Chapter Seven
We were only a couple of weeks into the semester, and I was already feeling a little overwhelmed by the coursework, especially in my Russian literature class. Not because Tobias wasn’t a good teacher. It was quite the opposite, actually. He was brilliant—like the kind of smart you only read about in books—and he was funny, too. His lectures were fascinating, and I found myself so enthralled just listening to him talk about the authors and their stories and the symbolism, that I often forgot to write anything he said down. So this weekend I was rereading everything we had gone over so far, as well as researching my topic for our first paper.
Unfortunately, as much as I loved Alex, and for all her good qualities as both a friend and a roommate, there was one thing we would never see eye to eye on: her taste in music. Which, unfortunately, she insisted on blaring as loudly as the speaker would allow while working out, and Alex worked out a lot since she was here on a track scholarship.As a result, I spent most of my time in the library, especially when I needed to study. But today I was at the College Station Cafe, mostly because it had the coziest couches and when I needed a surge of energy, caffeine was readily available. Parking was always a pain, so it was quicker to just walk. Normally the walk was enjoyable, but today it was colder than I expected and about halfway there it started to drizzle. As a result, I was shivering as I ordered my caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso.
I found my usual table toward the back of the cafe that was pretty secluded and made myself comfortable. We had our first paper coming up analyzing Dostoevsky’s Brothers Karamazov,and though it made me want to shoot my brains out, I also wanted to do well on it, especially knowing that Tobias was going to be the one reading it. If I was being honest, it was really important to me that he didn’t think I was an idiot. For some reason, I wanted to impress him with my genius ideas and thought-provoking prose—except I wasn’t having any luck coming up with either.
The theme was pretty straightforward: the conflict between faith and doubt.It was getting my thoughts out of my head and down on paper, in a way that was both clever and eloquent, that I was struggling with.
My phone vibrated, and I glanced down to see an incoming call from my dad. I declined it and went back to reading, but he wasn’t going to give up so easily as he called again. I declined it once more. You’d think he’d get the hint.I shoved my phone back into my bag, determined not to let him distract me, and attempted to return my attention back to the textbook.
I obviously hadn’t consumed enough caffeine yet because I only managed to reread a few more sentences before I realized I hadn’t understood a thing I just read. I couldn’t focus, so I stretched my back a little and then decided to just drink my coffee and people-watch until I was more awake.
There was a mom with two young boys and a baby in a car seat sitting a couple tables down from me, and the two kids were obviously growing restless as they were taking their paper menus and folding them into paper airplanes. I watched as they each folded their papers meticulously until they each proudly held up their creation. On the count of three they both let their airplanes take flight, but of course neither went very far at all. The youngest child’s attempt immediately nosedived to the ground. It made me chuckle until I saw the look of pure disappointment on his face.
A failed attempt at a paper airplane doesn’t seem like a big deal when you’re older, but I suppose for a child who hasn’t experienced much, if any at all, disappointment in their life, it must feel much different. Which made me wonder … At what point in our lives does that shift occur? When do our problems become so heavy that we are no longer disappointed, but rather laugh over things like a faulty paper airplane?And is that a good thing or is it actually really terrible? I honestly wasn’t sure.
“Just try again,” his older brother told him with a shrug, but their mom put a stop to it, and they left quickly after that.
I wasn’t sure how much time had gone by when I realized I finished my cup, and I needed another coffee if I was going to get through all of this chapter today. I flipped my book over, marking my spot, and headed up to the front for a refill.As I was waiting for the barista to finish my order, a gust of wind blew in as someone entered. I automatically looked behind me out of some strange human habit—perhaps because we are naturally curious beings, or maybe we’re just nosy—either way, when I realized who it was, I quickly turned back around as if I hadn’t seen him and hoped he didn’t notice me.
Tobias let out a soft chuckle from behind me. “Good morning, Tamsin.”
I pressed my lips together tightly and glanced over my shoulder again. “Oh. Hi.”
He flashed a crooked smile that made his dark eyes twinkle. I hadn’t noticed before that there were flecks of warm gold in them, the shade of single malt scotch. Whiskey, I thought to myself. Whiskey-colored eyes.
“Caramel macchiato with an extra shot.” The barista broke the trance Tobias’s eyes had me in. I grabbed my cup and walked back to my table. I took a few calming breaths before forcing myself to open the book back up and continue reading.
