EMMA
The phone rang right after I put my bag down in my office. Margaret’s voice came through, as brisk and warm as always, asking if I could stop by her office. Ten minutes later, I was there, smoothing my jumper unnecessarily as I walked in.
“Of course,” I said as I sat down. “You wanted to talk about my classes. Is there a problem?”
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “No, not at all. In fact, it’s the other way around. The feedback has been great; students really love your classes. Some of them have even asked if you would come back next year.”
“Oh, that’s… that’s really nice of them. I loved teaching. I’ve always loved talking about books, but these classes were more than that. The look on their faces when something clicked is fantastic. Makes all the preparation worthwhile.”
“I’m glad to hear that, because I’d like to offer you a teaching position next year. And not just to continue what you’ve already been doing. If you’re interested, we’d like to add more classes to your schedule.”
For a moment, I simply stared at her, not quite registering the words. “That’s a very nice offer. Thank you. And for the compliment. Truly.”
“But you’re saying no,” she said, her voice gentle but certain, as if she could already tell I was hesitating.
I bit my lip. “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it before.”
“And now that the offer is on the table?”
I looked down at my hands and played with my cuff. “I’ll think about it. I promise. When do you want me to decide?”
“There’s no hurry. Take a couple of weeks. When you’ve had a chance to think about it, let me know.”
I nodded. “Okay. Thanks again. Really. It means a lot that you thought of me.”
Her face softened as she continued. “You deserve it, Emma. This year, you’ve brought so much to the department. It’s been noticed.”
That made me blush.
After that, we talked about lighter things again, like papers due at the end of the term and the stress of exam season, until Margaret leaned back with a smile.
“Now, on a different note,” she said, “a group of us is planning a department dinner to mark the end of the year. It would be great if you could come. It will be a chance to unwind a little and toast to making it through the semester.”
“That sounds lovely.”
“Good,” she said, and then she started writing something on a sticky note. “It’s Friday night next week. I’ll also send the details by email.”
I thanked her again, got up, and wandered back into the corridor, still a little stunned by everything we’d just talked about.
“Emma.”
I glanced up. Simon was coming toward me, hands shoved in his pockets, his face somewhere between laid-back and nosy.
“I’ve got some news,” he said. “Though maybe you’ve already heard.”
“You’re making me nervous,” I said, trying to smile.
“Henri’s moving back to Quebec.”
I stared at him. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah,” Simon said, dropping his voice. “Looks like someone reported him for inappropriate behaviour.”
I just stood there for a second, not saying anything. Then I nodded. “Good for them.”
Simon made this quiet, approving sound and shrugged. “Figured you’d want to know.”
We shared a look – one of those quick, silent moments where you say a lot without any words – and then he turned and walked away.
I slipped the note into my planner and froze. The dinner was on the same night as Will’s birthday party. I stared at the dates, flipping the pages back and forth, as if one of them might move.
Then I saw the loophole: the dinner was early, while Will’s party would go late into the night. I could do both. I’d go to the dinner, have a drink, do the polite thing and then head out in time to celebrate with Max and Will.
I closed the planner. Maybe it was just one evening, but still, it felt good to see that sometimes things didn’t have to be one or the other. Maybe I didn’t have to choose after all.