Page 74 of See Me After Class

"So, what then?" His voice, stripped of its quiet veneer, grated against my nerves. "Running off to some other bed, Dessie? Is that it?"

The question stung but with a dull ache. My laugh, when it came, was brittle and empty. "It doesn't matter," I said, the words tasting like ashes in my mouth. "What happened between us…" —I paused, searching for the right words— "all of us, it was a mistake."

John looked thrown off balance. His voice, when he spoke, was a low growl.

"Mistake? You call that night, that surrender, a mistake? Don't play coy, Dessie. We both know better."

His eyes now burned with something possessive, dangerous. A wave of nausea washed over me.

"It doesn't matter what I call it, John," I said, my voice hard with resolve. "I just need two days off."

He rose, his towering presence casting a shadow over me. His voice, laced with barely concealed fury, followed me as I turned to leave.

"It isn't about the leave, confound you," he roared. He strode over to me and shook my shoulders. "It is you, you with your damned impertinence and what you've done to us, to all of us!"

I didn't flinch under John's gaze. Even as bile rose to my throat, I remained steady. This time around, I was playing for keeps. "May I leave?"

He released me then, his expression remote. "Yes. Take your leave. Go where you will. Keep lying to yourself, Dessie. That's what you do best."

30

Dessie

Ipushed all the hurt that rose from John's words into the background. There would be a proper time for me to sit back and reflect on all the wrong decisions I'd made in the last few days. But I had other things to do right now. I called Ms. Wainwright to get directions to Oswald's old house.

She answered. Her voice was oddly muffled, and I could make out the sound of wind in the background. She was going somewhere. Odd, considering she hardly left the confines of her little cottage.

"Yes, dear?"

"Ms. Wainwright, can you tell me the exact address of Oswald's old house?"

There was a telling pause. "Are you really sure about this, Dessie?"

"I am."

"Very well. You'll need to look out for an estate. 1349 Woodland Heights, Ashcroft, CT 06330."

"Okay," I replied, scribbling furiously. "Thanks, Ms. Wainwright."

"May I offer a word of advice?"

I held back on sighing. At least the advice, albeit irritating, would come from a place of care. "Yes."

"If you must go, go in the morning. One seldom makes clever decisions in the death of night."

She wasn't wrong there. My head was spinning from the weight of all the things I had learned and all I possibly would. "Okay, Ms. Wainwright. Thanks for everything."

"You know I'm always there for you."

The line clicked with a softwhirr. I kept my phone down by the nightstand and plopped down on the bed, rubbing my eyes wearily as I took out a notepad.

Lists comforted me. They were more than just a series of words and tasks jotted down on paper. In fact, they were my lifeline in a world that was, at present, as chaotic as Sephora on Black Friday.

I did an extensive search with the address details I fetched from Ms. Wainwright. To get to Ashcroft from Stillingbrook, I'd have to take the CT-15 north for about forty miles. I drew the trajectory with tiny little dots, marking the exact parts I'd cross to reach my final destination.

As I worked, a smile slipped on my face. This was nothing short of excessive, but it gave me peace. Each item on the list, from the questions I'd need answered to the documents I'd hunt for, resembled a tiny, orderly universe where everything had a place and I, most importantly, had control. This was especially comforting considering my life was about as organized as a toddler's birthday party. I took pleasure in wrapping my thoughts in neat, orderly rows that I would later check off with satisfying ticks.

The hours went by, and I entered a place of meditation as red met green and tiny little boxes appeared in front of spindly trees. There was something meditative about what I was doing, like empty coffee shops and the autumn breeze. I ended with a small note on figuring out where my socks had disappeared to once I came back to the institute.