“Working on your paper?” he asked, sitting down at the table beside me. I knew this was intentional as there were plenty of other empty tables in the room. Maybe he felt the pull, too? I felt something warm and a little fuzzy start in the pit of my stomach like the teeniest pinprick of hope before I shook the thought completely from my head.
Focus, Tamsin, focus.
“Mmhmm,” I mumbled, refusing to look up for fear I would be mesmerized by his whiskey-colored eyes again, or the sexy scruff of his unshaven face, or his rain-mussed hair.
“Which theme did you choose?” he asked, slowly stirring the contents of a sugar packet into his coffee.
“Why?” I asked, a little more defensively than I intended. This paper was making me nervous, and having him ask about it now made me even more nervous than before.
“Just curious,” he said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “I can help … if you’d like?”
I was torn. On one hand, his help would be greatly appreciated since he was practically an expert and all, and I was a little overwhelmed. But on the other hand, would allowing him to help me cross the very carefully laid boundary I insisted we put in place? And besides, didn’t I want to impress him on my own merit?
“Wouldn’t that be an unfair advantage?” I asked. “Unless, of course, you are this helpful to all your students?”
“Would it make you feel better if you came and saw me during office hours?” he teased, and there was a note of smugness in his voice that both irritated and endeared him to me. I rolled my eyes. There was no way I would be visiting his office.
Alone.
In private.
That had disaster written all over it. It was much safer to have this conversation in public where it was easier to control the ever-present butterflies.
Reluctantly, I answered, “I chose the conflict between faith and doubt. Dostoevsky made it obvious which side he’s on, but I disagree that a lack of religious faith leads to chaos and unhappiness.”
“Intriguing. Why do you say that?” he asked, and I couldn’t tell if he was sincerely interested or if he just wanted me to continue because he thought I was stupid and was going to listen to my argument only to counter with a more intellectually insightful one of his own.
I pressed my lips together in a straight line, really wishing I hadn’t said anything in the first place. With a deep breath, I finally said, “Because I think that sometimes having faith can lead to despair when you discover the faith you had was unwarranted.”
“Hmm,” he remarked, curiously.
I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. Why did I have to say anything at all? I probably sounded like an amateur, which was the last thing I wanted to look like in front of him.
“What?” I asked, nervously biting my bottom lip.
“Nothing, it’s just …” He seemed unsure if he wanted to finish his thought.
“What?” I asked again, this time a little more forcefully.
“You’re just far more jaded than I expected,” he said with a smile, as though that would somehow soften the blow.
I was taken aback both because that’s not at all what I was expecting him to say and because his words were oddly familiar. “You know, that’s the second time I’ve been called that recently.”
“Well, that can’t be coincidental,” he said pointedly.
I had to smile at that. “Probably not.”
“Is there a story there?” he pressed.
I didn’t answer right away because I didn’t really believe that he didn’t already know, but the longer I studied his face the more I was willing to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was actually unaware of the scandal that turned my life upside down last fall. I always wondered if people thought I was being overdramatic whenever I told them my story. But the thing is, if you’ve never experienced that kind of betrayal, you have no room to tell someone who has that what they are feeling isn’t valid.
“Oh, there’s a story alright. Just not one I’m willing to discuss with a perfect stranger,” I finally said.
“Ouch,” he mocked. “I guess I’ll just have to stick around so you can get to know me, then.”
“Tobias … I told you,” I reminded him, “you’re my teacher.”
“I remember,” he said solemnly. “But I’ve been thinking—after all, it’s only temporary. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with a teacher—or more accurately a TA—getting to know a student. Hell, if we want to get technical, remember I’m a student, too, Tamsin.”
“It’s not the same thing.” I stared down at my coffee to avoid looking at him because looking at him made my brain go fuzzy.My phone buzzed again. I jumped at the chance to end this conversation with Tobias. “It’s my dad. I have to take this.”
“Okay,” he said. “See you next week.”
As soon as he was out of view, as I declined my dad’s call, I happened to notice the time and realized I was late to meet Alex. She needed to get a gift for her sister’s birthday, and I promised I would help her pick something out. Evie was turning nine, and I had no clue what you would get for a nine-year-old girl. I wasn’t sure how much help I would be since I didn’t have any siblings… yet, anyway I guess.
