by Hanna Ruthie
* * *
“You’re tired,” I say, unable to hide the disappointment from my face.
Matthew has been yawning the whole time I’ve been tutoring him. He’s still working on copying my bio notes into his notebook. His eyes are half-mass, his shoulders are slouching, and he looks exhausted. I wish he wasn’t. We’re nearly at the end of our appointment but I’m hoping he’ll stay for a while longer. I’m tired too, emotionally. After what I went through with Cammy earlier this week, I’m still trying to get my bearings. I try my best to keep that life away from this one. I have a job to do with Matthew, and it’s important to me that I do my best at that job. I hope that Matthew can see that. That he can see how hard I am trying. And I’m praying that today he’ll do me this small favor in return. He said he would help me with trigonometry today and I really really need it.
“I’m fine,” he replies gruffly. “I just had a long practice, that’s all.”
“What sport do you play?” I ask, curious.
Matthew stops writing to look up at me. “What’s it matter to you?”
“I was just wondering,” I shrug.
He squints at me for a minute and then looks back down to continue with his notes.
“Basketball,” he murmurs.
I nod, twirling my pencil through my fingers. I watch him as he works. I’m sure it’s distracting, but I can’t help it. I’m just waiting, expecting him to bail on helping me.
“Quit staring at me,” he says, scribbling my notes down furiously. “It’s annoying.”
I snap out of it, looking down at the table. “Sorry,” I reply.
He shifts in his seat, pausing from his notes. “What’s your deal anyways? You’ve been fidgety the whole time.”
“No I… I’m just wondering if… well… you’re still up for helping me out.”
He looks up at me again.
“Helping you out?” He asks. He pauses for a moment, confused about my statement. And then, a smirk slides across his face. “Sure Virginia, I can think of a few ways I can help you out.”
Oh my God. He thinks I’m coming onto him. Me! What an egotistical maniac! My face flushes.
“No Matthew. I meant with math. You said you would help me with trig, remember?” I remind him.
The smirk falls off his face, quickly replaced with a deep furrowed brow. He’s thinking… remembering.
“You forgot didn’t you?” I ask.
I can’t say I’m surprised, but still… I’m disappointed. He sighs heavily, leaning back in his chair.
“I remember saying I was going to fucking regret it, which is very true right now.”
I bite my lip. “Right,” I reply quietly.
It’s silent for a few minutes. I twiddle with my fingers while Matthew stares at me, contemplating what he’s going to do. Finally he sits forward.
“I guess I have to help you,” he states simply.
“Really?” I ask.
He glares at me. “You don’t have to sound so fucking surprised. I don’t go back on my word. I said I’d help you so I’ll fucking help you.”
I sigh in relief. “Thank you so much.”
“Whatever,” he replies, looking back down at his notes. “We have to finish with bio first.”
I nod my head. “Of course.”
I pull out my trig notes and get them all set up. Then I glance down at my watch, waiting for the hour and a half of our usual tutoring time to finish.
Finally, when he finishes with his notes, he packs them up, sliding my old bio notes back over to me. With the exception of his pencil, he zips up his backpack. It freaks me out a little bit, like he’s getting ready to go. When he stands up, the words slip out of my mouth.
“Wait wait, where are you going?” I ask.
Matthew looks down at me like a crazy person. “Chill out Virginia. I’m just coming over to sit by you.”
Sure enough, he picks up his chair and drags it over to my side of the table. Confused and dazed, I sit frozen, staring at him doing it. When he sees the expression on my face he chuckles a little.
“Scoot.”
I do as he says, moving my chair over so he has room to sit down.
“If I’m helping you with math I can’t be all the way across the table,” he explains. “I have to see what you’re doing wrong as you’re doing it.”
“Oh right,” I say dumbly.
He sits down and oh God. For a moment, my senses are overwhelmed with him. I think this is the first time I’ve noticed how tall he is. And how good he smells. He must have taken a shower after practice because he smells like mint and spice. And holy crap he is really attractive. Like really attractive. That wave of black hair has fallen in front of his forehead again and his eyes are soft grey now, like I’ve never seen them before. His five-o’clock shadow has me staring at his lips and if I don’t stop, he’s going to notice. Snap out of it Josie!
“So what’s the problem?” He asks.
Clearing my throat, I pull out the list of trig problems I’ve been struggling with.
“I can start them fine, but somehow, by the time I get to the end, my answers are about as far off as they can be.”
“Okay,” he says slowly. “Do one and let me see.”
I pull out a seperate sheet of paper and begin the first problem. I get about halfway through the problem when I stop.
“Why’d you stop?” Matthew asks.
Because of you! He’s so close to me, leaning in to watch what I’m doing and I can’t focus at all. His smell is invading my senses, his closeness bombarding me from every angle.
