History Lesson

"Oh well then," said Jenny. "To health and safety!" and she raised her water glass.

"Health and safety," I repeated and clinked. Sheila tapped her beer bottle against our glasses and we all sipped. I know, it's supposed to be bad luck to toast with water, but I reasoned that since Jenny was forbidden alcohol, Dionysus would forgive her this once.

We finished our entrees and the waitress brought a dessert menu, which we perused while she cleared away the debris.

Jenny's eyes got big, and she pointed at the menu excitedly as she said to Sheila, "They've got bread pudding!"

Sheila just rolled her eyes. "Well, we are in the south, babes." But she smiled. I did as well. Jenny was just so... exuberant. It was hard not to smile.

Jenny ordered her dessert when the waitress came back, and she nodded. "Excellent choice." She looked at Sheila, who pointed at her empty beer bottle. Another nod, and she turned to me.

"Just coffee, please."

As we waited, I realized that I had been monopolizing the conversation, and honestly felt a bit guilty. So, I turned to Sheila and said, "Sorry, I've been doing all the talking so far, which is a first for me. Except when I'm in the classroom, I hardly ever do that."

She waved it away. Gamely, I continued. "So, what about you? How'd you wind up in this sleepy little town?"

She looked at the table and picked at the label of her empty beer bottle.

"Nothing much to tell... I'm from Chicago, grew up there, and decided to go to college at Illinois State. Met Jenny, and after I graduated, we decided to move here."

I waited. When nothing else seemed to be forthcoming, I asked, "Sorry, don't mean to pry. Just curious; it's a bad habit of mine." Jenny looked down at her lap as I tried to smooth things over with Sheila.

While I debated whether asking Jenny anything about herself was a good idea, the waitress returned with dessert, which brought Jenny's smile right back.

She took an explorative bite and savored it carefully. I laughed as her eyes lit up and she took another, bigger bite. "This is sooo good! Sheila, you have to try this!"

Dutifully, Sheila accepted a taste from Jenny's spoon. "Yeah, babes, that's not bad. Guess this place was a pretty good choice; we'll have to come back sometime." She sounded slightly noncommittal to me, but Jenny just beamed at her.

I took the proffered opening, and said, "This is completely out of character for me, but then, this whole day has been. But... I warned you; I am cursed with curiosity. And I'd like to continue our conversation. Maybe we could do this again? No pressure; if I'm being pushy, I apologize. It's just... outside of a few colleagues, I don't... I'm babbling. I'll shut up now."

That got a grin out of Sheila. She looked at Jenny, who nodded. Sheila said, "Sure, that'd be cool. Same place, next week?"

"Perfect," I replied, relieved.

Jenny and Sheila - well, mostly Jenny - finished their dessert while I sipped my coffee. The waitress brought the check, and after a brief argument, I paid but let them leave the tip. We exchanged phone numbers, and off they went.

Outside, I leaned against my old 4x4, lost in thought. I had enjoyed the evening more than I had expected, and even Sheila's taciturn nature didn't bother me. So why did I feel guilty? Of course, I knew why. Staring up at the stars, I thought, "Livvie, I miss you... I hope you're happy wherever you are... I know you'd want the same for me, so I hope it's okay that I think I may have made a friend. That doesn't change anything - you're always in my heart and you always will be."

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The next week went by at a crawl. I handed back the History 101 papers to a chorus of groans. I'm glad I didn't have to teach this class every semester, honestly. It was just one of those things that we professors take turns suffering through. Some universities slough these classes onto teaching assistants, but here, we did our best to provide the quality of education that students (and their parents) are paying for and expect.

I got into a spirited discussion with my History 300 kids. This was one of my favorite classes to teach; its purpose was to help budding history majors learn how to think like a historian. I got a rush of pride when it clicked with them. Their excitement was contagious. I know what you're thinking; it's history! Boring! I beg to differ.

I also had several meetings with my seniors who were working on their theses or trying to prepare for internships. Again, to me, this was very rewarding work. Don't laugh... I know it's such a cliché... but 'molding young minds' accurately assessed my feelings about my job.

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In between student conferences, I was interrupted by a measured rapping on the doorframe of my office. I looked up to see an immaculately dressed figure leaning against the jamb, arms folded, balanced on his right leg with the left crossed in front, toe resting on the ground.

