“How is Mrs. P?” Jamie asked. “She’s fine,” I replied, “She is out shopping.” The door cracked open on the Mustang and I watched as Jamie stepped out of the car, clad in cut-off shorts and a form-hugging “Babe” t-shirt. “So where’s James?” Jamie asked. James was our 15-year old son. “He’s with his friends at the park,” I replied, doing my best to avoid any prolonged stares that might be misinterpreted. “Cool,” Jamie replied. “What do you think of my ‘Stang?” Jamie pressed. I stopped and cocked my head, looking at the white Mustang with the pink flow lines accentuating the outline. “Pretty cool,” I replied. “Do you want to go for a ride?” Jamie asked. “It’s super fast!” I laughed. “I bet so,” I replied. “Come on Mr. P,” Jamie pressed. “Let’s go for a spin.” Spin. Jamie could sit and spin on me for days and I wouldn’t complain. I leaned the rake up against a tree and stepped over to the passenger side of the car as Jamie re-took her seat behind the steering wheel. She turned. She was under orders not to speak until the meeting was over and any questions regarding Gretchen’s material were to be addressed tonight.At 3:30 Gretchen’s watch chimed once causing her release a sigh. Leaning back in her chair. “You certainly don’t disappoint. I hope you realize that all of academia hates your guts, Catherine.”Cat froze beside me for the briefest of moments with Gretchen’s non-sequitur.“Why...?” She visibly stumbled over that question.“Jealousy and Envy. Greed and Pride too. They all want what you have. HIM.” Gretchen pointed at me.“And they think I stole him or something?”“Who knows what they think or if they even can think? I’d sacrifice the whole English department with a shale knife on the altar of Satan for your place by his side. Learning what only ‘that Jerk’ can teach year after year.” She made fun of Cat’s favorite phrase describing me.Switching to a pleasant smile, “I’m rooting for you, Catherine.”“Thanks,” Cat responded, slightly bewildered.Gretchen slid.
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