Teach Me(59)

God, I am so fucking stupid.

“Jack,” says another voice. Hannah, crossing the room in Kat’s wake. She’s forcing a smile too, but her eyes linger on me, probably coming to the same realization that I just did about her. She stops a few feet from us, as her expression shifts from confusion to hurt to anger, briefly, before settling back on hurt. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” she says to him, though she can’t seem to tear her eyes from the space between me and him. The space where just moments ago we were still holding hands.

Jack swallows and seems to recover from whatever paralysis had him frozen in the doorway. He steps forward to hug Hannah, one-armed, brief, but I can see her body sink into it, and her arms tighten around him. It makes my stomach churn, and the fish and chips we ate in the pub earlier today threaten to make a reappearance.

I want to throw her off of him, tear those arms off, go feral. But that’s not fair. It’s obvious from the shock on her face that she didn’t know about me, either. Jack hid me from everyone in his life, just like he hid Hannah Butler’s existence from me. He could have mentioned he had a past with someone else at the university. He could have prepped me before he let me walk into this fucking soap opera of a situation, and at his father’s funeral, no less.

Hannah and Jack break apart (finally), and then his mother descends, followed hard on her heels by an array of aunts. Jack introduces me to each of them in turn, while I offer whatever condolences I can.

I notice he doesn’t introduce me to Hannah. Is he aware that I know her already?

Her eyes keep flicking to mine, which I notice because mine are doing the same to her. I wonder if she suspected. I wonder if he’s done this kind of thing with other students before. I wonder if I’m just some sort of weird revenge he’s trying to get on her, or if I’m a bargaining chip in their rocky relationship.

Whatever it is, I’m clearly not what I thought. I’m not an exception to the rule. I’m not his girlfriend. I’m not the woman he’s falling in love with.

I’m the side candy.

I should have stormed out that instant, except that people had started to trickle in behind us, enough that it would look weird to leave right now, but not so many people that I can blend into the crowd and slip away. I decide to pay my respects, stay for the service, and then escape out a side door before they start in on hors d’oeuvres or whatever British families do at wakes.

Except they haven’t even started on any kind of service before Hannah draws Jack to the side, away from his family, who are greeting attendees and accepting a lot of condolences with sad nods. I trail after the two of them while keeping my eyes fixed on the nearest flower arrangement. Hannah doesn’t seem to mind being overheard, though. Almost the moment they’ve broken away from the receiving line of family members, she grips his arm hard.

“What the hell is she doing here?” Hannah says.

“Keep your voice down, would you?” Jack mutters, as a couple of people who I heard talk about living in the neighborhood glance in their direction.

“I will not keep my voice down while you’re dragging around one of my students as if she’s your new bloody date. And at your father’s funeral? What the hell is wrong with you? She’s a child, Jack. I know you’re pissed at me, but don’t use her as some kind of pawn for revenge.”

I don’t stick around to hear his response. I whirl on my heels, ducking through the oncoming crowd of people. Screw this. Screw propriety. I can’t stay here now, not after hearing that.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Kat looking at me, trying to wave me over, mouthing something. I just shake my head at her, tears already springing up to blur my vision. Then I burst through the doors of the funeral home and out into the cold night air of northern England.



#



Of course, the moment I step outside, it dawns on me that I have no bloody clue where I am, let alone how to make it home. There’s probably a bus from Newcastle to Oxford, or a train if I could afford a ticket, but first I’d have to figure out a way from this neighborhood back into town itself. Maybe the bus runs both directions. Maybe I can find the other stop somewhere on this side of the road.

I pace away from the door, staring at the signs, when the funeral home doors burst open again.

“Harper?” Jack stands framed by the glow from the windows. His hair is tousled, the same way it looks when he wakes up first thing in the morning and squints at me. The same way it looked earlier this afternoon when he lifted me up in the dressing room, his hands tight around my thighs.

It breaks my heart to gaze into his eyes and think about not ever looking at him again. To think about him not seeing me the same way, either.