Page 45 of Love, Academically

Indignant (adjective) in·dig·nant

feeling or showing anger because of something unjust or unworthy

Lila

Sue’s office was milky-tea bland. The artwork on the walls looked like someone had vomited abstract lines and circles onto a canvas and entitled it ‘Corporate Art for Offices’.

There were no books, just folder upon folder upon folder on her shelves.

Where Lila’s smaller office was welcoming and cozy, Sue’s seating area was barely used, demonstrated by yet more folders stacked up on her sofa.

Standing awkwardly in front of Sue’s desk because she hadn’t been invited to sit, was not one of Lila’s favourite pastimes, especially when she was at a loss as to what to say.

Dumbfounded was not the word, and Sue didn’t even seem to care as she clicked away on her computer, eyes certainly not on Lila and her imminent breakdown.

“Was there anything else?” Sue peered at her from behind her computer, her mouth pursed together like a cat’s bum.

Was there anything else?

Well, actually Sue, yes there was. That you are a condescending prick who couldn’t manage a conker-finding expedition in the bright depths of autumn? Yes, that was something that she could say. She wouldn’t, but she could.

“No,” Lila choked out.

Sue sighed. “You’re not going to let this affect your work, are you?”

If she was a phoenix, Lila would have blazed and died right there and then. Since when had she ever let anything affect her work? Going above and beyond was in her DNA.

“No, it won’t,” she said, the back of her throat burning to keep tears from filling her eyes.

“Okay then.”

Lila knew a dismissal when she heard it and if she stood there any longer, she’d turn into a statue that Sue would move around her office like the Corporate Art.

“Okay,” she whispered, swallowing down her emotion.

As soon as she closed Sue’s office door (Sue had an open-door policy, but without the ‘open door’ aspect), everything she had worked so hard to keep down in the last three minutes flooded out of her.

It was a good job Sue called Lila to her office every forty-five minutes to ‘convert this to that PDF thingy’ or ‘where did I save this?’ or ‘how can we stop the starlings nesting outside my window?’, because Lila’s mind had absolutely zero spatial awareness as she barrelled down the corridor, face wet and vision blurred with tears.

“Uh, Miss Cartwright. Are you okay?”

Students waiting outside of her door were usually a welcome sight, but now? Not so much.

“Oh, hi Kerry.” She hiccuped. “I’m okay. I’m sorry. What can I help with?”

Lila rolled her lips together, but nothing she did could stop the tears running over her cheeks.

“Oh uh, nothing,” Kerry said. “I’ll come back.”

Usually, Lila would make a fuss and insist she come and sit on her sofa, pressing a hot cup of sugary tea into her hands and have her spill all her worries into the cookie tin. But not today.

“Okay,” she whispered with a small, defeated smile. She ran.

Lila carefully closed the door to her office and took herself over to her sofa, shoving a cookie from the tin on the coffee table into her mouth. How could Sue do this to her?

Five minutes. That’s all she’d allow herself and then she’d power through the rest of the day and collapse into a messy heap when she got home. It felt more like eight minutes when she was interrupted.

“Lila?”

Wiping her cheeks, she found a smile hidden deep and looked up at Rhys.

He was dishevelled in the best way, probably from having power-walked his tight little conker butt to her office.

One look at Rhys and her precarious smile fell into a grimace and the tears started again.

She buried her face in her hands. Christ, she was pathetic.

Three long strides and he was sat beside her, pulling her into his chest and smoothing her hair away from her face, letting her tears drench his shirt. When her sobs subsided, she sat back and offered him a little smile.

“Sorry, I’ve got your shirt all wet,” she said, dabbing at his chest with a tissue from the coffee table.

“Lila, what’s happened?” he asked, stopping her hands with his.

Trying to postpone the inevitable, or distract him so he wouldn’t make her tell him, she asked, “How did you know I was upset?”

“Kerry came to tell me.”

Wow, Kerry had built up enough courage to go and see Rhys to say Lila needed him. And Rhys had remembered her name.

“Oh,” Lila whispered.

“Do you want to tell me?” Rhys asked softly.

“It’s not that important.” She shook her head and sat up straighter.

“Right.” Well, that was a disbelieving look if ever she saw one. “I would like it if you told me”

That’s all it took. Lila opened her mouth and it poured out.

