Page 9 of Here in My Heart (Here Together #2)
CHAPTER NINE
Sylvie checked her watch and scanned her class of nineteenth century literature enthusiasts. “Do you have something for us, Michèle?”
“Of course, you had to be rich to be a writer in those times. How on earth could anyone of any other class even conceive of the idea?” Michèle made her point with a flourish of her pen.
“That was Virginia Woolf’s central premise: give someone a room of their own, and they might have the time, space, and enough silence to actually hear themselves think.
And they might even get to write.” Simone raised her hands, daring anyone to argue.
“And who has a room of their own? Rich boys. And if you’re lucky, a rich girl. ”
Rising from her seat, Sylvie smiled. She loved it when her students argued the points. “Okay, everyone. We’re finished for today. Don’t forget that next week is reading week. No seminars, just time to get through your texts for the coming term. I suggest you use it wisely. No excuses.”
“No seminars. No excuses. Got it,” Michèle said, generating a hum of laughter and grunting from her classmates.
Sylvie ushered them out of the classroom and gathered herself. She had an hour before she’d arranged to meet Ade for the recital. It wasn’t long enough to go home for a shower, so she redid her light makeup and brushed her hair.
Sylvie had stewed all week on the way she’d spoken to Ade. She had been harsh and unnecessary. It’d been no different to the way she’d handled hundreds of unruly classrooms: put the students in their place and give the lecturer a cold stare and the hard truth .
But Ade wasn’t just any lecturer. She was a fresh, junior academic with virtually no experience of handling difficult students.
Her group were fast proving themselves to be the worst kind: arrogant, pushy, and with zero filter.
Sylvie hadn’t seen any redeeming features so far, except for those in their leader, Ade, who’d shown herself to be nervous but much more nuanced.
To make amends, she’d invited Ade to a recital in the music hall, where she loved to spend time listening to the post-graduates perfecting their classical scores.
On the short walk to the hall, she peeled off her cardigan. The temperature had bounced back up, and the campus was bathed in a glorious late afternoon glow. Squinting into the sun, she could just make out a backlit Ade, her tailored trousers draping exquisitely off her hips.
“Hey.” Ade tilted her head for a brief moment before she dropped her gaze to the pavement.
“I’m glad you came.” Sylvie stepped into her space and wondered what was appropriate for a greeting between colleagues.
“You invited me.”
“Of course.” Sylvie couldn’t help but smile.
“What? Did I do something wrong?” Ade asked.
“Not at all.” Sylvie went to touch her sleeve, then pulled her hand back. “I just love your ability to state the obvious in such a charming way. It’s very French, actually.”
“Huh.” Ade scuffed her shoe against the concrete. “So this is the place?”
“That’s right. Are you ready to go inside?”
Ade nodded, and they ventured in, Sylvie taking the lead.
Inside, Ade stalled at the front row, holding up a line of people behind them as she scanned the birch-paneled ceiling of the auditorium. “I like it in here. It’s beautiful.”
Sylvie gently touched her arm and coaxed her forward. “Me too. I guess the design is for the acoustics, but I just like the look of it, all clean lines and bare wood.” Sylvie took the end two seats of a back row, not wishing to be trapped between people.
Once they were seated, the lights dimmed around them, casting a brief shadow onto the plain white walls before the audience was immersed in darkness. The orchestra took their places on the spotlit stage and after a brief, humble introduction, the music commenced.
Ade stilled her bouncing knee, and a calm seemed to wash over her body. Braving a further look, Sylvie studied the cut of her white shirt, and the way it clung to her slim waist before disappearing into the v of her firm chest.
Turning back to the musicians, she tried to focus on the tune, her heart stuttering with nerves.
Sitting in repose and admiring the music, Ade demonstrated the maturity that set her apart from her younger students. She was no longer their peer. And yet Sylvie couldn’t quite place what kept Ade from being her equal. Was it the age difference? Was it her senior position?
She considered the gender queerness that Ade presented to the world. Tonight, she sported a pair of vintage slacks, almost mid-century, with a tucked-in shirt that gathered around the slight curve of her breast but otherwise cut a masculine silhouette for the world to admire. For Sylvie to admire.
She stopped herself from spiraling beyond style tips. Tonight was about resetting their professional relationship and letting Ade know that Sylvie welcomed her to the team. She wasn’t the cold bitch who’d cut her dead in her own classroom on Monday.
Sylvie stole another glance. Ade’s eyes were closed. Was she asleep?
“I’m enjoying the music,” she whispered, as if feeling Sylvie’s stare.
Sylvie smirked and refocused on the stage.
The billing had drawn a typical Friday night audience of the city’s intellectuals and their university pals.
The front rows were completely full, and there were just a few seats here and there until the very back where Ade and Sylvie had two rows almost to themselves.
Sylvie often came to the recitals on Fridays to decompress after a long week of teaching or grading papers. The beat of the bass instruments and the harmonies of the strings transported her to a different place, away from the strain of campus life.
She was brought back into the room by the roll of the bass drum, indicating the score’s shift in gear and a heavier tone for the piece.
“What’s happening?” Ade asked.
Sylvie edged closer to speak gently into her ear. “This piece is about the fear of the unknown. I think the lower notes and bass instruments denote a trepidation of something looming in the future.”
Ade turned her attention back to the stage, her eyes wide with curiosity.
She hunched ever so slightly forward, affording Sylvie a view of her profile.
She looked beautifully handsome, transfixed in the glow of the illuminated stage.
Her face flushed with the emotion of the music, as if every scrape of the cellist’s bow carved another tear in her heart.
