Page 31 of Take Care, Taylor
As the professor approached the whiteboard and went over her syllabus, I couldn’t focus on a single word she said; I was too fixated on Audrey and the way she was biting her bottom lip. The way every guy in the room noticed.
The way I noticed first.
TRACK 12. MEAN (1:58)
AUDREY
Three Days Later
Dear Miss Parker,
Your first paper in my class fails to live up to any of the essays you submitted to get into this program.
It is bare, lacks emotion, and reads like it was submitted by one of the high school students you’re required to tutor here.
I will not waste my timegiving you a grade on it.
You have twenty-four hours to rewrite this with actual feeling and depth, or else I’ll have to give you a zero.
My jaw dropped as I read over Professor Paulson’s looping cursive, scrawled across the top of my work. I’d worked hard as hell on that “Person Who Hurt Me” paper, and I didn’t understand why she hated it so much.
My chest tightened, my face burning with humiliation. I’d stayed up half the night writing that essay, pulling pieces of myself I hadn’t touched in years.
Bare? Lacking emotion?
If only she knew how much I’d held back.
Flipping the cover sheet, I skimmed my paragraphs in disbelief. I’d picked Sarah Resner—a girl from high school (and one of Taylor’s many girlfriends from back then) who alienated me from half the class.
“This is the definition of hurt,” I muttered. “I don’t see what she means…”
Setting it down, I tiptoed out of my room and noticed that Taylor’s door was shut. I walked to the living room where he’d been working every night; his laptop was open, and I hesitated before moving closer.
I clicked on the screen, but it required a password. I rummaged through his folders and notebooks, stopping when I saw Professor Paulson’s handwriting on a stapled essay.
My fingers hovered over the pages in shame.
I knew I shouldn’t look.
I knew.
But the moment I saw her familiar looping cursive, something ugly and curious inside me took over.
Pulling it out, I read her words:
Dear Mr. Wolff,
Your writing is some of the most compelling I’ve ever read on this topic. The way you recaptured the history between you and your former schoolmate made my heart ache.
I look forward to reading more.
98/100.
“What the fuck?” I nearly screamed. I pulled out my phone and took pictures of every page, then put everything back in its place before rushing to my room.
I locked the door as if he would ever approach it, as if he could actually see me reading his words.
Time hasn’t started to suture the wounds that this woman inflicted on me…
