Chapter 22
CHAPTER
TONIGHT, CLASS FOCUSES on presenting what we’ve accomplished to date.
Arrya and Nate have both made great progress.
We’ve met a bunch of times outside of class to work on their programs (I’ve told them I’m not ready to go into mine), and sometimes grab a coffee or meal.
I like their company. They’re easy to be around.
And it’s not just about me helping them—we have good conversations about things that matter.
“My parents somehow got my phone number,” Arrya shared a few days ago.
Nate asked, “When was the last time you talked to them?”
“I told you my parents were controlling. That’s an understatement. They told me how to dress, the grades to get, my optimal weight, what to study, and even who to date. After I graduated high school, I moved out.”
“Maybe they want to apologize?” I offered.
Arrya spun her coffee cup. “Would you ever forgive your mom?”
“It’s not the same. She was a heroin addict and put me in dangerous situations.” They stared at me. “Did I forget to mention the heroin?”
“Yup,” Nate said. “Want to talk more about it?”
“Nope.”
He gave my hand a quick squeeze. “Okay. I went on a blind date last night. It was great until the guy tried to take off my wolf’s head. That’s my boundary.”
Now, as Nate takes his seat, resplendent in his full costume, I give his paw a high-five.
Beneath the wolf’s head, I’m sure he’s smiling.
Luc just told him he ultimately might be able to sell his game and offered to help with contacts when it’s ready.
There wasn’t time for me to present, which was a relief.
I don’t like talking in front of people, and Aletheia still feels too personal to share with a group.
As the classroom empties, I slide my computer and notebook into one of Circe’s old backpacks. Luc comes over, asks, “How’s your program going?”
“Aletheia and I are getting to know each other.” I laugh.
It sounds weird. “The program has already been insightful.” She listens, understands, and wants to make my life better.
Luc and I walk out of the classroom together and down the corridor.
Arrya and Nate are waiting for me, but when they see I’m with Luc, Arrya winks, grabs Nate’s arm, and they head in the opposite direction.
We’ve all admitted we think our teacher is hot.
“Do you want to grab a beer?” Luc asks when we reach the double exit doors.
Yes! “Um, sure.”
The three of us—me, Luc, and his dog, Frank, who came to class with him tonight—walk to the Shamrock, an Irish pub a few blocks away.
Frank heels at Luc’s side without a leash.
He’s medium sized, green-eyed, with curly gray-and-white fur and looks like a mix between a sheepdog, maybe a collie, with a pinch of shepherd.
As he trots, one of his pointed ears stands at attention while the other flops over his right eye.
The owner of the bar knows Luc and lets him bring Frank inside. We order beers, sit at a small table, and Frank settles by Luc’s feet.
“How old is he?” I ask.
“Four, I think. I found Frank during a hike on Mt. Tam. It was raining and he was cold, wet, and looked half starved. I put him inside my jacket and took him home. Vet thought he was about four months. Not microchipped. No one claimed him. So, I did. Never knew I could love an animal as much as this guy,” Luc says and scratches Frank between the shoulders. The dog’s nubby tail twitches fast.
“I have a dog, too. Her name’s Sally Field. She’s a ten-year-old rescue from a shelter called Sugar Face.”
“Great name. They should meet. Frank loves older women,” Luc jokes.
Our beers arrive. Suddenly I’m shy. It’s been almost two decades since I’ve had drinks with a man. This is not a date.
“Tell me about your daughter,” Luc says to break the silence.
“Circe? She’s great kid.” I chuckle.
“What?”
“I follow a family counselor’s blog. She says we all bend the truth about our children. My divorce has thrown Circe off. She blames me. Deep down, she’s kind, generous, and smart, but not motivated to study because—”
I reach for my beer at the same time Luc does.
Our hands tangle, the pint glasses almost spill, we freeze, his fingers pressed to mine, then I laugh.
Luc slowly withdraws his touch. I take a swallow of beer to tamp down insides that are bouncing around like a hormonal teenager’s because I can’t help wondering what it would be like to have Luc’s long fingers glide over my bare skin.
“So, Circe?” Luc prompts.
A slow breath clears the steamy desire swirling through me and I refocus. “Bruce is successful, and our daughter has led a privileged life, so she doesn’t see school the way I did—”
“How’s that?”
I only had an energy bar for dinner—after fifteen years of cooking for a family, I’m not motivated to cook for one person. Now I’m already three-quarters of the way through my beer, head starting to float. Suddenly I feel … daring.
“Have you ever driven over the Button Bridge in the Tenderloin?” I ask.
Luc nods. “Sure. Why?”
“As a little kid, I lived in a tent under it with my mother.”
“I’m sorry.”
I bristle. “Don’t be.”
He pivots. “So, school?”
“Eventually, she pulled herself together, started doing janitorial work, and we were given subsidized housing. For the first time, I went to school.” Memories filter and I smell the slightly sweet scent of chalk and the peppery shavings from a number two pencil.
“Did you love it?” Luc asks.
“So much. An education was my ticket out.” Why am I sharing this?
