Chapter Thirty-Six
Helene
“We’re going to do things a little different tonight. I’ve scheduled this night as a work night for your term papers. I’d like each of you to come up and meet with me individually, so we can review your topic, your sources, any questions you have. If you’re not meeting with me, then you can be working on your paper. I wrote the Wi-Fi password on the board, so you’d all have access from your laptops. You can access LexisNexis through the library’s website, as well as other databases. If you have questions on what a scholarly source is and how to search specifically on those resources, please let me know. You will not get full points on your paper unless you have the right number of sources considered scholarly. Failing to understand what that means is not a mistake you want to make.”
I hadn’t seen Kane yet, and in all truth I actually had no idea if he was there or not. I’d not let my eyes wander around the room when I entered a few minutes late, and the most I could say conclusively was that Kane was clearly not sitting in the front row. I’d actually contemplated canceling class tonight. It was, after all, a work night, and adult students shouldn’t really need me to tell them how to write a term paper at this point, but… I’d found that handholding was as much a part of collegiate education as it was primary school.
I sat at the desk, waiting for the first student to come up, and while I waited, I pulled out my own laptop, doing my own research for my very own paper. I was still a student myself after all. I hadn’t managed much over the past half week—hell, I’d barely managed to get out of bed on some days, and eating was something I had to physically and quite painfully force myself to do. But I had set up a meeting with a counselor from Victim Services in Philadelphia as well as a psychiatrist from Trident Correctional Facility. Both had agreed to meet with me, and I knew I should be excited about it. But I wasn’t really sure I cared anymore.
I’d been ecstatic, stupidly, profoundly ecstatic about the new direction of my dissertation—so ecstatic, in fact, I’d not bothered to reach out to Dr. Briggs, because frankly, I didn’t want to run the risk of finding out she didn’t like my choice. Blending a bit of victimology with philosophy was a good choice; it was the right choice for me, and I wasn’t going to be dissuaded. Too bad I wasn’t feeling it. I wasn’t feeling much of anything anymore. Just numb, just dead.
When the first student pulled up a nearby chair and sat by the side of the desk, I forced a smile to my mouth. I tried to act enthusiastic about what the guy was saying, but I couldn’t honestly say I cared. Cyborg theories weren’t really my topic of interest.
“It’s going to be awesome,” he said. “I mean, this book I found is all about aug… aug—”
“Augmentation,” I finished for him.
“Yeah. That.”
“So are you honing in your study on the analysis of restorative versus enhancements, or are you thinking of delving into what does and does not fall under the definition of augmentation?”
The kid stared at me blankly. “Huh?”
“For instance, some in the field of study would say vaccinations qualify as augmentation, others limit the scope.”
“Oh… I guess … not that. I’m thinking about human enhancements,” he said excitedly.
We’d not even covered this particular topic, and it wasn’t considered part of pretty much any general philosophy course anywhere, but … he’d clearly been Googling his way into a rather obscure topic in the field, and I supposed I had to give him props for that.
“So how do you relate this topic to your own life?”
He looked around mischievously, and when he looked back, he smirked. “Well, I have some … interesting piercings I’d consider enhancements.” His eyebrows shot up as he spoke quietly to me. “If you know what I mean.”
My mouth dropped open before I could stop it, and I had to clear my throat. “Right,” I finally said. “Um… I’m sure it’ll be great.”
He nodded, smiling broadly. “Yeah it will.” He stood. “Thanks, Pro Hess.”
“Pro… Okay. You’re welcome,” I said awkwardly. Piercings?
I made it through one meeting after another, some impressive, some laughably off-base were I capable of laughing. It was halfway through the class period when I gave everyone a fifteen minute break that I found out conclusively Kane was, in fact, in class. He’d been sitting in the last row in the corner closest to the interior wall. He stood, skirting by the other desks with his head down, and he walked straight out of the room without ever looking up at me.
The room emptied out, and I sat there staring at my lap, inhaling and exhaling slowly. When the door was pulled open by the first returning student a few minutes later, my eyes glanced that way. It was him. He paused in the doorway, staring at me but not entering. And that’s when I saw it. He had a black eye and a scuff on his cheek. He stood there frozen until the next student behind him plowed into the back of him because she was too busy staring at her smart phone and not paying attention to what she was doing. He stumbled forward, and then he went back to staring at me for a moment.
He took a deep breath and finally turned toward the back of the classroom. Within ten minutes all of the students had returned. I stood, circling around to the front of the desk.
“How many of you have yet to meet with me?”
Only six hands rose, not including Kane’s because he clearly had no intention of meeting with me given his eyes were glued downward to his book.
“Okay. We should get through this pretty quick. Once everyone has met with me, I’ll do a quick Q and A for any questions you might have and we’ll be done for the evening. You can pick up the study guide for next week’s test on your way out.”
I sat back down, and the next student came up. I made it through four of the remaining students within fifteen minutes, and when the fifth approached, I glanced up. It was winky boy with lazy book buying tendencies.
“Have a seat,” I said.
