“I got a call from the district office,” he added. “They told me to handle it.” “And how exactly would you like me to handle it?” Anna asked, her voice flat and cold. “If you resign now, it may blow over faster,” he said at last, finally looking up with an expression that was part apology, part self-protection.
“Give it a couple of months, and then maybe…” he began, but Anna didn’t stay to hear the rest. She walked out of his office feeling as if the hallway walls—walls she herself had once helped paint—had suddenly become foreign. She was packing her brushes into an old leather case when the door creaked open.
At that hour the building was usually quiet. The children were gone, and the evening classes hadn’t started yet. Mike stood in the doorway, hesitating as if he had to work up the nerve to come in, a paper bag from the coffee shop clutched in his hand. Anna felt a dull ache rise in her chest—the kind that comes before a difficult conversation.
Another difficult conversation. When does this end? she thought. Out loud, in a carefully neutral tone, she said, “Hi.” He stepped closer and stopped by the table. The easy humor she had seen onstage was gone from his face.
What remained was the awkwardness of a man who knew he was late with an explanation. “You do draw conclusions faster than I explain things,” he said with a cautious smile. Anna folded her arms, trying to look composed rather than defensive.
“Sometimes that’s a useful skill,” she replied. “Saves time.” He let out a quiet breath and set the bag on the table beside her brush case. Anna decided not to drag it out. “You know, onstage it all looked like some kind of charming story—sincerity, an accidental kiss,” she began.
“But a couple days ago I saw you in town with a woman. And I’m not interested in being somebody’s side arrangement,” she added. Understanding slowly crossed his face.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Anna shook her head and kept going. “I’m not twenty. I’m not going to play guessing games or wait around for whatever time is left over after someone else’s real life. I’m not interested in a man who’s already taken, no matter how polished his gestures are.
So let’s just leave it as a strange moment that happened and move on.” The studio went quiet. Outside, a car passed. He looked at her for a long moment, serious now, without his usual irony. Then he rubbed the bridge of his nose, and a tired smile appeared.
“Anna, I genuinely respect how direct you are. And if that woman had been my wife or fiancée, I’d turn around and leave right now. But the woman you saw me with was my older sister, Pauline”…
