“Neither can I, actually,” I said as I threw the winter coat over my shoulders.
“I think I prefer observing this process in reverse,” he said, the Professor’s voice coming from inside the sleeve I was currently sliding my arm through. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re no doubt just as becoming cocooned in puffy coat or whatever this is, as you are in bits of lacy nothingness, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I prefer the nothings.”
“Right, well, while it’s always a bit warmer here by the seashore, it’s still November and it snowed today, so I’m afraid you’ll have to learn to love the puffy coat,” I said, and stepped out into the garden.
* * *
The path of my mother’s garden wound through what looked like a vegetative crime scene. A layer of snow blanketed sleeping ferns and drooping succulents, and edged the perimeter of a few evergreens with the stark grace of a chalk outline.
“In the summer, this garden is amazing. At the moment it is, underwhelming at best, ” I said as I plodded across paving stones and ducked under a branch to the staircase that led down the hill from the garden to the beach below. “So we’ll skip it, and just head down to the pavilion.”
“Oh, that sounds exciting. What’s the pavilion?”
“Well, it’s like a party area, for having get-togethers on the beach. My dad had it built when we were very young. This house is one of just a handful on Cape Annabel Harbor that has its own private beach.” I continued talking as I came to the last few steps of the staircase. “The pavilion is partly covered and partly open,” I said, setting down the picnic basket on the lounge beneath a long wooden awning. “It has an outdoor kitchen, and fire pit”—I held up my phone and panned around the pavilion to the beach beyond— “and Claremont beach.” I stepped out onto snow dusted sand.
“Wow,” I heard the Professor whisper from my palm.
Wow indeed, I thought. The sun was just beginning its descent under the horizon. Colors danced across the water, bright orange, pale teal and lavender. It was a view that always warmed me, no matter the season or the climate, but tonight, in this moment, standing here, sharing it with the Professor — I shivered. The breeze that coasted in from the sea was no colder than any other winter picnic I’ve taken, but still goose bumps broke out along my down-covered arms. I shook it off and walked back to the lounge area to light a fire.
“Oh, you’re a pioneer woman,” said the Professor enthusiastically.
“Not quite,” I said, flipping the switch on the fire pit that started the gas. “American ingenuity. We like our fires operable by remote control.”
“Oh, that’s just cheating.”
“Absolutely.” I propped the phone up on the lounge seat next to me, facing the beach, then set to work opening my bottle of wine.
“This is truly spectacular, Jane. It’s beautiful. Thank you for sharing it with me. I feel like seeing this has given me some precious insights into you, a deeper understanding.”
“Don’t go getting all sentimental on me now,” I said as I poured wine into my glass and lifted a slice of pizza to my lips. Tears welled in my eyes, and I wiped them hastily, grateful the Professor couldn’t see my face at this moment.
I was so enjoying his company, and yet, it was making me somewhat melancholy at the same time. The strange half-nature of his presence, was messing with my head. He was here, his voice, his face on that small mobile screen, and yet he wasn’t, not really. It made me feel lonely.
You’ve been lonely for ages, girlfriend. Really, really, really fucking lonely. I took another bite of pizza and a big swallow of wine, willing myself to shake off this nonsense.
“It is beautiful,” I said. “Wait till the sun goes down. The stars and the moon over the water, it’s really something, Professor.”
“Jane?”
“Yes?”
“Please call me Thomas.”
* * *
Thomas, I thought, trying his name out in my head. We’d talked for an hour on the beach, and during that time the Professor had tried to coax me into calling him by his first name. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. At first it just felt awkward, and I was uncharacteristically shy about the whole thing, but the more he pushed the more I enjoyed holding out on him. Turn around is fair play as far as I’m concerned, and if the Professor was inclined to play games then I felt free to do the same.
“Not yet,” I’d said. “I haven’t graduated yet, so you’re still the Professor.”
“Oh, that’s just indefensible, that is. Giving me a taste of my own medicine?”
“Absolutely. Be careful how you treat the patient, Doctor, lest you end up the one in the bed…er…I mean…”
“Ha!’ he laughed, slapping a hand to his chest. “Got away from you at the end there, didn’t it?”