He had just the slightest grin; a knowing smile that seemed to be his perpetual expression. Not secretive or sly, just as though he knew a delicious secret (his words) that he was about to share.

"Rogers," I smiled. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Rogers Hornsby was something of a colleague - he taught Applied Economics - but was more of a friend; one of a very few that I took the trouble to maintain. Since Olivia, it was just easier to keep everyone at a distance, but Rogers, if he deigned to make the effort, had a way of making himself impossible to ignore. And for some reason, with me, he deigned.

"Ieuan, old chap!"

I rolled my eyes. He also had an annoying habit of occasionally using an overly affected, very posh (in his mind) British accent. As far as I knew, he only did it with me.

He unfolded himself from my doorway and elegantly draped himself into one of the two chairs in front of my desk. Giving up the accent (thank goodness) he said, "Just dropped in to see if we're still on for racquetball this afternoon?

"Of course, wouldn't miss it," I assured him. 'Unless you've had something come up?"

He looked at his fingernails. "No, no..." A pause. "Well..."

"Spill, Rogers. You wouldn't have stopped by otherwise." I waited.

"You're right, of course." He sighed. "I may have a... thing."

My eyebrows rose. "Oh? A good thing?"

His lip quirked. "Possibly. Do you mind terribly if we reschedule?"

"Not at all. What works for you?"

"How's Sunday?"

I looked at my calendar. "I can do the morning or early afternoon?"

"Noonish would be perfect. Would that give you time to get back for what I have deduced is your plan for Sunday evening?" He smirked.

I forgot how clever he was. Not that it was a difficult guess, based on how I had phrased my reply, I realized. But that was Rogers. He might not seem like it, but he paid attention.

"Want to tell me about it?" he asked. Not nosy, just curious.

"Want to tell me about your... thing?" I parried.

"Touché," he retreated. "Perhaps after."

I chuckled, and at that moment, my next appointment poked his head around the corner. "Professor Davies?"

"Yes, Stuart, please come in. Do you know Professor Hornsby? Rogers, this is one of my seniors, Stuart Smalley."

Rogers stood, shook the young man's hand, and with a murmured "My pleasure," and a wink at me, he left.

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On Thursday, I was in my office, wrapping things up to go home, when I got a text. I expected it to be from Beca, my sister. She's about the only person I talked to regularly, outside of school. But I was very pleasantly surprised to see that it was from Jenny.

> Hi, how are you? It's Jenny. Hope I'm not interrupting anything. I just wanted to check that we're still on for Sunday? Followed by a smiley face emoji.

> Hi Jenny, I'm glad to hear from you. Not interrupting, just packing up for the day. And yes, looking forward to Sunday.

> Great! See you then! Bye! Followed by three more smiley faces.

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Wales is five hours ahead, so it was very late for her when Beca called that evening.

"Hey, what are you still doing up? Not that I mind you calling any time." We were speaking Welsh, as was our custom, mostly to keep me from forgetting, which I never wanted to do.

"Good evening to you," she replied. "Ehh, couldn't sleep. Thought I'd check up on you."

"I'm actually... doing okay."

"Oh? This is good news! Tell me everything!"

"I've met some people, a young couple, actually, and I think perhaps we could become friends." We talked for a while and I described my meeting (glossing over my initial reaction) and subsequent dinner with Jenny and Sheila. "And I've just heard from them to confirm another dinner this weekend."

"That's wonderful, Ieuan! I'm glad you're getting out. Now we just need to work on straight and single, instead of gay, pregnant, and attached." She laughed. And yes, I completely missed that she'd already sussed my... interest was perhaps the wrong word at this early stage... my preference, perhaps, for Jenny.

"Baby steps," I laughed right back. "So how are you? How's my little bird? She's grown so, in the pictures you've sent! And how is Arthur?"

I could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke, "Arthur is fine. Steady as a rock, that one. Linnet misses you of course, as do we all. She's taken up walking, I'll have you know."

"That's great to hear!" 'Walking.' or 'rambling' in the UK is akin to what Americans call hiking.

Sometimes I really hated being so far away, especially when I thought about how I was missing my niece growing up.

"We spent our fair share of rambling the hills, didn't we?" I continued.

