I laughed harder. “Oh yeah? You think so?” I asked, looking up at him through my eyelashes.
His hair was in messy disarray around his face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were sparkling. His lips quirked into a small grin.
“I don’t even care that I’m all sticky. I want to have sex again,” Flynn announced, rolling me on my back.
I twined my arms around his neck, my legs wrapping around his waist. “I think that sounds like an excellent idea,” I agreed.
**
A little while later, after getting showers and finally eating our now cold dinner (which Flynn complained about but still ate), I sat in the living room watching television while Flynn sat at a table in the corner, hunched over.
He kept some of his sculpting tools at home for working in the evenings. He had continued with his model business even after taking the full-time teaching job. Though he produced for less than he used to.
While I was away at school, at least once a month I’d get a package in the mail from him. Inside would be his latest sculpture. A miniature Stonehenge or a tiny, detailed Arc de Triomphe. He’d never attach a note but he hadn’t needed to. Those sculptures had been the only message I needed.
I got up and walked over to where he was working and sat down. I watched him slowly mold the piece of clay in his hands. Manipulating it into some semblance of a shape.
I didn’t dare speak until he acknowledged me. I knew that when he was working on his art, he didn’t like to be disturbed. But he liked me watching him. When we had first gotten together, he would often ask me to come to his studio on community college campus to watch him work.
When we were kids and secret friends, I had enjoyed nothing more than to watch him doodle in his notebooks. Flynn seemed to reach a level of Zen while drawing or sculpting that was calming. Even for me.
I pulled my knees up underneath me and rested my chin in my hand. Flynn picked up the small chisel and start scrapping away the excess clay, putting it in a pile off to the side.
The drone of the television in the background and the methodical movements of Flynn’s hands lulled me into a peaceful quiet.
A little while later I was being nudged awake.
“You’re snoring,” Flynn said flatly.
I sat up and wiped drool from my lip with the back of my hand. I had a crick in my neck from falling asleep with my head at an awkward angle.
“Sorry,” I muttered, stretching my aching muscles. Must remember to never fall asleep sitting up ever again.
Flynn slid something across the table toward me.
“Don’t pick it up, the clay is still wet,” he ordered.
“Yes sir,” I muttered, leaning down to get a better look.
“Is that a church?” I asked.
“It’s Westminster Abbey in London. I hadn’t made you a new sculpture in a while.”
I smiled. “It’s pretty. I love it,” I said sincerely.
Flynn lowered his head, not meeting my eyes. “Are you happy here, Ellie?” he asked, throwing me with the change in subject.
“What?” I asked, rubbing sleep out of my eye.
“Are you happy here? I know you didn’t want to move back. You wanted me to come with you. I didn’t. Now you’re here. But I haven’t asked you if you’re glad. I can’t tell if you are. Sometimes you smile and I know you’re happy. Like when you came home and saw the flowers. And when we were having sex, I know you’re glad to be here. But you also look sad sometimes, so it’s hard for me to know,” Flynn said in slow, thoughtful sentences.
“Whoa. Where’s this coming from?” I asked.
“I met with Leonard this morning. I have a session every Monday at ten o’clock. I have a two-hour break between classes. Then I have a session on Thursday after work. So I went this morning and we talked about you. I told you we talk about you a lot,” Flynn said, looking at me for confirmation that I understood.
I nodded. “Yes, you told me,” I said, still not liking it but that wasn’t the point. Something had agitated Flynn all of a sudden and I didn’t know what it was. I thought we were having a good day. Now it had turned into something else.
“Leonard asked if you were happy, and I didn’t know how to answer him. Because I didn’t know. You’ve never said you were happy, and I can’t tell if you are. So I wanted to ask if you were happy because Leonard told me it’s good to make sure. Because having a relationship is about both people.” Flynn had his hands clasped on the table in front of him, and I knew he was struggling not to wring them together like he used to.
I wasn’t entirely sure how I should answer the question. If I told him truthfully how I was feeling, that I wasn’t sure I could stomach the thought of living in Wellston, West Virginia until I died, I was pretty certain it would upset him.
If l lied and told him I was completely happy, I would hate myself for not being honest.
“I’m happy being with you,” I said, hoping that was all he needed to hear.
“But you’re not happy living here,” Flynn deduced, showing an uncharacteristic moment of astuteness.
I sighed, wanting to touch him but at the same time, needing the physical distance to give him this truth he seemed to need to hear.
“I hate Wellston,” I let out in a rush.
Flynn blinked. No other reaction. Just blinked.
“You hate Wellston,” he repeated.
“Yes, I hate it. I’ve lived here most of my life. And it was a pretty crappy life, Flynn. Nothing good ever happened to me here.”
Flynn blinked again, his jaw clenching ever so slightly.
“Except for you. And even some of that was horrible. The way I treated you. The fire...” Flynn looked away, clearly upset by that particular memory.
“I don’t know if you realized this, but I was a pretty miserable person,” I continued.
“You never smiled much,” Flynn offered, seeming to think about what I was telling him.
