Amara stared with her jaw on the floor. She had given many thoughts to her mystery woman’s profession. Hillary often wore polo shirts and khaki pants; today was no exception. But Amara knew that many professions wore common clothing. Hillary could have been a professional golfer for all she knew.
“Dr. Robins?” a student three rows up and off to Amara’s left asked with a raised hand.
“Yes?”
“I was just curious about when we’d be getting to the view of women in movies.”
“One of the objectives of this course is to develop a comprehension of both feminist and queer approaches to the social and cultural construction of gender, sex, and sexuality in media. We’ll touch on movies about midway through the semester, but there is a specific course that deals with both masculine and feminine roles in film. I’ll teach it next semester.”
“Okay. Thank you,” the student replied.
Hillary was a doctor. She was Dr. Robins. Amara had never guessed that. She listened as Hillary lectured for several minutes. Hillary walked around the room and encouraged participation from students as they discussed the topic of the lecture and their next assignment. Amara was sure Hillary hadn’t noticed her. She was enjoying having the chance to watch her for the first time without fear of being caught because, in this context, they were teacher and student. It was appropriate for a student to stare at their teacher; maybe not how Amara was staring at Hillary’s brown eyes that lit up as she grew excited about the topic, though.
When Hillary announced the class was over, Amara remained in her seat. She considered approaching Hillary – or Dr. Robins, as she’d have to call her in this room. Amara did have questions about the paper she’d missed. She’d read the syllabus and had understood the assignment, but she could come up with something to ask her. She was more curious about how Hillary would handle seeing her in this room; seeing her as her student.
As the other students filed out of the room though, Amara lost her courage and stood. She packed her things and left the room. As she made her way across campus and toward her car, she thought about something she had no reason thinking about. It struck her out of nowhere, and she shook her head as if that would remove the thought: she couldn’t be Hillary’s student. She couldn’t be in her class because she wanted to date her. She wanted to ask Hillary out on a date; she had since she’d first seen her. It would never happen. Being Hillary’s student shouldn’t be a problem because she would never ask her out. And clearly Hillary needed no help getting dates if the woman at the coffee shop was any indication.
◆◆◆
“Sweetheart, how was class?” her father asked as he kissed her cheek.
“It was good,” she said and left out some pretty key details.
“Accounting will be a great help around here.” He sat behind his desk at his church office.
“Right.” Amara hadn’t yet told him she’d changed courses.
“Mark stopped by a little while ago.” He opened his old, worn Bible in front of him. “He told me not to tell you about the surprise he left for you at your desk.” He smiled widely at her and removed his rimless glasses. “I like this boy, Amara.”
“He’s almost thirty, Dad. I think you can call him a man.”
“I suppose you’re right.” He chuckled, and the wrinkles on his forehead grew more pronounced. “He’s been coming by the church more and more these days. He’s a devout man, and he’s clearly very taken with you.”
“Well, we’re dating,” she reminded him and clasped her hands in front of herself awkwardly. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Can it wait, dear? I have back to back marriage counseling sessions and then meetings with the youth group.”
“Oh, sure,” she replied, deciding that telling him about school could wait. “I’ll be at my desk.”
“Mark mentioned something about lunch. I told him you’d be ready by one, and he said he’d pick you up here.”
“We didn’t have a lunch date.”
“He wanted to ask but didn’t want to interfere with your class this morning. He was already here, so I accepted for you.” He walked toward her, kissed her cheek again, and left his office with his Bible and not another word.
“I guess I’m going to lunch with Mark.”
When she made it to her desk, she noticed a bouquet of twelve red roses in a clear vase. She smiled at first, before remembering that she wasn’t being at all fair to Mark. She picked out the card, read his kind words of affection for her, and placed the card back in the bouquet. She shifted it to the table that held the shared office printer and got to work.
◆◆◆
“This is your favorite lunch place, right?” Mark asked as they sat at their table for two.
“It is.” She smiled at his thoughtfulness. “I used to come here with my dad a lot before he got so busy at the church.”
Mark had pulled out her chair for her, as he always did, and then sat across from her at her favorite Mediterranean place in town. She stared down at her menu, despite knowing what she’d order, because she always ordered the same thing.
“I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”
“About what?” She looked up.
“The church.” He took a sip of water the waiter had filled upon their arrival. “I’ve been speaking with your father a lot recently, and I’ve talked to my own.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve made a decision that impacts you, and I wanted to get your thoughts on it.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve decided I want to be a pastor, like your father.”
“Oh.”
“He’s been a great mentor to me, and since you and I began our relationship, I’ve spent more time with him. Specifically, I was hoping to start by taking the place of the old youth pastor and, eventually, I hope to replace your father when he retires.”
“You want to replace my father?” She took a drink of her own water and gulped the icy liquid down.
