The Way We Feel

Chapter 23

She was going to kill me. That was all I could think as I hurried across the street—this might be my last time rushing across 2nd Avenue. My last time speed walking through the sweltering summer humidity in Manhattan. My last time sweating out of every pore on my body.

One more block to go.

The strap of my bag was digging into my shoulder, and I had the thought that I might never get to read the block of student papers tucked into a folder in said bag. I glanced at my watch, noting that I was now twenty minutes late, and knew that even though I texted her, my death was imminent.

The look on her face when I walked into the cafe said as much, just in case I had any doubt before.

"I'm sorry," I started with, setting my heavy bag down on the chair across from her at the small table she'd chosen by the window. "One of my students asked to speak to me after class, and it took longer than I thought it would."

Emily jutted her chin out, arms crossed over her blue scrubs. "Well, I only have another twenty minutes before I need to get back to work, so." She glanced down at the table, where a muffin was sitting on a plate. "I got you a muffin."

So, I wasn't going to die today.

Unless she poisoned the muffin...

"Thanks," I said as I sat, nudging the dish to the side and taking a deep breath. The cool air in the cafe wrapped around me and stuck to my sweaty skin—a gift after my hustle over from the 6 train. I glanced around. "This place is adorable."

And it was. Wide windows let in lots of light, and there were pastries and baked goods lining the counters behind glass cases next to the register. Everything was mismatched in a whimsical way. No two tables or two chairs were the same. And the dish my muffin was set on was decorated with delicate blue flowers. Emily's, covered now only in crumbs, had a similar floral design, but with pink and yellow flowers instead.

"Told you," she said, glancing around herself. "And the food's incredible. I literally crave their Greek salad every day."

"Why didn't you get it?"

"Well, I was waiting for you to get here," Emily said pointedly. "But I ordered it anyway a few minutes ago. I probably won't have time to finish it, but it's whatever."

She leaned forward, purposefully not meeting my eye. I had to resist the urge to roll mine, and the urge to apologize again.

"You can take the leftovers, no?"

"I won't have time to eat them once I get back, but I'll just save it for later if anything. Don't you want your muffin?"

I eyed said treat with a distinct sense of suspicion. Who knew what kinds of chemicals and drugs she had access to in that hospital?

"I'm definitely gonna order some regular food. So, maybe after." I didn't meet her eye. Just lifted the menu on the table and scanned it, hoping she wouldn't call me out on it.

She didn't. Just leaned forward so that both elbows were on the table and asked, "So, work's good?"

"Yeah," I said, mentally stuck between a BLT and a grilled chicken sandwich. I set my menu down. "It's been really good. The kids just handed in a paper, and one girl, Paola, she's like... one of those students that worries over every little thing, she wanted to talk about her topic, and whether or not this paper had the potential to boost her grade, cause she didn't do so well on the last one."

"And she kept you for an extra twenty minutes? Jesus, even I wasn't that bad," Emily said, sipping her coffee.

And I almost scoffed because, yes, she was that bad. Emily was always the kind of student to constantly check in with the teacher or professor, just to be sure that she was doing every single little thing right to maintain her perfect grade point average. It was just who she'd always been.