Page 14 of Electric Touch

Sasha laughs. She’s right, Apollo too. I am procrastinating, but with good reason. Not that it will stop the inevitable. Any delays working through the list won’t change anything. I do not know how much time is left.

I struggle to shake off that melancholy when I meet with a student later that afternoon. He is taking summer classes and I help him with some of the things he’s struggling with to distract me. To me, math is fluid, not rigid, there are different ways of looking at equations. Once I show him a different approach to what he is finding difficult, a lightbulb goes on. After a few more problems, he gets it. He is so pleased with himself, he skips out of the office, leaving me happy for the first time in weeks.

This is the reason I became a professor. Obviously, I love the entire process of learning and putting my education to good use. Knowing in some small way I can make a difference to these kids’ lives is epic. Something to be proud of.

Back home, I shower and change and am ready to meet Mama when I get a text from her.

Mama: Sorry honey! Need to rain check! We’re going to the opera!!!!!!

Mama is the queen of the exclamation point. And often uses it when it makes no apparent sense at all. I blow out a breath and my hair flies up and around my forehead. I take off my jacket, and hang it back up, then kick off my shoes.

Me: It’s ok Mama, have fun

Mama: I will tell you all about it at the weekend! Imagine me! At the opera. Ah hah!

Well, she will have a good time, that is what we all need right now. Some lightness to chase away the dark. I stand immobile in the hallway, staring at my feet, at a loss for the evening. Before I chicken out, I call Apollo.

“My date cancelled.”

“You had a date?”

“Mama.”

“Oh, it’s Thursday. What is it this time?”

“The opera.” I lean against the wall. Apollo is quiet. “So… I find myself with no plans this evening.”

“And you called me… Because?”

“Stop it. I’ll only change my mind.”

“I’ll meet you in fifteen minutes.”

My heart flutters with anxiety. “What do I need to do?”

“Nothing.”

“No preparation?”

“None. You’ll be fine. I’ll be there to distract you.”

“It’s going to hurt.” Of course it will hurt. Tiny needles dragging across my skin will not be a walk in the park. No sir! There I go thinking in exclamation points.

“You’ll be fine. You’re tough. I’ll pick you up by Bracco’s.”

“Why not at home?”

“Because you will overthink this and change your mind. If you’re already out, you’ve got to go.”

“Your logic baffles me.”

“But it makes sense to your analytical mind. See you soon.”

“Fine.”

I head to my room to change. A buttoned up blouse is not ideal for lying on a bed in a tattoo shop. I opt for a sleeveless Cami-top, which will keep the girls in check with its built-in bra, and throw a cardigan over it. Grabbing all my things, I head out. Apollo knows me so well. This ten-minute walk to our favourite restaurant does keep me occupied.

I send Ariella a text as I walk, telling her it’s tattoo time. I get a thumbs up back about three minutes later and smile. This list is her idea, and she is pushing me to finish everything on it. Next time I see her, I hope to have knocked a few more things off the list, knowing it will make her happy.

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