Chapter 5
Harper Lee Adler sat in the faculty office at the ritzy private high school where she taught English Literature and Creative Writing. She was scrolling through her emails while she waited for her after-school appointment with outraged parents whose son had earned a C- on his most recent assignment.
And now the sophomore biology teacher, Brad Tam, sat next to her crunching on Corn Nuts so loudly that she thought he’d break a tooth.
She couldn’t concentrate, but there was nowhere else to go.
The school put a lot of money into the students’ experience, but the faculty lounge was a Coke machine and folding chairs.
Still, she felt fortunate to have this job. Especially given how her last year had gone. She ignored Brad and thought back on how she’d ended up here after graduating with honors from NYU.
Harper was below average height, straining to hit five feet when she stood with her best posture. A high school boyfriend had once called her “curvy,” and while he meant it as a compliment, she sometimes struggled with what the word implied.
She had hazel eyes, light brown curly hair, and a smattering of freckles across her rounded cheeks. She was cuter than she was pretty, and while she knew that was her lot in life, she still wished for things she’d never have. Like a small up-turned nose and sharp cheekbones.
One thing she did have down pat was her style.
She favored a Bohemian look and loved the sale rack at Anthropologie and the vintage shops in Soho.
She had a collection of ankle boots, colorful chunky cotton sweaters, and patterned maxi dresses that made her unique among the black suits and turtlenecks of the city.
Harper grew up in Park Slope, Brooklyn. Her dad had worked for President Obama as a speechwriter and now he was a senior fellow in global health at the Council on Foreign Relations.
Her mom was a social worker and was serving another term on the board at the Food Co-op.
Harper had the classic brownstone upbringing, made good grades at Berkeley Carroll, and got into the creative writing program at NYU. She had dreams of becoming a novelist.
But her dreams were interrupted by Charles “Kai” Calhoun, a gorgeous surfer from California who came to NYU to study film.
He wanted to make documentaries showing volunteer work in poor countries that also happened to be great locations for surfing.
He invited her to tag along. She loved the thought of being adventurous and not tied down.
Kai was her ticket to somewhere. She fell under his spell, and after graduation, followed him to West Africa.
Her parents were more than skeptical. While they cautioned her against the move, they didn’t forbid her to go.
“If anything happens, you can always come home,” her mom had said.
“Nothing will happen,” Harper assured them, believing it was true. She was wrong.
On their so-called mission trip to Senegal, they were meant to help locals build shelters and wells, and she was going to teach English, too.
Kai planned to document the entire thing on his iPhone and then he’d edit it into a YouTube channel and have a million followers.
After their first week there, Kai carved K & H in a heart in the trunk of an old tree outside their shack, and Harper was fully in love.
Unfortunately, that was about the extent of their romance in Africa.
Immediately, Harper suffered from bug bites and the heat.
Her curls frizzed out in the humid climate.
The food didn’t agree with her, and she fell embarrassingly ill often.
A friend of hers from the NYU school of public health sent her a DM on Instagram that said, “You can always eat the fries.” And so she did, ignoring the voice in her head that nagged her about the seed oils in which the locals cooked them.
Before their adventure, she’d imagined spending full days with Kai.
But once they got to Senegal, it wasn’t easy to get his attention.
He was often with other surfers, checking out sets and breaks instead of pounding nails into new house frames.
After a few months, the entire undertaking had gone sideways. Harper knew she’d made a mistake.
As had been hooking up with Kai in the first place.
Harper had been so blinded by her attraction to this gorgeous surfer boy that she really didn’t know much about his background from his California days.
She had no idea he’d left a bunch of girls brokenhearted on various beaches.
They’d all learned the hard way that commitment, loyalty, and faithfulness weren’t high on his value chain.
He saved his devotion for the waves that called his name at mid-tide every day.
One day, after three months of wondering how much longer she could take it, a local woman named Faye she was teaching English to stopped the lesson and looked at Harper like she wanted to tell her something.
“What?” she asked. “What is it? Tell me.”
The woman’s English was not very good yet, but she didn’t need to speak. She raised her eyebrows and pointed to a photograph of Kai that was hanging on the wall of the makeshift community center.
“Bad.” She shook her head.
“Bad? No. Kai is good,” Harper corrected her.
Faye disagreed. She pointed to Harper’s heart.
“He’s not good. Not for you.”
“No, no, he’s a good guy.”
Faye shook her head and said, “Come.” She got up and gestured for Harper to follow. They walked down to the beach where Faye’s sister ran a little restaurant called Saly Bar. Faye peered through a side window and then grabbed Harper’s hand and said, “Look.”
And there was Kai, Gazelle beer bottles piled around him, and a beautiful Portuguese woman Harper knew from another aid group on his lap. They were kissing in a way that made it clear they’d forgotten they were in public.
Harper’s heart imploded. She knew that Faye was right to protect her from a cheating boyfriend, but in some ways, Harper wished she’d never seen it. And though she wanted to run away, in that instant she decided to put her big girl pants on and confront him in front of everyone.
Harper marched up behind him and poked him hard in the shoulder.
“Hey!” she shouted.
“What the hell?” He pulled away from the other young woman and turned to see who’d just interrupted his good time. “Harper? I thought you were teaching today.”
