Page 97 of The Scientist
“You were the first person to ever tell me that.” Sam pushed his glasses further up his nose. “My whole life everyone always told me that there was no future for me in music, and I believed them.”
“Well, I was told my whole childhood I wouldn’t always have a calculator on me and yet here we are.” I patted the phone in my pocket. “People are wrong all the time.”
Sam chuckled. “Thanks for everything, Ms. Olivier.”
Tears pricked my eyes as I walked over and gave Sam a hug. This was the feeling my mom always talked about when she tried explaining why she loved teaching so much. She said it only took one student in one moment to make it all worth it.
“Ms. Olivier,” I heard John-Luke call out. I sighed.Here we go. “Do I have to switch majors too to get that kind of hug?”
He and his entourage were the only ones laughing. I rolled my eyes, refusing to let him get under my skin today.
I directed Sam and Elizabeth back to their seats before Jimmy turned to me and asked, “What’s up with that kid?” while eyeing John-Luke.
“The wheel’s spinning, but the hamster’s dead,” I told him.
Jimmy scoffed. “You couldn’t pay me enough to do this shit. I’d get fired the first day for knocking that kid on his preppy ass.”
“Not necessary.” I waved him off. “For their final assignment, I’m having each of them write a comparative analysis of various artist’s compositional work… my special friend over there will be getting The Spice Girls.”
Jimmy’s face split into a wicked smile. “Nurture that side of yourself and never let it go.”
Once the class ended, Jimmy and I ventured out to a local lunch spot to catch up. It proved to be quite the challenge, however, as word that Jimmy was on campus spread like wildfire. Despite his attempts to stay incognito with sunglasses and a low-hanging hat, he couldn’t evade the constant interruptions from adoring fans eager for a photo op. He refused to take me up on my offer to wear the fake nose/mustache/glasses combo, so technically this was his fault. In the end,we resorted to eating our club sandwiches in the car before returning to campus.
“Thanks again for doing this, Jim,” I told him on the drive back. “It really meant a lot to the kids.”
The class had hummed with excitement from start to finish, and I knew a barrage of Jimmy-related questions awaited me at next week's lecture.
“Thanks for hitting me up. It was a lot of fun.” In the sanctuary of my car, he was finally able to remove his hat as he shook out his hair. “You’ve got a really talented group in that room.”
I beamed with pride. “That’s for sure.”
“The teaching thing really suits you,” he noted.
“I’ve definitely been enjoying it.” Now that I got over my imposter’s syndrome, I actually looked forward to my classes each week. Might just be something in the gene pool, because my mom still talked about how much she missed teaching.
I could see him eyeing me from the passenger seat.
“What is it?” I asked, wondering if I had a bat in the cave.
“Nothing… You’re just so different here,” he said thoughtfully.
“How so?”
He pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head like he was trying to get a better look. “I don’t know. You’ve just got a look about you that I’ve never seen before.”
I feigned offense. “And what look is that?”
He smiled. “Contentment, maybe. I don’t know.” He let his sunglasses fall back into place. “I just know you never looked like this when we worked together in New York.”
My forehead wrinkled. “How did I look in New York?”
“Overworked,” he stated dryly.
I laughed because it was true. “We were all overworked,” I said. “Didn’t mean I didn’t love it.”
“I’m not saying you didn’t. Life’s just different out here.” He looked out toward the road. “This business is a grind and will wear down even the best of us.”
“So, you’re saying I looked both overworkedandworn down? Appreciate it, Jim,” I teased.