Page 7 of Daddy's Muse
Still… I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was paying a little too much attention to me lately, like someone was always just out of sight. I hadn’t mentioned it to anyone because what would I even say? More than that, I guess, is who I would mention it to. I didn’t have anyone. Sure, I had Mae, but I didn’t want her to think I was going crazy and fire me. I had my tutoring clients, but those weren’t relationships where I could just come out and say that I feel like something’s alwayswatching me. They’d probably find another tutorandpossibly report me to the school.
I didn’t want to even think about the consequences of the university finding me mentally unstable. I couldn’t afford to waste my time in mandatory counseling or whatever. Not that counseling is a waste of time! Honestly, I probably did need it, but it would cut into my work hours, and I was already barely surviving as it was. If I lost a few hours of wages each week, that would probably be the end of me.
I shook my head and forced a breath out through my nose, rubbing my temples. I didn’t have time to entertain weird trains of thought. The breakfast crowd would soon be in full swing, and I still needed to refill the sugar caddies and double-check the condiments.
Work kept my hands busy, at least. And when my hands were busy, my thoughts stayed quieter.
If I could just make it through the day without messing anything else up, that’d be enough.
3
Colby
The large auditorium-style classroom buzzed softly with the rustle of notebook pages and the low tap of laptop keys. I sat near the front, as I always did, my fingers curled around my favorite pen. I’d found it in the clearance section. The pen itself was just white, but it had a little chubby bunny sitting at the top. I had to press down on the bunny’s ears to click the pen. It came in a pack with some other animals, but bunnies were my favorite; therefore, the bunny pen was the best. The cat one came in second place, though.
My eyes locked on the slides being projected at the front of the room. It was a course on ancient civilizations, one of my electives that had absolutely nothing to do with my zoology major, but I’d fallen in love with it almost immediately. The professor, Dr. Stratfield, had a passion for the material that wascontagious and made class fun. Even though I was running on fumes, I soaked up every word.
If you’d told me two years ago that I’d be attending a real university, I would’ve laughed—or cried. Probably both. I was the first person in my family to attend college, and it wouldn’t have been possible without my scholarship. I still felt out of place sometimes, with my discount clothes and ratty old book bag, and the need to rush to work right after class, butI was here.I had earned this. I tried to remind myself of that often.
As Dr. Stratfield discussed the daily lives of ancient Athenian citizens, I scribbled a note in the margin of my notebook to try to find a documentary on the topic later.
My textbooks were all secondhand; some of them were held together with tape, but they were mine. Well, some of them at least; two of them I was renting. Every line I read was one more piece of knowledge I hadn’t had before. I loved that. I loved learning. I loved knowing.
When the lecture ended and the students around me began packing up, I stayed in my seat to finish jotting down a few last notes.
“Colby? Could I have a word?”
I looked up quickly. Dr. Stratfield had stepped down from the podium and was standing right in front of me, her smile warm but focused.
“Of course,” I said, a little breathless, already clutching my notebook to my chest. Hopefully, I hadn’t made a mistake on my last assignment.
She waited until the room had emptied out before continuing. “I’ve been watching your performance so far this semester. Your essays, your participation—frankly, you’re one of the best students I’ve had in years. The majority of students who take this course are only interested in doing the bare minimum to satisfy their elective requirements. But you’re always tuned in,always asking questions. It’s honestly hard to teach when no one gives a shit about what I’m saying. So firstly, I wanted to thank you for that. Secondly, I was wondering if you would be at all interested in academic research?”
My heart stumbled. “Oh! I mean… yes. I think so? I’ve never really had the chance to do any. And um… I’m glad you see me as a good student. I love your class, Professor.”
She smiled, a proud look on her face. “Well, it just so happens that an opportunity’s opened up on a volunteer basis to assist me with compiling sources for a project I’m heading. It wouldn’t be paid, unfortunately, but it would give you valuable experience, and I could offer a strong recommendation letter down the line.”
I blinked. “I… Yes! Absolutely. I’d love to!”
She nodded, satisfied. “I thought you’d say that. But, Colby—” her tone softened, “—I happened to hear from one of your other professors that you’re working two jobs in addition to a full course load. I’m sorry for butting my head in, but you’re such a bright student that it would really be a loss to our community if you burn yourself out. The reason why I’m even bringing that up is that I wouldn’t be able to accept you for the volunteer position knowing that you can’t give enough of your time to it.”
“Oh… I can’t really afford not to work,” I said quietly, mortified that apparently my professors knew how much I’d been struggling. I didn’t remember telling any of them about it. Maybe I had mentioned it in passing?
“Just think about it,” she said, not pushing, but obviously wanting a particular response from me. “Let me know by next Monday. And maybe talk to financial aid about some options, okay?”
I nodded slowly, still clutching my notebook like a lifeline. I had already checked with the financial aid office several times, but I guess she didn’t know that. The school was already covering a generous portion of my costs. It just wasn’t enough.
I left the room, speed walking to the nearest restroom in the Arts & History building. I breathed a small sigh of relief upon seeing it devoid of students. I entered one of the stalls, closing the door behind me with a squeak.
As I sat on the toilet seat, hugging my backpack to my chest, I tried to find a way forward mentally.
When ten minutes had already passed without my brain supplying any possible solutions, I decided to table the issue until after my evening shift at Mae’s. I crossed my fingers that there would end up being a leftover pie slice at the end of the night. Mae almost always sent me home with leftovers. I think it was her way of helping me since she couldn’t afford to raise my hourly wages.
Stepping out of the stall, I glanced at my tired-looking reflection in the mirror.Blah.I looked awful. I lightly pressed my fingers against the dark blueish circles under my eyes. My skin seemed practically translucent in the dim bathroom lighting. I tried smiling, but that didn’t help much. Oh well, it wasn’t like Mae paid me for my looks.
Outside, the evening air was cool, temperatures falling as the sun slowly began to set. I slipped on the hoodie that I’d kept in my bag and started the walk towards the diner. It was only a few blocks away.
The sidewalks were mostly empty this time of day, but they would soon fill up as the sky darkened.
