A doleful expression crossed his features before he dipped his head to kiss down my neck. “I know.”
Twenty-three
Green umbrellas shaded the coffee shop’s patio, which was the ideal location to meet Aaron and work. I’d submitted an article to a top journal about the use of computer games in teaching math, especially for students whose first language was not English. I’d been hopeful, but staring at page after page of harsh critique from the reviewers, I wondered where I would even begin revising it.
“Why do you look so angry?” Aaron returned from inside the shop holding a disposable coffee cup. He was in a suit, having just come from a job interview, and I wasn’t used to him looking so dignified. His first teaching job had been in one of the city’s underfunded, overburdened public high schools, and after spending a few years in the lily-white, elite, suburban private school where he worked now, he wanted to go back.
“What? I’m not angry.” I looked up from a particularly scathing question about the necessity of studying math development in immigrant children. I wasn’t sure why I lied—I was furious at the thinly veiled racism in the comments. I’d gotten so used to hiding when I was upset that it had become second nature. “Okay, I’m a little angry, but I’m just trying to make sense of these comments on this article.”
“Can you ignore them?”
I could, but the reviews were anonymous, and I had no idea what weight that person held. I wanted a few more publications under my belt before I submitted my tenure application. I had a lot, but I preferred to leave no room for doubt. I shook my head, minimizing the window. I could go back to it when I returned to my office.
I’d been cloistered there for the last two weeks since Jake went home. Those days had been back to normal—I woke early and went for a run, worked most of the day, and relaxed at home alone in the evening. The only thing that was different was me eyeing the clock. For the first time in a long time, I admitted to myself that spending every day in my tightly regimented bubble was unsatisfying. I thought I’d have my little tryst and get it out of my system, but I kept thinking about Jake. Jake’s scent. Jake’s hands. Jake’s laugh. Jake’s job and the giant, conflict-of-interest-sized hole Jake had the potential to punch through my career.
To do: Find more writing projects to keep my mind busy. In my head, I crossed that out. To do: Figure out how to make money from writing if I lose my job. Again, I made a mental adjustment. To do: Figure out how to make money stripping when I lose my job. Side note: Ask Aaron’s mom.
I chuckled to myself in my head as Aaron drank his coffee and checked his watch.
The afternoon sun would give way to backed-up traffic soon. “Have to go?”
He shrugged. “Soon, but Felicia told me about that guy, that married one. It’s like you’re in the middle of a romance or a porno or something. What gives?”
“You’re the ones who gave me the list!”
“I didn’t think you’d check everything off in one night. I didn’t think you’d use it at all.”
“I guess I can still surprise you. And, for the record, he’s getting divorced.”
Aaron nodded. “And . . . ?”
“He was nice. I had fun. It was . . .” I struggled for the right phrase, words I was uncomfortable with already rising in my throat.
Paradigm altering. Hands down, the best week of my life. Real. Earth-shattering.
“It was unexpected, but it was nice.”
“Gonna see him again?”
Jake’s expression from that last morning stuck in my memory. It had held a flash of sadness. In that moment, I’d wondered if we should try for something more, but it was impossible, so I told him to look for me the next time he was in a woo-hoo girl wedding. Then we’d laughed, he’d kissed me again, we said goodbye, and that was it.
“No, it was just one of those things. You know my life. I don’t have time for that, and, besides, it was a no-strings thing. It would be a bad idea with work, anyway.”
“Have you ever done a no-strings thing?”
“I guess I have now. I think of it like an extended one-night stand. A one-week stand.”
Aaron cocked an eyebrow. “You, my friend, did not do no-strings or any kind of stand. You ended up in a weeklong love affair.” Aaron gave me a pointed look before checking his phone again and grimacing at the time. “I better get outta here. See you later?”
After he left, I sipped my iced hazelnut latte and glanced at my laptop. I could search for Jake. It wouldn’t be hard to find his company’s website. I had the photo of us on my phone, but my fingers itched to click around, to collect more crumbs. I shook my head and instead opened a different project, a book chapter I wanted to polish before submitting. As I read through a paragraph, wincing at my clumsy first draft, my phone buzzed with a notification.