Page 56 of An Arcane Education
The situation with Dr. Lowry has only deteriorated since our conversation about my father. He's always been strict, but now his demeanor toward me borders on hostile. He calls on me more frequently than other students and seems to find a malicious satisfaction when I don’t know the answers to his difficult questions. When I do answer correctly, he simply moves on with no more than a subtle nod of acknowledgment.
After my conversations with Dr. Lowry and Professor Showen, I’ve been hesitant to approach any of the other professors about my father, debating if it’s worth it to bring attention to myself when it seems to only have caused me pain and confusion so far. I’ve decided to put itoff for now, but the list of names still sits in my desk drawer.
Despite the worsening weather, I venture out for walks whenever I can, finding that even despite the cold, gloomy days, the quiet trails provide solace and clarity for my frazzled mind. Some days, when the weather permits, I walk on the beach instead. Out there, the cold wind is harsher, but the vast openness of the ocean provides some peace that’s at odds with the unease I sometimes feel in the forest. Whether it’s all in my head or not, I can’t say.
On the rare occasions I have a spare moment, I search the library for any more records of my father. I come across a couple of photographs of him that I’d missed in the yearbooks, but otherwise, my search is fruitless. With no internet to look up potential online records, I have no other option but to wait until I’m home for winter break.
AJ keeps me company during some of my library sessions, whether I’m searching for records of my father or simply studying. Sometimes he’s working, sometimes studying, and other times he simply sprawls out on a chair and regales me with gossip about our classmates.
A couple days after the party incident, Max had apologized to me about her misdirected anger, though her wariness about social situations only seems to have grown. With both of us being so weighed down by coursework, most of the time we spend together is spent studying or getting ready for bed before another long day. On the bright side, she has mentioned that my emotional state seems to be stabilizing, which apparently makes being my roommate significantly more bearable for her.
A disruption in my rigid routine comes one morningafter my Wednesday morning class when Professor Showen asks me to stay behind after class.
I do, and my curiosity burns as she waits for the rest of the students to clear out before she speaks to me.
“I owe you an apology,” she says, wringing her hands. Her voice is soft and calming despite her apparent nervousness. “I’ve had some time to process the situation now, but it wasn’t fair of me to disregard you after you told me about your father. I was a bit shocked, but that’s not an excuse for how I behaved.”
Relief floods through me. “It’s okay. I understand.”
Her eyes flick to the door when someone passes, but their footsteps continue to fade down the hallway. “I also wanted to let you know that I’ve thought about your request for tutoring, and I’m able to offer you assistance if you still need it.”
“I really appreciate that, but I’ve actually found another professor willing to tutor me. I feel pretty confident on the written work and theory, but it’s the practical application I’m still working on.”
“If I may ask, which professor is tutoring you?”
“Dr. Vale,” I answer.
Her brow furrows for a brief second before she smooths her expression. “I see. Well, if you change your mind, I’d be happy to help.”
“Thank you.” I wait for her to end the conversation and dismiss me, but she surprises me with what she says next.
“I know this is slightly unorthodox, but I was wondering if you’d like to come to my house for tea thisweekend. I think it may give us both some closure about this situation.”
I’m taken aback by her offer after her weeks of ignoring me, but it feels like too important of an opportunity to pass up. I need to be on good terms with as many of my teachers as I can.
“I’d love to.”
“Wonderful. Does Sunday at three work for you?”
“That would be great,” I answer.
She writes down her house number and tells me it’s one of the first few on the path through the staff housing, and I spend the rest of the week simultaneously nervous and excited about having a one-on-one conversation with her.
On Sunday, I put on jeans, a thick navy blue sweater, and black boots before bundling up in my coat and making my way outside. The walk to the faculty housing takes me through campus then along the edge of the island until I reach a cluster of small stone houses that resemble fairy tale cottages.
Warm light glows from several windows, and smoke curls from chimneys into the gray sky. Some of the homes have ivy climbing the outer walls, and the scene creates a quaint image of a cozy community. It’s a stark juxtaposition to the dark, looming buildings on campus with their vaguely foreboding presence.
I find Professor Showen’s house easily, and when I knock on the wooden door, it opens almost immediately.
“Hi, Vivian. It’s so nice to see you,” she greets me warmly. “Come inside.”
Once inside, I hang my coat on the hook beside the door and take in the sight. It feels weird being in my teacher’s home, like I’m crossing a boundary even though I was explicitly invited. I guess I should have checked the student handbook to make sure this is actually allowed before I came, but I can’t imagine she would have invited me if it was against the rules.
The house is cluttered in a comfortable sort of way that shows it’s lived in. Blankets are strewn about the furniture, and shelves along the walls hold books, crystals, candles, framed photos, and various knick-knacks. A half-finished crocheted blanket sits on the coffee table with the crochet hooks set on top of it.
Professor Showen ushers me into the kitchen where a kettle sits on the stovetop, and at the table is a small girl who can’t be older than ten coloring a picture. “This is my daughter, Ava.”
“Hi, Ava,” I say. “I’m Vivian.”
