by S. Walden
“Hi,” the girl replied.
Cadence wasn’t sure what else to say. Neither was the girl. That was until she recognized Cadence.
“You went to Crestview High.”
Cadence’s face fell. “Yeah.”
“My friend went there. She graduated with you.”
Cadence nodded.
The girl leaned in and whispered, “Did you really have an affair with your math teacher?”
Cadence shrugged and turned around. So much for being inconspicuous. She almost moved to another seat, but she didn’t want to come across as a bitch. Michael walked in, and she actually felt relief. He sat in the desk in front of her.
“I’m assuming you saved this for me even though I don’t see a pen or notebook or anything else on the desk,” he said.
She smiled nervously.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing. I’ll tell you later,” she mumbled.
“Tell me now.”
She glared at him. “I can’t.”
He nodded. “Okay. When are you free?” he asked.
“Noon.”
“Wanna get lunch?”
“It’ll have to be quick. I work today.”
“Isn’t it fun being a grown-up and having responsibilities?” Michael joked.
“The best,” Cadence replied.
Conversation ended once the professor walked into the classroom. Dr. Callahan. Cadence thought he was nice. He was an old one—grandfatherly. He didn’t teach, just explained the syllabus and his classroom expectations. She thought he was one of those “understanding” professors. She could miss a deadline for a paper and he would “understand.” He had the demeanor. It was really in his eyes. They were kind and soft. She realized she spent all fifty minutes of class time developing a character sketch of him in her mind instead of listening to him. And then it hit her! She was subconsciously looking for a companion for Fanny! She burst out laughing as students exited the room at the end of class.
“What the hell?” Michael asked.
“Nothing,” she giggled.
“Meet me at the union at noon, dork.”
“Whatever.”
***
“So, why are you so weird?” Michael asked, pushing out the chair for her with his foot. She crinkled her nose and wiped the seat with a napkin.
“A multitude of reasons,” she replied, plopping in the chair and tearing open her Chick-fil-A sandwich.
“What couldn’t you tell me in class?” Michael asked. “We’ll start with that one.”
Cadence took a deep breath. “Well, I was all excited about starting college and running away from my complicated past until it was pointed out to me by the girl sitting behind me.”
“You have a complicated past?”
“Hard to believe, but yes,” Cadence said.
“And what is it?”
“I had an affair with my math teacher,” she said airily. “My current boyfriend.”
Michael’s mouth dropped open. “Um, a million questions starting now.”
Cadence checked the clock hanging above them. “You better hurry,” she said with her mouth full.
“How old is he?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“How old were you?”
“Seventeen.”
“Fucking. Awesome.”
Cadence stared at him.
“Did he change your grades?”
“No.”
“Is he in jail?”
“No. He didn’t commit a crime.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Whatever. Were you found out?”
“Yes.”
“Did he go to jail?”
“Seriously?”
“Did he lose his job?”
“Yes.”
“What did your parents say?”
“Stuff.”
“What did they do?”
“Punched me in the eye.”
“What the fuck?”
“Tell me about it.” Cadence took another huge bite of her sandwich.
“Both of them punched you in the eye?”
“You’re an idiot.”
“So what happened after that?” Michael asked. He’d abandoned his food in favor of gawking and drilling her.
“I ran away.”
“Seriously. What happened next?”
“I’m telling you the truth. I ran away. I live with my boyfriend now.”
They were quiet for a time. Cadence finished off her sandwich and licked her fingers.
“What did your parents do?” Michael asked.
“Disowned me.”
Michael sat back in his chair. “Are you telling me the truth?” he said quietly.
Cadence nodded and gathered her things.
Michael whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she replied. “You didn’t disown me.” She smiled and stood up.
“Going so soon?”
“I told you I had to be quick,” she said.
“Does your boyfriend know we’re friends?”
“Yes. And his name’s Mark.”
“Is he okay with that?”
“Yes. He’s not possessive.”
Michael nodded. “Cool.”
“Are you done interrogating me now?”
He smiled. “‘Til next time, yeah.”
“Nope. Next time it’s my turn,” Cadence said.
“Fine.”
“Are you gonna tell the whole campus what I just revealed?” Cadence asked.
“Uh, I have, like, three friends,” Michael replied.
“Are you gonna tell those three friends?”
Michael smirked. “You can trust me.”
Cadence considered him. “I sure hope so.”
He nodded reassuringly.
“Later.” Cadence waved as she walked out of the student union towards the west parking deck. Flower deliveries all afternoon and then homework later that evening. And maybe hot sex before bed.
Hmm, I should think about birth control pills, she thought as she unlocked her car.
Her life was calming down, turning ordinary, and she was happy for it.
***
It wasn’t on the level of a four-year university teaching position, but Mark would take what he could get. The pay wasn’t absolutely horrible, but that was only because he managed to land a full-time position. With benefits. And he could put Cadence on his medical insurance. Even though she had the university, it was a good backup plan. He was always thinking of the ways in which he needed and wanted to provide for her. He already looked at her as his wife. But she wasn’t ready for marriage yet, and he knew it. He’d treat her like a wife now and make it official later.