“And I thought you were here to do good. Not to do. . . . to do . . . her!” She didn’t have a plan, and it showed.
“Look, Harp, chill.” As Kai said this, he gently nudged his other girlfriend off his lap and she backed off a few paces, watching the scene unfold.
“I’m not going to chill. I’m going to. .
. . leave!” And in that moment, she decided it was high time to get back to America and restart her life.
Turning to the other woman, she said in perfect Portuguese, “Boa sorte.” Her nanny had been from Brazil, and she’d learned a few phrases from her. “Good luck” was one of them.
Then Harper turned and walked out, her head held as high as possible.
What really upset her was Kai had acted like it wasn’t a big deal. He didn’t even try to get her to stay. He’d just let her walk away, even though she’d changed her entire life plan for him. This is what she got for that? The humiliation and the heartbreak crushed her.
Back at her hut, she started stuffing clothes into her oversize duffel. Then she picked up her phone and thought of having to call her parents to confess that her great plans had all fallen apart.
“Call Dad,” she said to Siri, grateful to still be on her dad’s international phone plan. She winced in anticipation of the conversation she was about to have.
He picked up on the first ring.
“Harper? Are you okay?”
Her voice broke as she heard his voice. “I’m fine.
But, you were right, Dad.” Those were tough words for her to say.
She’d blown off her parents’ concern about her decision to throw in with Kai and go to Africa without any real plans for what would happen if it didn’t work out.
She braced for the “I told you so,” but it didn’t come.
“Aww, Harper. It’s okay. Come on back. We’ll figure it out.” He reassured her, and she was so grateful he was her dad. She knew he was glad that this adventure was over.
By the next morning, her parents had sent her details for her flight home. Coach, no upgrade.
She decided that was fair.
Her parents said they’d pick her up at JFK, and she was so glad to see their old Volvo hybrid pull up to the curb. Her dad put the car in park, and her mom jumped out to wrap her in a hug. As much as she frustrated them with her breezy impulses, they loved her big heart and felt protective of her.
“I’m sorry, pumpkin,” her mom said into Harper’s hair as she held her tight. “You were too good for him anyway.”
When she moved back into her childhood bedroom and unpacked her duffel bag, she felt safe and like a kid again, even though she knew there was no going back.
She took an unending amount of teasing from her older brother, Ernest (yes, her parents thought it would spur their kids to great heights if they were named after famous authors).
Her dad pulled a few strings and helped her land a teacher aide job at the Van Buren school.
She considered enrolling in an online Master of Education degree program so that she could eventually get a full teaching job.
For once, though, luck was on her side. Her teacher got a dream job at Dalton and Harper got bumped up for the rest of the school year.
But still the job didn’t pay enough to cover her expenses, so she supplemented her income by tutoring or babysitting.
Out of some semblance of pride, she tried not to ask her parents for money. At least not every month.
Harper couldn’t believe that everything she’d thought and dreamed about had turned out to be wrong.
Even her goal of writing a novel seemed so rearview mirror.
She wanted to write great fiction but knew that in order to do that she needed to see the actual world outside of the five boroughs.
Going on this adventure with Kai was supposed to give her two things she wanted—a chance for love, and a look at the real world.
But now, when would she have time to write when she was constantly working on her lesson plans, grading papers, and dealing with the parents of her entitled and spoiled students?
And now Miles Lascher’s parents were demanding to meet with her. The mom had emailed Harper explaining that Miles’s tutor hadn’t had a chance to work with Miles because the family helicopter out East had malfunctioned. Harper almost couldn’t believe that was their story.
As she sat down in the meeting room with Edith Thistlewood, the school principal, Mr. Lascher looked a little embarrassed or maybe bored, but the shiny, creaseless face of Mrs. Lascher hid deeper contempt.
Harper explained why the paper didn’t merit an A.
The mother went through her litany of complaints and excuses, she had even tried to book the tutor a private helicopter service to get him out to the South Shore, and everyone turned to the principal.
Who didn’t back Harper up.
“Can we find a way for Miles to redo this assignment, Harper?” Ms. Thistlewood asked, signaling what Harper needed to do. “I’d love to be able to tell the headmaster that this small matter has been settled.”
Harper felt trapped. She didn’t think it was right to change the grade because they gave money and had the privilege to complain.
But she needed the job. She looked down and agreed that Miles should have another chance to rewrite. And she knew that that paper would get an A.
“That’s great to hear.” Mrs. Lascher nodded. All her jewelry shook with her.
Harper stood as tall as she could and squared her shoulders, mustering any dignity she could find.
She thanked the Laschers for their time and gave Ms. Thistlewood a fake nod of gratitude.
Her poker face lasted until she got to the faculty lounge, where there was no sign of Brad Tam.
There, when she was finally alone, she let a couple of tears fall.
Then she blew her nose, grabbed her jacket, and walked out of the school.
It was just over two miles crosstown to Dot’s place, and Harper had plenty she needed to walk off.
RIGHT AT 7 P.M., Mary and Harper met at the entrance of the Buckley. They hugged each other and Albert sent them right up. “She’s been waiting for you,” he said.
The two of them talked at the same time and Albert wondered how either of them understood the other.
“Oh, to be young again,” the doorman said to the empty foyer as he stepped back out into the crisp fall night.