Page 120 of Love, Academically
“We will talk at some point,” she said, because she did want to hear what he had to say, but not right now. He looked up at her like a little puppy, wide-eyed and hopeful. “But it will be on my terms and when I want to.”
“Yes, yes of course. Whatever you need, whatever you want,” he said, shuffling forwards slightly. She matched him shuffle for shuffle, because the last thing she wanted was for him to touch her right now. He must have got the point, because he took a step back. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, well,” she mumbled.
Putting her headphones back in so she wouldn’t be tempted to talk to him anymore, Lila kept her eyes facing forward because if she looked back, she would crumble. He looked so desperate, so alone and her deep-seated desire to make everything all right reared its ugly head.
Instead, she hot-footed it back to her office and sat down behind her desk, busying herself with work. There was more than enough work that she could throw herself into, setting right all the stuff that had gone undone under her predecessor.
Her phone rang, interrupting her podcast.
“Just checking in, you okay?” Jasmeet rushed out. “I’m on lunch, can’t be long.”
“Yes, all fine thanks,” she said to the most wonderful best friend in the world.
What had she done to deserve such a good friend? Yeah, there were times when Jasmeet could be self-centred and dismissive, but couldn’t everyone when they had stuff going on? Hadn’t she been when Jas had that stuff going on at school? The main thing was she was right there when Lila needed her, holding her whilst she cried.
“Do you need me tonight, because I really have to do some washing,” Jasmeet said.
“No, I’m good, Jas. Thank you so much, I really appreciate it.”
“That’s what best friends do, Lila!”
“Quickly, how’s your Headteacher? I’m sorry I haven’t asked, I’ve been…” How had she been? A bit crap, really.
“Lila, don’t worry. I get it,” Jasmeet said softly. “You know that meeting? I got my union rep to come and she ripped the Head a new one. I’m getting another teaching assistant, and the Head has taken a personal interest in Devil Child.”
“Excellent! That’s really good, Jas,” Lila said.
“Okay, got to go. Love you!”
“Love you too.”
Lila started to type out an ‘of course, whatever you need’ message but stopped herself.
Actually, no.
She’d sent it before she thought. Christ, was it too late to delete it? Yes, the three dots were flashing that Maddy was typing.
Shit.
Rhys
It had been just over two weeks.
Rhys had taken to finishing at six, because he didn’t want to run into Lila. Well, of course he did want to run into Lila,because he desperately wanted to see her and check that she was doing okay. He didn’t because she said they’d talk on her terms and he didn’t want to bulldoze her. He settled for bringing the biggest, brightest flowers in for her office every day. Even though he wasn’t sure whether that was a bit creepy, he did it anyway. The florist had suggested big, fat orange roses for today because she was out of proteas.
The email from the Fellowship had come through confirming his attendance at the pre-interview day dinner the evening before, and there was a personal message from Professor Painter.
Huh, that was different. They were actuallyimpressedby the blue moustache stunt. Apparently, it showed that he ‘didn’t take himself too seriously’, that there was ‘some joy in him’ as well as a hard-nosed passion for Henry II. They were ‘looking forward to seeing him and introducing him around’.
This was the dream. The thing was, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to go. There was so much more he wanted to do and the Fellowship was no longer the be all and end all. Fuck, he didn’t even know if he wanted to apply to it at all. It was a stuffy, elitist club that reminded him of his father and his cronies. Did he want it because it was tangible, physical proof of his success that he could wave in his father’s face and say ‘SEE!’? Or did he want it for himself?
He was obviously still in the running for the Fellowship, but he couldn’t bring himself to be excited about it. He’d never get through the interview stage, his body of work just wasn’t big enough. So why was he putting himself through it? Rhys sat and typed out a withdrawal, apologising for wasting everyone’s time, and said he would reapply in a few years’ time, when he had more publications and perhaps even a book. Rhys smiled. What a load lifted from his shoulders. He didn’t realise how much that had been weighing on him until it was gone.
Ah. That wasn’treallyfrom his mother. That was his father trying to sound out what had happened with the interview. How his father knew absolutely everything he would never figure out. Perhaps he had some kind of corporate ‘fixer’. But why would his father even bother wasting his time on that? Just to prove to himself that Rhys was some kind of loser, unable to make it in academia and therefore needing his help to be successful in life. God, what a pathetic little man his father was sometimes.
Fuck this shit. He was going to deal with this once and for all.