“I’m stuck.”
Not completely untrue. I am stuck. I can’t move. I can’t think. I can hardly breathe. Matthew looks up at me.
“You’re stuck?” He asks. “All you have to do is multiply five by three.”
I look down at the paper. He’s right. Shoot! Don’t be stupid Josie!
“I know that. But what do I do next?”
I’m spewing out excuses before my brain can process it.
“Well,” he starts. “That’s your midline right?”
“Right.”
It is?!
“So now you need to find your amplitude.”
I nod my head. “Right right.”
I force my attention on the numbers in front of me. Amplitude Josie, amplitude. Finally, something clicks. I begin the next portion of the equation, finding what he asks. When I finish, I pause again. This time, I really am stuck.
“Okay,” he says. “So you’ve got your midline, you’ve got your amplitude…”
He takes his pencil and begins writing out an equation in front of me. “What goes here?” He asks, tapping the tip of his pencil against a portion of the equation.
“Argument to the cosine function?” It’s a question more than a statement, but Matthew reassures me with a nod.
I write out the formula but stop when Matthew shakes his head. “You want it to be two Pi,” he says.
“Two Pi?”
He nods. “The formula is two Pi divided by your period of time.”
“Wait wait,” I say. “Why two?”
“Because you want to go around the unit circle once-”
“Right so why is it two?”
“You didn’t let me finish,” he says, shooting me a glare.
I swallow nervously. “Sorry, go ahead.”
“If it’s two Pi over 365, when you multiply it by 365 your argument is going to be two Pi.”
I shake my head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
Matthew sighs. “You got a calculator?”
I nod, handing it to him.
“Watch,” he says. He begins punching in the numbers.
“See what two Pi is?” He asks.
I nod.
“Write it down.”
I do.
“Now, watch.” he divides it by 365 and then multiplies it by 365. “What’s the answer?”
I look down at my paper.
“Two Pi,” I say softly. I feel like an idiot. It’s so obvious now. How stupid of me.
He slides the calculator back towards me. I erase what I wrote and continue with the right answer instead.
“I feel stupid,” I say, laughing lightly.
Matthew shrugs. “Don’t sweat it. I’m sure I ask questions you think are stupid with bio.”
I shake my head. “No questions are stupid.”
Matthew stares me down. I swear from the way he looks at me I feel dumb as a brick.
“Then don’t feel bad,” he states bluntly.
“Right, okay,” I reply quietly. “I-I guess I just do better when I see it rather than hear it.”
Matthew nods. “So you’re a … what’d you call it? A ‘visual learner’?” He puts it in air quotes and it makes me laugh a little.
“Yeah I guess so.”
Matthew chuckles quietly. Then, he taps on my paper with his pencil.
“So what’s next?”
“Let’s see…”
I look down at the equation he wrote out. “Multiply the amplitude by the argument to the cosine function and then add the midline.”
“Yup,” he replies.
He continues to watch me as I work out the equation, tapping away on my calculator and writing down the answers. When I finally come up with an answer, I circle it. Then, cautiously, I check my notebook to see if the answer is correct. I compare them and find that I finally got one right. I let out a little squeak of happiness and hold my hand up for a high five. Matthew chuckles and slaps his hand against mine.
“I can’t believe it! I got the right answer!”
“So… you good to go from here?” Matthew asks.
I laugh. “Ha! Not even. You promised me an hour and an hour I will get.”
Grumbling, Matthew leans back in his chair. I’m so excited from my small victory that his grumpy attitude doesn’t even bother me. Not even a little.
Chapter 6
Matthew Steele.
I open the door to my apartment to reveal a familiar face.
“Johnny, what’s up man?” I ask, clapping hands with my oldest friend.
“Hey Matty.” The nineteen year old gives me a clap on the back before pulling away. He rolls up his sleeves, revealing his long dark arms that used to pass me the basketball when we were younger. He’s grown a lot since then, but for the most part, he’s still the same dark skinned, bright eyed kid who I remember. He’s over today to watch a big basketball game with me, one of our oldest traditions. He comes in and takes a seat at the kitchen counter while I pull two beers from my fridge.
“You spoken to Ray or Will recently?” He asks.
Ray and Will are two kids who grew up in our neighborhood.
“Not recently,” I admit, feeling ashamed. I should check up on them. They’re both eighteen and some of the closest people in my life. I slide him one of the beers, twisting the cap of my own.
“How ‘bout Clay?” He asks.
“I tried to call him the other week. His Mom picked up the phone, said he was out. I’ll try again soon.”
“Man, how old is he now?” Johnny asks, running a hand over his face.
“Fifteen,” I reply.
He shakes his head and I chuckle. “I know, it’s crazy. Seems like just yesterday he was seven, Ray and Will were ten. You were… what, twelve?”
