Page 3 of Learning Curves

Audrey pressed her thumbs into the clay, exhaling as it slipped beneath her fingers, whirling in steady revolutions on the wheel.

The process was called centering the clay, and she’d always found it a good way to center herself as well.

This was her version of meditation. She could lose herself at the pottery wheel, her fingers moving by muscle memory as they reshaped an unremarkable lump of clay into something beautiful.

A work of art.

She hoped to accomplish something similar for herself here in Middleton, Vermont.

Her academic career was still in its earliest stages, like this clay.

She’d had a few false starts, an adjunct class here and there that she likened to her early attempts at the pottery wheel, times when her fingers would begin to transform the clay into a pot or bowl only to slip and have the whole thing fold.

But this job ... she meant for it to last. She would keep working, keep sculpting until she’d gotten it just right. Today had been frustrating. Disappointing. Even a little bit painful. Discovering that her former mentor wasn’t as wonderful as she remembered? Yeah, that hurt.

Good for you.

Those words could have been spoken with kindness, but they weren’t.

Dr. Thompson had sounded almost angry as she said them.

But why? She’d been so passionate about the often-overlooked female artists throughout history.

She was the one who’d inspired Audrey’s passion on the subject.

She’d thought Dr. Thompson would be thrilled for her.

She’d had a lot of expectations for her first day on campus, and she’d been wrong about most of them.

Right now, she wanted to cry, but she couldn’t let today hold her back. She’d worked too hard for this. Nothing was going to stop her. Still, a little support from her former mentor would have been nice ...

With a sigh, Audrey dipped her hand into the bowl of water to her left and then pressed two fingers into the center of the clay, creating an opening that would become the interior of the bowl.

This was one of her favorite parts, watching the piece take shape beneath her fingers.

Today’s bowl would be fairly low and wide, the type of bowl someone might use to display fruit on their kitchen island.

After firing it in the kiln, she’d give it a frosty-blue glaze. Maybe lavender.

Although she’d chosen to pursue a career in academia, her art was still integral to who she was.

One of the most important things about her, actually.

This way, Audrey was free to pursue her art as a passion project.

She could follow her muse without the pressure of relying on it as her sole source of income.

She had a website where she sold her ceramics, and she also participated in craft fairs during the summer months.

Her bowls, vases, mugs, and other products brought in a nice side income, spending money for her hobbies and dinners out with friends.

That income had kept her afloat over the past few years, when she hadn’t had steady income as a professor.

Even now, her ceramics would be a crucial source of spending money.

Her starting salary as an assistant professor was barely enough to live on, especially after she factored in her student loan debt and the exorbitant cost of rental properties in the area.

The little house she’d rented for the year hadn’t come cheap, but its location was perfect, within walking distance to the university.

The house itself was a bit run-down. Its appliances had seen better days, and the windows would probably be drafty as hell once winter hit, but it was functional and had plenty of classic New England charm.

She’d been puzzled by the crooked window in the attic, but the Realtor had cheerily told her that this was a uniquely Vermont feature called a witch window.

It was set at a forty-five-degree angle to the rest of the house because apparently people in the nineteenth century believed witches wouldn’t be able to fly their broomsticks through such a tilted window, which Audrey thought was hilarious.

The guest bedroom served as her studio, and she was currently bathed in warm afternoon sunshine as she worked.

The room had soft blue walls. She’d pushed the bed against the far wall and covered it in a tarp, then added a simple white bookcase to display her ceramics, everything from works in progress to completed items available for sale.

The top shelf was reserved for her passion pieces, the ones so personal and beloved she was keeping them forever.

Today’s bowl was nearly complete. Once she was satisfied with it, she slowed the wheel while she used a sponge to soak up excess water from the surface of the clay.

Then she stopped the wheel and used a piece of metal wire to cut the bowl off the wheel head.

She wasn’t planning to etch any designs into this one, so it was finished for now.

Later, she’d bring it to campus to fire it in the kiln before glazing.