“So, no, I wasn’t thrilled at the thought of coming back here. I worked my butt off to get my degree and moving back to West Virginia feels almost like a defeat.”
“I don’t understand,” Flynn said, frowning.
“I wanted to leave so badly. I wanted you to come with me, Flynn! But you couldn’t. And that’s okay. But when I left, I never really wanted to come back here. Ever again. But I also knew that you were settled. That you wanted to be here. And I wanted to be with you. So I came back. I told you I would. It was a promise I wanted to keep.”
“I don’t understand if you’re telling me you’re happy or not,” Flynn said, sounding frustrated.
This time I did touch him. I took his hand between mine and threaded my fingers through his. Palm to palm. Heart to heart.
“I’m happy being with you, Flynn. And that’s all you need to worry about.”
Flynn’s frown smoothed out and the line between his eyes disappeared. “Would you tell me if you wanted to leave? Would you talk to me about it? Leonard tells me that’s part of a healthy relationship. Talking stuff out.”
“Leonard’s right. Talking is important. But I get that that’s hard for you and for me. I guess we have to work on that together.”
“Okay. That makes sense. I don’t like it when you’re sad. You were sad when I told you I couldn’t go to your school with you. I hate it. It makes my stomach hurt. I like seeing you smile.”
His simple, heartfelt words filled me with a warmth I had never thought it possible to feel. Just when I thought it impossible to love him any more, he said something, or did something that opened my heart wide open all over again.
“You always make me smile,” I said softly, lifting our joined hands and kissing his knuckles.
“I hope so,” he said, giving me a smile of his own.
Chapter Nine
-Flynn-
A few years ago
“Professor Hendrick!”
I turn around to look at the person shouting my name. Why are they being so loud?
Imogen laughs. I didn’t think I was being funny. She really should brush her teeth. Maybe I should remind her.
Or is this one of those times I should keep my thoughts to myself? I figure I will this time.
“Do you have a few minutes? I’d like to speak to you about something,” she says. I have forty-two minutes until my class starts. I like to spend that time reading over my notes. I don’t like speaking in front of people but Kevin, my therapist in North Carolina, says I should push myself out of my comfort zone. I told him that sounded stupid and didn’t make any sense.
He doesn’t laugh when I say things like that. He told me I was being rude and I listened. Because he seems to be right about a lot of things. I don’t mean to be rude. But I don’t like lying either.
“You have lipstick on your teeth. Here’s a tissue,” I say to Imogen, handing her the packet of tissues from my messenger bag. Looking at the pink smear on her tooth is bothering me.
She makes a strange noise and takes a tissue from the pack. “Thanks,” she says but she isn’t looking at me. She is looking at the floor. I look down, wondering what she’s staring at. I don’t see anything.
“Is there something down there?” I asked, bending over to have a closer look.
Imogen makes that odd noise again and turns to the side as she wipes the lipstick off her teeth.
“So, Professor—I mean Flynn—do you have a minute to talk?”
I look at my watch and nod. “I have eleven minutes. Is that enough time?” I ask her. She smiles.
“That’s more than enough. My office is right over here,” she says, indicating the door to my left.
“I know. This is where I had my interview,” I tell her, following her into the office. It smells like her. Sweat and peppermint and really old coffee. I don’t really like the smell but this time I don’t say anything. I remember Kevin telling me that some thoughts don’t need to be said out loud.
So I keep that one to myself.
“Have a seat, Flynn,” Imogen says, indicating the scratchy looking chair in front of her desk. The upholstery is dirty and I don’t want to sit on it. It looks uncomfortable.
“I don’t want to sit there. I’ll stand,” I say. She gives me a look that I don’t understand before sitting at her desk. She pulls out some papers and looks at them.
I don’t like waiting. It makes me feel anxious. I start to rub my hands together but then remember that I don’t need to do that if I’m feeling uncomfortable. I’ve been trying to learn better ways of dealing with that feeling.
I clench my hands and put them in my pocket so I don’t rub them together.
“I only have nine more minutes,” I remind her. Maybe she’s forgotten.
Imogen smiles. She reminds me of my mom. She has eyes like my mom had. Dark and nice. I like her.
“I’ve gotten a lot of great feedback about the course you’re teaching, Flynn,” Imogen says, looking down at the paper she’s holding. I wonder what it says.
“What’s that paper?” I ask her, pointing to it.
“It’s comments I’ve gotten from some of your students,” she says, handing the paper to me.
I take it, careful not to touch her. I still don’t like touching people I don’t know that well. It makes me feel weird.
I read the words on the paper. Someone said I presented the topics in a clear and pleasant manner. Another person said that I was interesting to watch while I demonstrated the different techniques.
I hand the paper back to her.
“Well, what do you think?” Imogen asks.
“What do I think about what?” I reply.
She makes a noise again. She does that a lot. “Are you okay? Do you need to drink some water?” I ask her.
Imogen gives me another look that I don’t understand. Her face doesn’t smile or frown. It kind of stays in one place, making it hard to understand what she’s feeling.
“It has to feel great knowing your students like your teaching style,” she says.
