Chapter 22
Weeks pass without incident as October closes in, and my days blur together into a regimented schedule of classes, studying, tutoring, and walking when the weather allows for it.
The days grow shorter, the classes become more demanding, and the air carries a perpetual, unrelenting chill.
The academic pressure intensifies with midterms only a couple weeks away, and the entire campus seems gripped by a frantic energy that borders on mania.
The cold, dark days press us inward. At all hours of the day and night, the common room is filled with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and occupied by students hunched over textbooks and scribbling notes while muttering to themselves.
I have no doubt that the designated magical practice rooms are also brimming with students casting spells.
The course material is fascinating, but the sheer volume of it is overwhelming. I find myself regularly reciting information from classes in my head while I walk across campus or take a shower, or any time I’m not actively occupied.
My foundational work and control of my magic improve slowly with Alaric’s help, and I’m now able to keep up with my peers when I’m working with my Affinity.
Alaric and I never spoke about my drunken appearance at his office a couple weeks ago, which I’m extremely grateful for, but something has shifted between us since then.
In public, he’s still the stern, demanding professor, but when we’re alone, he’s softer.
He sits closer to me, brushing against me from time to time with lingering touches, and I regularly catch him staring at me when he thinks I’m not looking.
A fondness between us has developed, and every day, it seems to grow into something stronger.
More than once, he’s opened his mouth to say something before snapping it shut, refusing to elaborate on what he wanted to say when I ask him about it.
The situation with Dr. Lowry has only deteriorated since our conversation about my father.
He's always been strict, but now his demeanor toward me borders on hostile. He calls on me more frequently than other students and seems to find a malicious satisfaction when I don’t know the answers to his difficult questions.
When I do answer correctly, he simply moves on with no more than a subtle nod of acknowledgment.
After my conversations with Dr. Lowry and Professor Showen, I’ve been hesitant to approach any of the other professors about my father, debating if it’s worth it to bring attention to myself when it seems to only have caused me pain and confusion so far.
I’ve decided to put it off for now, but the list of names still sits in my desk drawer.
Despite the worsening weather, I venture out for walks whenever I can, finding that even despite the cold, gloomy days, the quiet trails provide solace and clarity for my frazzled mind.
Some days, when the weather permits, I walk on the beach instead.
Out there, the cold wind is harsher, but the vast openness of the ocean provides some peace that’s at odds with the unease I sometimes feel in the forest. Whether it’s all in my head or not, I can’t say.
On the rare occasions I have a spare moment, I search the library for any more records of my father.
I come across a couple of photographs of him that I’d missed in the yearbooks, but otherwise, my search is fruitless.
With no internet to look up potential online records, I have no other option but to wait until I’m home for winter break.
AJ keeps me company during some of my library sessions, whether I’m searching for records of my father or simply studying. Sometimes he’s working, sometimes studying, and other times he simply sprawls out on a chair and regales me with gossip about our classmates.
A couple days after the party incident, Max had apologized to me about her misdirected anger, though her wariness about social situations only seems to have grown.
With both of us being so weighed down by coursework, most of the time we spend together is spent studying or getting ready for bed before another long day.
On the bright side, she has mentioned that my emotional state seems to be stabilizing, which apparently makes being my roommate significantly more bearable for her.
A disruption in my rigid routine comes one morning after my Wednesday morning class when Professor Showen asks me to stay behind after class.
I do, and my curiosity burns as she waits for the rest of the students to clear out before she speaks to me.
“I owe you an apology,” she says, wringing her hands.
Her voice is soft and calming despite her apparent nervousness.
“I’ve had some time to process the situation now, but it wasn’t fair of me to disregard you after you told me about your father.
I was a bit shocked, but that’s not an excuse for how I behaved. ”
Relief floods through me. “It’s okay. I understand.”
Her eyes flick to the door when someone passes, but their footsteps continue to fade down the hallway. “I also wanted to let you know that I’ve thought about your request for tutoring, and I’m able to offer you assistance if you still need it.”
