Chapter 15

Nestled above the treetops of Mida, overlooking the entire township from a vantage point in its centre was the clock tower. Nicknamed “shorty” by the townspeople, it stretched from the ground to a height of 300ft, with its shadow falling long and gloom in the afternoons. In the evenings, it could be seen from the farthest edges of town, unmoving yet spying on the residents as they slept. Every hour it chimed loudly once to announce the top of the hour. At midday, it played a soft melody twice to signal the day was half done sweetly. Depending on how your day was going, it could be the most pleasant tune or a rather foreshadowing one, prompting you to hurry along your business lest the day catch up with you.

Shorty chimed loudly to announce it was 4 o’clock. Below, the civilians continued about their duty unmoved by her loud declaration. Amongst them was the slow-moving figure of Christina, who had given in again to her thoughts now that Emma was gone. Her slow movement and lost eyes revealed the load on her mind. A text from Emma shortly after she and Ben departed told her she’d call soon as she could to explain. Naturally, Chris had mused the idea of her best friend landing her dream date for a while before deciding to let it rest, and inadvertently opening the door of her brain to let in the other persistent subject that had been politely pushed out in the process. Chris allowed her mind to travel back to when she’d entered the Professor’s chambers hours earlier…

It hadn’t been what she had expected at all. The Professor stood, sleeves folded beside a small fridge, leaning against it with his back while he swirled his mug gently, staring down at the contents carefully, as if willing it with his mind to try to stop its motion. When he looked up it was with a concern in his eyes which quickly faded to the soft smile Chris was used to seeing in class. The rest of the office was unusually contemporary, even by her standards as a member of the young generation, whose time it was to impact society and change the future. Whatever that meant. On the Professor’s table, to the right was his laptop, a denizen of the environment they were in, and behind it was a small shelf. To the left, where he stood now, was the fridge, on top of which was a small microwave. The other side of the wall was free, the only occupant of that side the air conditioning mounted on the wall above a door which Chris guessed was to his assistant’s inner office. Chris’ eyes went over the office again, pausing on the laptop. Is that a controller? She looked up at the Professor.

“Miss Christina, have a seat," he motioned for her to sit in a chair.

“Would you like anything to drink?” he opened the fridge with his free hand to suggest she pick her choice. Inside were a variety of fruit juices, some water and plastic bowls she presumed contained food from home. Chris picked one of the juice bottles and was soon refreshed by the cold sweetness as it run down her throat to settle into her empty stomach, deprived of food, the consequence of spending the whole morning in class.

The professor waited till she was finished before speaking. “Refreshing isn’t it? You’re welcome to another one if you want.”

“Thank you, Professor, but my femininity and social rules dictate I must pass on that offer," she crossed her legs intentionally slowly and folded her arms unto her laps, while eyeing the fridge out the corner of her eye.

He laughed softly at this. “I insist," he pulled out another bottle to place into her hands.

“Well if you insist, Professor,” she said, her voice rich with pretentious gentility, causing him to laugh a bit harder. What am I doing? Why am I so comfortable?

The Professor regained himself and took his seat across the table from Chris, still spinning the contents of his cup gently. When he looked up at Chris’s face all traces of laughter were gone. His eyes dug into hers and made her fight the urge to shift her gaze.

“I asked you here to tell you a story” his voice was low and sombre, and missed the usual playfulness it rang with in class. “I’ll get straight to it. I assume you know who this is” he slid an until then unnoticed file on the desk towards Chris who opened it with intrigue. A picture stared back up at her, the face, a rather young one of her sworn nemesis from the morning. Alas, we meet again Mr. Pervert. Strange, he was smiling in the picture, an ability he seemed to have forgotten long ago. Maybe he smiles as he eats popcorn while peeping through curtains on his unsuspecting victims.

“I guess by the look on your face, you know him?”

“I do. But I don’t know him like that. We just happen to share classes and live close to each other outside of campus.” she closed the file and slid it back to the Professor.

“He wasn’t in class today. I checked with his other lecturers and he wasn’t in any of the other classes after mine too. Perhaps you noticed?”

Christina nodded her affirmation, her initial fear subsided, replaced with new curiosity as to why the Professor wanted to discuss the boy.

“Now what I’m about to tell you is very sensitive. I need to know I can trust you with this information and that nobody outside of this office will know what it is I will say.”

Christina gulped. I wasn’t prepared for this. “I-I promise, Professor.”

The Professor’s eyes lowered and he exhaled, next he took off his glasses and proceeded to wipe them on his shirt. Then he launched into his story.

“Two years ago, while you were in your first year, a stranger approached me in the car park and pleaded that I listen to what he had to say. I agreed and we sat down elsewhere.”

The Professor put his glasses back on and redirected his gaze unto Chris, “It was his elder brother," he continued, pointing a finger to the file Chris had just looked at. “For the purpose of this conversation let’s refer to him as X. I wouldn’t feel comfortable calling him the names I hear him called by your peers you see, and I sincerely don’t believe my assistant is truly asleep in the adjourning room as she wants me to believe," he added in a whisper.

Chris managed a fake smile. From this close, she could make out the lines of worry beginning to etch themselves out on the Professor’s fairly young face. Slowly he was reaching the stereotypical Professor phase, where he’d be expected to wear tweed jackets and carry a suitcase around instead of the backpack he usually did. The Professor’s next words cut through her thoughts.

