Page 7 of Forever Christmas
Chapter 3: Corabelle
The end of the second quarter arrives. Jenny and I start repurposing decorations from her baby shower for Tina’s wedding. Even though Tina’s marrying a doctor and they could do pretty much anything, they’ve decided to keep it small and informal. We’re prettying up a small arch to put on a cliff that is important to them.
On the last day of class,my American Lit professor calls me to his office. I’ve been his teaching assistant this last year, and loved every minute of it.
Professor White is great. He’s supported me doubling up on classes so I can get through my master’s sooner. I’m hoping to start work on my doctorate next year and maybe score a better-paid adjunct position so I can start pummeling at my student loans. The TA stipendisn’t much, although I’m grateful to be doing it rather than working at the old coffee shop like I used to.
When I peek through his open door, Professor White is sitting behind his desk. The surface is littered with papers, and a rather unstable stack of books leans unsteadily on one corner.
“Corabelle!” he says, standing. His dress shirt is wrinkled, as always, and his belt is way too long,the end hanging down to his thigh. Apparently he used to weigh twice what he does now, and he keeps the belt to remind him of where he’s been.
But his eyes are merry, and the new beard he’s growing to be fashionable is still scraggly and sparse.
“What’s up?” I ask, dropping my overloaded backpack to the ground and settling on the hardback chair opposite his desk.
“I guess you know Theresa isgraduating in December,” he says. Theresa is one of the adjunct professors he supervises. “She’s gotten a position in New York.”
“That’s great!” I say. “She’s worked hard for it.”
“She has. I saw you are within striking distance of completing your master’s. Are you closing in on your thesis?”
My heart hammers. “I am.”
“I’ve really liked your work. Both your help as a TA and your graduate papers.Real standout stuff.” He opens a desk drawer. “I kept this one.” He places a stapled set of pages on the pile in front of him.
I recognize it. My paper on Dante’sInferno. I’d probably gotten a little too personal in it, comparing some of my experiences to his infamous Circles of Hell.
“Tapping into your own life story to bring a unique interpretation to a work is what literature is all about,”he says. “So, I’m relieving you as my TA.”
My body goes cold. He’s firing me?
“What?” I ask, my voice shaking.
“I want you in a better position to become an adjunct when Theresa leaves. If you’re under contract for the academic year as my TA, you can’t easily shift over.”
It takes a moment for the words to sink in. If I’m a TA, I can’t be an adjunct when it’s time. This is a good thing.
“Really? So soon?” I ask.
“Will you complete your work and your thesis by December?”
I think fast. It’s seven months away. “I can, as long as I take an extra class third quarter.”
“Good, consider it done. You could probably use the break from TA duties while you hammer that thesis out anyway.”
I frown. “But I’ll lose the stipend.”
It isn’t much, but it’s something. I’ll have to pick up shiftsat Cool Beans, if they’ll take me back. Or get some other job. We run too close on bills to lose that money.
“I’ll handle that. They haven’t selected scholarship recipients for fall quarter yet. I’ll make sure they make up that pay.”
“You will?”
He smiles. “Absolutely.”
I sit back in the chair. It’s what I’ve wanted forever. To move through my teaching experience so I could become a professor.Adjunct is the next step. It’s the best possible scenario.
Except.
