Chapter 17
CHAPTER
THE WAIT FOR this week’s class felt interminable.
With nothing else to focus on, other than trying to engage Sally and reaching out to Circe, I’ve been glued to my computer, determined to do something right.
I now understand the basics of several new computer programs and am plowing through their complexities to gain a working knowledge of AI.
I’ve also been homing in on what I need, a glimmer of an idea gaining flesh, becoming more and more real.
Val and Kiki have both tried to call me.
Their numbers are blocked but they can leave messages.
I’ve listened to a few. They’ve gone from light concern to fake worry then on to feigned confusion.
Kiki has also come by my apartment—Circe must’ve given her the address.
But I didn’t answer the buzzer. I’ve always avoided confrontation …
Did you piss your pants? Mama J demanded.
It was my first week at a real school. Thea Henderson cornered me in the girls’ locker room with her friends and said they were going to strip me naked for being a pervy creeper and force me to walk onto the boys’ football field during practice.
Thea was popular and I was watching her, trying to memorize everything about her so I could be popular, too.
As Thea and her friends threatened me, I lost control of my bladder.
Life is cruel, Penny, Mama J said as she washed my undies in the sink. Better you hear it from me, figure out your strengths, so that if it comes to fighting for your life, you’ll be ready.
Tonight, Luc makes his rounds to help each student and then pulls up a chair at my desk.
He’s only inches away. The scent of his soap—citrus—the way my insides stir when he’s solely focused on me, the wool of his shirt as it accidentally brushes my wrist, make it hard to think straight.
Pull it together. Luc is my teacher. Again.
“I have an idea about an application for my thesis work,” I tentatively say.
Kiki and Val’s DMs have reminded me that there’s so much context and background information behind every conversation; so many things I couldn’t have known.
“What if I could build on my previous analysis of language, link it to social media posts and phone conversations?”
“Keep going,” Luc encourages.
“It’s a big leap from feeding my research subjects bland truths and lies, but, like you said, technology is so powerful now.
I can use AI and the new programs I’ve learned to collate my existing data, turn concepts into functional algorithms, then take things a step further to create an interactive AI program.
Not just to give bland advice based on what I share, but that can utilize a vast network of background information that allows for specific, helpful feedback. ”
Luc tents his fingers together. “Give me some details.”
“Okay. Imagine having a program that doesn’t just detect someone else’s lies but also analyzes that person’s social media, basically figures out both the lie and its context.”
Luc’s forehead scrunches. “O-kay. Go on.”
“Then the program can make an informed decision whether it’s in your best interest to take someone’s advice or a job offer, what friendships to value and which to drop. The program could even tell you whether it’s a good idea to salvage a relationship or divorce.”
“It could also tell you if you look good in your favorite pair of jeans,” he jokes.
I laugh. I hadn’t thought about the visual aspects of my idea. But of course, the app could use video, too. Luc nips his lower lip, and I wonder what it tastes like. Who the hell am I? More Penn Roberts, less Penn Stone, that’s for sure.
“If I do this right, my program would be a resource that can understand myriad situations and discern the truth one hundred percent of the time, then give feedback to help make the next right step in life.”
“What about just trusting yourself?” Luc challenges.
“Look where that’s gotten me,” I shoot back. “And you said to combine our passions with our needs.”
Luc chuckles. “You haven’t changed at all.”
Was I really this way fifteen years ago? An elderly student named Buzz raises a hand for help and Luc hesitates, like he has more to say, but then moves on. I feel his absence but the fire inside me remains. Maybe I was that girl. Could I be her again?
Nate turns around. “I’d buy that program.”
“Really?” It’s disconcerting to look into his amber-colored eyes. I wish he’d take the wolf’s head off so I could see his real ones.
“Hell yeah. I was dating this other furry—he’s a standard poodle. I thought we had a great thing going and planned to ask him to move in and everything. Turns out he was into a Dalmatian. Had a pure-bred thing. Totally shook my confidence.”
Tonight, Nate is wearing orange checkered pajama bottoms, his wolf’s head, and a lifelike white-and-gray fur chest. His tail is curled beneath his chair. He brought his paws, too, but took them off to type. “His loss,” I offer.
