stand very quietly in a corner, content that I can breathe.
― Franz Kafka
Jana
When my alarm rang Monday morning I awoke in a state of deep anxiety. Part of me was longing to go back to the College and resume life where I had left off―but another part was terrified I'd return and not fit in.
It was an identity crisis. I was at at war with myself and at odds with nearly every other woman in my life, not to mention, burdened with past sins.
Was such a man fit to teach, let alone to live?
Disgust... The word floated up from the depths of my Id to flutter before me as a ragged flag of defeat. Elaine was right. I was a part-time writer and failed human being.
I had no business asking Quinn's forgiveness. I hurt her once and most likely would fail her again.
I wanted to bury myself in a bottomless world of sleep and pray everyone would go away, but I was desperate, intent on making amends.
I went through the motions of showering and dressing―shaving closely, blow-drying my longish shaggy hair wishing I had gotten a trim but then again, the slightly disheveled look might help me fit in.
I settled on jeans, a blue checked shirt and a Harris Tweed sports coat with leather elbow patches, but passed on boots and wore shoes as a subtle gesture towards professionalism. I struggled but finally by-passed the leather tooled briefcase for the old scuffed bag that got me through graduate school.
On the way out, I caught my reflection in the hall mirror, charmingly grunge and chic, not unlike my alter ego―the man I wanted to be, flawed but forgiven small mistakes.
Would it were so, I mused as I grabbed a coffee and bagel at the local Tim Horton's and consumed them on the way into work.
"Liam Walker!" a male voice called out. "Oh my God, I don't believe it―I heard rumours you were coming back."
I turned to see Ben Cox exiting a sliver Lexus in the College parking lot. Ben and I were friends in graduate school but we lost touch when I left.
"Hey, Ben!" I smiled, grabbing his hand, "Yeah, it's all true. Being famous is no fun and you know me, I'm a bear for punishment."
"Why you noble dog―you escaped Plato's Cave and have returned to rescue the rest of us."
"Nothing so high-minded, I'm afraid―writing is very isolating. I decided I needed community."
He laughed. "Well then, you came at the right time. I'm a little short of friends right now. Won't you be my neighbour?"
Hey neighbour," I smiled, clapping him on the back, falling in stride on the path to the faculty lounge.
We passed a group of female students gathered outside the hall who went silent as we approached but one girl in particular, a blonde, flashed me a seductive smile.
"You've still got the magic," Ben chuckled when we were safely out of ear-shot. "That girl is Jana McPherson―she's in your first lecture. Lucky you. That girl is a real looker―smart too."
"Can't be that smart," I deadpanned. "I've got a least 15 years on her."
"Older man, younger woman? It still works for them. Just charm them with your savoir faire, but I should warn you―she's a 21st century feminist so on the issue of woman's rights, tread easy."
"I'll take that under advisement," I winked, but inside, my guts were churning.
I didn't need complications and no macho throwbacks akin to Elvis' A Little Less Conversation.
No, what I needed was a respite from desire, not to be engulfed in the flames of it.