January 20, 2017

December was anything but easy, most of it was spent in sleepless nights and never-ending days. I was convinced time had as its personal mission to go slower just to add on to my angst.

The only bittersweet comfort I had was whenever I got to study for the assistant position Evelyn had pushed me into applying to. But every subject I revised served only to remind me of Cecilia's lessons.

Sometimes it almost felt as if she were behind me with her lips brushing against my ear as her voice invaded my mind.

It did not take me long to realize I was torturing myself applying for that position, yet I never felt like I wanted anything more in my life. I knew if I did not get to win her back, that position just might end up being the only way to keep her in my life.

Once I heard an old musician say love was made of passion, but if ever people stopped being rational about it, there was no saying who that love might end up hurting. I did not get it at the time, but how could I when I had never felt like that before?

This past month I finally realized what the musician meant by that. I was losing myself in my angst, not to mention I had a feeling deep in my gut she would hate the idea of having me as her assistant.

My mother decided to throw some sort of Christmas party on the eve before Christmas, and much like I expected it only served to remind me of Cecilia, half the people there were friends with the professor.

I took Amy as my plus one just so I would not feel half as out of place, but it did not take her long to abandon me for the much chipper company of Felix Fisher. If I was not in such a bitter mood I might have just laughed.

I envied the younger male professor for being able to get over his infatuation with the infamous Professor Bailey so quickly—but then again, that was all it ever was, infatuation.

After that fiasco of a night, I decided it was best to spend New Year's Eve in solitude. Which was just as bad a decision.

All night long, all I could do was wonder whether the professor would be kissing someone when the year turned. Had she gotten over me? Was I as easy to forget as she was at lingering on my mind?

And then it was a new year, and yet I seemed to be my same troubled self.

At least I did not have half as much time to overthink my love life once the year turned because the first two weeks of the year would determine if I would get the assistant position.

The day of the written test was the most nervous I had felt in my life—it's sufficient to say that up until that moment I had never struggled to get what I wanted academically speaking—, but it was also the day I met Brianna.

I am usually extremely competitive—I have a feeling Miranda would fully agree with that assessment—, so to think someone I was going against with on a selection process would turn up to be someone I actually enjoyed having around was odd. But I liked her enough to try and make conversation flow.

Apart from talking to Miranda, who seemed almost godsent after my sort of breakup, and talking once to Amy during Christmas, I had been by myself for a little over a month.

When Brianna tried to make conversation on the few minutes before the written test I was taken by surprise, for a split moment I had to remind myself how to be social.

I had seen her around enough times. She was a little taller than most of the other female students, which suited her just fine once I learned she used to model for magazines during her teens. I am ashamed to say though that I had mostly noticed her presence on campus for something much more trivial, her skin color.

Brianna was a black girl studying law in a very white campus, and only once I truly got to know her, I realized that was the reason why I was so quick to recognize her face. Especially because she was not at all shy to call me out for doing so.

We exchanged numbers after that test and kept in touch for the week to follow as we shared our thoughts about what we were expecting of the interview.

I do not know how she managed to find out the information—seeing as not even Evelyn had minded sharing it with me—, but the day before the interview she texted me asking if I knew who the interviewer would be, to which I straightly answered it would be Professor Mace.

For me it was a no-brainer, if Cecilia was not available, then it would have to be Eve considering she was the only other Family Law professor to ask for an assistant.

"Suuuure, like you didn't know it was gonna be Professor Bailey. Guess the position is already yours, just hope the other professor likes me enough to keep me even if I wasn't her student."

That reply hit me like a brick falling a good ten-floor straight to my head. It served to get me to frozen on the spot.

Brianna had once mentioned how she believed I had a better chance than her of getting the position because apparently it was well known around campus how Cecilia and I were... close.

But much like Brianna was certain Cecilia would be bias on my favor, I was that she would be bias against me.

That night I did not sleep. And by the time the sun was up I was already dressed and ready to drive to campus for the interview. Driving to campus was another bittersweet reminder that in just about an hour or so I would be seeing the professor.

