Waking In The South

Chapter 1

Steam fogs the glass of my shower as the warm water crawls down my back. It's an invitation to relax. My arms fall limp to my sides and I look up through the skylight in my bathroom. It's almost sundown, and almost 24 hours since my ideal relationship became my nonexistent relationship. It's hard to tell if I'm crying anymore with the shower head now pointed at my face. Maybe it's a good thing though.

I can recall how he turned away when he asked me to leave, like he was right there in front of me now.

I begin to shampoo my hair, fingernails scratching at my scalp and I sigh, trying to hold it all back.

No doubt Ryan had been acting strange these past few weeks. I thought it was stress. Being a professor at St. Simon's was challenging, I could clearly see. His project deadline for the Southern Historian Society was approaching with the end of the Spring semester. And what could I do besides ride his wave of late nights, compulsive editing, and long interviews away from home. It's a lie saying I was comfortable with his recent work habits.

I reach for my bath towel and wrapped it around my body, leaving a trail of water droplets across my small house. I grab my phone and head toward the kitchen. My rumbling stomach is the only reminder that I haven't eaten today, so I fix a small sandwich for dinner.

I unlock my phone, seeing an email notification spring up. Hoping it's from Ryan, I eagerly open the message only to be disappointed. It's only the History department's supervisor. My first year in the P.h.D program has ended nearly a week ago, but it seems I still can't shake school. I huff, and read on.

Dear Team,

It's with regret to inform you of Professor Ryan Lawlen's departure from St. Simon's College. He has been a great asset to our faculty for the past 2 years and will be sorely missed. He has truly been a breath of fresh air to our team. We wish this young professor good luck and success in his future endeavors.

Sincerely,

Dr. Marv Heed

I sit straight up on my chair.

"What? Ryan would never leave," I say out loud. "They would never fire him either though!"

After all, his grandfather is the dean of St. Simon's just like his grandfather before him. Ryan and I even came clean and told his grandfather about us. We knew it was against policy, but we had technically dated in undergrad at Emory.

I shouldn't give him a single thought, but I keep getting flashes of us. That time on the beach when he officially asked me to be his girlfriend. And that time I took him to the hospital for stitches above his left eye. I'd never seen him flinch before then.

Feeling the hot sting in my eyes, I decide to leave my emotions in the kitchen to get changed into pajamas. A silk tank top and matching pants. Going out tonight isn't an option and I knew it. I begin to stare at myself in the bathroom mirror.

"Look at you Emma, you're just the belle of the ball aren't you?," I say to myself.

My red puffy eyes dimmed their hazel color, and my auburn hair was slowly getting lighter as it air dried. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and decided I should get the mail. Tomorrow, the postman would know something was up if he found old mail sitting in my box.

St. Simon was probably the smallest town I've ever lived in, but I love it. Something about everyone knowing each other made me feel at home, like I have family. After my parents left me at two, I was raised by my grandma. She taught me to be resilient and strong. If she was alive, she would be furious with me. All this crying, over a boy. Please.