Chapter 30 #2
Olly greets me with unhindered enthusiasm, rushing into my arms like he did when we first met. He gushes over Buster, who barks and hops with excitement to have a new source of attention. He tugs on his leash, wrapped around my waist, and licks Olly’s face as he pets him.
“Oh, Dad! It’s a dog!” he says to Henry, who stands behind us, watching our floor display with his hands in his pockets.
“This is Buster. He’s my sister’s Border Collie. I’m pet-sitting.” I glance at Henry. “Is this okay? I bathed him before we came over to reduce the dander and other allergens.”
“Thanks, yeah. It’s fine. Poor air quality, overexertion, and emotions are my downfall. Not pets.” Henry cracks a smile when Buster jumps onto his feet and begs for his affection. Henry squats down, but loses his balance when Buster pushes into his arms.
“Buster, Henry didn’t consent to that behavior,” I chide, tugging on the leash.
Olly laughs and joins Buster on top of Henry’s chest, making him groan in playful defense. With one hand tickling Olly and the other Buster, Henry regains control, sitting up. “That’ll teach you to try to take me down.”
Red-faced with laughter, Olly manages, “No, please, stop!”
Henry relents. Buster races to my side again, perhaps not wanting me to feel left out. I scoop him into my arms as I stand and straighten my dress.
“You look nice,” Henry says as he rises and helps Olly up.
I didn’t want to wear my usual cutoff jeans and t-shirt, so I opted for an airy summer dress that Ivy picked out for me last week.
“Thank you. Ivy has made it her mission to advance my wardrobe while I’m here,” I explain.
His eyes skip over my bare arms and the exposed tattoos on my chest, and his smile falls behind whatever he’s thinking.
“Let’s go see the garden,” he says, waving me through the hallway.
“Can I hold Buster’s leash?” Olly asks.
I unfasten it from my waist and tie it around his. “Thank you. Buster would like that.”
The museum has transformed significantly since I last visited. Henry stands by as I slowly move through the large room, taking it all in. New, freshly painted display cases line the walls, marked by retro-style lettering painted around them that divides the displays into sections.
Wilmington in Film showcases movie memorabilia from the numerous films and television shows produced in the area.
Claims to Fame features famous people born here.
Coastal Treasures features interesting finds, ranging from megalodon teeth to cannonballs.
True Tales showcases quirky stories, like an elephant named Topsy who escaped the circus and went on a two-day rampage through the city, and pictures of Wilmington’s World’s Largest Christmas Tree.
War Stories feature artifacts and articles from every war since the Revolutionary.
A Weird but True section boasts grainy photos, articles, and alleged proof of local ghosts, aliens, and creature lore, some of which were collected by Jay, an avid paranormalist. Henry has displayed his uncle’s tools of the trade—an electromagnetic field meter, a spirit box, an electronic voice phenomenon recorder, an infrared thermometer, and night vision goggles.
A side room, still under construction, will become an escape room featuring local lore and history, Henry explains.
In the back, the words The Dark & Disturbing surround another entryway. “Some scary movie props, the Fort Fisher Mermaid, and an entire section about the Wilmington Massacre—I didn’t want to cause little ones nightmares.” He points to Olly over his head.
“Henry, it’s exquisite. I could spend hours here, reading all the stories and placards.”
“Thanks, yeah, it’s amazing to see it finally coming together.” He runs a hand through his hair. “We’ve gotten a lot accomplished. It’s been a good distraction.”
My eyes catch his, and he offers a weak smile.
“I’ve felt the same about Buster,” I admit, as he and Olly loop around us and continue chasing each other around the museum. “I’m sorry if my return has… complicated your life.”
“I’m not. I welcome the complication,” he says.
“That appears evident, given the texting.”
“Is texting okay?”
“It’s…” Ivy’s words about being direct keep circling through my mind. “Confusing. The boundaries we established are becoming blurred.”
“I want them blurred.” He nods and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans. “Actually, I’d like to renegotiate. I meant what I said about us being friends, especially now that my son won’t stop talking about you.”
I nearly tear up at the idea of someone liking me that much.
“Am I complicating your life?” he asks, turning toward me.
“Being home is always complicated for me, but I’d rather have you in my life in some capacity than not at all, especially now that we’ve… cleared the air.” My eyes cut to his.
“An asthma pun. I love it.” Henry’s cheeks turn rosy with my words, delighting me. “Yeah, I’m glad, too. Though if we ever must clear the air again, I wouldn’t be disappointed, given our flawless and transcendent capabilities in that department.” His pink cheeks bloom red with his innuendo.
