stop, I unfolded my knees and shifted a little closer. He smelled of curry, and freshly laundered T-shirt tinged with tears.
After what seemed like a long time, Ryan spoke again, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. “I can’t imagine growing up without my mom. Let alone having her … leave.”
My eyes filled again at the kindness in his voice.
“Are you going to be OK?”
I lifted my face from his shoulder and nodded, blotting the tears with the back of my hand. “Sorry about all the crying,” I added, with a watery smile.
Ryan shook his head. “Don’t be.” He pulled out his phone. “What’s your cell number?”
“I don’t have a cell phone.”
“You don’t have a cell phone? ” He looked aghast.
“I’ve never had one.”
Jess had been as shocked as Ryan to learn I didn’t have a cell phone. During our friendship, I’d asked Andrea if I could get one. Emitting disapproval like static, Andrea told me I was an adult, and could make my own choices if I funded them myself. Before I’d come up with a way to earn the money, my friendship with Jess had ended.
“Geez.” Ryan ran a hand through his hair. “OK, well, I’ve got a modeling gig in the mountains to get to, so we’ll have to arrange things now.”
“Things?”
“That lesson in popular culture I promised you. When are you free?”
I discarded the idea of the weekend, when Andrea would ask where I was going. “Do you have any afternoons off during the week?”
“How about Thursday afternoon?”
Andrea was attending a training program that day. “Thursday suits me.”
“Outside the Humanities building at two?”
Where Andrea’s staff and students might see me meeting a man? “How about on the Library lawns instead?” The Library lawns were behind Fine Arts, invisible even from the top floors of the Humanities building.
“Done.”
We stood up, and Ryan stuffed the jacket into his bag. A few strands of my hair had come loose, so I redid my bun.
“See you next Thursday, Sage,” said Ryan.
Without warning, he leaned forward and touched his lips lightly to my forehead. Then, with the same jaunty movement I’d seen in the studio, he slung his bag over his shoulder and dashed off, flourishing one hand over his head in farewell.
8
Brought to book
I floated back to the office, as disconnected as a runaway balloon. I’d gone on a date. I’d cried in a crowded cafe. I’d told a man my life story, and he’d kissed me. This morning, I wouldn’t have believed such things could happen, and yet here I was, just on the other side of them. I fumbled for my keys, and they felt strange to the touch, like something from another dimension.
The office door swung open.
“Sage,” said Andrea, and I knew at once that she was displeased. “Hilda called.”
Hilda? Then I remembered the meeting. The one Andrea had set up for me at two o’clock. It was now a quarter to three. The balloon burst and plummeted to earth. “When did she call?”
“At 2:02.”
Other staff would have waited until 2:15, but not Hilda. As far as she was concerned, you weren’t on time for a meeting unless you arrived five minutes before it started. “To live in this country is to be frustrated,” she would say. “Everyone arrives two, five, ten minutes late, and by the end of the day you have lost half an hour! It is a disgrace. In Germany we have more respect for people’s time.”
Horror drained through me. Being late for a meeting with Hilda was a serious offense. Forgetting one altogether was dire. “I’m really sorry. I was … I was doing research in the library and lost track of time.”
“Why are you telling me this, Sage?”
I blanched. “Sorry. I’ll ring Hilda.” I slunk to my desk chair and turned on my computer.
“Now would be a good time,” Andrea said pointedly.
“Yes, I know, I was just …” Just hoping I could make the call when you’re not in the room .
Andrea gave an exasperated sigh. “How old are you,
After what seemed like a long time, Ryan spoke again, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. “I can’t imagine growing up without my mom. Let alone having her … leave.”
My eyes filled again at the kindness in his voice.
“Are you going to be OK?”
I lifted my face from his shoulder and nodded, blotting the tears with the back of my hand. “Sorry about all the crying,” I added, with a watery smile.
Ryan shook his head. “Don’t be.” He pulled out his phone. “What’s your cell number?”
“I don’t have a cell phone.”
“You don’t have a cell phone? ” He looked aghast.
“I’ve never had one.”
Jess had been as shocked as Ryan to learn I didn’t have a cell phone. During our friendship, I’d asked Andrea if I could get one. Emitting disapproval like static, Andrea told me I was an adult, and could make my own choices if I funded them myself. Before I’d come up with a way to earn the money, my friendship with Jess had ended.
“Geez.” Ryan ran a hand through his hair. “OK, well, I’ve got a modeling gig in the mountains to get to, so we’ll have to arrange things now.”
“Things?”
“That lesson in popular culture I promised you. When are you free?”
I discarded the idea of the weekend, when Andrea would ask where I was going. “Do you have any afternoons off during the week?”
“How about Thursday afternoon?”
Andrea was attending a training program that day. “Thursday suits me.”
“Outside the Humanities building at two?”
Where Andrea’s staff and students might see me meeting a man? “How about on the Library lawns instead?” The Library lawns were behind Fine Arts, invisible even from the top floors of the Humanities building.
“Done.”
We stood up, and Ryan stuffed the jacket into his bag. A few strands of my hair had come loose, so I redid my bun.
“See you next Thursday, Sage,” said Ryan.
Without warning, he leaned forward and touched his lips lightly to my forehead. Then, with the same jaunty movement I’d seen in the studio, he slung his bag over his shoulder and dashed off, flourishing one hand over his head in farewell.
8
Brought to book
I floated back to the office, as disconnected as a runaway balloon. I’d gone on a date. I’d cried in a crowded cafe. I’d told a man my life story, and he’d kissed me. This morning, I wouldn’t have believed such things could happen, and yet here I was, just on the other side of them. I fumbled for my keys, and they felt strange to the touch, like something from another dimension.
The office door swung open.
“Sage,” said Andrea, and I knew at once that she was displeased. “Hilda called.”
Hilda? Then I remembered the meeting. The one Andrea had set up for me at two o’clock. It was now a quarter to three. The balloon burst and plummeted to earth. “When did she call?”
“At 2:02.”
Other staff would have waited until 2:15, but not Hilda. As far as she was concerned, you weren’t on time for a meeting unless you arrived five minutes before it started. “To live in this country is to be frustrated,” she would say. “Everyone arrives two, five, ten minutes late, and by the end of the day you have lost half an hour! It is a disgrace. In Germany we have more respect for people’s time.”
Horror drained through me. Being late for a meeting with Hilda was a serious offense. Forgetting one altogether was dire. “I’m really sorry. I was … I was doing research in the library and lost track of time.”
“Why are you telling me this, Sage?”
I blanched. “Sorry. I’ll ring Hilda.” I slunk to my desk chair and turned on my computer.
“Now would be a good time,” Andrea said pointedly.
“Yes, I know, I was just …” Just hoping I could make the call when you’re not in the room .
Andrea gave an exasperated sigh. “How old are you,
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