I shrug. Sure it feels good. I like it when people like me. Most of my life people would stare at me or call me names. It feels good when they’re nice.
Imogen looks at the paper again. “What do you think about coming on full-time? Maybe taking on another couple of classes?” she asks me.
I frown. I don’t know that I like the sound of that. It like art. I like making my sculptures. I didn’t really like explaining what I am doing to a room full of people that stare at me.
But Leonard and Ellie both say I have to push myself.
When I think about Ellie it makes me sort of sad. She is so far away and I don’t talk to her like I used to.
“Why do you want me to do that?” I ask Imogen. I look at my watch. I only have four more minutes until I need to get to my class and start reading over my notes for the day.
“Because I think you’re a good teacher, Flynn. Look, I know you have trouble interacting with people. I know the difficulties you experience,” she says and I frown again.
“You do? How do you know that?” I ask her, confused.
“My son has Asperger’s. I know how hard just being in a room with one other stranger is for him, let alone a room full of them. Watching you in that classroom with those students gives me hope for my son. That one day he can overcome his limitations, just like you have,” she says and her eyes are wet. Is she crying?
“I don’t think I have limitations,” I say, not really understanding what she is saying. I don’t understand why people think I’m different. I don’t feel different. I just feel how I feel. I’ve always been the same way. How is it that I’m different and they aren’t? It doesn’t make sense.
“I don’t mean to offend you, Flynn. I’m just trying to say that you’re inspiring.”
“I need to get to my classroom,” I tell her, feeling strange about our conversation.
“Will you think about taking on more classes?” she asks me before I leave.
“Yes, I’ll think about it,” I tell her.
**
“I wish you would come to see me,” Ellie says when I talk to her on the phone later. I wasn’t expecting her call so early. She had told me she wouldn’t be able to call until nine.
It’s only six-thirty and I had planned to take Murphy on a walk.
When I mention that she called too early, she got mad. So I don’t say anything more about it. She wants me to try to be flexible. It’s really hard though.
“You want me to come to see you at school?” I ask.
“Yes. I’d like you to come here to see me. I want to show you my dorm room. I want to take you to downtown Baltimore and walk around the Inner Harbor. It’s really pretty. It’s the ocean without the messy sand,” she says.
“That sounds nice. I don’t like the sand,” I tell her.
She laughs and it’s my favorite sound in the world.
“I know you don’t,” she says.
I don’t say anything else. I need to take Murphy on his walk. If I wait too long I will have to eat dinner late. Then I won’t have time to watch all of my Aqua Teen Hunger Force DVD before I go to bed.
“Flynn! Are you listening?” Ellie yells in my ear. I don’t like that. It makes my head hurt.
“You want me to come to see you. I didn’t say anything because I don’t want to make you mad when I tell you no,” I answer truthfully. I don’t like to lie or not tell Ellie how I’m feeling. She’s my girlfriend. You don’t lie to your girlfriend.
She’s quiet now, and I wonder if she’s hung up the phone.
“Hello?” I say.
“I’m still here,” Ellie says. I look at the clock on the wall. It’s getting too lat
e for Murphy’s walk.
“Why won’t you come, Flynn? Why can’t you just try?” Ellie asks and I frown. She’s mad. Why is she mad?
“I can’t go there because it makes me sick to my stomach. My head hurts and I don’t like that,” I tell her.
“Don’t you want to see me?” Ellie asks.
“Yes I want to see you. I miss you. Why can’t you come here to see me?” I ask, thinking that makes more sense.
“Because Flynn, I don’t want to go there! I left Wellston because I hate it there! I can’t go back!” she yells louder.
“Stop yelling!” I yell back. I’m starting to feel angry. I don’t like how Ellie is talking to me. But I also feel sad. I don’t like her being mad at me. It hurts.
“I’ve got to go,” Ellie says, her voice sounding funny.
“Why?” I ask.
“Because I don’t want to argue,” she says. I don’t want to argue either. I didn’t understand why we had to fight. Why couldn’t we just talk to each other?
“I don’t like this,” I say.
“I don’t either, Flynn,” Ellie says and then is quiet.
I look at the clock on the wall again but now I don’t want to take Murphy on a walk. I don’t want Ellie to get off the phone. Not when she’s upset. Not when she’s mad at me because I won’t come to see her.
I really want to see her. More than anything. But I hate driving long distances. It makes my head hurt and then I feel sick to my stomach. I get mad and then I hit stuff and yell. I don’t want to do that at Ellie’s school. I know she hates it when I do that and I don’t want her to feel bad when she sees me.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Ellie says.
“What time?” I ask her.
“I don’t know, Flynn! God, just for once, stop needing to plan everything out!” she yells again.
“I don’t want to talk to you if you’re going to yell at me!” I tell her.
“Fine, I’ll talk to you later.”
Then Ellie isn’t on the phone anymore.
“Hello?” I say but she’s gone.
I take Murphy on his walk. Then I watch Aqua Teen Hunger Force. Then I go to bed.
Chasing the Tide Page 10