Page 142 of Speak

I hear mine chime upstairs at the same time.

I arch a brow as he pales.

“Everything okay?”

He clears his throat and takes another sip, eyes like slivers of a cloudy moon peer at me over his mug and when he swallows, they shoot over my shoulder, to which I hear both Jonas and Raven coming down the stairs in their uniforms, ready for another day at Rayne-Moore. “It would seem the Dean had a cardiac arrest after finding his son and daughter-in-law’s bodies in their home this morning.”

“Fuck, that’s heavy.” Jonas whooshes as goes to the pantry, pulling out bagels and then to the toaster, splitting them to toast them evenly. Raven goes over and kisses Damon good morning, lips lingering on his, and even though I should feel jealousy, I don’t. It should hurt and yet it never has.

“Good morning, Amourette. Did you sleep well?”

Another kiss before she makes her and Jonas a cup of Joe, and I can almost taste it. How the mint of her toothpaste would mingle with the taste of my coffee.

Jonas plops down on the chair beside me just as Raven sits on the other side of me, taking a bagel, and overly smothering it with cream cheese, completely spread evenly so no bite is lacking andthen grabs the other half and makes it into a sandwich. Jonas copies her with a smirk, muttering “genius,” under his breath and when he’s done, he simply turns to Damon. “So are classes canceled?”

Damon shakes his head. “No, but I may just visit after my last session today, he’s in the ICU at Lorne Wood.”

Raven makes a movement with her hands for the wordrose.

“Yes, Amourette, I will be sure to take him some flowers for you.”

After Jonas and Raven leave for a study session before classes at the library, Damon leaves as well, his first session before classes. I take my time to get ready, taking in the opportunity to take the trash out, grabbing the bags from the garage, one of them smelling particularly of dead blood, which doesn’t rouse me.

Whatshould haveroused me was that it was awhitebag, and not the black ones we use but I pay it no mind.

Damon cooks a lot of meat, feeding us nightly except for the weekends he comes back late, which is usually Friday and Saturday nights when they go to Jonas’ games or take Raven on a date.

I have yet to take her on one.

No idea why.

They nurture and care for her in ways that I simply do not and… and if I want her to love me, I probably should. Shouldn’t I? I should show her that I love her. She’s one of actions, seeing as she still hasn’t spoken to me, only signing when others are in the room.

Does she still not trust me?

I shove that and all other thoughts of her aside as I get ready for work, dressing as warmly as I can in slacks and a sports coat, bundling up in a scarf, overcoat, and a beanie. Raven’s beanie. She’s everywhere. All over my house. Even in my car. Books, hair ties, .5 mm ballpoint pens… I secretly love it. I adore being able to inhale in any room of my house and know she was there.

The traffic is light, the fog thick, the snow now a sleet as the sun rises, heating the earth.

It’s the Monday after the Homecoming Ball that Raven didn’t get to enjoy as much since she left early due to a headache and her leg hurting after dancing with Mr. Anderson and her stepbrother and then fucking Jonas in the garden. Yes, I did get to watch that happen. I should remind Jonas to be more careful but watching them isalways titillating. Hearing how she gasps when Jonas praises and degrades her, fucking her roughly, not giving a damn if they get caught.

She tried to play off the pain in her leg, only grimacing every now and then, but I knew it must have really been bothering her when she returned from the restroom and kept grabbing at her leg, like she was trying to make sure it was still attached.

When they left, I wanted to leave, too, but unfortunately, faculty members were to stay until at least eleven, after they crowned the King and Queen. They were students I didn’t know and didn’t want to know. They spun around the room to an old school waltz, perfectly, as though they’d taken ballroom lessons for years and a part of me simmered with both envy and rage that they were given that type of opportunity. To just have all of this at their feet since birth while some of us (me) had to fight tooth and nail to get here.

I really don’t think I’ll be back at RMU after this next semester. I need a less elite kind of university to go to. I wonder if Raven still has eyes for New York. How easy that transition would be, from here to there, to teach at NYU or any of its sister schools. I remind myself to ask her later.

By the time I arrive and park at the campus, I have fifteen minutes to get to class, where my students are already waiting outside of my door for me to unlock and open up. While they settle in I decide to text Damon.

Me: I’ll come with you to visit Whitmore.

Dr. Dick: My last session is at 2 and visiting hours are over at 5.

Me: I won’t get out of here until at least 5:30.

Dr. Dick: Next time.

I darken my screen and focus on my students, bored already, pull down the screen, turn out the lights, and let the interviewed recording of Ted Bundy play.

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