The Professor

Part 2 - Chapter Fifty-Three

It's been two weeks since the devastating news of our--the--baby and Dean has spent every day blowing up my phone. I blocked him to give him the message I didn't want to talk to him and then he started to reach out by email. 

I close my phone screen once it lights up with another notification of an email from him and I try to put my focus back on my math homework. My grades have started to slip since all this started and for the past week, i've been living in a slow hell daily by going to class and not talking to anyone. Sometimes I don't know what's worse: not telling anyone what happened, or not having anyone to tell at all.

There's a knock on the door to the back porch and my mother steps out with a tray in her hands. I briefly glance up at her but then turn my focus back on my homework.

"Tea?" She asks.

I nod my head.

My mother sits in the empty seat beside me and sits the tray on the foot rest. She's quiet as she pours me a cup and hands out to me before making her own. 

The sound of sea gulls and beach waves mix in the air to create a peace tranquility this afternoon. There's hardly anyone on the beach and there's something about looking out to vacant sand that eases me. It's what I love about coming home. The back porch has always been my favorite room in the house.

I've been coming home the last few weekends now and I can tell my mother notices how depressed I am. She studies me without verbally expressing her concern--which i'm thankful for--but being under her watchful gaze is still enough to trigger me and right now, my line is about to break.

"What are you working on?" She asks to make conversation.

I huff and write the answer to the question I was working on. "Math."

"Math when you're an English major?"

"Mhm."

"Well that seems like a waste of time, don't you think?" Again with the trying to make conversation.

I don't respond as I flip the page over. I can still feel her eyes watching me.

My phone vibrates again on the table in between the chairs and we both look at it. It's another email from Dean and i'm quick to close the screen when I recognize his name. My mother watches me as I go back to doing my homework and I can feel the questions rolling in her mind. It's only a matter of seconds before she decides to inquire about it.

"What was that?" She presses.

"Nothing."

She pauses. Her fingers tap on her tea glass. "Honey, can I ask you a question?"

I huff and then close my packet. There's not escaping her and if I know my mother, as long as I give her an answer, wether it be true or false, she'll leave me alone.

"Go ahead." 

She bites her bottom lip and cocks her head to the side slightly. "Is everything alright?"

I almost want to laugh out loud.

Is everything alright? Yes, mom. I slept with my college professor multiple times, got pregnant by him, and then lost the baby. Everything is super, just how college should be.

"Yes. I'm just... homesick."

"Oh, honey," my mother leans out to touch my arm. "Why didn't you tell me? How long has this been going on?"

"A while."

My mother sits up in her seat and scoots closer to me. She sits her tea glass on the tray and takes my hands in hers. "It will get better, sweetie. This is only the first semester. Are you not enjoying it with your friends?"

Another word that makes me want to laugh. 

I take a deep breath and try to play more into the "problem" i've created over the real one as best as I can. "No, not really."

My mother clicks her tongue. "I'm sorry dear. Truly, I am. I know how much you were looking forward to this and how hard you worked to get here."

I nod and think about that too. All that hard work I put into my school over my friends. All the dedication to get straight A's and a perfect GPA and being the Valedictorian instead of having fun like a normal high school teenager. All of that for this: a very very unhappy first year that isn't even halfway over yet.

I sit up straighter in my chair and tentatively think over the idea that just popped into my head. My mother notices the look on my face and grows a concerning one on hers. "Claire?" She asks.

"I know what I want to do," I say. Her eyebrows scrunch together even more. I can tell she has no idea what i'm talking about.

"What is that?"

"I want to transfer schools."