“Eventually,” he reminded. “I would start by taking the youth pastor job. It’s only part-time, so I’d stay on part-time at the store, too. My family can find a replacement for me there, and I can work with your father and take over more responsibilities. He’s already agreed to training me further.” Mark gulped and let out a deep exhale. “He mentioned that he and I could talk even further after you and me…”
“You and me?” She lifted a surprised eyebrow.
“Well, he talked about an engagement.” He held up his hand with his palm facing her. “I said nothing about it; he brought it up.”
“I’m sorry, Mark. He’s so old-fashioned sometimes.”
“No, it was fine.” He waved her off with a smile.
“It’s not fine. We’ve only been together for two months.”
“And I love you.” He reached across the table and took the hand she’d had holding onto the water glass, placed it on the table, and covered it with his own. “You know that, right?”
“I do,” she replied and realized her poor choice of words. “Mark, you know I care about you–”
“I know you need time. You’re not ready to say, ‘I love you.’ That’s okay. I can wait. I do love you, though. And I would like us to talk about these things sometime. Today doesn’t have to be that day, though. I really only wanted to talk to you about the church.”
“If you want to work at the church, I think that’s great.” She gave him a straight-lined smiled.
It was great for Mark, but it wasn’t great for Amara. It would tie Mark to the church, where not only her father but she worked forever. If Mark planned on taking over for her father one day, it meant she’d see him nearly every day, no matter what happened with their relationship. Mark was a good man, who treated her better than she deserved, considering the secret she’d been keeping from him. She’d known he’d thought of a career with the church, but she hadn’t expected him to make it happen so soon.
She’d been thinking about how best to break
up with Mark after taking several glances at the flowers he’d delivered personally. He deserved someone who would appreciate those coming from him and hadn’t secretly been wishing that they’d come from a beautiful woman she now knew as Dr. Hillary Robins.
CHAPTER 5
Hillary had gone to the Al-Anon meeting the previous night, despite not having planned on attending. She’d hoped to see Amara again, but she hadn’t wanted to stick around too long after the meeting. Nathaniel had asked her for another cup of coffee. When she’d declined, giving him the same excuse as last time, he’d pressed for a dinner date, which she’d accepted for the following Saturday. Greene had made her point: Hillary hadn’t been on a date in a very long time. Nathaniel might be an interesting guy if she gave him a shot. Now, she sat in the coffee shop on her regular day, at her regular time, and there was no Amara.
“Can I cash in my maybe?” Lucy asked as she sat in the chair across from Hillary.
“Oh, hi.” Hillary looked up from her computer and met her eyes.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I’m actually just heading out; thought I’d see about getting an update on that maybe from last week.”
“Why me?” Hillary laughed lightly and looked at her.
“I saw you, thought you were gorgeous, and went for it.” She smiled shyly. “I’m normally not this forward, but my sister has been giving me a hard time about putting myself out there more.”
“My friends are doing the same thing.”
“So, we’re in a similar position?” Lucy nodded. “You could have mercy on me and agree to go out with me, since my sister is right behind the counter.”
“I could. This has been the strangest week,” she muttered more to herself than to Lucy.
“How so?”
“I swear, I’ve never been asked out so many times in my life.” She paused. “Like, altogether.”
“This is only my second attempt. I find that hard to believe.” She then realized something. “Or do you mean that others have been asking you out?”
“The last one.”
“So, I have competition?” She gave a soft smile.
Hillary immediately thought of Amara and said, “Not exactly.” She thought of Nathanial then. “I will go out with you, though.”
“Yeah?” Lucy seemed pleased.
“Why not? At the very least, it will get your sister off your back and my friends off mine.”
“And we might actually have a good time.”
“Also true,” Hillary agreed.
“Saturday?”
“I can’t.”
“The other date?”
“Yes.”
“Friday night, then? I wouldn’t mind getting to you first.” The woman squinted at her own words. “That came out wrong.”
“I understood.” Hillary laughed.
“Here’s my number.” She laughed back as she said it and scribbled her number on a paper napkin.
“I’ll call you later today.”
“Great.” Lucy stood, turned to see her sister staring at them, and turned back to Hillary. “Told you.”
Hillary laughed. She watched Lucy walk back over to her sister, and then reviewed the last of the grades her TA, Claudia, had given to the students who’d turned in their first paper late. She noticed three names on the list and their corresponding grades. The first two held no meaning to her in a class of over forty students, but the last one caught her eye. It wasn’t exactly a common name. How many Amara’s were there in San Francisco?
◆◆◆
Hillary arrived a few minutes early to her class. She set her computer up to run on the projector so she could show the class her PowerPoint presentation while lecturing. She watched as several students entered the room and took their seats. Her eyes drifted to each in turn to see that none of them were her Amara. She wasn’t her Amara. She shouldn’t think of her like that. Perhaps, Amara was a common name in another culture, and she was unaware. Maybe there were thousands of them in the city, and the Amara in her class was one of the students already in the room. She smiled at Claudia, who approached from the side entrance of the lecture hall.
