19. Chapter 17
Hudson
Me: Hi, the package is ready for pickup at your earliest convenience. Please ring the doorbell.
They send me a thumbs-up in return, followed by a clock, then the number fifteen. I stare at my phone screen and shake my head. Gen-Y speak is not something I ever thought I would have to learn as a professor.
Checking the time, I do the mental math on Emery’s whereabouts.
I hadn’t realized how tense I was, after Xavier messaged our group chat earlier today to let us know she went to class, until Derek replied that he would wait for her after class and would escort her back to her dorm, even though she had another class today.
The rush of tension leaving my body felt similar to the few times I’ve overdone it at the gym.
A small part of me isn’t surprised she tried to go to class today, even though she was supposed to be resting for an entire week.
At least she made it until Wednesday before she pushed herself.
If there is anything I have learned about Emery over these last couple of weeks, it’s that she is a girl who knows what she wants.
Although she’s only eighteen, her age doesn’t negate the fact that she has been navigating some of life’s worst situations all by herself for far too long.
Regardless, I’m itching to teach her a lesson about caring for her own well-being. It is one thing to want to pretend that everything is normal and fine, but to do so at the expense of her health is unacceptable.
The irritation that has been burning in my gut all morning threatens to boil over, so I take a deep breath.
There is nothing I can do about this now.
Right now, I need to concentrate on rebuilding the bridge between us, as do the others.
All unacceptable behavior is going to have to be allowed to slide for the time being, but once we are all together again, my kitten is going to have boundaries and rules coming out of her ears until she learns how to care for herself.
Returning my focus, I reread the handwritten note that will be attached to my gift to Emery.
Kitten,
From our very first text message exchange, your strength has intrigued me. It has drawn me to you in a way I’ve never experienced before. After everything you have been through, it is amazing to see the young lady you have built yourself into.
I wish I could be by your side while you work through everything that has happened, to be an ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on, however I understand that isn’t what you want. I hope that, one day, you’ll allow us back into your life, so we can support you through life’s adventures.
Since I can’t, and I have my doubts about whether you would allow me to pay for a professional for you to talk to, I am hoping this journal will help you to work through everything.
Please use it. Write down every intrusive thought, every overwhelming emotion.
Scream, yell, cry. Use every color of pen until they bleed dry.
I know you have your drawing, and the little I have seen has been so full of energy and emotion.
My soul aches thinking about what you could have been drawing since your return home from the hospital.
I’ll forever treasure the drawing you gifted me from our weekend, which is framed and hanging in my bedroom.
You never need to share this journal with anyone.
It is a safe space for your emotions. I specifically selected a physical journal so Xavier cannot monitor your entries, and he has given me his assurance that he will allow you this privacy.
If you suspect he has broken this boundary, please notify me, as I have my own tricks up my sleeve when it comes to him.
I’m here, kitten. I’m waiting. I know you’ve said it is over for us, and I will respect that if you truly mean it.
But words that are said in the heat of the moment need time to cool down.
If things truly are over, I want you to know that you can always come to me for help, even if that is ten, twenty, or one hundred years from now.
If I am able to provide you with the assistance you need, I will.
I’m immensely sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. I hope you will allow me to make it up to you, in whatever way you choose.
Yours,
Hudson
My doorbell chimes, and I jolt in my seat on the couch, barely stopping myself from tightening my fingers and crinkling the note.
With quick motions, I fold the paper and slip it inside the soft leather cover of the turquoise diary and slip the mostly decorative lock into place.
Then I place the book into the white and gold gift bag, which already contains a packet of metallic glittery pens that the girl in the stationery store assured me would be a perfect addition to my gift, before tying the entire thing shut with a gold ribbon that has the second tiny key to the lock attached to it.
Pushing to standing, I stride toward the door, gift bag in hand, and open it to find a hazily familiar face on my doorstep.
As tall as me but built wider. Brown hair shaved close to his head.
Football player, I think. Also, most likely a previous student of mine.
This is confirmed when recognition fills his eyes.
“Professor Gold, hi, sir,” the young man says, a polite smile on his face. His gaze drops to my hand and then comes back up to my face. “Is that the item you need delivered?”
I search through my memory, trying to pair his username with a student. Trenton Jenkins, TJ. Currently an economics senior. Giving my own polite smile, I offer him the straps of the gift bag. “Hi, TJ, and yes, this is the item.”
He nods and accepts it, already taking one step away from the door. “Okay, I’ll get it done for you, sir.”
Holding up my hand, I stop his getaway, furrowing my brow as I try to remember whether I saw his application on my desk for my TA position this week.
NU admin has been trying to get me to take on a TA since my first year, but I have always loved having a deeper connection with my students.
However, given my current situation with Emery, I’m planning for all outcomes, and one of those might be that I can’t grade her papers if she is ever in another one of my classes.
“TJ, did you apply for my teaching aid position? I can’t remember if I saw your name on the list.”
He shakes his head, the little sparkle there dimming. “No, sir. I wanted to, but with football and my regular classes, I couldn’t take on the workload.”
I frown and gesture at my gift and his car. “But you are clearly working.”
“This is flexible and works better around my training and games,” he replies, taking another step away from me. “I have to play football to keep my scholarship.”
And while that makes complete sense, I remember his grades, his keen interest. I especially remember the first time he came down to talk to me after a lecture, how he had waited for everyone else to leave and then engaged me in a conversation about the five principles and how he’d been following a docuseries about the development of countries attempting to move from minor- to medium-sized economies.
He’d been especially interested in the microfinance loans case studies being conducted in underdeveloped countries.
He clearly loves his chosen field of study.
“TJ, can you come to my office hours on Monday? I’d like to discuss this situation with you. Maybe we can find a compromise.”
His spine straightens with interest, bringing that sparkle back. “Ah, yes, thank you, sir. Do you need me to fill out the application?”
Shaking my head, I smile back. “No, the application was purely a way of getting a list of names. Everyone who has applied is a former student of mine, and I have my own dataset to work with.”
TJ nods, then seems to remember he is holding on to Emery’s gift. “Okay, well, I’ll go get this delivered. And then Monday?”
“Monday,” I confirm as he turns to walk back to his car. “And TJ?”
He turns back to me. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ll send you a ten-dollar tip if, when you deliver it to her door, you could give a message to the man who answers.”
TJ cocks his head to the side, in an “I’m listening” gesture.
“Tell him, Hudson said not to forget about San Diego.”
Confusion clouds his features, but then he shrugs and it’s gone. “Sure thing.”
Twenty minutes later, when I get a middle finger emoji from Xavier, followed by a picture of a sleeping Emery, I open the Tasker app and send TJ my promised tip. If I accidentally hit the zero twice, no one has to know.