― Michael Bassey Johnson
Sylvia
The hard part about waking up, is waking up. To die, to sleep―to sleep, perchance to dream...
Hamlet had it right. There's nothing bad but thinking on it makes it so. If I don't think about my future, life is tolerable.
Yeah, that's the thing about time―you can pass it easily and it just rolls on aimlessly like skein of yarn.
Toronto is a prison.
Say it real fast and you believe it. Add a drink and a dozen boozy friends and you'll keep on repeating it, but it's still a lie.
And Sylvia fisher is a dead end no matter how much I deny it.
We're sitting in A&W eating breakfast. I'm eating the bacon and egger and she's eating the breakfast wrap. And we're both drinking strong coffee―lots of it, but it's not helping. My head is splitting and I'm feeling guilty.
In general, I feel like crap.
I didn't want to end up back in her condo and here I am having breakfast with her, but on neutral territory―I insisted.
It doesn't matter though. I had a a moment when I could have resisted but didn't, and yeah, she's beautiful but we both know this won't last.
The A&W is the last refuge of the damned.
"I can't believe I actually did this again with you," she sighs and honestly looks wistful. I almost believe what she's selling, but I've been burned before by her.
Her blonde hair's spilling into her eyes and her cheeks are pink with a faint blush that's perfectly natural―not painted on.
"You're really good-looking you know, " I tell her, and mean it. "Even in the morning after the night before. You deserve better, Syl. Who are we kidding anyway?
"I don't know," she frowns and looks away and I hate myself for being so blunt. I think I hurt her and want to take it back but can't.
I don't like hurting people or things, or even girls like Syl who aren't exactly helpless.
She broke up a five-year relationship I had with Carrie, but I really did the damage myself. She helped it along by blackmailing me into staying with her, until I couldn't stand the double life and confessed the affair to Carrie and that was that.
She's the one that got away and Syl, well, she's the one who got her way...
And me? I got bloody nothing. Well, maybe breakfast at the A&W and enough regrets to last a life time.
Okay, that's a bit melodramatic, but it's how I feel.
"I feel bad for you, Matt," she says suddenly.
Is this guilt? Can the Man-Eater have a heart?
"Why do you feel bad, Syl?"
"You lost your job and I know from college, you're meant to be a teacher―we all knew that."
"Well, thanks for your vote of confidence, but it doesn't really help me. I think it's time for me to grow up."
"Don't you miss the classroom, Matt? You can't just give it up."
"You're such a positive lady," I smirk, "but cheerleading doesn't help me. I don't have any references―who the hell's going to hire me?"
"Would you consider a private school?"
"I would, but did you miss the part about no references? Nobody would touch me with a ten-foot pole."
"Daddy would, if I ask him. He's on the board of advisors for Haven College. He's the only reference you'd require."
I stare at her while quickly doing mental calculations of risk-reward.
She might just do me a favour, but the again, she might want something back. Syl is transactional―she'll trade this for that. It's the this that has me worried.
I don't know, Syl―what's the catch?"
"No catch―can't I just feel sorry for you and do you a solid? Damn it, I care about you, Matt. I can't stand it when you're sad. If you can't understand that, I don't know what else to tell you."
"Sorry," I say, raising my hands in surrender. "I didn't mean to insult you. I'd be indebted to you if you just got me an interview."
"I'll do better than that―you've got the job. I'll phone Daddy and ask him to set up a time. Just go and meet the Dean and you'll probably start immediately."
"Jeez, Syl, I don't know how to thank you."
Her eyes were full of dark fire. "I'm sure we can think of something." Then, she drawled in a little girl voice, "My demands are simple."
Even as she said it, I pictured her meaning, but was so desperate to get back into the classroom, I'd jump at anything.
Come to think of it, I think that's what she was intending.