“I really appreciate that, but I’ve actually found another professor willing to tutor me. I feel pretty confident on the written work and theory, but it’s the practical application I’m still working on.”
“If I may ask, which professor is tutoring you?”
“Dr. Vale,” I answer.
Her brow furrows for a brief second before she smooths her expression. “I see. Well, if you change your mind, I’d be happy to help.”
“Thank you.” I wait for her to end the conversation and dismiss me, but she surprises me with what she says next.
“I know this is slightly unorthodox, but I was wondering if you’d like to come to my house for tea this weekend. I think it may give us both some closure about this situation.”
I’m taken aback by her offer after her weeks of ignoring me, but it feels like too important of an opportunity to pass up. I need to be on good terms with as many of my teachers as I can.
“I’d love to.”
“Wonderful. Does Sunday at three work for you?”
“That would be great,” I answer.
She writes down her house number and tells me it’s one of the first few on the path through the staff housing, and I spend the rest of the week simultaneously nervous and excited about having a one-on-one conversation with her.
On Sunday, I put on jeans, a thick navy blue sweater, and black boots before bundling up in my coat and making my way outside. The walk to the faculty housing takes me through campus then along the edge of the island until I reach a cluster of small stone houses that resemble fairy tale cottages.
Warm light glows from several windows, and smoke curls from chimneys into the gray sky.
Some of the homes have ivy climbing the outer walls, and the scene creates a quaint image of a cozy community.
It’s a stark juxtaposition to the dark, looming buildings on campus with their vaguely foreboding presence.
I find Professor Showen’s house easily, and when I knock on the wooden door, it opens almost immediately.
“Hi, Vivian. It’s so nice to see you,” she greets me warmly. “Come inside.”
Once inside, I hang my coat on the hook beside the door and take in the sight.
It feels weird being in my teacher’s home, like I’m crossing a boundary even though I was explicitly invited.
I guess I should have checked the student handbook to make sure this is actually allowed before I came, but I can’t imagine she would have invited me if it was against the rules.
The house is cluttered in a comfortable sort of way that shows it’s lived in.
Blankets are strewn about the furniture, and shelves along the walls hold books, crystals, candles, framed photos, and various knick-knacks.
A half-finished crocheted blanket sits on the coffee table with the crochet hooks set on top of it.
Professor Showen ushers me into the kitchen where a kettle sits on the stovetop, and at the table is a small girl who can’t be older than ten coloring a picture. “This is my daughter, Ava.”
“Hi, Ava,” I say. “I’m Vivian.”
She gives me a shy hello then returns her attention to the paper in front of her.
She bears a strong resemblance to her mother with her dark hair and bone structure, but the softness that Professor Showen has is nowhere to be seen in Ava.
She’s extremely thin, and there are dark circles beneath her eyes displaying an exhaustion that no one her age should have.
“Do you need any help, Professor Showen?” I ask as she moves about the kitchen, pulling out teacups from the cabinet and checking on something in the oven. Multiple times when she walks past Ava, she strokes her hair gently or touches her shoulder in passing.
“Oh, please call me Jenny,” she says. “And no thank you, it should be done shortly.”
A few minutes later, she pulls shortbread cookies from the oven just before the kettle whistles. After we’ve made our tea, we move to the living room.
Ava follows us in but stands at the threshold between the kitchen and living room. Softly, she says, “I’m going to take a nap, Mom.”
“Okay, sweetheart,” Jenny answers gently. “Do you need anything?”
Ava shakes her head before disappearing down the short hallway into her bedroom.
In a hushed tone, Jenny addresses the unspoken subject once Ava’s door closes. “She seems to be doing relatively well lately, but the doctors don’t think she’ll make it past twelve unless something miraculous happens.” There’s a solemn acceptance in her voice that makes my heart break for her.