“His brother revealed X had a long-standing problem with depression and anxiety… and tried unsuccessfully to take his life on a few occasions…”

“Oh” Chris interrupted the professor. She sat, dazed by the information, trying and failing to stop her face revealing her surprise. So that’s why!

“Most people claim they had difficult childhoods if you ask them, but few actually did Miss Christina. The boy you know as a hermit had a particularly difficult one. His elder brother went on to tell me a story. One day, he said, their father proposed a family trip to their hometown. It was to be a weekend long trip, with them arriving on the Monday of the next week. X had just turned eighteen, and to celebrate his coming of age, and recent acquisition of his driver’s license, their father asked him to drive the family.”

The Professor paused at this juncture and took a moment to steady himself. Chris, not knowing what to expect sat there, waiting for the Professor to continue his narrative with a feeling of dread stirring in her belly. The Professor continued, delivering his next words in a subdued tone.

“They got into an accident on the way. X dozed at the wheel, according to his brother and crashed into an oncoming truck. Five people were in the car that day. Three survived. His mother and sister died at the scene.”

Chris felt her heart slow down. Oh my God! She held her hands over her mouth. At the sight of her shock, the Professor paused for a minute to allow her process this information. Her mind was in a frenzy. The poor thing! He’s been carrying this load with him all this while? Is that why he didn’t mingle? She felt herself feeling guilty for the names she’d called him in the morning.

“Miss Christina?” Professor Ernest waved a hand in front of her face, pulling her from the depths of her memories back to the small office. She looked on as he handed her a tissue, not understanding why. Then she felt the tears fall softly from her eyes and tumble freely down the hills that were her cheeks.

“Sorry to burden you with this information Miss Christina."

Chris dabbed at her eyes trying and failing to stop the tears from falling altogether.

“His brother confirmed X hasn’t driven a car since the incident, and he blamed himself for it. It broke his heart to be responsible for the deaths of two people he loved. Soon after the accident their father got drunk and, in his stupor, accused X of taking away his wife. Each day after that was a pain, with the gap between him and his dad growing bigger and bigger. The drunken rants occurred more frequently and the poor kid never recovered from that. He felt he’d torn apart the family singlehandedly.”

“What a horrible father.”

The Professor sighed, “Parenthood is a skill few truly master Miss Christina, especially through pain. Throughout the remaining years of high school, X became an empty shell, withdrawing himself further away from everybody in the process. His brother noticed X would speak to himself whenever he was by himself, which was a lot. Along with that withdrawal came depression, and soon the attempts to take his own life…”

“I-I must interrupt you, Professor, and I don’t mean to be rude but why are you telling me all this?”

The Professor paused for a second. “If it’s not too much to ask Miss Christina, I would like you to befriend him”

“So I can keep an eye on him?”

“Yes," the Professor admitted. “You’re quick to see through my intentions. His brother asked that I keep an eye on him in class, but I also believe he needs someone his own age by his side. Your being neighbours is a big reason I’m asking this of you. I’ve studied the both of you carefully and I quite believe you can get him to warm up to you”

“Didn’t pick you for the match making type Professor," Chris sniffed hard into her tissue.

The professor smiled, “I don’t need an immediate answer. It’s a heavy weight I’m pushing on you I’m aware. If you accept it, know you will be lessening that of an elder brother and a concerned Professor.”

“What if I can’t get through to him?”

The Professor leaned back in his chair. He smiled for the first time since he started the story, “With that quick wit in your possession I believe you will.”

“Would you consider being lenient on my papers if I agree to this?”

He smiled harder, “Maybe.”

“When do you need an answer, O great Professor, betroth-er of the unsuspecting?”

Professor Ernest burst out laughing at this remark. It was good to see her regain her usual witty sense.

“I’m sorry. I make jokes when I’m nervous," Chris explained.

“No, no it’s fine," replied the Professor, still laughing “That was a good one. You let me know when you’re ready with an answer.”

With that Chris stood and mimicked the bow the Professor had done in class earlier. “I’ll let you know before next week.”

She turned to leave.

“Remember Miss Christina," he called from behind her, “Nobody has to know any of what I’ve just told you, not even Miss Emma, your best friend.”

She had paused for a moment at the door, then she opened it and stepped out.

Her thoughts returned to the present. When did I stop walking? The eyes staring at her from her left confirmed she may have been still for a while. She smiled awkwardly at them then set off at an awkward fast pace, determined to escape their gaze.

Just then, a few metres ahead of her, the loud screech of a car coming to an abrupt halt tore through the air. Heads turned everywhere to watch as a rather attractive lady apologized to the driver of the car. She had run across the street without checking. Without waiting for a reply, she shot off again, obviously in a hurry to get somewhere. Chris looked on, her surprise matched that of everybody staring. Her eyes widened when she recognized the lady.

“Naa!”

The running figure turned to look at her, then turned and made for Chris. Naa reached Chris, panting. She put a hand on Chris’ shoulder to steady herself while she caught her breath. When she spoke, it was with an urgency that shot through Chris.

“Chris! Thank God! I need your help!”