Page 28 of Napkins and Other Distractions
“He’s a nice man. Yes. We’re friends.”
Sheldon’s eyebrows, so light they’re barely visible against his porcelain skin, race to the top of his forehead. Clearly, Theo’s been talking about us.
“That’s all,” I say.
Sheldon’s eyes go wide, and he gives a cheeky half smile. “Sure thing, Mr. Lester.”
“Have a good afternoon, Mr. Soleskin.” I tilt my head, offer a grin, and head for the door.
“Is it bad?”
Hunched over his laptop, Vincent’s furrowed brow makes his handsome face appear even more snack-worthy. After I left Sheldon’s, I stopped in a few other classrooms on my way back. Checking in on teachers, ensuring nobody needed a bathroom break. I remember what it was like being trapped for hours, needing to pee. It also might be wise to give Vincent some space … For both of us.
“No, nothing bad, just me.”
“You?”
“Geoff wants this data streamlined and formatted. I have to go through each line and remove commas, add spaces, that sort of thing. It’s just … tedious.”
Vincent’s lips form a circle, and he lets out a massive sigh.
“Can I do anything to help? I can re-do the extract.”
I sit opposite him, ready to assist.
“Nope, I just need to finish.”
His eyes dart up, another deep inhale, and then, “But thank you.”
Glancing at my watch, I see it’s almost time for dismissal.
“Okay. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”
He doesn’t move his eyes from his screen but gently nods.
As I walk into the equipment closet off the cafégymatorium, Ruth relaxes, feet up, fiddling on her phone, waiting to head out.
“Can you do my car duty today?”
“Of course, boss.” Ruth relinquishes her phone to the desk. “Everything okay?”
Vincent’s glazed eyes and frequent sighs tread water in my head.
“It’s Vincent. Something’s up.”
Ruth grabs the jacket of her tracksuit and walks toward the exit.
“I got you. You take care of your man.”
He’s not my man. But I don’t correct her.
When I return, Vincent’s precisely as I left him—hunched over, gazing diligently at his screen, while his fingers tap, attempting to keep up with his brain.
“Vincent, I’m just going to sit here and reply to some emails. If you need anything … well, I’m here.”
Nothing. A swirl of worry churns in my stomach as I see the tight pinch on his face. There’s something he’s not telling me. With students, I often have to ask questions and wait. Let them calm down. Settle in. And then the talking comes. But Vincent doesn’t want to talk. With a set jaw, he’s glued his gaze on his screen.
When my emails have been read, replied to, sorted, and filed, he’s still at it. It’s been almost two hours, and I’m expected at Gillian’s for dinner tonight. I have dinner at her house on the first Friday of the month. “Poppy time” with my granddaughter is a highlight for me.
