Page 106 of Drown Like Heaven
And I hated that feeling, because I’d never get enough of it. There was no amount of reassurance that would actually cure me or soothe my brain for good. I knew that.
The clock flipped past the final minute of class, and everyone started packing up, chatting and taking their time leaving the room. A few people went up to the front to talk to Dr. Killshaw, but I stayed where I was, white-knuckling the table and trying not to lose every ounce of courage in my body.
Finally, the last student left, the door swinging shut behind him.
Dr. Killshaw didn’t look up from his laptop, bent over his desk while he spoke loudly, voice carrying across the room, “You can come down here.”
Swallowing against the tightness in my throat, I slowly rose from my seat and made my way down to his desk. He finished whatever he was doing on his laptop, then slammed it shut, rounding the desk to sit on the edge of it in front of me, arms braced at his sides.
“You didn’t respond to my email.”
“I’m sorry.” My voice was too quiet, and I couldn’t quite look at his face. At least he wasn’t starting with my expulsion notice.
“So youdidsee the email,” he inferred. “You just ignored it.”
I didn’t miss his tone when he coolly called me out forignoringhim. It rang clear in my mind, a perfect callback tothat afternoon in his office when I’d accusedhimof ignoring me.Looks like we’re both good at avoiding each other.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”
“You could let me know if you’re interested. And then we’d talk about it.”
I pinched the hem of my sweater between my fingers, running my fingernail lightly along the edge. “To be honest, I don’t really know what your research is about. I’m also pretty busy, so I’m not sure if I’d have time to help you with it.”
Dr. Killshaw crossed his arms. My stare was drawn upwards to his chest, then his face. He appeared to be thinking about something, weighing his options in his mind.
“Do you have class right now?”
“Not for a couple hours.”
“I could show you my lab, explain some of the logistics, then you can get back to me about it later,” he suggested, his brows pulled together.
“Now?” My grip tightened on the strap of my bag, fingernails digging into my palm. Maybe we weren’t going to talk aboutthe incidentat all.
“That’s what I was offering, but it’s up to you.”
“Okay. That’s fine,” I answered, almost mechanically.
“Alright.” He pushed off the desk, standing up fully. “It’s in the basement, connected to the main Unit Ops lab.”
Dr. Killshaw lead me out of the classroom into the wide hallway, large panes of glass spanning one of the walls and showing a nice view of some campus walkways. Small droplets of precipitation were starting to sprinkle on the glass as we walked towards the door to the stairs.
No elevator this time.
It was echoey in the stairwell, our footsteps ricocheting off the cinder block walls and metal railings, filling the space with harsh sounds in the absence of conversation. Dr. Killshawpushed the door open at the bottom and I followed him through it, being careful not to get too close to him.
I wondered if we’devertalk about what’d happened in his office. Did he still think about it? Did he hold it against me? I couldn’t be sure. Even though he’d given me this opportunity, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to use the proximity to hurt me in some way.
A few students were by the lockers, sitting at the round tables with their laptops open, typing away. We passed them, turning down a different hallway. It was a hallway I’d never had reason to be in, much like the one containing his office on the sixth floor. Maybe something terrible waited for me here too.
Dr. Killshaw opened a door that was adjacent to the main lab, connected on one wall, but a separate room. It smelled faintly of heated metal and solvent vapors.
Stacked shelving made the corners of the room shadowed, low florescent lights shining on the rest, faintly gleaming on the scuffed black epoxy benchtops. Clean glassware hung on a drying rack above a small sink, and a few rags laying on the counters had random tools and oddly-specific fittings laid out on them. Metal stools were shoved under the benchtops, covering faint chalk marks on the floor.
There was a whiteboard on one wall, covered in half-erased calculations and flow diagrams, scribbled in blue marker. I stared at it for a minute, tracing the quickly-sketched lines. It was somehow tidy and chaotic at the same time.
Every time I was reminded of the genuine intelligence Dr. Killshaw possessed, it stirred something low in my stomach. I sometimes forgot he wasn’t just teaching the concepts of this class, and that he actually knew a vast amount of things beyond the confines of those lectures. That he was able to reallythinkon his own, to apply his knowledge in the real world.
“This is my lab,” he started. “Right now, I’ve got one grad student working for me, but his schedule has been a little more hectic recently. That’s why I asked you.”
