******
"That's all for today." Mattie clicked off the slide projector. "I hope you've seen from the paintings we've discussed, the ways in which contemporary artists have been inspired to channel their views of current events into powerful visual statements. See you Thursday." She flipped on the lights and continued to organize her materials as the students exited her classroom, then checked her watch. Good, she should have enough time to run over to the lounge next door, and grab some hot coffee and hopefully, a cheese danish. She was starved. Her restless night had caused her to oversleep, and she'd hurried to her class without breakfast. She shrugged her brown tweed jacket on over her black turtleneck and full-length, straight black wool skirt, and grabbed her cane and shoulder bag.
Mattie locked the classroom door and headed down the stairs, realizing as she exited the building that she'd been in such a hurry to get to her class that morning, that she'd failed to notice what a gorgeous day it was. Hopefully, the lounge wouldn't be too crowded since it was still relatively early. She turned to her left when she reached the next building, and climbed the stone stairs, pulling open the heavy, white door, and from the foyer, turned right and walked down the hallway. She was about to enter the lounge when she saw a notice on official college stationery taped to the door, and she paused to read it through, frowning as she reached the end.
Office of the President/Brooksford College
Faculty, Staff, and Students:
"We, at Brooksford College, are, like every other campus, trying to address the larger issue of how we live together as a community while our country grapples with continued turmoil, over a war that some in our great country defend and others view as immoral. I am committed to continuing to respond to campus incidents in the best way possible to continue our climate of education first.
We must have these difficult and challenging conversations among our students, our faculty, and staff members, as well as others, on such issues as our right to protest versus the right to a safe college environment. We are focused on ensuring that our students are allowed to continue their studies toward a brighter future for themselves, in a safe and secure environment.
To that end, it is necessary to let students understand that any disruption in our campus climate due to a protest or other unsanctioned gathering will result in the disruptive students' arrests and possible prosecution and incarceration, as well as immediate expulsion from Brooksford College."
President Stanley S. Buckley
She exhaled, wondering why she hadn't seen that notice as of yet. A copy was most likely in her faculty mailbox at that moment. She sighed and entered the large room, noticing that there was only one other person in the lounge, a student near the door, obviously cramming for an upcoming test judging by the intense look on his face as he pored over a textbook. She scanned the numerous vending machines lining the walls between the tall, multi-paned windows, and smiled softly as she heard the strains of the familiar Hey Jude playing over the intercom. Making her choice, she inserted the appropriate coins into the slot and the cellophane-wrapped cheese danish fell into the tray. She walked over to the coffee machine and after a minute of tapping her fingers impatiently on the countertop, pulled out the small paper cup of scalding coffee. Deciding to relax for a minute and enjoy her breakfast, she sat down at one of the small round tables tucked in the back of the room and she rested her cane against the metal chair, and unbuttoned her jacket. Umm...m, the coffee may be weak, but it was hot and exactly what she needed. She unwrapped her danish, and took a bite, leaning back in the chair to unwind. As she reached for a napkin from the metal dispenser on the table, she noticed a small flyer lying against it and picked it up. She sipped her coffee, and her brows narrowed in consternation as she read the handwritten invitation for all students attending Brooksford who opposed the war to take part in a sit-in in front of the Administration Building Friday - just three days away. She turned it over, checking the back, wondering why someone would publicly announce their plan to protest after the notice from President Buckley made his intentions to prosecute so clear. She took another bite of her danish and chewed thoughtfully as she reread the flyer.
"We meet again, eh?"
Mattie raised her eyes, startled by the deep voice interrupting her thoughts, to see jeans and a black peacoat, and she looked up into the dark eyes of the man from the protest. At the same time, her heart sank a little as out of the corner of her eye, she saw the student pick up his books and head out the lounge door. She swallowed her bite of danish and squinted her eyes up at him as he removed his knit cap and smoothed down several statically-charged strands of his black hair. She saw now that his straight hair was pulled back into a low pony tail, and he had rather long sideburns. He looked as if he hadn't shaven for a day or two, and she saw him rub his jaw as if he'd read her thoughts. He was extremely good looking, and she suddenly felt a little confused, comparing her memory of the disturbing, shadowy encounter from the night before to the vision now of the very handsome man standing in front of her under the fluorescent lights.
"Are you following me?" She eyed him suspiciously, and immediately regretted her words. She pursed her lips as she realized how ridiculous that must have sounded.
"I was going to ask you the same thing," he chuckled, and she frowned. He paused for a moment, then she saw his eyes become serious. "However, I do want to apologize for startling you last night. That wasn't my intention, I assure you." As he spoke, he unbuttoned his coat, revealing a beige cable-knit sweater over a navy shirt, and he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out some change. "I felt I knew you."
She lifted her chin and squinted her eyes at him, considering his apology.
"Why were you at the protest?" She asked him instead. "I don't believe I've seen you around campus."
"This is interesting," he pursed his lips, raising one eyebrow. "I was going to ask you the same question." He turned and inserted some coins into the machine next to her table, and reached down for the cellophane wrapped honey bun as it dropped down into the tray.
"I'm sorry, but who are you?" He hadn't answered her previous question and she squinted her eyes up at him and sipped her coffee, not wanting what little there was left of it to get cold. She glanced down at her watch impatiently.
"My name is Clay Adamore." He looked down at her seriously. "And I'm assuming that you're an instructor here?" What was that faint accent? She couldn't quite place it.
"Yes, I am." Her voice was cautious as she peered up into his very intense gaze. "I teach art history." He didn't need to know her name. She sipped her coffee as he stood in front of her, holding his cap and honey bun in his hands. "Do you work here at the college?" She forced herself to look into his eyes.
"No, I don't." His smile was pleasant, if a little strained. She raised her eyebrows, and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear as he continued. "It's a little difficult to explain exactly what I do right now."
She was a little puzzled at his answer, and suddenly rethought her previous decision.
"My name is Mattie." She nodded up at him, and finished off her coffee. She was in a hurry, and needed to get back to her classroom.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mattie."
"Why did you have a camera?" she blurted out and she saw him peer down at her as if contemplating the best answer.
"I like to keep it with me." He pursed his lips. "It's a hobby of sorts."
"I have a class in a few minutes," she nodded up at him, and finished off her coffee. She was in a hurry, and needed to get back to her classroom. His eyes, however, were slightly intimidating to her for some reason, and she cleared her throat and averted her gaze as she picked up her wrapper and napkin and stuffed them in the empty cup.
She managed a slight smile as she stood up and retrieved her cane. He didn't seem quite as strange as he had the night before, but, on the other hand, it was hard to forget how he'd suddenly appeared by her side in the freezing darkness and startled her with h
is intense stare and rude questions. She walked around from behind the table and deposited her trash in the receptacle.
"Then, I won't keep you." He stared soberly at her, and she nodded as she walked past him, and she made her way to the door, knowing without a doubt that he was watching her.