And he winked at me. Good to see this was off to a fairly predictable start. But what I didn’t predict was Kane suddenly standing from the back of the classroom and walking up front. He stood awkwardly at the side of the front row, clearly lost for a moment as to what he was supposed to do now. I took the rather juvenile opportunity to verbally kick him in the balls.
“Mr. Thorson, why don’t you have a seat and wait your turn.” I stared at him, feeling heat burn through my cheeks but ignoring it and my racing heart.
He stared back, his lips pursed as he watched me. When his eyes shifted to winky boy, his jaw instantly clenched tight, and he shook his head. He sank into the nearby desk chair on the edge of the front row, and I returned my attention to the man, if one could call him that, sitting in the chair next to my desk.
“Hey, I’m James.”
“Hi,” I said curtly.
“Sex.” That’s all he said, and he nodded his head as though I was supposed to be impressed.
“Care to elaborate?”
A few nearby students laughed, clearly having overheard James’s comment, and when I glanced toward them, my attention stopped on Kane. He was glaring at the side of James’s face.
“The philosophy of sex, sexuality, all that good stuff,” James said. “You know, like the discussion we had in class. It was interesting.” His voice was too seductive, and as he spoke, he leaned in, resting his closest elbow to my desktop. “The power of sexual attraction.”
More giggles could be heard nearby.
I cleared my throat. “Yep. Sounds good. Next please,” I said as I glanced toward Kane, but then my eyes bulged.
Kane’s teeth were gritted, and his lips were twisted in a snarl as he continued to glare at James.
“So, can I call you to discuss it more if I have questions? Bet you have some good insight into the topic.”
“What?” My eyes returned to James, having heard nothing of what he’d just asked me. “What did you ask?”
He smiled, biting his lower lip. “If I could call you. You know, to discuss my paper.”
I shook my head. “Just send me an email if you have questions.”
He leaned back casually and shrugged. “Okay. If you say so.” His tone implied it was my loss if I didn’t want to entertain his little crush by phone.
Kane stood, not waiting for another invitation, and as he walked toward me, James stood, nearly careening into him. Kane stopped, refusing to step out of James’s way, and his eyebrows rose smugly as he waited for James to step around him. James held his hands up laughing casually when he finally stepped to the side. But when Kane stepped by him, James couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut.
“Stole your topic, dick,” he muttered quietly.
Kane paused and turned to look at James beside him. “You can have the topic. I don’t need to learn how to fuck. You, on the other hand, clearly do.” He nodded in my direction, a reminder he’d just been denied by me.
“Gentlemen,” I said in warning.
Both of them looked at me. James smiled and winked before walking away, and Kane stared for a moment before taking a deep breath and another two steps toward me. He sat in the chair, which put his back toward the class, and he rested his elbow on the desktop with his hand to his mouth. He was gnawing nervously on the tip of his thumbnail.
“Your topic.” My voice was clipped and cold.
He studied me for a moment. “The moral issues of vigilantism.”
I nodded slowly. “Why that topic?”
“Did you ask your other students?” His voice was defensive, but he shook his head as though he regretted his tone. “I think I’ve earned the right to be interested in the field of justice just as much as you, wouldn’t you say?” His voice was quiet, and it wasn’t carrying beyond the desk and the space between us.
“Very well,” I responded.
He made no move to stand, and I looked down at the desktop between us. When I looked back up, he was still watching me.
I cleared my throat. “Nice to see you playing well with others.”
He reached up, touching the scuff along his cheekbone just under and outside of his eye. “Shawn called you a fucking bitch. Sorry I didn’t handle the situation up to your standards,” he muttered quietly. He stood abruptly and walked away.
I forced my mouth to stay closed and stifle the gape as he walked away from me, and I cleared my throat as the final student approached. She ate up only about thirty seconds of my time, and when I stood again, I pulled the study guides for the test from my briefcase. I rounded the desk, setting the stack of guides beside me as I crossed my ankles and my arms.
“Questions.”
I was hoping there would be none. I did not get my wish. It was a good fifteen minutes before I was able to dismiss class. Kane didn’t hang back. I was disappointed and relieved at the same time. He walked out with the rest of the students, his eyes lingering on mine for a moment before he passed through the door. By the time I made it to the parking lot we both usually parked in, his dad’s truck was gone.
I stood in the middle of the nearly vacant parking lot, listening to the leaves rustle along the ground as a breeze passed through. It was going to be Halloween soon, Thanksgiving after that, and then Christmas. All those things were now going to happen without Kane in my life, just as they had eleven years before. Knowing this was going to happen didn’t soften the blow—not in any way.
I climbed into my car, and I started it, putting it into drive. But just as quickly, I popped it back into park, and I let my head drop to my steering wheel. I cried, loud, sobbing tears that fell pathetically. I wanted to regret the past two months. I wanted to hate him for reaching out to me. But then I imagined erasing him from the past two months of my life, and I couldn’t hate him at all. All I could seem to do was love him for giving me more time with him. Somehow I needed to figure out a way to let the hurt go for long enough to tell him that.
He’d had things he’d needed to say to me—that he loved me, that he didn’t want to hurt me, that he knew he would, and he couldn’t allow that to happen. Well, this was what I needed to say to him.
Thank you.
But how do you thank someone while they’re breaking your heart?