While she finishes cooking, I step outside to have a smoke and sip my whiskey. Small talk is painfully impossible, plus I’m not allowed to smoke on campus, so by the time I make it home, my body is screaming for nicotine. Once I finish both my cigarette and my drink, I drag myself back inside, where I pour a refill, fix myself a plate, and sit down at the table. Aida takes a spot at the far end, with me on the opposite end. This table is hardly used anymore, but I think both of us sometimes feel guilty for how little effort we put into our marriage, that we sometimes humor ourselves for a night. Or at least that’s my thought process anyway.

We finished our tense dinner without any sort of talk about how our days went. She fiddled with her phone the entire time, probably scouring social media and pretending our lives are perfect to her friends. My mind travels back to, what I now know was a last-ditch effort, when I thought we might be heading in the right direction again. We went out together—danced, had a great, carefree night—only to come home and have the façade wash away. Just like the make-up she washed off, the connection we shared that night, the smiles and laughs, it was all temporary. A mask to hide what’s underneath. We went right back to being acquaintances, at best. Coming to terms with that was challenging for me. Painful. Nobody wants to know that a relationship they’ve invested so many years and so much time in is a failure.

As soon as I take my last bite, I place my plate in the dishwasher, then pour myself another whiskey before heading to my office.

My lair.

My hideout from my pathetic life.

I sit down at my desk and open my laptop, powering it on. My school email pops up after a minute, an incoming email catching my eye right away.

Hey Professor Philips,

Hope your evening is going well.

I just wanted to check in with you regarding the dates for that convention you told me about a few weeks ago. I know you said it’s next month, but I’m not sure when exactly.

Anyway, have a great night. See ya in class tomorrow.

Thanks,

Cash DeMarco

Cash is my aide for one of my English classes. He has been since the middle of last year, and he does an amazing job. His goal is to become a professor, and he expressed an interest in English early on in his college career.

It’s been interesting working with him. He’s always done well in my classes, earning straight As, and he’s extremely bright. Having his help with lesson plans, grading, and everything else has been a breath of fresh air.

It’s a plus that he’s also nice to look at too.