“Eleven,” he corrects, taking a long pull from his beer.
I laugh. “Which would have made me fourteen.”
Johnny’s shoulder’s shake with laughter, setting his beer down on the counter. “To this day, you were the biggest punk I have ever seen at age fourteen.”
I nod my head, smiling. “How’s your Mom?”
“She’s alright,” he replies. “Picking up extra shifts at the hospital.”
He slides his beer between his fingers on the counter. Johnny’s Mom, Michelle, is a nurse. She’s also one of the kindest and most generous people I had the pleasure of knowing when I was growing up. She took care of me for most of my life. Johnny won’t ask about my Mom. He knows better than to do that.
“How’s school?” I ask.
“It’s been fine. You know, classes and shit. Books cost a fortune but whatever. It’s all good.”
I nod my head, listening to him.
“You?” He asks.
“Fine,” I reply. “I have to take bio this semester. It’s kicking my ass and my coach says if I don’t get my grade up I’m off the team.”
“Shit,” Johnny says, his brow arching high on his forehead at the news.
“Yeah but it’s fine, I got a tutor so I should be good.”
He relaxes, standing from the counter. “That’s good man, good.”
We make our way over to the couch and TV and I turn the game on. It’s good to catch up with him, but the real reason he’s here is for the game. He doesn’t have a TV at his place so when it comes to top priority games, he makes his way over here. Back when we were kids, I would watch the games over at his place. Now, the roles are reversed, but more than anything, I’m grateful to keep the tradition.
* * *
“Hey so can you meet twice this week or what?” I ask Josie, packing up my things at the end of our session.
This session was our seventh week together and with midterms in just a few days, it’s really important I get all the help I can. Josie Virginia and I have spent every Wednesday evening together for almost two months and remarkably, she’s still tutoring me.
“Umm I don’t know…” she replies.
“Busy schedule?” I ask sarcastically. It’s a shit thing to say but I can’t help it. I can’t imagine little Virginia having a care in the world besides her precious grades.
“As a matter of fact, yes Matthew. I do have a busy schedule. I’m looking for a second job. Plus, I still have class and units to make up.”
“What units?” I ask, calling her out. There’s no way she’s missing units.
“Math units,” she replies.
And what’s this about looking for a second job? Second job? The virginal, doe eyed Josephine needs money enough to snag a second job?
“What are you in debt to the cartel or something?” I ask.
Josie releases a heavy breath, her shoulders falling in a tired motion. “No, I just have bills and stuff to pay.”
She swings her bag over her shoulder and we begin our way out of the library.
“Bills and stuff,” I repeat, letting her know I’m questioning everything she says. She seems to be vague about all of this.
“Yes, Matthew,” she sighs, annoyed with me. “Bills. Rent. Electricity. Water. You know, the stuff that keeps you alive?”
I shrug. “Tell your roommates you need a little help.”
“I can’t,” she replies.
“Why not?” I hold the door open for her on our way out of the library. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”
“No, I meant I can’t because I don’t have any roommates,” she says, walking through the door.
I walk out of the door after her. “Well there’s your problem.”
“It’s… complicated.”
“What part of it is complicated?” I ask. “Put flyers up around campus, someone calls, someone shares rent, bam. Not complicated.”
Josie stops walking and turns to face me, rubbing her forehead in frustration. “If I agree to meet with you again this week will you stop?”
“Unless it’s complicated because you’re a hoarder. Oh you are aren’t you? Or you’re into something freaky like keeping rats and shit in the freezer to dissect later?” I continue, ignoring her question.
Josie rolls her eyes at me. “Can you stop please?”
I give her my best offended look, shrugging innocence. “You’ll have to be more specific Josephine. What exactly would you like me to stop?”
I’m messing with her and she knows it. I’m annoying the shit out of her while she’s already exhausted.
“I’ll meet with
you Friday,” she says, ignoring my question.
“I have practice Friday,” I tell her.
“So? You have practice Wednesdays and we still manage.”
“I have practice late on Fridays,” I add.
Josie’s hands tighten around the strap of her bag. She’s starting to get really annoyed with me. It’s damn fun.
“Then we’ll do it before,” she says.
I shake my head. “Can’t, I have class.”
“Well Matthew, why don’t you tell me what time would work best for you?” She replies, trying her best to compromise.
“Best for me would be after practice on Friday.”
Josie sighs, shuffling her feet in frustration.
“You just said that your practice goes late.”
I nod. “It does.”
“How late is late?” She says, her cheeks turning pink in anger. She really is like TinkerBell.
“We finish at ten. I can be ready at eleven.”
Josie laughs in anger, clearly pissed off with me. “Let me get this straight. You want me to help you study from eleven to twelve thirty?”