“Miss Beesly,” she hated being called that “Would you mind staying after class?”
She bit her lip nervously, she knew she had to make it to the other campus to meet Jim, and she was not about to let that slip away today, but she also didn’t know if she’d already screwed something up on day one, and thoughts of her art career going out the window started to cloud her brain.
“Sure,” the word fumbled out of her mouth, “I can for a lit-”
“Great,” her professor smiled at her and moved on to the next student’s piece, studying it for only a moment before continuing on. Pam sighed, her head falling just slightly as she looked at her watch, there was only a few moments until it struck six, and she needed to be out of her by 6:10 if she was going to meet Jim on time, she felt the room suddenly become very hot, and sweat beads lined her neck. I hope I didn’t fuck this up she bit the side of her nail nervously, and waited, the stool beneath her suddenly becoming very uncomfortable.
The cup of tea in his hands was turning lukewarm quickly, and he sighed, placing his hand on his forehead. He continued to look at his watch, it was close to seven and she still hadn’t shown.
“I’m an idiot,” he mumbled to himself, watching the throngs of students pass by him in the student center headed presumably off to dinner, or to get ready for a party he knew he’d never have a desire to go to. He must have looked pathetic with the other tea sitting across from him at the table, untouched, now cold, and the metal chair beside it even colder.
“James Halpert?” a voice he recognized so easily caught him off guard as he made eye contact with her. He hadn’t noticed her before, his eyes only on the beautiful curly haired girl across the hall, but he suddenly remembered the voice being present from further down the hall. Her tan skin, even more brown from the summer she undoubtedly spent on her parents sailboat, sipping champagne and drowning her parents in stories of her time at school, and how things were just going so great. He swallowed a nervous lump in his throat, and sat up a little straighter.
“Hey Karen, how’s it going?” he was sure he heard his voice break at the end of his sentence, and that she could smell his fear like a dog.
She quickly took the seat in front of him, pushing the tea away from the center of the table, and smiled warmly at him.
“I could have sworn that was you the other day, but you look so different without your glasses” she said with a laugh.
“What is going on with that hair?”
He brushed his bangs out of his eyes, and sipped his tea, he was right, stone cold.
“Ah you know, school’s over, and I’m here now, so, going au natural”
She shook her head, “You look homeless, Halpert,” she reached her hand across the table, and ran her long fingers through his bangs pushing them atop his head, it would only be a moment or two before they fell back into his eyes.
“There he is,” there was that smile again.
“What are you doing over here all by yourself anyway?”
He really didn’t want to sound pathetic in front of her, not again. He’d done enough of looking like a fool in front of her for four years of high school. Four years he’d like to never go back to again. Frankly the idea of even stepping foot back in Connecticut put shivers down his spine. Vermont was so much easier. Everyone here was so relaxed, so themselves and he thought he’d escaped this part of his past he had no desire to relive. Especially not his past with Karen Fillipelli.
“Have you eaten?” He glanced down at his watch, it was far past seven, she wasn’t showing. He shook his head no, both in frustration of his stupidity to think that she’d actually meet him for coffee, a complete stranger, who he’d undoubtedly run into now constantly, since she lived across the hall, and would have to face sheepishly every time he saw her. A rejection, every, single, time.
“Come on, let’s go grab some dinner in Central and catch up,” she placed her hand atop his closed fist on the table, running her thumb along his knuckles. It felt so familiar, so comfortable, and at the same time made bile creep into his throat.
Without a word he stood up, grabbed his leather messenger bag and threw it over his shoulder. She slipped an arm through his, as he grabbed his styrofoam cup and threw it away, before he could reach for the other, she’d gently pulled him down the hall. He glanced back at the cup quickly, before her voice brought him back to her.
“I know you spent the summer in Scotland,” she beamed at him, “tell me everything.
He tried to let the sigh that escaped his lips go unnoticed, and in typical Karen fashion, she didn’t. She rambled on about Croatia and how beautiful it was on the waters. How she’d gone snorkeling off the side of their boat, and how she just couldn’t believe they’d both ended up at UVM, and somehow it had to be fate.
His thoughts drifted, the only thing he could think of was her face. The freckles on her nose, the tiny smile she gave him when he showed up at her door that morning, and he tried to push away his frustration that she blew him off. What had he done that made her change her mind so quickly? His agitation grew as he thought about all his desires to leave his past behind him, his parents' wealth behind him, and just be Jim. Not James, not the son of a world-class renowned neurosurgeon, not the basketball captain, just Jim. The Jim who taught himself how to play guitar this past summer, the one who drowned himself in books from the library whenever he could, the Jim who was most certainly going to drop the pre-med major as quickly as possible. And more importantly, the Jim who wanted nothing more to do with girls like Karen.
“Pam, this is amazing” her instructor ran her fingers over the long lines of Pam’s work, and studied it quietly.
“Listen,” she started, Pam uncomfortably shifted herself on her stool, she’d already been held after class twenty minutes, “there’s an art show coming up, now, typically, we don’t invite freshman to participate, but your work is just so honest, and I am interested to see what else you’ve got,” her professor smiled, and moved to the side of the art room bringing another sheet of drawing paper over to Pam.
“I want a self portrait, just as you see yourself, whatever that is.” She paused, “Draw that, and if I think it’s got some potential, well, you may just find yourself in that art show next month,” Pam paused, her mouth slightly agape. She knew Jim was waiting for her, but this opportunity may not present itself again for a while, if ever, if she pissed off her first professor, who also happened to be the department chair as it turned out. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, her fingers lingering across her cheeks, as she sighed,
“I’ll do it,” she said quietly, and picked up a pencil, turning attention to her teacher, who’d now placed herself on a stool in the center of the room, her eyes focused on Pam, waiting for her to begin.
“I’m an idiot,” she mumbled to herself quietly, her face hidden by the large easel and paper in front of her, and started moving lines across the page. Jagged, rough, frustrated lines.
