Page 9 of Love Out Loud

I leave the door open and cross the room to the armchair facing his desk. He riffles through a huge stack of papers on his desk, looking for something. For the second time today, I’m left wondering when the people in this place will join the times and go digital.

“I had your evaluation paperwork here just a second ago…” he mumbles. Papers drop to the floor in his haste to find what he’s looking for.

I lean over to pick them up and place them back on the edge of his desk. My phone vibrates in my bag as I do so, which reminds me to silence it. I take it out and glance at the screen, unsurprised to see Lennon’s marshmallow-stuffed face lighting it up. Tag, I’m it.

“Here it is.” Carl holds up a piece of paper in triumph. I click my phone to Silent and slide it back into my bag. He skims the paper, nods to himself, then sets it on top of another pile on his desk. “No surprises here. Another excellent evaluation.” He eyes me carefully, as if he’s not sure if he wants to say the next thing but he has to. “We’d love to see you branch out, though.”

I straighten in my seat, leaning forward. This is exactly the segue I was looking for. “I’d also love to branch out. I know the Acting II classes are opening up with Monique retiring, and I have thought about a few shows I could maybe direct—” I cut myself off as Carl’s lips tighten to a fine line.

“The Acting II classes are going to Paul,” he says.

“Paul? He’s been here half as long as I have.”

“And has twice the field experience. Lark, we’ve been over this. You need to get back out there. Do some actual acting so you can bring that experience into the classroom. That’s what I mean by branching out.” He reaches to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose before he must realize they’re no longer on his face.

I keep my voice even as I say, “You and I both know no one is interested in hiring someone as old as me for any of the fun roles.”

“Even doing some community theater would help.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Would it put me on the same playing field as Paul?” I try to keep the disdain out of my voice when I say his name but fail miserably.

Carl doesn’t miss it and levels me with a warning look. “He’s been in an off-Broadway show.”

Yes, and he won’t let anyone forget it. But I don’t say that, because that would surely only make me look as bitter as I feel. I actually don’t say anything. There’s nothing I can say. Paul didn’t spend his twenties changing diapers and finding pacifiers, and I did. That’s all there is to it.

Carl stacks a few papers and taps the edges of them against his desk. “He can’t out-teach you, Lark. You’re excellent in the classroom, and the students love you. But the college wants the instructors to have more experience at the upper levels of coursework.” He shrugs as if this is out of his hands, even though I know he could fight for me if he wanted. “Think about it. Are you teaching this summer?”

I shake my head slowly, not wanting my voice to betray me. I had opted out of teaching summer courses to be around to help Devin move before I knew she’d be taking a few weeks to backpack across Europe with her friends and then moving herself in with Richard until classes start. I’m still sore about that, too. Not at Devin, just at the universe for its cruel humor.

Carl nods once as if everything is settled. “Consider using that time to do something to take your career here to the next level.” He starts riffling through his papers on his desk again, and I think I’ve been dismissed.

There’s a lump rising in my throat, and I try not to look too dejected as I swallow it and stand to make my way back outside. The sun doesn’t feel as rejuvenating anymore, but I do my best to shake it off. I can’t have Devin thinking I’m bringing bad mojo to her track meet, or she’ll blame me if it doesn’t go as well as she hopes.

Thinking about Devin has me checking my phone as I pick up my pace to my car. Lennon’s marshmallow face is silently lighting up my screen again. I’m not normally irritated with his calls, but this is getting a bit excessive. I grit my teeth and answer just as I’m sliding behind the steering wheel of my Honda. It connects to the speaker system as soon as I start the car. “Hey, listen, I’m on my way to Devin’s meet—”

“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for a week,” he interrupts, a bit breathless.

“Sorry,” I say, though I’m not feeling entirely apologetic. “The end of the school year is a little nutty—”

“Yeah. I get it. Do you have a minute right now, though, or…” He trails off.

I grind my teeth at his second interruption. He could just get to the point, but he’s not going to without my permission, so I say, as brightly as I possibly can, given the circumstances, “I’m on my way to the meet, so I have”—I check the clock on the dashboard—“three minutes. What’s up?” I back out of my parking space.

He takes a deep breath. “Okay. Before you say no—”

“No,” I jump in.

He’s silent for a moment, and I can feel the smile tugging at my lips as I inch through the intersection and onto the main road outside the campus. Banter with Lennon, I can do. It’s as natural as breathing, and it goes a long way to make me less unbalanced.

“Lark, come on.” He’s trying to sound manly and reasonable, but there’s an unmistakable whiny edge to his voice. He sounds so much like teenage Lennon that my heart skips.

“Sorry,” I say again, and I mean it this time. “Go ahead.”

“I have an idea. A proposal? No. Maybe a proposition.” He’s muttering now, trying to find the right word, but before I can pipe in to tell him to spit it out, he does. “I have this project. An audiobook. Two narrators. The female narrator had to drop out because she needs her tonsils removed, so I talked to the author and some people, and they’d like you to do it. Well, to audition. But we’re in a bind, and you said the other day that you wanted to get back into acting. No, you didn’t say that. You were sad about Devin leaving, but you kind of implied that you wanted to do something else and—”

“Lennon! Good lord, take a breath. You’re making me nervous just listening to you.” I swing my car around into the only parking space left at the high school. I can hear the crowd cheering through my closed windows. A glance at my clock tells me the meet just started, which means I have a little time before Devin’s race.

“Let me get this straight,” I say slowly. “You need a female audiobook narrator because someone is getting their tonsils out?”