Page 41 of The Masks We Break

I mean, it’s a big deal, right?

Part of me thinks so, but with nothing else to compare it to, I’m not really sure.

“Have you gotten it approved by your advisor to take twenty hours in the spring? If you no longer assist Humphrey, there’s no reason you can’t add another class. I can’t have you becoming lazy. Medical training will eat you up alive,con gái.”

The term of endearment burns the brim of my eyelids with a fresh set of tears. It means nothing, and I know he only says it to lessen the blow of his hurtful words. But it doesn’t work, and they sting regardless.

I’m so tired of meaning nothing to the people who mean something to me. Of being invisible until by chance they remember my existence.

Of not feeling worthy of being loved.

The confession does something inside my sternum. It cracks the mask of contentment I wear, begging me to just open my mouth and ask my father what I ever did to make him act this way. Why he blames me for killing my mother. Why he can’t justfreakinglove me.

I open my mouth, the bitter words on the edge of being said, but he speaks first.

“You can’t ride on my coattails forever, so make sure you talk to that advisor and take care of it. You need to start doing these types of things without me prompting you. I have to go now. See you Saturday.”

My phone screen lights up, indicating the end of our call.

I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to feel something—resentment, frustration, maybe annoyance. But instead, numbness coats my insides. It anchors me in my bed, making me sink farther into the covers.

And for the first time in years, instead of doing work, I close my computer and take a nap.

TWENTY

This has to be the most insufficient grading process I have ever seen. Well, I’ve never input grades for a professor before but I highly doubt any of them do it this way. For the third time, I double-check the screen, flipping between tabs to gather grades, write them down on a spreadsheet, andthenenter them in the system. It’s mundane and takes way too long. I’ve been here nearly three hours and I’m only halfway done.

The fifty other things I could be doing flit through my mind, irritation licking at my back, making the room hotter. I should say something. Ask him if we can make this whole thing more structured.

But when my gaze flashes to Dr. Humphrey, the nerve flies out the open window that keeps blowing his thin gray strands in wayward directions. He’s an intimidating man, but when I was his student freshman year, I saw him in a different light. I admired him.

He discusses fiction at such an in-depth level, I’ve since changed my perspective on genres I’d hated in the past. He honors every trope differently, breaking down the mechanics, the character development, and the plots. Everything us as readers might not understand beyond surface level. It’s elevated my love for reading even further and for that, I’ll always respect him.

I suppress a groan and continue to work, holding on to the fond memory I do have of the man to help me get through grading. Just as I finish a section, my phone vibrates against the wooden table.

Ricky: How’s it going with Dr. Hard-ass?

I bite back a laugh, clearing my throat when Dr. Humphrey shoots me a warning glance.

Me: Swimmingly. At the rate I’m going, I feel like I’ll be here all night.

Ricky: Better not. We have a date :)

I smile at my phone like a fool, enjoying the way my stomach does a little flip of excitement.

A frat party isn’t the date I necessarily wanted but it will be kind of cool to meet his friends.

“Ah, like father, like daughter I see.” Dr. Humphrey’s low tone sounds more like he’s talking to himself, but his furrowed glance my way makes me think he wasn’t.

I clamp down on the inside of my lip, focusing on the spreadsheet in front of me.

What the heck is that supposed to mean?

An awkward stretch of silence moves in the room, my mind now unable to focus on the worst task in the world.

Opening my mouth twice, I snap it back shut, looking at the top of my pink flair pen. I want to know what he meant, but I also can’t make any more waves with this man. I’ve recently decided to volunteer in the library next year, and it’d be nice to have a recommendation from someone I busted my butt for. That is, if Dr. Humphrey would even write one.

I decide to keep quiet and hide my goofy grin as I text Ricky. Suddenly the time moves quicker, and it doesn’t seem like such a drag.

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