As I was gathering up my stuff to leave, I noticed the nosy, black-haired girl from my Intro to Russian Lit class was standing in line looking at me and then back to the door that Tobias had just exited, then back to me again. When she noticed me looking at her, she quit gaping and narrowed her eyes at me suspiciously.
Did she see him sitting with me? I was suddenly very uncomfortable. Nothing happened, of course, but I knew all too well how quickly rumors could escalate. Rather than attempting to squash whatever theory she was forming inside that petty little brain of hers, I left quickly and avoided making eye contact on my way out the door.
Luckily, the mall was only a couple of blocks from here. By the time I got there, though, she was not where we said we were meeting. It didn’t take me too long to figure out where she was—Alex was the kind of fortunate human who could eat whatever she wanted and never gain a pound, and boy could that girl eat. Her favorite? Anything that could be dipped in or smothered in nacho cheese. Of course, with all the running she had to do for track, I guess she needed all the fuel she could get.
Sure enough, I spotted her waiting in line for pretzel bites.
“You’re late,” she said, crossing her arms as soon as she saw me.
“Sorry, I was studying,” I apologized.
“Where should we look first?” she asked, dipping a pretzel bite into the cheese before popping it in her mouth. She was always quick to forgive.
“I don’t have any idea. What does she like?”
“Hmm, she’s kind of in a Boho phase at the moment.”
“Okay, I can work with that.” I linked my arm through hers and led her to a store called Romancing the Stone because it seemed a little Bohemian. There were red, gold, and black beads hanging from the entryway like a curtain, and I liked the way the beads clicked as we pushed our way through them. The store seemed to have a red glow, which I assumed was something sort of like mood lighting, and it smelled strongly of incense.
There was an eclectic collection of items from fringe-covered clothing to elephant-shaped candles to turquoise and leather jewelry to Buddha statues. Alex floated over to a rotating necklace stand and began carefully examining a sterling-silver-and-leather combination.
I wandered around the store not really sure where to begin, but I somehow ended up looking at an Aztec-print blanket. It wasn’t exactly the typical baby blanket—fuzzy, pastel, and covered in cute animals—but it was the kind of style I had a feeling Blair would like.
“What do you think about these earrings?” Alex asked, holding up a pair of sterling silver elephants. “Think Evie will like them?”
“Yeah, super cute,” I agreed, putting the blanket back on the shelf. Maybe I should check her baby registry first.
“Are you thinking maybe for Blair’s baby?” She nodded toward the blanket I just put back.
“Um, maybe. I don’t know.”
“It’s cute, but edgy. She’d probably love it,” Alex said with a shrug as she began to peruse the same section.
Alex and Evie were eleven years apart. Not quite the same as nineteen, but still a pretty big age gap. “Was it weird for you when your mom told you she was pregnant with Evie?”
“I mean, a little because it had been just me for so long and, oh gosh, those first few months were the worst. She never stopped crying, but once that stage was over, I don’t know. It was kinda fun. You know how when you learn the truth about Santa, Christmas doesn’t feel the same?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, when you have younger siblings, it brings back a little bit of the excitement. So that’s definitely a perk,” she said with a smile.
I doubted I would be spending many holidays with the baby, so I doubted it would be the same for me.Just thinking about my dad getting to experience all the first milestones of childhood again with a brand-new family made me sadder than I expected. And honestly, maybe even a little jealous.
“I have to tell you something,” I said, changing the subject before I could think any more about my dad’s new happily ever after. “I ran into Tobias again.”
“Bookstore Boy?” She stopped pawing through the stack of blankets and turned to face me.
“Yeah, I, um … maybe … kind of forgot to tell you … he’s Dr. Kiuchi’s TA,” I said, sheepishly.
“Shut up!” she exclaimed, effectively distracted. “And it took you this long to tell me?”
“I think maybe I’m still in shock.”
“Well, tell me everything you’ve been holding back!” She crossed her arms expectantly.
I filled her in on everything from the conversation after that first class to running into him earlier to my disappointment that despite how excited I was to see him again, nothing could come of it.
“I guess I don’t blame you for feeling like that, not after everything with your dad.”
“Exactly.”
One familial scandal at Parkhurst was enough.