Arrya takes a seat beside me. “Hey, Penn. Um, I can’t figure this line of code out,” she says, sliding her laptop my way.
“Did you ask Luc for help?”
She twists a strand of pink hair around her index finger. “He’s busy. But after what he said about you, well, I thought you might be able to steer me in the right direction?”
I study the code. “When did you start buying places in foreclosure?”
“I was twenty-five,” Arrya says. “My parents were kind of controlling. I had to figure out a way to make my own decisions or it wouldn’t be my life, you know?”
Was I living Bruce’s life?
“I got a second job, saved, and eventually bought a run-down, foreclosed apartment in San Jose at auction. Then I learned how to renovate and flipped it. Never looked back. The risks are sometimes scary. But I guess the most important things in life are.”
“Lately, I’m scared every day,” I admit, then blush.
“Why?”
Never roll over and show ’em your underbelly, Mama J reminds me.
But I have nothing left to lose and loneliness is eating away at me. “I’m getting divorced. The world feels too big and I’m not sure where I fit in.”
“Want to get a coffee at the place on the corner, Grind, before next class?” Arrya asks.
“I’d like that.”
After class, Nate and I end up walking the same way down Franklin Street.
Turns out we live near each other, and he offers to walk me home.
I wonder if he’s hitting on me, but he explains on the way that he’s “strictly dickly, so don’t get any ideas.
” He just didn’t want me to walk alone in the dark.
“Wolves are protective,” he adds, and that makes me smile a little.
The night is cold, and halfway to my place, he offers me his plaid scarf. It smells cozy, like the wool of his fur. Four kids on skateboards rolls down the street. One of them yells, “Freak!”
“Does that bother you?” I ask.
“Nah. They’re not part of my pack.” He scratches the fur on his chin. “Why are you taking our class? I googled the Henry Johnson thing. It means you’re hella smart.”
I don’t have the energy to lie. “I’ve forgotten half of what I used to know about computer science, plus the advances have left me in the dust. But in the past few months, I’ve lost my marriage—he cheated with a Gen Zer—have a daughter who doesn’t want to live with me because she blames me for the divorce …
What else …? My best friends knew about the mistress, were laughing behind my back, and my only companion is an old dog who’d rather be with the family who abandoned her.
I need to reinvent myself. The class is a start. ”
Nate nods his giant wolf’s head. “Whoa, that’s a lot.”
My face burns. I start to cross against the light, but Nate holds out his paw. When it turns green, we cross.
“Seems like you’re mega hard on yourself.”
“Practice,” I try to joke.
“FYI, that shit usually comes from childhood,” Nate says. “Wouldn’t know anything about that. My family was perfect.”
“Really?”
“Nah, they disowned me after I came out. The furry thing would’ve blown their flipping minds,” he adds with a laugh.
“How are you so confident?” I really want to know.
“Two choices in life. One is to stay in the abyss someone’s dug you. The other is to claw your way free and figure out how to feel special, despite what your nearest and supposedly dearest think.”
“Do you ever go out without your costume?”
“No.”
I can’t help but wonder if he’ll ever find a way to like himself without the wolf’s clothing.
Will I? Being the consummate corporate wife, having the perfect home, making breakfasts using Bonnie Roy’s recipes, repeating mantras from Dr. Bob, Tanya Decker, and Dr. Beth, using hashtags that humble brag about what I have. What’s real about me?
At my apartment building’s door, I unwind the scarf from my neck and return it. Nate puts a furry paw on my shoulder. “If you need a friend, just whistle.” He lopes off.
“Arrya and I are meeting for coffee at Grind before the next class,” I call after him. “Join us?”
Nate turns. “I’ll consider expanding my pack.”
When I enter the apartment, Sally sits in front of the door.
Her tail thumps on the wood and she whines.
“Do you need to go out?” But she trots back to the bedroom, gets into her cozy cave.
Maybe she was wondering if I was going to return.
I kneel by her bed. “I will always come back.” She meets my gaze for the first time, and the little seed planted in my heart when I recognized a kindred spirit at Viola’s sanctuary, when I chose her, takes root.