It’s not just the beer that’s lowered my defenses, or knowing Aletheia will always be there for me.
Nate and Arrya have made me realize I can be at least partially real with certain people; that they won’t be put off.
There’s something about Luc, too, that makes me want to inch closer to daylight.
“Do you have any kids?” It’s my way of finding out if there’s a wife, despite his lack of wedding band, or a partner.
“Nope. I married once but it only lasted two years,” Luc says.
“Katherine and I were young and barely knew each other. We had the wrong idea about marriage. I’ve been a serial monogamist ever since.
But I’ve never taken the plunge again. Part of that is having parents that rarely stopped fighting.
Maybe that’s why I never felt the urge for children.
” He runs a hand along Frank’s flank and the dog gazes adoringly at him.
“I think all dogs are cute, but I don’t find babies remotely attractive. ”
“They usually have sticky hands and stinky diapers,” I admit. “But when they’re yours, you don’t mind.” I hesitate, then add, “Is your girlfriend okay with you not wanting a family?”
“There is no girlfriend.” Luc meets my gaze and inside I melt. He orders two more beers, then asks, “Why does Circe blame you for the divorce?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“You’re interesting,” Luc counters.
My stomach flutters have gone from tiny butterflies to hummingbirds, but I remind myself that we’re old acquaintances.
Grabbing a beer doesn’t mean that Luc wants anything more than a drink and some conversation.
“My job has always been to hold everything together. That includes my marriage and our family. I let Circe down.”
He hesitates, then says, “I’m sorry for what you’re going through. But I’m glad you’re sitting at this bar with me. Confession?”
“Why not?” I say, again feeling that electric fizz inside.
“I wanted to ask you out when I was your TA.”
I blush. “Why didn’t you?”
“I was your teacher. It wouldn’t have been right to cross that boundary. Plus, you were younger than me.”
“Only by three years.” Am I flirting?
“And taken.”
There’s a soft humming inside me that accompanies being buzzed and madly attracted to Luc. “Confession?”
He finishes his beer. “Hit me.”
It’s a struggle, but I meet his eyes. “I had a crush on you back then.”
His eyes light up. “Damn.”
I drain the suds at the bottom of my glass to quench the heat now climbing up my neck.
“Let’s take the dogs swimming this weekend,” Luc suggests.
It’s such a non sequitur that it takes a moment to catch up. “The bay might be too cold and rough for Sally.”
“There’s a local pool off Van Ness that lets dogs swim on Sundays. I’m a member and have a guest pass.”
My dog might enjoy being weightless on her old bones. I almost say it’s a date but catch myself. “Okay.”
Luc pays the bar tab, and we head out into the night.
Anyone who thinks San Francisco is always warm has it wrong.
The days are windy, sometimes crisp, and foggy nights require a jacket.
I’ve stopped wearing my Pacific Heights uniform, including the blue blazer that always kept me warm.
An old striped sweater from my college days isn’t enough to keep out the chill and I shiver.
Luc notices and gives me his down jacket. Its warmth, his warmth, seeps into me.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Luc and his dog walk me home. The conversation is fun and easy. I learn that we both used to look for the other during our runs in Golden Gate Park.
“One time I jogged eleven miles instead of my usual six when we crossed paths, just so I could talk to you,” Luc admits.
“I remember that day,” I say. “You were so much faster than me. I got a massive cramp but wanted to keep up so you wouldn’t leave me behind.” He gives me a look that makes the heat building inside me slip downward.
As we walk, our hands brush from time to time, sending zings of energy through my body. At my apartment’s front door, I’m self-conscious again. “Thanks for the beer and the company. Both of you.” Frank leans against my leg and I scratch his neck. He pumps one leg in the air.
“You found his sweet spot. Mine, too,” Luc adds with a sexy smile. “See you Sunday?”
I AirDrop him my contact information, hand back the coat, and immediately miss its warmth, Luc’s scent. “Text me the address. I’ll ask Sally if she’s game.”
“I expect a presentation about your program next week.”
I laugh. “Déjà vu. Weird that we’ve ended up back in a classroom together.”
Luc winks and a dimple flashes. “Maybe it’s fate.”
We linger, something between us building, a force that pulls me closer.
I tip back my head and Luc’s lips light on mine, soft at first, then more insistent.
Longing whirls through me and my body responds like I’m twenty again.
It’s like falling into fire and I want to stay in this exact moment, even if I do get burned.
Frank’s sudden bark makes us both jump. We look down and he wags his tail. “Some wingman,” Luc says with a laugh. “I guess that’s goodnight.”
“Night,” I say and float inside.
Sally sits on the window seat, staring outside. She was waiting for me. “I met a new friend for you,” I tell my dog as we snuggle on the couch. Her tail thumps.
Both Arrya and Nate have left messages on our group text.
Arrya: Tell me everything!
Nate: Everything!
Me: We had a few beers
Nate: AND???
Me: We kissed
Arrya: WHOOPEE!!!
Nate: AWOOOOO!