Page 27 of Madam, May I

“Prescription,” he said, easing them back in place over his eyes.

Atop the dining room table were school supplies. Notebooks, pens, and highlighters. Even tape, thumbtacks, and index cards. “I thought the view was so nice we could work right here,” she said. “I hope I have everything we need.”

He chuckled. It was deep. “More than enough,” he said, removing his backpack.

Desdemona noticed him eye the chair by which she stood and then looked back up at her. She realized he was waiting for her to be seated first. She pulled the padded club chair back and took a seat before waving her hand at the chair before him to do the same.

“Is it a problem that I’m not a woman?” he asked, unzipping his book bag and removing a large and thick workbook.

“No, it just surprised me,” she admitted.

“Do you want to do the tutoring in a more public place?” he asked, as he looked inside his book bag and removed a case of pencils.

Desdemona rose and walked across the dining room and living room to the hall leading to her bedroom. She removed her baton and her wallet from her bag, heading back to the dining room table to set both on the table with an arched brow. “No,” she said definitively as he eyed it.

He visibly swallowed over a lump in his throat.

She reclaimed her seat and set her chin in her hand as she placed her elbow atop the table.

“Okay, so I am a teaching assistant while I am studying for my PhD in creative writing,” he said, tapping the eraser end of a pencil atop the workbook. “I have been a tutor since undergrad, and my hourly rate is twenty-five dollars. I’m only available when I’m not in class or teaching.”

Desdemona reached out and clutched his hand to stop the drumming.

“Nervous habit,” he explained, easing his hand from under hers.

“Why are you nervous?” she asked, watching him pull his iPhone from his back pocket.

“No reason,” he said. “I always have a lot of energy.”

Desdemona remained quiet.

“The areas of study you will be tested on are mathematics, reading, writing, science, and social studies,” he said, looking at her through his glasses. “To gauge which areas we need to focus on and just how much time you will need before you try for your GED, I have an assessment test for you to take.”

She nodded.

He rose and set a booklet in front of her with a sharpened pencil. “What’s the last grade you completed, Ms. Smith?” he asked.

“I heard you selling ass at night. Can I get a freebie?”

Desdemona closed her eyes at the memory of being teased at school when word spread that she was tricking. The day she walked into English class and felt the stares and giggles of her classmates before she took her seat and finally saw the cause for their amusement on the chalkboard. “Desdemona’s price list. Blow job $10,” she had read as her heart pounded hard and fast, and her stomach was tight with embarrassment. There were most tricks listed. More humiliation.

The laughter had burst and filled the room. Slurs and insults had been hurled at her.

Desdemona had jumped to her feet and run from their laughter—their lack of understanding that she did what she had to do to survive. She had pushed past her teacher entering the classroom and raced down the hall at full speed with her tears racing down her cheeks even faster.

She never returned to school again.

Desdemona closed her eyes against a wave of pain that hate still breathed inside of her. “Uhm, I dropped out in the tenth grade,” she said, forcing a smile and opening her eyes.

Push through, Desi. Push through.

“Okay, so, here’s the test,” Loren said, setting a workbook, a sharpened pencil, and a notepad in front of her. “You have two hours to complete all sections. Do not open the test until I say to begin.”

She eyed him as he walked to the opposite end of the table and took a seat. “So, this test will cost me fifty dollars?” she asked.

He looked around the grand apartment and then back at her with a twinkle in his eyes. “Is there an economic hardship?” he mused, biting away a smile.

Dimples. Two of them. Deep.

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