A laugh rises from my core and tumbles through a surprised smile. “We were quite perfect with that. Weren’t we?”
“Quite.”
“Well, perhaps we should follow your advice in this regard,” I say, butterflies filling my stomach with warm, fluttering wings.
“What advice was that?”
“How about I be Venus, and you be Henry, and we let this go wherever it takes us?”
His full lips widen into a delighted smile while his dark eyes seem to glow with the idea. “Agreed. It’s summer, after all.”
Now, I blush, recalling his words. Let’s pretend it’s always summer for us.
With a sheepish glance at his feet, his brown eyes return to mine. “I’d like that. I’d also like it if we’d stop avoiding each other on campus.”
Embarrassment rushes over me, but seeing his coy grin reins it back. “You noticed?”
“It’d be impossible for me not to notice you, Venus.”
Heat rises in me again. “Um, it would be nice to have a friend on campus.”
His head tilts with scrutiny. “It’s not going well?”
I consider dismissing his question with a vague response. But I recall Dr. Broderick’s advice this week after telling her about my poor teaching performances: “Practice gentle honesty with yourself and others, Venus. Don’t be afraid to ask for help.”
“It’s awful,” I say, sighing heavily, like the information has been pounding at a locked door, desperate to be let free.
“Attendance has dropped, and even the faithful ones have trouble staying awake. Dad’s notes aren’t stimulating without him here to mix in his stories.
I get tongue-tied and nervous, so I read the notes he’s provided without elaborating.
The classroom has gray walls and humming lights, and being in there without color, without green, feels like wearing a hot, itchy sweater. ”
A full-bodied cringe wiggles over me as I explain.
“The only way I get through the class is by focusing on the words I’m reading.
My inability to do well makes me a hypocrite for all the teachers I’ve ridiculed over the years.
It also breaks my heart because I love botany and want to do well for Dad.
He’ll be thoroughly disappointed when no one signs up for more of his special topics courses.
It wouldn’t surprise me if students change their majors out of the sciences altogether after suffering through it. ”
“Venus, take a breath,” he says when I pause.
I’m surging with anxiety and twisting my bracelets and rings, so I do what he says. I shake out my fingers and inhale.
He steps closer, creating a warm pocket between us.
“Listen to me. No one starts something new as an expert, not even you. It’s your first week.
Of course, you’re nervous and finding your way.
My first week of teaching, I muddled facts, forgot the name of the principal, calling him ‘the monotone office guy’ in front of the kids, and I led my class through the entire school in a fire drill because I’d been too busy decorating my classroom to bother learning where the nearest exit was.
The monotone office guy told me that I was the first teacher in the school’s history to fail a fire drill. ”
His confession makes me laugh.
“Lives could’ve been lost, Venus,” he chuckles sheepishly, and his cheeks turn pink again.
“How did you improve?”
“I made connections. The more I got to know them, and they got to know me, the more comfortable I felt,” he says. “Here’s my advice for you. Stop using your father’s notes. You know the material. You don’t need notes, and they prevent you from making the class your own.”
“But then, what do I do to fill the time?”
“Be authentically you. You were my best science teacher growing up,” he says with a smile that sends tingles up my spine.
“You can teach them, too, Vee. You don’t have to smile or make small talk if you don’t want to.
You don’t have to be anyone but yourself.
Just share your love for botany the best way you know how to, and they’ll respond. ”
His encouragement inspires strange reactions. My pulse quickens, my eyes water, and I think of art. When I want to understand and remember something, I draw a picture of it. But how could I apply that here?
Henry smiles as I consider his advice. “I’m proud of you. So is your father. Maybe it hasn’t always been clear to you… or to us but we have faith in you. You should have faith in yourself, too.”
“You are… that is…” My brain fails to connect the words for the emotion welling inside me, especially when his hand falls to my bicep for a gentle squeeze.
My difficulty in expressing myself properly has led people to believe I don’t have feelings or don’t need the same support as others do.
For a long time, I believed that, too. I still do, sometimes.
But his support and encouragement help shift my thought process. I want to move forward.
“Let’s meet for lunch tomorrow,” he says. “We can discuss your class, and I have an idea I’d like your opinion on.”
I’m about to agree when Olly rushes over with Buster panting beside him. “Is it time to go to the roof yet?”
Buster barks his typical, “What?”
“Lead the way,” Henry answers, motioning for the stairs.
Olly and Buster rush ahead, but Henry lingers, taking my side as we move across the museum, and I feel dangerously optimistic.