Become

Conversations with John became easy--too easy. Not only did he share stories over coffee every morning before classes, I found myself sharing stories with him. The student-teacher relationship was all but gone and it turned into a friendship. Going to Theater class was more like going to hang out with Raine, but since Raine was overloaded with homework and intense soccer practices, I hardly saw her.

On one of the rare days she was able to sleep in, Raine sat in her bed with the newest issue of Cosmo in her hands, a cigarette in her lips and a hot coffee on her nightstand. John was busy with last minute work before Christmas break, so in my boredom I decided to go and fetch my own coffee and buy one for John, too.

"I'm going out," I announced, looping my scarf around my neck. "Do you need anything? Want anything?"

"Cigarettes, if you don't mind," Raine said, only paying half-attention. "I'm going to take another nap anyway. I'm still exhausted."

"I'll be back later," I told her, and she waved a hand to show she heard me.

Snow began piling up all over the city, and I tugged my scarf up to cover my mouth and nose. I enjoyed the sight of winter on campus and it took me a moment to return to reality when the coffee shop came into sight. The line went out the door and I grimaced. Of course, I thought bitterly, but went and stood in line anyway after turning up my coat collar and securing my scarf around my face, revealing only my eyes and some of my hair that escaped my beanie. I glared at the back of someone's head in front of me as the line slowly trudged on.

"You stayed in that old flat? Really? It's deplorable!" My eyes darted in the direction of John's voice, and I was about to call out to him until I saw his companion: a woman of an age with him, tall, thin and straight dark hair reaching her shoulders. Her face was pretty and her brown eyes regarded Mr. Arthur with familiarity. She held a cup in her hands--tea, I could see the tag hanging from the top--but John's hands were empty.

"It was cheap, and in a nice part of town, I would have been mad to leave," she replied, a tinkling laugh following her answer in an accent mimicking Mr. Arthur's. "You were mad to leave. Everyone misses you still, and it's been years." I eavesdropped shamelessly, occasionally shifting my eyes to avoid attention.

"I miss that old theater, but Boston is a nice city and I enjoy teaching," he said, and the woman remained silent for too long before the pair of them were out of earshot. The wait to the front of the line was nearly unbearable. Who the hell was this woman, and what was she doing reminiscing with John?

"Two hazelnut macchiatos," the barista said as I approached the counter, setting two paper cups in front of me. "I saw you waiting in line. Eight-sixty."

I walked briskly to John's classroom and hesitated at the door. The woman was talking in hushed tones, and she sounded upset. I decided to interrupt her with a defiant kick on the door. Dead silence followed my kick and John cracked it open to peer at who would be coming to interrupt him.

"Oh, good, it's you," he said, deflating like an airbag ten minutes after a wreck. I handed him his coffee without a word and entered the room. "Please sit at my desk and make this meeting less awful." I felt a defensive emotion well up in my chest and regarded the woman with a combination of accusation and condescension. John tensed back up, and I casually sat in his office chair, reclining back and pulling my knees up to my chest while sipping my coffee, simply watching.

"Who might this be?" the woman asked, clearly uncomfortable now that she wasn't alone with John. "A student of yours?"

"Viviana, this is Anna, the woman I was telling you about during Raine's first football game," he said, capturing my eyes and silently telling me to relieve him of her presence. Well, that's what I got from it anyway. So, this was the woman who forced John out of theater and into the ugly hands of professor-hood.

"Right," I said, nodding as if the obscure memory was hard to retrieve. I wanted her to know he didn't talk about her nearly enough for me to remember her. She picked up on it if the look she shot John meant anything. "I thought you were trapped in here doing boring teacher things, so I wanted to cheer you up." I gestured with my own coffee for emphasis.

"I see," Anna said carefully, looking down to see where John set the coffee I bought him. He must have denied buying his own beverage or turned down her offer to buy it for him. "Can you excuse us for a moment? John and I--well, Mr. Arthur to you--were having a rather important conversation."

"Hm," I said noncommittally, and rose from my comfortable seat to stand stiffly. John shot me a warning glance before one look from Anna cowed him. Anger flared in my chest. This woman ran John off stage. This woman killed a man's dream. I moved to stand between Anna and John in a protective stance and looked at him very seriously. "Call me when she leaves and tell me what happened." With that, I stood on my tip-toes and planted a kiss on his cheek before stalking out of the room. "Mr. Arthur to you," my ass.

I didn't realize I was stomping until someone in my dormitory building shouted at me as I went by. My balls of my feet hurt and I kicked off my shoes and tore off my scarf and jacket before sitting hard on my piano stool. Raine's snoring hitched, and I took an unopened bottle of bourbon from the stash under my bed to slam onto my piano before I started playing.

After a few hours, my coffee was long gone, half of my bottle of alcohol was gone, and so was my open pack of cigarettes. I gave my last unopened pack to Raine since I forgot to pick more up. Instead of playing my piano, I lied on my bed and stared at the white ceiling and watched it as my world spun from my drunkenness. I took another swig and didn't dare close my eyes. That meant throwing up.

"Don't worry, I'm watching her to make sure she doesn't choke on her own vomit," Raine announced. I didn't hear the door open, but I saw John's face swirl in with the white ceiling. "And don't bother, she hasn't spoken since she got back either." With considerable effort, I sat up and stood on uneasy legs to stick my pointer finger in John's face.

"She's a bitch and I don't like her," I stated bluntly, and his eyebrows shot up. "She did it. It's all her fault why I'll never get to perform with you. It's--it's...ugh! Go away!" I lied back down and faced the wall, turning my back to him.

"I'm uh, going to go buy us another carton of cigarettes, Vivi, since you forgot all about it," Raine said, and I heard her put on her shoes and jacket as a weight sat on the edge of my thin bed. "Don't worry; I won't tell anyone where you are, Mr. Arthur."

"Thanks Raine," he said, and the door clicked shut. "Vivi, Anna came to take up my offer to see the Shakespeare play this weekend."

"I didn't want to go anyway," I said immediately, completely out of control of my words. He could ask me anything and I would answer in the most honest and crude fashion. "She deserves to see what she lost; I just wish I was there to watch."

"Vivi!"

"What? It's true," I scoffed. "You're too good for her. You're too good for anybody."

"Stop," he commanded, and I reluctantly obeyed. "You're drunk and you're angry. Close your eyes and sleep it off."

"If I close my eyes I'll puke," I blurted, unscrewing the top of my bourbon bottle. John took it away with ease.

"Maybe you should stop drinking," he suggested, and put the bottle out of my reach. I heard him take something from his pocket, grab a half-empty water bottle from Raine's desk and put something cool on my forehead. "You're eighteen."

"And you're thirty-two," I argued. "It's a number. Who cares? You know how much I hate numbers." John's hand flipped the cloth on my forehead, renewing the cool sensation.

"Go to sleep," he ordered, and forced my eyelids shut with the first two fingers of his free hand without much effort. His hand moved my hair, tangled and damp from sweat, and smoothed it out. "Dear God, you are one bitter drunk. Everything is going to be fine if you fall asleep." My drunken mind believed him, and John's hand on my hair felt nice. "There, how hard was that? Sweet dreams, Vivi."