"That we did, dear brother," she said, affectionately. "I miss those days sometimes... I do try to go with her when I can, but she is getting to that independent age. She has a few friends that she drags along, mostly."

I changed the subject. "Still room for me to come for Christmas? Not like you have a choice; my flight was booked months ago! Anyway, it feels like ages since I've been back."

"When you think about it, it has been ages, hasn't it? This is your first visit since we've moved back to Swansea."

"That's true, I hadn't thought of it that way. And sorry it's taken me so long," I added, a bit guiltily.

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After graduating, Beca had taken a job in London, where she met Arthur. He was from Llanelli, and they had marveled at being practically neighbors growing up, yet it took them both moving to London to finally meet. They bonded over their displacement, and having each other to talk to eased their homesickness. She had seen something in the quiet, steady man and he in her. They'd married, and a few years later came the arrival of my favorite niece.

Olivia and I had traveled to London several times to see them. Of course, we visited when Linnet was born, and we alternated Christmases between Olivia's family in Port Townsend, where my parents were close enough to join us, and mine in London. Linnet was probably too small to travel such a long way, but they had made an exception for our wedding.

After Olivia and our unborn baby were killed, I had to get out of Seattle, so I ran to London to hide for a month. Linnet was five, and I spent a lot of time with her on that trip.

Beca understood and may have actually pushed it a bit, knowing the distraction of interacting with my young niece would force me to avoid dwelling on the pain. And it worked, for the most part. We bonded, but when I finally had to return to Seattle, the parting was heartbreaking.

"Unca Yaya, don't go!" she had cried, and I had tears in my eyes as well. Linnet had trouble with my name, and I had become 'Yaya.' It still came out from time to time, especially when she was upset.

I knelt down and held her tight, whispering that I would come and see her soon and that I hoped she would come to visit me.

"And I will ring you all the time, and you can ring me too; just ask Mummy," and I looked up to see Beca wiping her cheeks and nodding.

"Any time you want, caru bach," she agreed. I stood and embraced Beca for a long time. I felt a tug on my trousers and looked down to see Linnet holding her arms up to me.

I scooped her up, and she put her head on my shoulder. "I love you, aderyn bach, and I will miss you every day." I kissed her on the forehead and she very sweetly pecked me on the cheek, and I handed her back to her mother. With a final wave, I went to face my life again.

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"Ieuan? Oh damn, I think I've lost him."

"Wha- No, sorry, Beca, I'm here. I was woolgathering for a moment. What did you say?"

"Just that I'm sure we can put up with you. I think Mam and Dad are coming as well."

"Brilliant. I'll look forward to it. My best to Arthur, and please give Linnet a big hug from me."

"Of course. Take care, Ieuan," she said softly, as she rang off.

I spoke to the lump lying beside my chair. "Well, Hank... looks like I need to find someone to put up with you over the holiday."

He looked at me, doubtfully.

"Don't give me that look. You know you can't come on an airplane. And it's much too far to swim. Look, I'll take you for lots of extra walks to make up for it, okay?"

He grumbled a bit and lay back down. But he didn't look pleased about it.

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Chapter 2

Saturday rolled around, and I got started on my promise to Hank. We went back to town, then took a loop around the university. I thought I glimpsed Sheila sitting quite closely with a dark-haired girl at the student union, but I couldn't be sure. I didn't see Jenny.

Rogers seemed a little down on Sunday, but it didn't stop him from running me ragged on the racquetball court. I was getting better though; I nearly took one game! Afterward, we had a light lunch and chatted a bit.

"So?" I asked. I knew he'd know what I meant, and he sighed. "Ieuan, my friend, I despair."

I winced. "That bad?"

"Oh, he was perfectly nice. Good looking, although you know that doesn't matter. But... well, I was talking about the last play I saw - it was "God of Carnage" - and when I asked if he'd seen it, he looked at me, and... and he asked if it was based on a video game."

I rocked back in my chair, clapping one hand to my forehead. "No!"

He nodded. "Yes."

I shook my head. "So, are you seeing him again?" I kidded.

He stared at me in horror, then realized I was teasing him and smirked. He knew I was trying to cheer him up, without resorting to platitudes.

"Thanks. So, changing that fiasco of a subject, what do you have planned this evening? I can't tell if you're nervous or excited. Don't tell me you have a date?" Rogers knew my history, and his question was asked with deference. And perhaps a bit of disbelief.

