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I’ll spare you some details about the whole ‘settling in’ process. The short of it would be that it was awkward for everyone involved. My coming so early meant that there was no official plan to greet me, and my being an alumni meant that I didn’t really need to be introduced to the area, campus, or university history. A lot of it was still painfully fresh in my mind from my school days, and what few changes had been made in between my leaving and my return were insignificant at best and could be looked up online. This was all communicated in awkward and half-hearted conversations.
Thankfully, the whole ordeal was quick. Or relatively quick, at least. After a strained couple of hours, I was alone in a familiar office, and Professor Evory had been right: it was his old office hastily refinished and painted. But the new furniture was largely the same sort that Professor Evory had in this office when it was his, and it all sat in the same spaces. That included the visitor’s chair by the door that I constantly used when I was his student. I didn’t think I would need one. I couldn’t imagine this office under my reign having the same appeal that it did for him. I couldn’t imagine being a point around which students gathered. But it was the sort of arrangement one would expect for a university office. Said office had to be welcoming even if the need would not arise.
On the whole, it wasn’t the same space but similar. But even those small changes had a profound effect on the aura of the room. This wasn’t Professor Evory’s office anymore–the space where I came into my own with his help–but instead, it was mine by some technicality. But it didn’t make sense, and it didn’t feel right. I was a child trying to put on her father’s shoes and somehow shocked I couldn’t properly walk in them.
It didn’t feel right to think of that space as my office or to sit at the chair typically thought of as the occupant’s seat. And the idea of unpacking the small box that I had brought with me felt just as overwhelming as unpacking the cottage had been. It felt impossible. Somehow.
Maybe it was just the silence around me, my longtime nemesis able to thrive under the circumstances. There was no escaping it right then. Although there was no one around, I didn't think it was right to try to fill the air with random noise. It felt intrusive in some way, even if there was no one around to have their peace infringed upon. It was just the context, I thought. The context of being in a university office required silence or intelligent conversation. That was it. There was no third option for me to retreat within, especially when I didn’t have a good reason for said retreat. After all, for most people, silence was required to focus. It was the wet stone that could keep the mind sharp. I just wasn’t like most people, for reasons I didn’t want to think about.
And to escape that thought, to dislodge it from my shoulders, I tried to take a deep breath, but my chest felt tight. It resisted, and when I tried to push through, it locked into place. My entire chest cavity froze in a half-taken breath, which was painful, but at least there was no one around to notice.
Beside me, a small box of my belongings sat on the arm of the L-shaped desk. I knew it was hardly anything at all when I carried it, but as it sat there, it seemed to shrink down even more, cowering in a room that felt so much larger than I remembered it. Overwhelmingly so, in fact.
And maybe that was my fault. When this was Professor Evory’s office, it was full of memories, of pictures from the past and some trinkets acquired from all over the world. On the other hand, I had nothing. Or practically nothing. I didn’t even know what sorts of things are typically brought into an office. Family pictures? Loaded topic, quite obviously. Trinkets? I still remember all the times my mom made me feel bad for wanting to buy something. Plants? I wasn’t all that great at keeping myself alive, never mind a plant. And office supplies were provided by the university and bore the university’s name, seal, and motto whenever possible. Even as a proud alumna, I thought it was excessive. Branded pens and notepads were understandable, expected even. And yet, the stapler proudly wore the school’s name as well. Maybe that was where the line was crossed, but it could have been the tape dispenser, for all anyone knew. But at least it was all organized at least for the time being.
I tried to add the contents of the box to the sparsely populated desk, but it didn’t make a difference. I didn’t have much to contribute. I took out my notebooks, also branded because I bought them from the university bookstore the day before, and the special set of pens that I’d randomly decided to prefer above all others. There were a few books that I brought because I was definitely going to get around to reading them (or so I told myself), but that was it. Suddenly the box was empty. I knew it shouldn’t have been, but it was. I had nothing more to offer myself.
At the thought, a sense of despair was renewed, and I fell back to the chair with a hard thud. I took a deep breath in. Or I tried to, but with such a weight on my chest, it wasn’t easy to do.
Meanwhile, my door sat open, overlooking the small lobby this office needed when it belonged to an undergraduate advisor. It was pointless now, though. I wouldn’t have the influx of visitors that would require a waiting area. A door strong enough to withstand a firm knock was really all that was needed.
And this door could do just that, as proven by the one person who had the right to walk in at any time. This has been his office, once, and I, his dutiful student.
I looked up and smiled at Professor Evory as he stood in the doorway, basking in the warmth that returned to the room with his presence. As he stepped inside, everything felt right in the universe again. Or, at least, a storm couldn’t throw me around anymore. My anchor had returned.
“Well,” Professor Evory excitedly exclaimed, “What did I tell you? Same office.”
His glowing smile proved to be infectious, and despite everything, I felt a rush of joy overtake me.
I laughed. “Yep, same office.”
He promptly sat in the visitor’s chair, and from the initial silence, it was clear that both of us were struck by this reversal of position. Though neither of us wanted to say it, it didn’t quite feel right. I didn’t fit in this role, in the seat of honor he had once occupied. But I tried to not think about that. After all, maybe this discomfort came from the change in scenery or from staring at the wall I once had my back against. Granted, it wasn’t the same wall. One coat of paint had transformed it, though I thought I could make out a faint outline of the pictures that once hung there, items I had never noticed before, whose ghosts were now insisting on being noticed.