“Hi, Claudia.”
“Hey. Did you review the grades? If you approve, I can hand the papers back before the class begins.”
“Two of them were just late, right? That’s why they got Cs? The other one was from an add/drop late joiner, though.”
“Yes. She came to me at the end of the last session and handed it in. She actually submitted it online as well but wanted to make sure she got it in on paper, too, since she’d joined late.”
“Amara Simmons?”
“That’s her,” Claudia said.
Then, Hillary realized Claudia wasn’t just confirming the name she’d said; she was also nodding to her right, where several students were taking their seats. There she was: her Amara. Hillary shook her head rapidly from side to side and regained her composure enough to tell Claudia the grades were approved and that she could pass the papers back. Claudia walked off to do as instructed, and Hillary moved to her laptop to pretend to do something while she eyed Claudia approaching Amara and handing her the paper. Amara’s eyes looked at the grade as Claudia walked off and then moved up to see Hillary staring at her. The only thing she could think to do was smile.
“Let’s get started,” Hillary said several moments later after Amara had smiled back and lowered her eyes.
She lectured about something she could no longer remember and was grateful she always printed out her lecture notes for each class. She would have been lost without them. She did her best not to glance in Amara’s direction and only slipped a few times by her estimation. Each time, Amara appeared as a student listening to a teacher and offered no indication that she’d seen Hillary anywhere outside of the classroom.
When the class ended, Claudia approached her so quickly, she had no chance to see Amara leave the room. She’d likely have to wait a week to see her now. The thought saddened her, which made no sense, considering she’d never even spoken to the woman. Claudia helped her pack up the projector, and they walked back to Hillary’s office together. Hillary said goodbye to Claudia, who had a class to get to, and sat behind her desk for her weekly office hours.
“Excuse me?”
Hillary looked up at the open door and the woman with auburn hair in a bun, standing in the doorway, wearing black slacks and a dark green silk blouse that matched her eyes so well, Hillary gulped at the beauty of it.
“Hi.” Her voice shook with nerves. “Come in.” She stood, because she didn’t know what else to do, and motioned to one of the chairs in front of her desk. “Have a seat, if you want.”
“I can’t stay,” Amara said. “I have to get to work.”
“Oh.”
“This is weird.” Amara laughed. “I thought I should come here; and now that I’m here, I don’t really know why.”
“We’ve seen each other a million times.” Hillary smiled at her.
“I know.” The woman smiled back. “I didn’t know this was your class. I didn’t know you were a teacher. I didn’t even know your name until last week.”
“Last week?” Hillary lifted an eyebrow.
“Your friend yelled your name when you arrived at the café.”
“Oh, right.”
“Anyway, I thought I should just acknowledge it and maybe introduce myself. I’m Amara.” She moved into the office and held out her hand for Hillary to shake.
“Hillary Robins.” She shook it and marveled at the softness of Amara’s skin.
“I know.” Amara smiled at her. “It’s on the syllabus.”
“Which you have because you’re a student in my class,” Hillary reminded herself and lowered her head.
“Is that a problem?” Amara took a step back.
“No, it’s not.” Hillary tried to remain professional. “I’ve just been seeing you in the café for a while now, and my friends put some ideas in my head.”
“About
me?” The woman lifted a well-shaped brow.
“Never mind.” Hillary shook her head and leaned back against her desk. Amara’s gaze lowered. Hillary wondered if Amara was checking her out. It gave her some courage. “They thought maybe you looked at me sometimes and suggested I ask you out.”
“Ask me out?” Amara took another step back.
Hillary worried about two things simultaneously. If her friends were wrong about Amara’s interest in her, she’d be heartbroken. It made no sense, truthfully, but she’d been holding onto the idea of this woman for a long time now. If what everyone had thought had been wrong, then that idea would evaporate. The second thought she had was about the fact that she was a professor, and this woman was her student.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything about it.”
“No, that’s not–” Amara cut herself off. “I should go, though. I really do have to get to work.”
“I’ll see you in the next class.” Hillary stood straight and made her way behind her desk, needing the barrier to return them to their teacher and student roles.
Amara turned to go. Hillary pretended to get back to work before she watched the woman turn back around.
“You wanted to ask me out?” she questioned. “On a date?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Hillary shook her head.
“Because I’m your student?” she guessed.
“Right.”
“Right,” Amara repeated. “Next class, then.” She nodded and left the office.
Hillary let out the breath she’d been holding and clasped her hands together on her desk. She’d spoken to her. She’d finally spoken to Amara, and it had gone terribly. She finished up her office hours with no other students interrupting her thoughts of Amara. All she could think about was how she’d ruined her nonexistent chance with a woman she’d been crushing on for over a year.
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