As the melody came to its crescendo, Sylvie gripped the arms of her seat to avoid taking Ade’s hand. As the piece steadied, she met Ade’s smile, knowing she’d witnessed a first-time experience. “Have you ever heard something like that before?” Sylvie asked.
“Never. Not in real life. I mean, I’ve heard classical music. But not like that.” Ade lifted the cuff of her sleeve to show the goosebumps on her skin.
The urge to stroke them away almost overcame Sylvie. She sat further back in her seat, staring directly at the conductor in an attempt to focus on anything but the temptation to touch Ade.
At the end of the show, Sylvie accepted Ade’s offer of drinks and ventured outside to cool off. The evening sun had dropped further into the slumber of the sky as she took a table for two on the terrace.
On nights like these, she could almost forget this was her workplace.
The students had snaked back into the city to be tempted by its nightlife.
She enjoyed the relative peace of the campus, the talent of its best musicians, the chatter of the city’s literati, and the grown-up company of a colleague.
As Ade set two glasses of red wine on the table, Sylvie adjusted her posture, opening herself up for more of the contented conversation that they’d enjoyed together so far.
“I’m glad I came tonight. Thanks for inviting me,” Ade said.
“You’re really welcome. I wanted to make amends for being a little abrupt with you in your group session on Monday. It wasn’t my place.”
Ade dipped her head. “I was glad of your interference.”
Sylvie laughed. “But that’s what it was. Interference.”
Ade looked pained. “That’s not what I meant. I’m glad you saved me from anything worse, to be honest. They’re a great bunch, but they can be energetic.” She put her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand. “How do you do it?”
“Handle students?” Sylvie asked, and Ade nodded. “I speak clearly and set out my expectations..”
“Don’t take any nonsense? Probably where I’m going wrong. Clarity isn’t my strong point. I’m not often sure what I want from a situation. It’s one of the reasons I’ve always steered clear of the teaching roles.”
“Then why are you here? Why put yourself in this position for the whole year?”
Ade shrugged and looked away. “Everyone was looking at me to do something with my life. My bosses pretty much said that my PhD was untenable unless I took on some teaching hours.” She sighed. “My dad said if I passed up this rotation, I should probably start thinking about getting a regular job.”
Sylvie held the silence between them, sensing there was more to say.
“My sister, Steph, said Dad wouldn’t follow through, but I got the sense that he’d cut me off just to make me stand on my own two feet.”
Sylvie sat back. Despite their growing commonalities, here was a glaring difference between them: no one was bankrolling Sylvie’s academic career.
She was the solo funder of her ambition.
Hearing Ade talk about her dad pulling his funding reminded her of the decade between them.
She sipped her wine. “We should finish up here.”
“Absolutely. This was a really lovely evening. Thank you.”
“No need to thank me, Ade. It’s what colleagues do.” She raised her glass. “Well done for making it through the first half of the semester. Here’s to a well-earned reading week.” They clinked their glasses together.
Ade brushed her hand over her short hair. “I’m so glad of a week without any face time. You’ll find me locked in the lab if you need me.”
“I’m heading to my parents’ house for the week to catch up on some marking. So sadly, I won’t be here to distract you.”
Disappointment flickered on Ade’s face. “That’s too bad. I would’ve put down my tools for you.”
Sylvie bit her tongue, avoiding the temptation to flirt.
“Where do your parents live?” Ade asked.
“Not too far. About an hour in the car. They moved from Paris a while ago to be nearer to my mother’s family along the coast. They live in a little town called Sète.
It’s beautiful in its own way.” Sylvie slid her finger around the rim of her glass.
“How about you? Do your parents live in California?”
“That’s right. Monterey born and raised. My dad and pops met in San Francisco, but they moved out of the city when they were pregnant with us.” Ade’s brow furrowed. “I mean, when my birth mom was pregnant. Obviously.”
Sylvie hesitated. “Do you and Steph know your birth mom?” She didn’t want to pry, but Ade had brought it up, and she was always curious about same-sex families and how they came to be.
“Yeah, we know her. We’re not all that close, but she’s in our circle, if you know what I mean.
” Ade nodded to her cell on the table as if her mom’s details were in its memory.
“Our dads were pretty open about where we came from, and they encouraged us to have a relationship with our surrogate mom. When we were young, we saw her at birthdays. But in the end we drifted, because she has her own life. We were always a gift to our dads, and they’re our parents, for sure. ”
“It’s good that they didn’t hide anything or keep you from seeing her though. I’ve seen plenty of kids troubled by family secrets.”
“It’s a pretty hard question to dodge when you have two dads,” Ade said. “The first thing you become aware of is that everyone has a mom. People would ask where our mom was if Steph and I were alone in a room or at the park.”
Sylvie imagined the strength it must take a little person to defend their family make-up, over and over.
“I guess Dad and Pops wanted to head it off by never making an issue of it.” Ade sighed as if the conversation had drained her energy. “We keep in touch, and we know we can reach out if we needed her for anything. Like medical background checks and stuff like that.”
The tapestry of Ade’s life was revealing itself to Sylvie slowly.
Every time they talked, she unfurled another image of the slightly awkward Californian who preferred animals to humans.
Tonight she’d learned that musical notes, in the right arrangement, spoke to Ade’s heart.
The more she discovered, the more she wanted to know.
Then she remembered how much younger Ade was, and how dependent she still was on her parents’ wealth.
She was barely out of grad school and needed a coach and mentor, not a friend.
Sylvie had to focus on proving her worth to Paul and the faculty powers-that-be. That would take all her energy for the rest of the term. She had no time for distractions. Even the most handsome ones.