“Sort of,” I said. “I’m studying to be one. Well, maybe. I’m not sure yet.”
Clarissa looked up at her father quizzically. “You have to go to school to be a writer?”
“Sometimes, baby. Not always.”
She curled her face up. “Makes no sense.” Clarissa then proceeded to press her face into the crook of her father’s neck, yawing wide. “I’m tired. I don’t want to play anymore.”
“Let’s get you washed up, baby. It’s way past your bedtime.” Chuck then faced me and whispered, “Sorry. They gave her candy at daycare today. She’s been knocking on everybody’s doors. I told them sugar makes her hyperactive, but I think they must have forgotten or something.”
I shook my head and grinned. “That’s alright. At least I got to run into you again.”
Mentally, I was kicking myself. The kid wasn’t even asleep yet and I was already trying to put the moves on her father. What was wrong with me? Surely I had more self-control than that. Why was it that when I saw Chuck, strong arms wrapped around his kid like a protective papa bear, that my heart just had to swoon? Chuck had made himself pretty damn clear that he wasn’t interested, so I was better off shoving my foot in my mouth.
Chuck didn’t seem upset about my casual pass, however. Instead, he chuckled softly. “Small world, right? I have to admit I do feel a little better now.”
“Why?”
“My immediate neighbors are a little scary looking. Not really the friendly, chatty type as it turns out. Clarissa bringing home a pretty girl like you is a breath of fresh air.”
I blinked and then blinked again, reminding myself that breathing was important for survival. Had I heard that right? Did Chuck just call me pretty? Was he seriously flirting with me, or was I just imagining things? Was I reading into what he said too intensely? What the actual hell was I supposed to do with a comment like that?
“I should get going,” I blurted. “Have a good night.”
“Goodnight, Lara,” he said calmly.
I’d already turned on my heels to leave, more than aware of how red in the face I was. What the hell was that? First I invited him to dinner only to be rejected, and now he was outwardly flirting with me? This hot and cold nonsense was really throwing me through a loop.
4
Chuck
I somehow made it to another Wednesday, which meant I needed to return to Ramen Books to set up for the second week on my writing workshop. I’d dropped Clarissa off at the daycare center earlier that day –and made it very clear she was not to have any sugary treats before dinner– so I had almost an hour of free time to spend preparing for class. I’d spent the previous night going over everybody’s writing entries. For the most part, they were passable. A lot of my students suffered from grammatical misuse and errors, but I knew that it was the effort that counted. A few of the assignments were quite memorable, providing character backstories that took place in Atlantis, in a galaxy far, far away, or even up in the clouds within a hidden kingdom in the sky. I’d had a good laugh when I came across the entry that explained one of my students was actually from a long line of famous murder clowns, but wanted instead to pursue a career in the literary industry –much to their family’s dismay.
Lara’s piece was the one that stood out to me the most. She’d written about one of the nerdy boys in the front row, the one with the bright red hair and green eyes. What made her work unique was that she didn’t just write in the past tense, but past tense far into the future. She imagined his entire life for him, set entirely against a life out on the sea. He’d apparently go on to cleanse the oceans of all its filth and pollution. In her story, the boy would become a friend to the fish people, fighting for their rights and wellbeing at every turn. He’d eventually set up a floating island where he could live in peace, ruling over the oceans and representing them like any other nation at world conferences. He’d become an important figure in the political realm and an inspiration to millions around the world. There was no denying that Lara had talent, and I was extremely eager to see what she’d come up with next.
When I pushed against the front door of Ramen Books, little bell jingling above my head, a small sense of disappointment filled my chest when I saw that she was nowhere in sight. Standing behind the cash register was Alistair, the store’s owner with whom I’d spoken with over the phone to organize the workshop. He had a hunched back and leaned heavily on a wooden cane, a few degrees off from tipping over entirely. Alistair’s head was completely bald, polished to a point where it was almost blinding to look at. He had bushy grey eyebrows and a few wiry chin hairs, accompanied with a messy bushel of nose hairs sticking out of each of his nostrils. He had kind eyes, though, the corners of which were wrinkled with time. His lips were thin, two lines pressed together into a warm smile, and the skin of his brow and cheeks were sagging. It really looked like gravity wanted a piece of him.
Alistair looked up to me and nodded slowly in greeting. “Welcome back,” he chuckled, words raspy. “I heard you had quite the turnout last week.”
“It was a lot of fun,” I answered. “Hopefully everyone makes it today.”
“I’m sure they will. Lara’s been going on and on about how great you are as an instructor.”
My ears perked up at the mention of Lara’s name. “She was talking about me?”
“Oh, yes. She’s not normally a very chatty person, but whenever you’d come up in conversation she’d–”
“What are you two talking about?” Lara asked, rounding the corner with a few foldable plastic chairs tucked under both her arms. When she caught sight of me, she quickly looked away, cheeks turning the lightest shade of pink.
I made my way over to her and took a few of the chairs. “Here, let me help.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ve got this.”
“I insist.”
“They’re not even heavy,” she continued. “Let me set up while you prepare.”
“There’s really not a lot I need to do. Come on, let me help out.”