“Hey there,” a woman said, poking her head in his classroom.
He’d just finished his final math class of the day and was packing his bag.
“Hi,” he replied.
“I’m Drew Blakely,” she said, walking up to him and extending her hand. He shook it. “I teach across the hall from you. English and communications courses.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Mark Connelly.” He pointed to the board he hadn’t yet cleaned.
She smiled and nodded. “I hate math. With a passion. I can’t balance my checkbook.”
She placed her hands on her narrow hips and studied the board. He waited patiently for her to leave. He had a special dinner in store for Cadence, and he needed to pop by the grocery store first.
“What do you think of this place so far?” Drew asked. It was evident she had no special dinner planned and was content to sit around and chat for a while. He wanted to be rude, but that wasn’t his nature. Well, usually it wasn’t his nature.
“I like it. Students seem to care about their work, which is different from high school.”
“You taught high school before this? Ugh.” She brushed her shoulder-length brunette hair off her face. She was pretty. Emerald green eyes and a few freckles on her nose. Sh
e didn’t look old enough to teach anything, let alone community college.
“It wasn’t so bad,” he replied, grinning. Cadence’s naked body flashed in his brain, and he cleared his throat.
“Why’d you make the move then?” she asked.
He smiled patiently. “Needed a change.”
That conversation was absolutely hideous. He decided to be completely forthright with the dean and explain his entire situation with Cadence during the interview. He could have very well said that he didn’t want the dean to contact his former employer, but that would have sent up red flags. He believed he sealed his fate after that discussion, but the dean obviously didn’t care. He called him the next day to offer him the position. It may have helped that Mark told him he and Cadence were to be married the following year.
“Do you make it a habit of dating your students?” the dean asked.
“No, sir. This is the only time.”
“And what made her so special? More importantly, why would you take the risk? Why not wait until she graduated?”
Mark pushed a hand nervously through his hair. “I tried. I really did. But her loneliness. My loneliness. I just couldn’t.”
Dean Bertelli eyed him curiously. “Did you adjust her grades?”
“No.”
“Did you give her preferential treatment?”
“I helped her with homework. I tutored her. But I tutored other students, too.”
The dean sighed.
“And you’re marrying this girl?”
“I’ll be with Cadence for the rest of my life.”
Mark wasn’t quite sure, but he thought he saw a faint smile playing on the dean’s lips. Before exiting his office, Mark glimpsed a photo on the desk. It was the dean and his wife. And she looked significantly younger than him.
“What are you grinning about?” Drew asked, and Mark snapped his head up. She eyed him curiously, then grinned back. He didn’t like it.
“I’ve no idea,” he said quickly. “Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve gotta get going.” He hastily cleaned the board then walked with Drew to the door.
“No worries. I’ve got stuff to do. Just wanted to pop by and introduce myself. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”
He hoped not. “Yep.”
He locked his door. She sauntered over to her room. She walked like that just for him, hoping he was watching. Tight-fitting pencil skirt. Heels. She was good. Unfortunately for her, he wasn’t interested.
He smiled thinking of the girl waiting for him at home. He could see her now: sprawled on the couch. One of her half-filled glasses of soda on the coffee table. Another on the end table. They drove him crazy, but at the moment he didn’t care. He’d have her just the way she was. Silly. Sweet. Messy.
Trusting.
“I believe you,” he heard her say that moment he knelt before her, ready to kiss her feet. Ready to do whatever she asked. Ready to love her unconditionally and forever.
He couldn’t stop at the grocery store. He had to go home. He had to look at her. Only for a few minutes. Then he’d go back out. But she was more important than mangoes and chili peppers. She was more important than anything else in his life, and he had to see her face—fill up on her—before he could continue with his day. He did this often, but she only caught him staring once. And she never said anything about it, like she knew why he had to do it. She simply smiled, inviting his continued gaze. She understood the need and gave it her silent blessing.
Mark strolled through the apartment observing the little messes here and there: clothes flung over the living room furniture. Stacks of unorganized papers on the floor and tables. Glasses with half-finished soda in random spots. He peeked into the bathroom and groaned. Toiletries. Everywhere. He’d forgotten about women’s toiletries, or maybe it was just that Andy kept hers organized and generally out of sight. Not Cadence. There were bottles all over the place, crowding the sink, stacked on top the toilet tank, lining the ledge of the garden tub.
“What the hell?” Mark said to himself. He rubbed his face then set to work clearing the countertop.
Cadence popped into the bathroom and scanned the sink.
“Where’s my brush?” she asked.
“I put it away.”
“Oh. Thanks. I was gonna do that,” she said, opening the top drawer. She searched around. “Where?”
“The other drawer,” Mark said, eyeing her.
She pushed the drawer in, and he caught it before it fully shut. He pulled it back out.
“Umm, those nail clippers belong in that basket. See? You moved them while you were looking for your brush.” He paused. “And you didn’t put them back.”