“How does it feel?” he asked.
His smile hinted at the answer he was expecting. He certainly didn’t expect me to say that it felt wrong or to hear philosophical musings about the chairs we were sitting in. Those thoughts–however truthful–weren’t the next steps in this dance. While I wasn’t entirely sure what those steps were, I knew I had to be smiling. I was supposed to be happy right then or as swept up in the excitement of the moment as Professor Evory was. Unfortunately, lying to him was hard, so I tried to find some sort of middle ground.
“It’s... Unexpected,” I finally said after a moment of hesitation. “You told me, sure, but it didn’t feel real until now.”
I was trying to salvage the moment, but as the words left my mouth, I knew I had failed to. The puncture in the façade was small, and yet, air was still able to rush out. The faint whistle rang out in my ears and cut through my psyche.
Helplessly, I sighed. I had no chance at success. There was a weight on my shoulders that I couldn’t shake off that Professor Evory’s eyes would have been drawn to. After tending to my wounds so many times, reading me came particularly easy to him. So my options were limited. All I could try next was to change the subject, hastily and without much thought.
“Did I tell you I sent a bunch of stuff to Erika to sell?” I asked. I genuinely couldn’t remember if I had mentioned it. “Because I heard from her that the middle grade series I’ve been working on is probably going to be easy to place.”
Once again, he was smiling. The faint flickers of concern that my previous statement had sparked were wiped away instantly at the mention of a future accomplishment. I nearly flinched in response but caught myself.
“Well, what do you think? Is it too soon for congratulations?” he asked.
Yes, I thought.
“Maybe,” I said instead. “Erika isn’t so familiar with the middle grade circuit, so a new agent is going to take charge of the sale. But if Erika hired her in the first place, she’s got to be good at what she does. Just not as... Painfully efficient.”
He nodded. “It works out for you then? It gives you a chance to settle in.”
Settling in isn’t all that possible, I thought.
“Yep,” I replied. “Or... Re-settled in? Technically? Since I’m coming back? Words are hard sometimes.”
Professor Evory chuckled, clearly unbothered that I–professional word-person–could not wield the instrument at the core of my job. I didn’t know how he could be so calm about it. Maybe he just hadn’t noticed.
“I would say so. How are you finding it?”
Though it was completely unrelated to the question, Chris’s smile flashed in my mind. His voice echoed in my ears, followed shortly after by the taste of Sr. Agatha’s cooking. But then I thought about the messages from Ellie that I was still ignoring, the former fiancé who had made no attempts to reach me or salvage our relationship, and the various sisters in my life–both those I had met and the one I didn’t. Also, my Chicago apartment was pretty bland if not outright crappy.
As the moments ticked by, my thoughts were flying further away from the point. I was spiraling, and I didn’t know how to catch myself, though I obviously wanted to.
“It’s going well,” I answered, tossing those words out and hoping they would catch onto something.
Suddenly, Chris’s smile flashed in my mind again, but that same mind of mine latched onto the faint wisps of hair on his upper lip. At the thought, a small smile threatened to claw its way onto my face, and I could scarcely contain it with my fluttering heart distracting me. This was a different sort of spiral. I was losing the plot of this conversation, but at least it was a kinder storm. In it, I was seized by this idea that maybe he couldn’t grow a mustache properly, which was the sort of thing that didn’t matter but still meant the world to me. It made me happy, so in the battle for control of my face, the smile won, which was a development I only became aware of when a love-struck chuckle suddenly appeared in my throat.
Professor Evory raised an eyebrow at this sudden burst of energy, but he resisted the urge to call it out. And yet, his watchful eye was enough to make me confess.
“I reconnected with someone I had a crush on when I was a student.”
He smirked. “And? Or is there an and?”
“Well, we’re both single now.”
Professor Evory leaned back in his chair, savoring the moment. “You know, I’m glad to hear you call yourself single.”
“Because it makes the breakup, officially official?” I offered.
“Essentially. But there’s also what comes after. This new stage in your life. I’m glad to know you’re willing to take it.” He paused. “So you’ll be seeing each other again, I assume.”
My lungs twisted at the assumption. Professor Evory had made it so easily, but I couldn’t fathom things falling into place like that.
“Soon, I hope,” I replied. “He wants to, definitely. But his business is... Well, it’s going well, but it means he has a lot to do.”
Unwilling to be distracted by his own optimism, Professor Evory raised an eyebrow and carefully considered each word I said. Under his scrutiny, some cracks appeared.
“Is that what he said?” he asked, skeptically.
“It’s Chris,” I told him, realizing that the details mattered. In their absence, he could jump to any number of conclusions. “The guy who took over the Happy Flour Pizzeria from his dad.”
A spark of recognition took hold. “Oh Chris, I’ve met him before. The department tried to have a Pizza with Professors series last year. The pizza was the only thing that worked out.”
“Yeah, free food tends to work out great with college kids.”
He nodded. “He seems like a great guy.”
Unprompted, a slight blush filled my cheeks, and I felt the warmth throughout my face. It was nice, frankly, as unfamiliar as it was. “Yeah, I like him a lot, and I think he likes me a little bit, too. So hopefully, we’ll see each other again soon.”
“Hopefully,” he agreed before yet another pause. A moment of reverence held for the world he was about to shatter. “You deserve to be happy.”
In short, I didn’t agree, but there was no need to have that conversation.