“Sue ‘forgot’ to send in my application. I had to push for her to sign it and I told her a million times that it had to be in yesterday by five o’clock, that was the deadline and she ‘forgot’.” Yes, air quotes.

“You don’t think she forgot?” Rhys narrowed his eyes.

“No, she didn’t forget,” Lila spat. “She didn’t want me to do it. She didn’t think I could do that and my work.” Lila waved an arm at her office. “Sue actually said ‘I hope this won’t affect your job’, because I was a little upset that she hadn’t handed it in.”

“She was definitely supposed to?”

“Yes! You need to get a signature from your line manager and they are supposed to forward the application on to the relevant department. It’s all in the staff handbook.” She reached under the coffee table for a floppy, dog-eared copy.

“No, it’s okay, I believe you.” He stroked a thumb across her cheekbone. “I believe you.”

Lila nodded, her shoulders slumping.

“So, I’ve missed the application deadline.

I won’t be doing my course this year, all because someone else didn’t believe in me, or didn’t want me to do it.

” Lila shoved another cookie in her mouth, because cookies made everything better.

“It’s a sign,” she said, mouth full. “I shouldn’t do it. I can’t do it.”

“No.”

She took a deep breath.

“Oh, well. Never mind. I’ll be okay.” She smiled, but it hurt. “I’ll just have a couple of wallowing days and then, you know, back to Happy Lila.”

“No.” Rhys shook his head, his lips turned down.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” Because that’s what generally happened when she was disappointed. A couple of days of ice cream, then back to normal.

“I don’t want you to go back,” Rhys said, a line creasing between his eyebrows. “Tell her that it’s her mistake and that she has to fix it.”

“Maybe,” she said with a conciliatory shrug.

That’s what people wanted, wasn’t it, her to agree with them.

She thought Rhys was different, but she was too emotionally exhausted to argue with him.

It was so easy for him; see a problem, find a solution, do it.

But that’s not how it worked for her, she couldn’t switch her emotions off and the fear that churned in her stomach when she had to make demands for herself probably wasn’t something he’d ever experienced.

She could go to bat for any of her students, she could stand up for her friends, but herself?

That was a struggle, because what if Sue was right and she wasn’t good enough to do a Masters?

What if she wasn’t capable enough to go after her dream?

“Go and see her this afternoon and tell her she needs to speak to the Admissions Officer and explain her mistake.”

Amanda, the Admissions Officer who was waiting for her application, would be another person who thought she didn’t have the ambition or plain ability to get anywhere in life.

“I said ‘maybe’.” Lila stood up and closed the cookie tin, taking it back to her desk.

“I’m sorry, Lila,” he said. “I’m sorry. You do whatever you think is best. I’ll support you either way.”

She pushed her lips into a poor semblance of a smile.

Whilst all he could probably see was an easy problem to get over by just having a conversation, it was much more than that to her.

He needed to respect her choices, her wishes, how she decided to deal with it.

Which may be by doing nothing for a day or two, wrapping her head around the situation, building herself back up just a little, then going into battle. God, she hated battle.

“Would you like me to cook something tonight?” Rhys stood and reached for her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “How about that creamy pasta you like?”

“Comfort Carbonara?” This time, her smile was more genuine. He’d remembered. “I’d like that.”

“Okay.”

Rhys

The anger in his veins burned ice cold.

“I’ll pick the ingredients up. Can I drive you home?”

He forced his voice to be calm, forced his hands not to shake as he cupped her face and kissed her gently on the forehead.

“Rhys, you don’t have to ask anymore,” she said wearily. “You can take me home.”

A frown flickered across his face. That’s what he wanted, to not have to ask to take her home every day, but also, he didn’t want it because she was so worn down by that fucking cretin, Sue, that she’d do whatever he said.

“Lila,” he tilted her face up to his, her eyes puffy and red. “You don’t have to humour me.”

“I want Comfort Carbonara and I want you to take me home.” Lila wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek on his chest. He splayed one hand across the centre of her back and the other nestled in the hair at the back of her head.

She needed him and he was more than happy to give her exactly what she needed.

The phone on her desk rang, jerking them out of their little reverie.

“Thank you,” she said, with such trusting sincerity it made his blood burn in his veins. He wanted to rage at the world which had made her believe that she wasn’t worth caring for. She offered him a wan smile before sitting at her desk and answering the phone.

He kissed her on the cheek and headed out of the door and to the department kitchen.

Fuck.