The Singer and the Teacher

I'm late, I'm late, I'm late! I thought frantically, running as fast as one can with high heels on. My job interview was going to start in less than five minutes, and they asked me to be ten minutes early. Of course, right? I went to college for Classics, which is basically Ancient Greek history, and I learned both Greek and Latin languages. Latin teachers were in high demand, and I've had lots of offers. This one in particular was at an all-girls college prep school, and they were willing to pay me double. It was the end of their school year, but they had summer school students who wanted to take extra Latin classes. A horrible time to be late, don't you agree?

I burst through the double doors as the clock ticked to eight o'clock. My hair was windblown and I was sure there were going to be sweat stains on my blouse.

"Oh, you must be Miss McNair," said a perky blonde behind the counter. She looked like a volunteer student. "Don't worry, the interviews are running late, too." She winked and disappeared behind a row of filing cabinets. It was a beautiful school: dark wood paneled the walls, paintings hung between the tall windows and the tile floor gleamed like it had just been waxed. I sat down in a squashy arm chair, trying to fix my appearance as much as I could. My feet ached from running my new heels, and I hoped my purchase would help me get this job. A few moments after I had caught my breath, a tall, thin woman that could have been the blonde's mother strode gracefully into the foyer and smiled coldly.

"Miss McNair," she said, reading my name from a clipboard. Her words were clipped, but I had a feeling that she was a distant woman, not an unfriendly one. Well, I hoped. "Follow me, please." I gulped before I was close enough for her to hear me, and obeyed.

"I hope you did not have to wait too long," she said, closing the heavy wooden door behind her. She gestured to the single chair in front of a fancy desk as she sat down behind it. "My other prospects babbled far too much."

"No, I didn't," I said, sitting as straight as I could. "Thank you for this opportunity, ma'am."

"You are very welcome, dear," she said, her voice distracted as she reviewed my resume. "A man I respect very much recommended you himself. Now, I understand that you are young, but I feel that you will connect with our girls well, unlike our last Latin teacher. I will be supervising your classes for the first two weeks. Rachel will have papers for you to sign before you leave. It was a pleasure to meet you." She stood up and held out her hand, and I immediately stood and shook it firmly.

"Excuse me," I said, scrunching my eyebrows in thought. "I thought this was an interview."

"Oh, it's just procedure, dear," she said, her smile not as cold. "I only needed to see you for a minute to decide." I had a feeling this woman had tiny scales in her brain, weighing and measuring my every move. "Rachel is ready with your papers. Have a glorious day."

* * *

To celebrate my success, I went to Starbucks and ordered a white mocha with an extra shot. I was walking Fisherman's Wharf, a big tourist spot in the bay area, when something so insignificant changed my life forever. This early in the morning and this time of year, there weren't as many people on the Wharf as usual, and a single man, tall and skinny with shoulder-length brown hair, was leaning on the railing. It only came to his waist, which would have scared me to death, and he was watching the sea lions. I stayed about twenty feet closer to the shore, and leaned on the same rail. I set my coffee next to me and watched the sea lions bask on the docks.

After a few minutes, I heard the clattering of skateboard wheels on the wood walkway. They got louder, and suddenly stopped right behind me. There were four of them, all younger than me, and apparently they all had something to prove.

"Hey lady, those are some expensive clothes you've got," said the one on the left, the tallest one. "I'll bet you have some cash on you."

"Uh--"

"Save it, Keith, just take her purse!" said one of the middle boys, who reached out and grabbed my bag. "Push her in the water!" The boy on the left acted quickly, grabbing my by the knees and tipping me over the railing before they all ran as fast as they could.

It's not that I can't swim, but I had heard a horrible story a few years ago about a sea lion chasing an old man down the beach and the idea of being in the water where over a hundred of them swam didn't make me feel very good. Needless to say, I clumsily paddled myself to the big rocks on the shore. They were slippery with green moss, and I would have slipped and hit my head if it wasn't for someone grabbing my wrist at the last moment. I looked up and saw the tall skinny man, who had my purse in his other hand.

"You know, I'm not a hero, but you sure made me feel like one," he said, a small smile on his face but his eyes had concern in them. "Are you okay?" More people were crowding around us now, some of them snapping pictures.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, starting to shiver. It might have been June, but the fog hadn't burned off entirely and the wind was picking up. I took off my thin jacket and wrung the water out of it, then tried to wring out the clothes I wasn't comfortable taking off. I realized I had lost my brand new shoes and grimaced at the loss, and my mood fell in sync with my coffee that got knocked into the water with me.

"You're soaked," he said, leading me by the hand up the grassy slope to a bench. "And you're barefoot. Let me give you some dry clothes and shoes."

"Oh, no, no," I said, holding up my hands. "I'm flattered, but this wasn't your fault. I only live a couple minutes away, I can go home."

"Can I at least buy you a new coffee and walk you home?" he asked, not quite begging but laying on the charm with that cute little smile.

"You can walk me home," I said firmly, and held up my pointer finger when he tried to protest. "I won't have my savior buying me coffee." He was still smiling despite his defeat, and I started to walk in the direction of my apartment complex.

We walked an entire block and were waiting for a crosswalk signal when I finally was able to speak again without my teeth chattering.

"I'm Adriene," I said, sticking out my hand. "I'm sorry we had to meet this way."

"Derek," he replied, shaking my hand gently. "Maybe we should be grateful we met at all." I snorted a laugh, but he wasn't embarrassed.

"My day was going so well, too," I said as we crossed the street. I yelped when I stepped on a pebble, cursing my bad luck in my mind as I continued. "I finally get to be a teacher at a respected prep school and I get thrown into the bay by the very age group I want to teach."

"What do you teach?" he asked, holding out his arm for me to hold after the pebble incident in the middle of the street.

"Latin," I answered, taking his arm. I was able to study him more closely, and saw that he had tattoos, wore jeans tighter than men were supposed to wear and had a haircut not much different from the boys who assaulted me. My jaw tightened, but I relaxed when I convinced myself that he wasn't the same. He couldn't be. "What do you do?"

"I sing," he said, and I nodded.

"What do you sing?"

"Music."

"Well, duh," I said, rolling my eyes. "In a band? By yourself?"

"In a band," he answered, done joking with me. "Mayday Parade." I thought for a moment, recognizing the name but not the sound.

"I think I almost recognize you now," I said, stopping in front of the very Starbucks I bought my coffee from. I stared at him without blinking for a minute, wondering where I'd seen him before. "Warped Tour. 'Jamie All Over'. I love that song." I started walking again, feeling special that I had finally met the man that sang that song.

"Me too," he said, and I chuckled. "Can I buy you a coffee now?" I thought for a moment.

"No," I said finally. "How long are you going to be in San Francisco?"

"Only another week," he answered, and we reached my apartment. "Is this it?"

"This is me, yeah," I said, looking up to the second floor. "Thank you. For everything."

"Here," he pulled a Sharpie out of his back pocket and started writing numbers on the inside of my forearm. "This is a temporary number, but if you need coffee in the morning, will you call?" I was blushing furiously, but I nodded.

"I always have coffee in the morning," I mumbled shyly, and he smiled widely.

"Then I'll be expecting a phone call first thing," he said, and flagged a taxi. He turned back and smiled one last time before getting in and driving away.