Flirting with Fifty

“I don’t have one I love. I should see the doctor again, ask if there’s anything new on the market he’d recommend. In the meantime, I try to manage by using lavender and peppermint oils, ice compresses, dark rooms, humidifiers.” She smiled. “It’s a bit ridiculous, but if it helps, I’ll do it.”

There was little traffic and they made good time, reaching the Bean Box just minutes after leaving the university. The coffeehouse was half-empty, and they found a big table in a cool, shadowy corner. Paige chose a chair that put her back to the tinted windows. This was exactly what she needed.

“What do you want?” Jack asked. “I’ll go order for us.”

“Iced coffee with a splash of milk. No sugar.”

“Anything to eat?”

She shook her head. While he was placing the order, she drew her laptop from her bag and opened it up, checking email while waiting for him to return.

Jack carried over the drinks and a small paper bag of miniature scones. “I couldn’t resist,” he said, opening the crisp bag and offering her one. “They’re blueberry with a lemon glaze.”

“Oh, temptation. How did you know I like those?” she asked, reaching for a scone.

“The barista told me. She recognized you.” Jack settled at the table and took his computer from his knapsack. “She also said you were the best math teacher she’d ever had.”

Paige glanced over her shoulder at the blond girl working the register. “Avery. And that’s very sweet of her. She’s quite bright. Just lacks confidence.”

“Like you, hmm?”

Her head jerked up and she looked at Jack. “You can’t use my words against me.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed. “Should we discuss the students we’re worried about? As it turns out, I only have four. The rest are doing well with you, which is helping their grade average.”

Paige finished the miniature scone and clicked on the file, opening her gradebook. Earlier she’d highlighted two students who weren’t doing well with her, but they’d received good scores on their papers. “Doesn’t look like we’re going to lose anyone, does it?”

“I haven’t heard from any students wanting to drop.”

“I did have a student reach out, and he had an appointment for my office hours, but didn’t show. I’ll let you know what comes of that,” she answered.

They discussed the next two weeks of instruction and class expectations. A student from their course stopped by to say hello, but then only wanted to talk to Jack about his TV show and ask about how he’d begun working with the Discovery Channel in the first place. The student said he hoped to have his own show one day, something combining food and travel maybe, a little bit like the late Anthony Bourdain.

Paige listened to the two. Jack was exceptionally warm and encouraging, and the student soaked it all up. When the student finally moved on, she looked at Jack, feeling fresh admiration. “You were really patient with all of his questions.”

“Happy to help.”

“Do you hear that often? About students wanting to follow in your footsteps?”

“Students don’t really want to do what I do—study the biology of bacteria, viruses, and parasites—they just think being on TV is glamorous and exciting.”

“Isn’t it?”

“There are certainly times it’s been good fun. I love being outdoors, turning over rocks, studying fungi, protozoan, and anthropods. I like the adventure that comes with visiting far-off places, but there have been times when I wonder what I’m doing and why I’m risking so much for a TV show that not many people actually watch.”

“They wouldn’t have made a season two or three if you didn’t have decent numbers.” She felt her lips quiver as she fought a smile. “Although to be fair, I’ve read that many of your fans are female and they’re not interested in the science, but in you.”

“They’d be disappointed if they met me. I’m far less interesting in real life.”

“That’s not true. You’re more interesting in real life. At least I think so, because when I watched your season one, I kept wondering how much was scripted, and how much was you, and I realize now, it was you, not the script, that made the show so fascinating.”

The corner of his mouth tugged. “I thought you didn’t like me.”

She felt her face warm. “I never said that.”

“You weren’t happy about teaching with me.”

“I didn’t want to team teach.”

“With me,” he corrected.

“With anyone,” she answered, before adding reluctantly, “And definitely not with you.”

“Why?”

“Oh, come on, Jack, you know why.”

“Because of something that happened thirty years ago?”

Her cheeks burned. “It wasn’t something. It was quite specific.”

“S-e-x.”

“Yes. It’s made everything awkward.”

“It doesn’t have to be. We were practically kids. The world has changed. We have changed. We now have kids older than we were then.”

A very good point, she thought. Not that she’d tell him that. “A lot has happened since then,” she agreed, hesitating. “I take it, then, you don’t remember much of that night.”

“Now, I didn’t say that.”

Her stomach did a somersault, her skin growing sensitive. She glanced over her shoulder. They were thankfully alone. “What do you remember from that night?” she asked, crossing one leg over the other, hands clasped in her lap, feeling the strangest rush of awareness. Him. Her. Who they were. Who they’d become.