Other Side

18 | Teacher Talia

"Jesus Christ, I thought someone had broken into the house."

Talia spent nearly the entire night getting through her copy of The Prophet, savoring the pockets of wisdom in each short chapter. She never got much sleep if she dozed off after four in the morning, leading her to the kitchen at seven for an early breakfast.

Zaid had apparently beaten her to her destination, sitting on the kitchen island and enjoying a small cup of tea. Before him was her cure-all for hunger when she was feeling lazy: toasted flatbread with lebaneh, olive oil, and za'atar to dip it in.

"Honestly, if an intruder came in and prepared me this, I'd probably let him stay." He chuckled and brought his teacup back to his lips. "It seems like you didn't sleep much today either."

"Was up reading," she explained, picking up a piece of bread. "Maybe you've converted me."

"My effect really is that strong, isn't it?" The corners of his lips curled upwards when he took in her damp hair, starting to form those voluminous dark brown curls. He seemed tempted to run his fingers through a ringlet, hand suspended in the air. He dropped it to the counter with a sigh. "Unfortunately, my alarm clock today was, in fact, a phone call."

"From who? A scammer calling to ask about your car's extended warranty?"

He let out an airy laugh. "It was my brother calling, actually. Shocking he has an Ivy League degree but can't figure out what time zones are."

"Was the call important, at least?"

He shrugged. "He wanted to know if I've decided to intern at our firm this summer, or if he should start interviewing other candidates. I've left him hanging for months now, so I guess he had a valid reason to demand an answer at five-thirty in the morning."

"Well, did he get one?"

"Begrudgingly," he said, a trace of a smile appearing on his lips. "I figured I can at least assert my dominance when the other interns look at the walls and find my last name plastered all over them." He shut the lid of his laptop and set it aside. "What about you? Where will you spend your summer?"

"San Francisco, sadly." If someone had no clue where that was, they'd probably think she was referring to a minimum-security prison, not a bustling metropolis. "I'm at least grateful I have an internship, of course."

"Maybe we can trade places. I've never been to California."

Talia wanted to say he was missing nothing, but she loved her home state, just not the exorbitant rent, endless traffic, or the dismal fog of the Bay, sure to greet her this summer. There were more grievances on that list, but at least bone-chilling winter didn't make it there, even though deep down, she was starting not to hate that one all that much.

He changed the subject. "How far did you get into the book?"

"I think I have a chapter left," she said, swallowing a small bite. "But I won't tell you what I think until I'm done." Shaking her head, she muttered, "Gosh, why weren't most books that short in high school? This is what the math major in me has needed all my life."

His face washed over with relief at her playful tone, and she found it almost humorous, until he wiped that laugh and a few crumbs off her mouth with his thumb. The action was quick and offhand, but it ignited that flame deep inside of her, always dead in his absence.

He chuckled and finished the last of his tea. "You know, while I do prefer books on the longer side, I think length keeps away some otherwise willing readers. I mean, think back to the works of the twentieth century. The Great Gatsby is a familiar name to almost everyone. Can you say the same about Steinbeck's East of Eden? Probably not, even though the latter writer was a Nobel prize winner. The difference between the two books is about four-hundred-fifty pages, give or take."