The bowl had served its purpose. She felt calm, her mood buoyed. After she’d cleaned up the wheel—and herself—she checked the time on her phone and found a text from her brother. How did it go?

Erik was only a year older than Audrey, and they’d always been close. They talked almost every day, so of course she’d told him she would be visiting campus today. Disappointing. She inserted the appropriate emoji.

Nooooo that sucks! What happened?

Overheard some other professors talking about me, upset that I was hired. She decided to leave Dr. Thompson’s name out of it, since Erik probably remembered her from Audrey’s undergrad days, when she’d talked about her nonstop.

Damn, sis, I’m sorry. He followed it with a hugging emoji.

Thx. Mercy’s great though, and I *love* my office.

She and Erik texted for a few more minutes, and he soon had her in hysterics over an awkward run-in he’d had with one of his patients at the grocery store.

Erik was an ER physician, and apparently he’d treated this man last week for a cucumber lodged in his rectum.

Needless to say, he wasn’t thrilled to see Erik while he was picking out fresh vegetables with his wife.

By the time Audrey got ready for bed that night, her mood was restored.

Tomorrow was a new day. She needed to finish setting up her office and start finding ways to make herself indispensable to Stuart Hollinger, the department chair, so he and the rest of the hiring committee would have no reason not to make her one-year contract a permanent one.

Whether Dr. Thompson liked it or not, Audrey was here to stay.

Audrey spent most of the week working on her office, and by Friday, it was absolutely perfect, if she did say so herself.

After removing as many scuff marks as she could from the walls, she’d hung several paintings to add color and character to the space.

She’d even picked up an inexpensive office chair to replace the one that had been left to her.

She placed the last book on the bottom shelf and stood up.

Her shelves were bursting with books and ceramics, just the way she liked them.

In a few minutes, she would go upstairs for the official “welcome to the new semester” gathering, where she’d meet the rest of her colleagues.

So far, she’d encountered fewer professors walking the halls than she’d expected.

As for Dr. Thompson, Audrey had seen her twice more, but Dr. Thompson had been only perfunctorily polite, giving Audrey a pinched smile before retreating into her office and closing the door behind herself.

It stung. Maybe Audrey had entertained a pipe dream of them becoming friends, or perhaps she’d hoped Dr. Thompson would slip back into the role of advisor and help Audrey find her footing here as a professor.

Whatever she’d imagined, it hadn’t been this.

Mercy appeared in the doorway to Audrey’s office, rapping her knuckles against the open door. Today, her box braids were in a loose bun on top of her head.

“Hey,” Audrey said with a smile. “Haven’t seen you around much this week.”

Mercy shrugged. “I came and did my thing. I don’t think anyone spent as many hours here this week as you did.”

“Guilty as charged,” Audrey admitted. “I was eager to set up my first office.”

“Can’t blame you. I remember feeling the same way. Have you met many of the other professors?” Mercy asked.

“A few. It’s been quieter than I was expecting.”

“You’ll meet everyone at the meeting, I’m sure. Are you ready? I was about to head up to the conference room, and I thought you might like to walk together.”

“I’d like that a lot. Thanks, Mercy.” She was so grateful for Mercy’s guidance. Not only had she answered Audrey’s many questions, but she offered these extra gestures, like walking into the meeting together so Audrey didn’t feel like an outsider.

Audrey stood and closed her laptop, taking only her satchel with her. Inside, she kept a sketchbook in case artistic inspiration struck, but it also might come in handy for taking notes. Of course, she had her cell phone for note-taking too.

Nerves prickled in her stomach as she followed Mercy out of her office.

Walking into a room full of professors as their peer for the first time was one thing, but several of those people had once been her professors.

Hopefully, they would welcome her as one of them now, but her confidence was a little shaken by her interactions with Dr. Thompson.

Audrey and Mercy went upstairs to the third floor, entering a conference room Audrey had never been in before. The windows were rain spattered, revealing the wet, gray day outside. Audrey had forgotten how much it rained in Vermont this time of year.