little holiday party within the History and Lit departments. He said he was avoiding it.
I knocked lightly on his door and he didn’t answer. It was locked. Weird.
I sent him a text and he didn’t reply. This too was odd.
After about fifteen minutes the door opens and I stand smiling at him. He is turned facing in his office and he is tucking in his shirt.
I hear a female voice, “I’m gonna miss our office fucks, Professor Owen.”
Mortified I turn quickly and hear him say, “There’s always break and next semester. I can’t get enough of you. Never could, you know that.”
I make my way around the corner and slide into the faculty bathroom.
The pressure on my heart pushes out a quiet sob and quickly I cover my mouth.
I walk into one of the stalls to grab toilet paper to wipe the damn tears away, and hear the door open. Quietly I close the door and I hear a woman humming. I immediately wonder if it’s the woman from his office. I crouch on the toilet seat so I am not seen.
I hear heels click on the marbled floor and the door to the stall next to me closes.
I don’t have to wonder long if she’s the one Owen was with, “Men,” she mumbles, “Such stupid creatures.”
I see black heels, about four inches and black stockings with a line up the side.
‘ Women ,’ I think to myself, ‘ Such stupid fucking whores .’
****
Once inside my dorm I get a text from him, saying he has that poetry slam tonight with the faculty. He asks if I can stop over later, because he is already missing me.
Fuck you, I type and delete. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! I try to push send but I can’t.
Why would he ask me to come to his office, then send me this message? What the hell was wrong with him!
I stopped by your office as requested via email.
Send.
He replied.
- I didn’t send you an e-mail Katherine.
Apparently you did
Send.
He replied.
- What time?
Half an hour ago.
Send.
He replied.
- I wasn’t there. Sorry. I have no idea, must have been something I left in my draft messages. I should delete those. Sorry Katherine.
Sorry Katherine? Sorry Katherine!
He sends me another text.
- I love you Katherine. We’ll chat tonight. Phones dying. I’m going to charge it now. See you tonight, my love.
****
“Are you going to behave?” Cecilia laughs.
I cross my fingers and put them behind my back, “Yes.”
“Are you sure you want to go to that place again? I mean what if they recognize you?”
“You think there’s a wanted poster hanging up in the post office, ‘Wanted, the Clapper’?” I smile.
It’s not fake or forced either. I actually love these girls. Like real love, the kind that doesn’t kill you, or make you wish you were dead.
****
When we walk in there is no line, I timed it perfectly, without even trying. Huh, works for me.
We sit near the stage and I focus my attention forward, although I can feel his eyes on me. He doesn’t get a glance. He gets nothing except the closure he so begged for that was wrapped in a pretty little lie of a promise.
They ask if anyone has anything before they give the stage over to tonight’s scheduled poetry slam.
I stand and hear Cecilia gasp in shock and Josie mumble, she’s gonna get us stoned.
I don’t wait for an invitation I simply walk up and stand at the mic. I look at Josie and smile. She seems relieved, maybe she has come to the conclusion there will be no ‘stoning’ since the old Harvard faculty was here.
“I am Kat and this is titled 'Closure'.” I briefly glance to Owen, who is looking at me speculatively. Next to him professor Trammel seems to be standing a little too close to him, it seems to make him uncomfortable. I look down and immediately recognize the shoes, the stockings, the fucking whore.
“Come on Kat!” Cecilia cheers and then whistles.
The only thing stopping me from crying is knowing I am making him uncomfortable. His eyes are doing that pleading thing, but this time, I don’t give a damn.
I
I knocked lightly on his door and he didn’t answer. It was locked. Weird.
I sent him a text and he didn’t reply. This too was odd.
After about fifteen minutes the door opens and I stand smiling at him. He is turned facing in his office and he is tucking in his shirt.
I hear a female voice, “I’m gonna miss our office fucks, Professor Owen.”
Mortified I turn quickly and hear him say, “There’s always break and next semester. I can’t get enough of you. Never could, you know that.”
I make my way around the corner and slide into the faculty bathroom.
The pressure on my heart pushes out a quiet sob and quickly I cover my mouth.
I walk into one of the stalls to grab toilet paper to wipe the damn tears away, and hear the door open. Quietly I close the door and I hear a woman humming. I immediately wonder if it’s the woman from his office. I crouch on the toilet seat so I am not seen.
I hear heels click on the marbled floor and the door to the stall next to me closes.
I don’t have to wonder long if she’s the one Owen was with, “Men,” she mumbles, “Such stupid creatures.”
I see black heels, about four inches and black stockings with a line up the side.
‘ Women ,’ I think to myself, ‘ Such stupid fucking whores .’
****
Once inside my dorm I get a text from him, saying he has that poetry slam tonight with the faculty. He asks if I can stop over later, because he is already missing me.
Fuck you, I type and delete. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! I try to push send but I can’t.
Why would he ask me to come to his office, then send me this message? What the hell was wrong with him!
I stopped by your office as requested via email.
Send.
He replied.
- I didn’t send you an e-mail Katherine.
Apparently you did
Send.
He replied.
- What time?
Half an hour ago.
Send.
He replied.
- I wasn’t there. Sorry. I have no idea, must have been something I left in my draft messages. I should delete those. Sorry Katherine.
Sorry Katherine? Sorry Katherine!
He sends me another text.
- I love you Katherine. We’ll chat tonight. Phones dying. I’m going to charge it now. See you tonight, my love.
****
“Are you going to behave?” Cecilia laughs.
I cross my fingers and put them behind my back, “Yes.”
“Are you sure you want to go to that place again? I mean what if they recognize you?”
“You think there’s a wanted poster hanging up in the post office, ‘Wanted, the Clapper’?” I smile.
It’s not fake or forced either. I actually love these girls. Like real love, the kind that doesn’t kill you, or make you wish you were dead.
****
When we walk in there is no line, I timed it perfectly, without even trying. Huh, works for me.
We sit near the stage and I focus my attention forward, although I can feel his eyes on me. He doesn’t get a glance. He gets nothing except the closure he so begged for that was wrapped in a pretty little lie of a promise.
They ask if anyone has anything before they give the stage over to tonight’s scheduled poetry slam.
I stand and hear Cecilia gasp in shock and Josie mumble, she’s gonna get us stoned.
I don’t wait for an invitation I simply walk up and stand at the mic. I look at Josie and smile. She seems relieved, maybe she has come to the conclusion there will be no ‘stoning’ since the old Harvard faculty was here.
“I am Kat and this is titled 'Closure'.” I briefly glance to Owen, who is looking at me speculatively. Next to him professor Trammel seems to be standing a little too close to him, it seems to make him uncomfortable. I look down and immediately recognize the shoes, the stockings, the fucking whore.
“Come on Kat!” Cecilia cheers and then whistles.
The only thing stopping me from crying is knowing I am making him uncomfortable. His eyes are doing that pleading thing, but this time, I don’t give a damn.
I
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