"No, not exactly. A young lesbian couple I met last week. It was a little surreal. But I guess they don't have a lot of friends - at least not shared friends - and for some reason they seem to like me. Well, one of them does," I laughed. "The other is a grad student here; Sheila Thomas. I don't know what she's studying."

"Thomas, Thomas...hmmm."

"Slim, short brown hair..."

He shook his head. "It'll come to me."

I shrugged. "No trouble. I'm having dinner with them. My 'friends' pool might double!"

I tried to say it lightly, as a joke, but he knew. But he was also too good a friend to show that he knew what a huge step it was for me.

He just said, "Competition, hmm?" and we both laughed.

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Sunday afternoon found me strangely anxious. I'd gotten schoolwork out of the way and now had time to kill before dinner. I'd already walked Hank, so I went to my small garage and decided to put in a little work on my car.

As a teenager, I had fallen in love with American muscle cars. There was just nothing like them in Wales. So, when I had the opportunity, I acquired a 1970 Plymouth Satellite Sport, with which I loved to tinker. My neighbors hated it. I know it doesn't fit the preconceived notion of a mild-mannered college professor, but it was my one extravagance.

So, I piddled around with the car until it was time to shower before dinner. Hank watched, hoping for a ride, probably. Why do all dogs love to go for car rides? I don't know, but Hank was no exception.

I debated driving the Satellite, but in the end, I eased her back into the garage and took my old 4x4. I got to the restaurant first, this time. I'd been there a few minutes - long enough to order a drink - when they both arrived.

I stood as they approached. I was surprised to get a hug from Jenny. I looked at Sheila, and she just laughed and held her hands up. "No offense dude, not a hugger."

"No trouble," I smiled back. I held out my fist. She laughed again and bumped hers against mine. Progress!

After everyone got settled and we had our drinks, I asked, "So, how was your week? Classes going ok?" I knew Sheila was working on her master's, and I guessed... hoped... this might be a way to find some common ground between us.

Sheila took a big swallow of her beer. "UGH! My advisor hates me. Do you know Dr. Pearson?"

"I've spoken to her in passing, and at a faculty event or two. But I wouldn't say I know her. She does have a bit of a reputation."

"A bit! She's ruining my life!" She flounced back in her chair.

I noticed that Jenny had an odd expression on her face, but I didn't know her well enough to decipher it. I was pretty sure she wasn't happy, but she kept her head down. She seemed to be nervously picking at her napkin, although I'm not sure if she was aware of it. I also noticed that Sheila seemed to be flicking quick little glances at Jenny during the conversation.

I suggested, "Well... I'm sure it's not personal. But it just might be intentional. You know that reputation that I oh so recently mentioned? It's not a teaching style that I adhere to, but she does seem to put a lot of pressure on her grad students. I think she feels like it's her job to weed out the weaker students. I mean, she doesn't actively try to push them out, but she does push. If that makes sense. As I said, I don't necessarily agree - my style is a little more encouraging. All I can recommend is to ask for a new advisor and meanwhile, try not to let her get to you. I can put in a word if you'd like."

"Wow, that would be, like, awesomely cool. Thanks, dude."

"I guess with Dr. Pearson as an advisor, you're studying Economics?"

She nodded. "Yeah, well I'm getting my MBA. Surprised?" The chip was back.

"Not at all; just making conversation." And I changed the subject by asking Jenny the same thing I'd asked Sheila the previous week. "So how did you wind up here?"

She looked down, fiddling with her napkin. "Not sure I'm ready to tell you all the details."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. Believe me, I understand. I left out a lot of stuff last week," I smiled.

She gave me a small smile in return. "What the hell. It might help. Just not sure how to start."

"Maybe I can start by asking something? Just tell me to shut up if I cross a line or anything. So, to dive right in, when did you know?" I looked at both girls when I asked that.

Sheila, who had been looking out the window, turned back to us and said, "Oh, probably forever. I never wanted to date a boy."

Jenny reached for her hand. "I wish I had been that strong. I tried to fit in and date like all my friends. But it just... never felt right. I mean I had boys who were friends, I just never developed romantic feelings. At least not for anyone who asked me out. But it was a pretty small dating pool." She chuckled.