Read Online The Last Hour by Charles Sheehan-Miles - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charles Sheehan-Miles
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that.”
“Not like that,” she responded. “Like a big brother. He’s been a real mentor.”
I knew what it felt like to have a mentor, a friend, disappoint you. Boy, did I.
I looked over at her and said, “I get it. You feel like someone you looked up to has blown your trust.”
“Yes!” she replied. “That’s exactly it. I’ve known Bill for two years. We’ve been up in the mountains together for days at a time. You have to trust somebody under those circumstances. And I ... this just really disappointed me. But I don’t even know if that’s what he meant.”
“Well, what did he say?”
“It was after my presentation. I asked him how I’d done, and he said, ‘Tell you what. Why don’t you come over to my place for dinner and a drink to celebrate, and we’ll talk about it.’ And I put him off, told him I had plans, but he was really insistent. So finally I said I was picking up my boyfriend who had just gotten back from Afghanistan. That shut him up.”
I looked at her and answered slowly.
“Sometimes, I think ... people we put on pedestals ... they’ve just got that much further to fall when you realize they’re human.”
“I guess,” she said. “I’m usually not one to put unrealistic expectations on people. I mean ... everybody screws up sometimes. But this felt ... wrong. I mean, how am I supposed to know exactly what he intended? Under other circumstances I would have thought it was just what it seemed, an invitation to dinner and drinks from a guy I respect. But combined with the fact that he’s one of the people who votes on my future? Ugggh.”
As she talked, I watched her, my eyes focusing on the darkness in the curve of her chin, the occasional flash of light against her face and neck. I thought about her question. How would you know? I’d seen pictures on her Facebook page, dozens of them, of Carrie hiking in the mountains, many of them with Bill Ayers, her thesis advisor. A bookish guy, bearded, but fit, probably about five-ten next to her six foot two. Pictures of them laughing together. She didn’t see what I saw, which was that in most of the pictures, Bill Ayers’ eyes were on her. He had it bad. I wondered if she even realized.
“Did you guys ever….” I trailed off, not finishing the question.
“No. I mean ... you spend that much time alone with someone, there’s bound to be some attraction. But he was my advisor, you know? Plus, he’s married.”
“Still, I bet you kicked ass on your presentation.”
She grinned. “I did!” she said, her voice excited.
I was excited for her. I was a little envious of her. She knew what her path was in life. Even if the NIH fellowship didn’t work out, it sounded like she’d already been guaranteed a spot on the Ecology faculty here at Rice. I barely had a clue where I was headed. Back to undergraduate school for sure. I had some vague ideas of what I might do, none fully formed. Before the Army, I knew exactly what I was doing—business degree, followed by Wall Street or possibly a startup firm somewhere. Pretty much what my parents had done. But after Afghanistan? Somehow that just didn’t seem like it would satisfy me. I wasn’t sure what would. I felt like I needed to do something that really mattered.
Finally she pulled into a small strip mall with a nearly empty parking lot, and she parked in front of a dimly lit restaurant named Al’s Pizza.
“Well,” she said. “It’s not Michelangelo’s. But you won’t find better pizza in Houston. Plus, it’s fast, which is important tonight. Come on.”
I followed her in, suddenly curious. Why did she need fast? I was hoping it meant she couldn’t wait another minute to take me back to her place and jump my bones. But honestly, that seemed premature. I’d go back with her in a heartbeat. But I’d been pushing it with that kiss.
Thinking about that kiss again made me lightheaded. We needed to try that again sometime soon.
Inside, the decor was
“Not like that,” she responded. “Like a big brother. He’s been a real mentor.”
I knew what it felt like to have a mentor, a friend, disappoint you. Boy, did I.
I looked over at her and said, “I get it. You feel like someone you looked up to has blown your trust.”
“Yes!” she replied. “That’s exactly it. I’ve known Bill for two years. We’ve been up in the mountains together for days at a time. You have to trust somebody under those circumstances. And I ... this just really disappointed me. But I don’t even know if that’s what he meant.”
“Well, what did he say?”
“It was after my presentation. I asked him how I’d done, and he said, ‘Tell you what. Why don’t you come over to my place for dinner and a drink to celebrate, and we’ll talk about it.’ And I put him off, told him I had plans, but he was really insistent. So finally I said I was picking up my boyfriend who had just gotten back from Afghanistan. That shut him up.”
I looked at her and answered slowly.
“Sometimes, I think ... people we put on pedestals ... they’ve just got that much further to fall when you realize they’re human.”
“I guess,” she said. “I’m usually not one to put unrealistic expectations on people. I mean ... everybody screws up sometimes. But this felt ... wrong. I mean, how am I supposed to know exactly what he intended? Under other circumstances I would have thought it was just what it seemed, an invitation to dinner and drinks from a guy I respect. But combined with the fact that he’s one of the people who votes on my future? Ugggh.”
As she talked, I watched her, my eyes focusing on the darkness in the curve of her chin, the occasional flash of light against her face and neck. I thought about her question. How would you know? I’d seen pictures on her Facebook page, dozens of them, of Carrie hiking in the mountains, many of them with Bill Ayers, her thesis advisor. A bookish guy, bearded, but fit, probably about five-ten next to her six foot two. Pictures of them laughing together. She didn’t see what I saw, which was that in most of the pictures, Bill Ayers’ eyes were on her. He had it bad. I wondered if she even realized.
“Did you guys ever….” I trailed off, not finishing the question.
“No. I mean ... you spend that much time alone with someone, there’s bound to be some attraction. But he was my advisor, you know? Plus, he’s married.”
“Still, I bet you kicked ass on your presentation.”
She grinned. “I did!” she said, her voice excited.
I was excited for her. I was a little envious of her. She knew what her path was in life. Even if the NIH fellowship didn’t work out, it sounded like she’d already been guaranteed a spot on the Ecology faculty here at Rice. I barely had a clue where I was headed. Back to undergraduate school for sure. I had some vague ideas of what I might do, none fully formed. Before the Army, I knew exactly what I was doing—business degree, followed by Wall Street or possibly a startup firm somewhere. Pretty much what my parents had done. But after Afghanistan? Somehow that just didn’t seem like it would satisfy me. I wasn’t sure what would. I felt like I needed to do something that really mattered.
Finally she pulled into a small strip mall with a nearly empty parking lot, and she parked in front of a dimly lit restaurant named Al’s Pizza.
“Well,” she said. “It’s not Michelangelo’s. But you won’t find better pizza in Houston. Plus, it’s fast, which is important tonight. Come on.”
I followed her in, suddenly curious. Why did she need fast? I was hoping it meant she couldn’t wait another minute to take me back to her place and jump my bones. But honestly, that seemed premature. I’d go back with her in a heartbeat. But I’d been pushing it with that kiss.
Thinking about that kiss again made me lightheaded. We needed to try that again sometime soon.
Inside, the decor was
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