It was also during my drive there that I realized how odd it had been for me to not cross paths with the professor at the elevator or even the garage, as a matter of fact, her car seemed just as untouched as the week before.

It would be the first time the professor and I would be face to face in over a month and my stomach seemed unsettled by the idea.

My abdominal organs seemed to each be convulsing all on their own, but if that was not bad enough, I also felt like there was not enough oxygen being delivered to my brain. Light-headed just does not do justice to how awful my head felt.

Even though I had never answered back to Brianna's text she did not seem at all upset with me. As soon as I got to the waiting room for the interview, I saw her mindlessly playing on her phone and I envied her in that moment.

Sometimes life throws kindred people in your life, and although you might not see it at first, at some point you just realize that person is going to be a constant for you from there on. I had a feeling Brianna was meant to be one of those to me.

"Sweetie, you two have baggage." Brianna said not half as surprised as I would have expected after Cecilia stomped in the room pretending not to have acknowledged my presence—I knew the professor better than that though, and I knew the clack of her heels meant she was not at all pleased at seeing me in that waiting room.

Even if I felt safe confiding in my newest friend, I knew better than to tell Cecilia's business to a virtually stranger.

"You know how you were so sure she would favor me over everyone else? Yeah, I don't think so." I whispered so just Brianna would be able to hear me. I hoped in that moment she would not pressure me into opening up, for I knew I was fed up with that situation to the point of no return.

But she never enquired, maybe because my feelings were so visibly all over me, or maybe because she did not feel like it was her place to—although something in me strongly feels like it was the former.

As the time passed, I started to rub my hands against my pencil skirt in a vain attempt of getting them to stop sweating, which was outright ridiculous, the waiting room was freezing if nothing else.

But I knew why my body was acting up, I had just realized that if I really wanted the position I would have to play by Cecilia's rules. And there was only one thing I could use to make sure she would not jeopardize my chance of getting the spot, but it also meant if she ever found out about it, she would most likely rip my head off with a single glance.

She called my name last, which was not much of a surprise. Whenever she put her head out of the door to call for someone, I could see her eyes slightly glance my way with an expression that for most people would seem uninterested, but I knew her better than that, she was worried, but also frustrated.

Did she really think I would make some sort of scene at her workplace?

So, I waited patiently, as each candidate left the interview with a confident smile on their faces until it was my turn to play nice and responsible, but not before I made sure my phone was recording the interview—not that she had any idea of it.

Much to my surprise the office was just as cold as the waiting room, I had to catch myself before commenting about how she would always complain about the air conditioner's setting.

"Shall we start?" How could someone be that distant in such an effortlessly fashion? Nonetheless, I played my part and answered every one of her questions without much problem.

At least until she asked me which professor I would like to assist. I could see her jaw tensing as she kept her eyes on her question sheet, I guess that question was just as uncomfortable for me as it was for her.

Up until that moment I was so sure that I wanted that position so that I could stay close to her, but then I saw the fragile insecure version of her I liked to believe only I knew of.

I could not do that to her, even if I knew it would most likely mean I would not get to have her in my life at all.

"I think I've already had my fair share of experience with you in the mediation center. Also, for what I saw today in that waiting room, I don't think any of those students even know who Professor Mace is." Her eyes finally met mine again in a mist of surprise and something else I could not pinpoint—even I had trouble reading Cecilia Bailey sometimes.

"Well, if you're certain of that then." She said writing down my last answer on the side of what seemed to be my application.

I was at the door when she surprised me by actually acknowledging I was not just another student but rather someone who had once shared a bed with her.

"Are you okay? I mean, you are okay, right?" I did not know whether to be annoyed or hopeful, but I guess the broken-hearted version of myself spoke louder.

"I wasn't the one who fled the scene, but you know that. In fact, I had to mourn a loss while my sheets still smelled of something resembling love. Guess I'm not as good at meaning something as I am of being forgotten."

I never dared looking back, too scared to turn around and seeing her eyes agreed with my statement, too scared to realize the words I hoped to have misused were in fact right on point. Most of all, too scared to face the empty stare I had once seen her use while talking about Miranda.

Remi

If Icould have just read your mind in that moment, I wonder what tales you would have to tell.