in his order. I handed him his change and with a small smile of my own told him that I didn’t give my number to strangers.
He leaned casually against the counter and watched me prepare his coffee. “Ah, but we are not strangers,” he wagged his finger knowingly. I gave him a confused look, pretty sure I had not met him before. “I noticed you on Monday in Beneventi’s class. I was sat at the back of the room. I’m Charlie.” I remembered him then, he was the guy who had asked Sam why he had taken up teaching. I shook the hand he held out to me, “Ana,” I told him, offering a shy smile and a nod of acknowledgement. “Haven’t seen you since then though. Not bunking off already are we?” I passed him his coffee cup eager to end the conversation and send him on his way, “No, I’ve been ill. Thought it best to rest.”
He sipped at his coffee and grabbed a stool to sit near the counter. “You seem fine now, will I be seeing you tomorrow?” I hesitated, I hadn’t thought about returning to class. I grabbed a cloth and continued cleaning down the surfaces. I thought about not responding, hoping he’d get the message and leave, but something about his laid back friendliness made me confess to him. “I’m not sure I’ll be coming bac
k.” He leaned back on his stool a little and surveyed me, “Ah, not what you expected it to be?” I shrugged and stacked the dirty cups in the dishwasher. “I guess I was overwhelmed. I’m new here. New to all of this.” I watched him grab a napkin from the dispenser and a pen from near the till. He scribbled something onto the napkin, folded it over, and slid it across the counter to me.
I unfolded it, glanced at the writing, and scoffed. He smiled once again, “You don’t have to give me your number, that’s mine. If you have one friend in class it makes the whole thing feel a little less daunting, don’t you think?” He tipped his head to one side and watched me tuck the napkin in my jeans pocket. He was definitely younger than me but surprisingly handsome, in a slightly bookish, boyish way. His mousy blonde hair fell over his forehead and his blue eyes were framed with black, square glasses. It would be nice to have a friend, I thanked him. “Come back to class tomorrow. You can sit with me, I can show you what an amazing artist I am and afterward I will show you around York. How about it?” I smiled reluctantly but nodded in agreement. I heard Abby’s voice in my mind telling me to show Sam what he was missing but immediately shook the thought from my head.
Charlie stood with his coffee and placed the stool back from where he had taken it. “Well I hope to see you tomorrow, Ana,” he saluted me with his coffee and walked toward the door. I watched as he turned briefly, “This really is a great place to be you know. Don’t worry about school, give it a chance, you won’t be disappointed.” He winked at me and closed the door behind him. I took the napkin out of my pocket and read it once more
My Heart Lies in Pisciotta Page 10