“I’m so sorry to hear that.” I don’t ask her what’s wrong with Ava; I figure she’ll explain if she wants to.
We have tea and cookies and make small talk for a while, with Jenny asking about my progress with using magic. I tell her about my tutoring sessions with Alaric and how I’m incorporating her lessons and the books she had suggested into my practice.
Finally, she broaches the subject that brought us together in the first place.
“So, a big part of the reason I asked you here was to talk about your father and just get some closure. I don’t have much to say, but it felt like this would be a good opportunity for both of us.”
My heart rate kicks up as I hang on her every word.
“Cameron was a wonderful man, and that only made the whole situation more difficult. A few months before he passed away, he had been distancing himself from everyone here until he disappeared entirely. No one knew why, and it left most of us confused and hurt. We were like a family here, and it was painful for someone so important to us to cut contact intentionally. He never gave us an explanation.”
I nod. Her story aligns with what my mother told me, and I tell her as much. “My mother had told me that he was trying to start over and distance himself from his past when they met.”
“Did she know why?”
I shake my head. “No. She told me that he was a very private person, and they didn’t know each other for long before she got pregnant and he died. She never met his family or friends either. Hell, I don’t even know if his parents are still alive.”
“I see.” Jenny is quiet for a moment as she sips her tea, seemingly lost in thought.
“I thought I had grieved him, but when you told me he was your father, it brought back a lot of emotions and loose ends that I’ll never be able to tie up with him.
Knowing that you grew up without him, that you never got the chance to know him…
” She trails off, shaking her head slightly.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I’m actually grateful that I found out he went here. It helps me feel more connected to him, even if everyone has acted weird about it so far.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, after I talked to you, I had asked Dr. Lowry about him. He told me some stories, but after that he’s been a bit hostile toward me, almost like he’s angry at me for bringing it up.”
“Hmm, interesting. Well, Dr. Lowry was your father’s best friend,” she says, as if that’s justification for how he’s treating me.
Despite what Dr. Lowry had told me before about them being friends, the statement still baffles me. Has Dr. Lowry just become bitter and angry as he’s aged? Because I can’t imagine anyone being best friends with him, especially someone like my dad, who everyone has described as fun-loving and kind.
“Then why would he be so mean to me?” I ask.
“When Cameron left and cut everyone off, it left many of us terribly hurt and confused. Those feelings don’t die easily.
Because of that,” she continues, “I would encourage you not to ask others about him. While it isn’t fair for Dr. Lowry to target you because of your father’s choices, I believe it’s his way of coping with the grief of never knowing why his best friend abandoned him, and I imagine others may feel the same way. ”
My heart sinks. I had hoped that this meeting would be the start to me being able to gather more information, but if I’ll be targeted by everyone who knew my father, it might be in my best interest to keep the information quiet, even though I’m desperate for information.
“Okay,” I say. “I probably won’t ask around any more if that’s the case. ”
My words seem to make her relax ever so slightly, and despite the disappointment of everything regarding my father, it feels nice to know she cares enough to worry for me.
We talk for another hour as we drink our tea, and Jenny shares memories of my father from their time together in school.
She smiles as she tells me about a time when the two of them worked with five other students to play a prank during the Samhain ball that involved most of the students becoming convinced the ballroom was haunted.
By the time she’s finished telling me stories, my cheeks are sore from smiling so much. It’s bittersweet to hear about him and the kind of person he was while knowing I’ll never get to experience what it’s like to spend time with him.
When I’m finally getting ready to leave and pulling on my coat, Jenny gives me a soft smile. “I’m so glad you came today,” she says. “I see a lot of your dad in you. Please feel free to come by any time.”
Her words warm my heart, and I swallow against the knot in my throat that forms as I try to hold back a surge of emotion.
“Thank you so much for having me. It was wonderful talking to you. See you on Monday.” I step back out into the cold autumn afternoon, grateful for the pale sunlight breaking through the clouds, and walk back to my dorm with a weight off my chest.