Cadence looked up at him. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Seriously.”
She made a dramatic show of picking up the clippers and holding them up to his face before dropping them in the appropriate basket. “Better?”
“Almost,” Mark replied. Shouldn’t have given me an opening, he thought. “Where do these things go?” He waved his hand over her toiletries.
“Right where they are.”
“No. There’s not enough room for all these bottles on the sink.”
“Then I guess they can go under the sink.”
“So why don’t you put them under the sink?” he asked.
“Because it’s not a big deal,” Cadence replied. “And there’s not much room under there anyway.”
“There’s plenty,” Mark replied. He took Cadence’s hand and pulled her into the living room. “I don’t get this.”
“Get what?”
“This,” he said, waving his hands around. “Look at this place.”
“I’ve been working a lot this week, Mark. I was planning on cleaning tomorrow.”
“You’re not getting it, Cadence,” Mark replied. He paused and took a deep breath. And then he walked over to an end table. He picked up a glass. “I love you, okay? Now explain to me what this is.”
Cadence bristled. “A glass.”
“Uh huh. And where does it go?”
“Don’t talk to me like that.”
“I’m not trying to be an asshole. I’m trying to understand why you can’t ever finish a drink, take the glass to the sink, and rinse it out.”
“Are we seriously gonna do this?”
Mark held out the glass to her. “Please look at this glass, Cadence. You fill it up to the brim, you drink half, and then you just set it wherever. I need to understand why you do this because it’s driving me crazy.”
“So what? I’m a slob?”
Mark blinked.
“What the hell?!”
“I didn’t say ‘slob’. You did. And I don’t think you’re a slob. I do think you’re messy, though.”
“Because I don’t have my stuff in nice neat places like you? I’m not freaking OCD, okay? Get off my back about it.”
“I don’t need you to be OCD, Cadence. I need you to rinse your fucking glasses out.”
“What. The. Fuck? Did you just say ‘fuck’ to me?”
“I can’t live like this. Shit everywhere. I mean, what’s a bra doing in the dining room?”
“You took it off me!” Cadence shouted.
Mark thought for a moment. “Oh, wait. Okay, yeah. You’re right. Forget the bra. But what about that stack of shit over there?”
“That ‘shit’ is my clothes. And I don’t have any place to put them!”
“I have closets, Cadence.”
“In the guest bedroom! I don’t wanna hang my clothes there!”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Please give me more than that,” Mark said.
“Because if I hang them there it’s like I’m only here temporarily!” Cadence said.
Silence.
Cadence walked over to Mark.
“Give me that,” she snapped, snatching the glass from his hand. She walked to the kitchen.
He stood in the living room listening a
s she washed all the dirty dishes. When the water stopped running, he waited for her to emerge. But she didn’t, and so he went to her.
She was squatting on the floor wiping the cabinet fronts.
“Cadence, what are you doing?” Mark asked. He couldn’t hide the grin and was glad she wasn’t looking at him.
“What does it look like? I’m cleaning,” she said. She continued scrubbing as she watched him in her periphery. He approached her and knelt beside her.
“You don’t have to do that,” he said gently. He reached for the dishrag, and she reared back. Apparently the argument wasn’t over.
“I’m sick to death of feeling like this isn’t my house!” she screamed. She stood up and threw the dirty dishrag at him. It smacked him in the forehead.
“Really?”
“I know I’m unorganized, okay? I know my clothes are everywhere! I realize I always pour too much in my glasses! I don’t mean to! I don’t know how to live in your ultra clean, orderly apartment, Mark! Okay? And frankly, I think it’s a little weird. You being so clean. Like, fucking chill the fuck out and just put something where it doesn’t belong!”
She stormed out of the kitchen. Mark hesitated before following her.
He found her in the bathroom tossing bottles under the sink.
“This is your house, too,” he said.
“No, it’s not.”
“It is, Cadence.”
She paused and looked him in the face. “This has never been my house. This is your house with your sink and your bed and your towels and your plates and your glasses and your closets and—”
“Stop.”
“It’s true! I don’t know where I belong! I don’t know where my stuff’s supposed to go!”
“Anywhere.”
“Don’t do that. You know you don’t mean it.”
“I do. I mean it. And I’m sorry for getting pissed about the glasses. I am.”
Cadence shrugged. She sat silent for a moment, battling what she knew she needed to do. He was right about the glasses. She knew it. But she was pissed off and didn’t want to concede.
“I’m sorry I leave glasses lying around!” she snapped.
“Wow.”
“What?” she demanded.
“That was the worst-sounding apology ever,” he said.
“You’re right. I’m not sorry. Not yet anyway.” She threw another bottle under the sink.
“You don’t have to apologize,” Mark replied. He grabbed her hands. “Stop. Just stop, please. And listen to me. You’re right. I haven’t made room for you here. And I’m sorry for that. You shouldn’t have to use the guest bedroom closet. You’re not a guest. You’re my girlfriend, and you live with me now, and that makes all of this yours.”