“I need your body all the time,” Mark said. “You wanna talk about being a leech? I feed off your love. I can’t get enough of it.”
“So we’re just a couple of leeches, huh?”
“Yep.”
“Will you promise me you’ll start school next semester?”
“If I can,” Mark replied.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that Ph.D. programs start during specific semesters. I’m not sure if I can go next semester. I may need to wait the following year. And it’s all right,” he said quickly when he saw her mouth open to object.
Cadence growled.
“Really? Did you just do that?” Mark asked, chuckling.
She laughed too, and then she growled again.
“That’s weird, right? To growl?” she asked.
“Completely. But I kinda like it. Growl for me again.”
“You just wanna turn it sexual,” Cadence said.
“You’re damn right.”
“And I still need to pray.”
“Aww shucks. I forgot about that,” Mark said. “All right. Go be absolved. I’ll meet you in the dining room for dinner.”
Right before he closed the door, he caught a glimpse of her sitting on the bed with her head bowed. He wondered what kinds of conversations she had with God. He wondered if she had conversations like the ones she shared with him. Well, aside from the sexual banter. He imagined it was an interesting relationship—hers and God’s—and he wouldn’t ignore the tiniest bit of jealousy over it. Mostly because he wanted her all to himself. Mostly. But there was a little part of him that missed his own conversations, his own meditations with a God he used to love.
***
North Atlanta University. So it wasn’t a Division I school. It was still huge, and it had a reputation for one really aggressive business program. Cadence decided over the summer that she would major in business. She became obsessed with the idea of owning her own flower shop, and she planned to study to become the savviest businesswoman on the planet.
The university was the exact opposite of high school. Cadence relished in walking the campus in relative anonymity, just one of thousands of ordinary students. No one knew her story, and if they did, they didn’t care. Nobody cared about anybody, she observed, as she was nearly run over by a skateboarder on her way to composition class.
“Move,” he spat. She blew him a kiss.
She made sure to look as inconspicuous as possible for her first day of classes: jean shorts, tank top, flip flops. She kept her hair down but pulled it off her face with a headband. She wore a tad bit of makeup. Nothing showy, but she thought first day classes warranted mascara and lip gloss, at the least.
She slid into a seat in the row closest to the windows. She didn’t bother to look for Michael. Or save him a seat. She still wasn’t sure about that guy. She felt guilty for not telling Mark about Michael’s kissing comment. She wanted a friend, but she was unsure if he was a good one. She scanned the room for somebody better. She needed a girlfriend. And there was one sitting directly behind her.
“Hi,” Cadence said tentatively.
“Hi,” the girl replied.
Cadence wasn’t sure what else to say. Neither was the girl. That was until she recognized Cadence.
“You went to Crestview High.”
Cadence’s face fell. “Yeah.”
“My friend went there. She graduated with you.”
Cadence nodded.
The girl leaned in and whispered, “Did you really have an affair with your math teacher?”
Cadence shrugged and turned around. So much for being inconspicuous. She almost moved to another seat, but she didn’t want to come across as a bitch. Michael walked in, and she actually felt relief. He sat in the desk in front of her.
“I’m assuming you saved this for me even though I don’t see a pen or notebook or anything else on the desk,” he said.
She smiled nervously.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing. I’ll tell you later,” she mumbled.
“Tell me now.”
She glared at him. “I can’t.”
He nodded. “Okay. When are you free?” he asked.
“Noon.”
“Wanna get lunch?”
“It’ll have to be quick. I work today.”
“Isn’t it fun being a grown-up and having responsibilities?” Michael joked.
“The best,” Cadence replied.
Conversation ended once the professor walked into the classroom. Dr. Callahan. Cadence thought he was nice. He was an old one—grandfatherly. He didn’t teach, just explained the syllabus and his classroom expectations. She thought he was one of those “understanding” professors. She could miss a deadline for a paper and he would “understand.” He had the demeanor. It was really in his eyes. They were kind and soft. She realized she spent all fifty minutes of class time developing a character sketch of him in her mind instead of listening to him. And then it hit her! She was subconsciously looking for a companion for Fanny! She burst out laughing as students exited the room at the end of class.
“What the hell?” Michael asked.
“Nothing,” she giggled.
“Meet me at the union at noon, dork.”
“Whatever.”
***