Page 61 of Unsupervised
Hefting the bag off of my shoulder, I put the keyboard down. “I came to return this. Thank you so much for loaning it to me.”
“Of course.” She gets to her feet and comes around her desk. “How are you doing? Are you still trying to learn to play?”
“I’m fine, and yes, I’m going to buy a keyboard today to continue practicing, but I didn’t want to get you into any trouble for loaning this one out, now that I’m not employed here anymore.”
“I heard about that. I’m sorry.”
“Do I want to know what you heard?”
The corner of her mouth tucks in, and she looks like she’s trying not to smile. “Let’s see, the last I heard you had a full blown orgy in the culinary department in which whipped cream was used.”
“You’re fucking with me.” It’s not outside the realm of possibility knowing the rumor mill here.
Laughing, she throws her head back. “Yes, I’m fucking with you. You should see your face.” Penelope is one of the ones I’ll miss from this place. Nearing sixty, she’s been teaching for twenty-eight years and nothing seems to push her out of her bubbly personality. “The faculty was only told you resigned. Though the accepted truth is you had an inappropriate relationship with a student.” Her head tilts, and she raises her eyebrows at me in a silent question.
“It’s true. Kind of. She was my student, but we didn’t start dating until after she dropped my class.” Before she can comment, I hasten to add. “She’s twenty, not underage.”
Penelope leans against her desk and the few seconds of silence are awkward as hell. Is she judging me? Calling me a pervert in her head? “Did I ever tell you how I met my husband, Andrew?”
The sharp change of subject is enough to cause whiplash, but I’m willing if she is. “I don’t think you have.”
“Twenty-five years ago, a young man who wanted to be a country singer took my music class. Sat right in the front row the first day.” Her smile is soft as she reminisces. “Oh, he was a cocky thing, so sure of himself, but there was something about him that clicked with me from first sight. Weeks went by as I tried to fight it, and we spent more and more time together while I helped him learn guitar. There were rumors, considering he was twenty-two and I was thirty-one—and his teacher—but we were fortunate. People don’t look at it the same when it’s an older woman. Anyway, as soon as the semester ended, he proposed, and here we are twenty-five years later with two grown children and still very happy together.”
She looks me in the eye. “Screw the rules. They’re temporary.”
“Did Andrew end up being a country singer?”
Penelope waves her hand at me. “Oh lord no, the man couldn’t sing for shit. He still plays the guitar, though.”
“Thank you for that story,” I tell her. “I hate to ask, but I need one more favor.”
She listens as I explain that I promised to play a duet with someone, and I’m struggling with the timing of a few chords. We end up at the piano while she corrects me and helps me get it right. Finally, I think I have it.
“Practice every day and I’m sure Ms. Bryant won’t be disappointed,” Penelope says, as I’m getting ready to leave.
My head whips around and I’m met with a knowing grin. “I’ve heard her practicing that song for her project. Good luck, Layton. She’s a lovely woman. Talented too.”
“Thanks for everything.”
My next stop is Cooper’s Music but not to see Kelly. She doesn’t want to talk to me, and I’m not going to accost her at work, but Cooper’s is the only music store in town. Luckily, her scooter isn’t parked out front and the older man who sells me a keyboard isn’t someone who has been there when I’ve had lessons before.
As soon as I get home, I set up my new keyboard to practice. I only have a couple of weeks to get it right and get my girl back.
Chapter Eighteen
Kelly
Even with all I’ve had to do, the last two weeks have inched by. There haven’t been any more dates after that last disaster and I’m in no hurry. Chances are I’d spend the whole time comparing the guy to the one I really want.
My mind needs to be on other things anyway. The concert I’ve put together for the retirement home is only a couple of hours away, and my nerves are frayed to threads. There are five solo acts that are going to perform, plus a small choir performance at the end. I was surprised how many volunteered, even students who didn’t need it for a class credit. My teacher, Mrs. Lee is coming, along with the head of the music department, Penelope Harlan. She helped me get the choir involved.
The residents are excited as well, especially Melina. It’s been pure luck that I’ve managed to avoid Layton the last few times I’ve gone to the home to volunteer, though I always try to go at different times. Melina is determined to get me and Layton back together, so I know if she knew when I was going to be there, she’d make sure he was there too. It’s not like I can tell her why we don’t see each other anymore. What am I supposed to say? “Oh sorry, Grandma, your grandson doesn’t pop cherries.”
Everything considered, I have to say I’m proud of the way I’ve handled things. I made it through my first heartbreak, started working full time, and day by day I feel more like an adult instead of a fumbling kid.
Well, most of the time. I still managed to burn a cup of Ramen. In the microwave. But that was because Serena got me high, and I may have forgotten to add water. It only smoked a little, and the fire department showing up was total overkill in my opinion.
“Kelly!” Serena calls. “Someone’s at the door for you!”