The Tales of a Future Hockey Wife

Chapter 19: Mr. Langley

~Eleanor~

Monday morning, after our cross-country class, Blair and I meet Vivienne in the cafeteria beside the library. Our Comparative Literature class was cancelled only to be replaced by a special announcement in the library. All around us, there are students in our program who speculate about what it is. Will it be a contest, a special guest lecturer? Who knows? When I see people like that, it feels like I am back in high school when the teacher was absent, and we could do whatever we wanted for an hour. I can hear excited chatter everywhere, but I don't participate in the conversation. Blair and Vivienne come back to our table with their coffees. Usually, I would have went with them, but my stomach has been doing flips all morning. It's a mystery how I succeeded in running three miles this morning.

"El, Blair met a guy." Right, there was a party at their dorm Saturday. She must have met someone there. I widen my eyes in fake surprise. In the last three years, Blair has met countless guys. From the one who studied philosophy to the guy in gender studies, they were all a big romantic failure. She claps her hands together like an excited five-year-old whose mother told her she could eat a second cupcake.

"His name is Charles and he is studying Business Admin and Economics. He is just wonderful." I literally choke on my own air. It's a good thing that I wasn't drinking anything because I would have spit it all over Blair's white blouse.

"Tell me you call him Chuck, please. Oh, does he want to run hotels? Cause that would be too good to be true. I spent my weekend watching Gossip Girl, I could tell you all about Chuck Bass if you want." Vivienne erupts in a loud fit of laughter and I join her. Blair, on the other hand, rolls her eyes in dismay.

"I didn't even think about that. Ella, you're wonderful. I love you so much." Vivienne's voice is still tainted with laughter. She extends her hand for me to clap.

We keep asking her questions about her very own Chuck Bass until they call us in the library. We take a seat at one of tables that were set in straight lines in front of the small stage we usually use for readings. Vivienne is telling Blair that her and Charles should adopt a dog and call him Monkey when Mr. Lincoln walks on stage. Mr. Lincoln is a man in his late fifties or early sixties who always wears a different version of the same suit. The dress pants and the jacket are always brown, and the button-up shirt is always plain like blue, white, black or grey. It's the tie that changes. Last week, it was turquoise with purple dots. Today, he wears a pale blue button-up with a red tie with tiny flags from all around the world on it. The combination is a little weird, but we got used to his unique sense of style around the end of September. Did I mention that he has a lisp? Well he does, and it's super annoying especially when he did his lecture on Tolstoy. No matter how he looks or how he speaks, this man can have the silence in a room in seconds and today is no different. He just had to cough in the microphone and everyone stopped talking immediately.

"Everyone, I know you have been wondering why we are gathered here today. We are lucky enough to have a new writer in residence until January." The whispers start again when he stops talking for a second. Beside me, I hear Blair murmur that she hopes the new writer will be more interesting than the last one. Seconds later, Mr. Lincoln coughs again, bringing the silence back. "He wrote suspense novels that always contain multiple twists. We know him mostly for his last one, Apocalypse 2.0. He came here all the way from New York, ladies and gentlemen, give a warm welcome to our guest lecturer of the day, Matthew Langley." My heart starts beating faster when a familiar face walks up on stage. Blonde short hair, round glasses over hazel eyes, a burgundy scarf around his neck, brown loafers, weird socks, and a Tim Hortons' coffee in his hand. I knew him as Liam, but his name is apparently Matthew Langley. It's during moments like that I hate Blair's habit to sit in the front row. Matthew aka Liam's eyes fall directly on me the minute he scans the room. A small smirk appears on his lips when he sees how uncomfortable I must look. If my stomach wasn't already doing flips, it would be totally turned upside down now. I am unable to listen to a word of his speech, the buzzing noise in my ears is too loud to allow me to focus on anything else. At one point, Vivienne asks me if I'm okay and it takes her three tries to get my attention. I nod but I know she isn't convinced. She mouths the words I already knew: "You're very pale, Ella." I cover my mouth with my hand, the coolness of my skin making me feel a little bit better, but it's not enough to calm my already fragile stomach. Good thing I am sitting down, or I would have already collapsed on the ceramic floor.

After his speech, he announces a signing. The girls take place in the already long line of students. Beside him, I can see the cardboard boxes from the bookstore. This is why he had to buy so many copies. I stay seated, leaning my head on the cold wooden table in front of me. I keep repeating the words: "I'm not going to throw up, I'm not going to throw up, I'm not going to throw up," until my stomach calms down a little. I finally raise my head from the table only to meet his eyes. He is supposed to be taking a picture with a student, but his eyes are focused on me. He nods in my direction, but I am unable to answer him. I'm afraid that, if I move, I'll throw up right there. I turn my head to the side to avoid his stare. I stay like this until Blair and Vivienne sit beside me once again.

Once everyone has their signed copy of his book, he announces the assignment for today's class. In teams of two or three, we have to write a short story about how appearances are sometimes misleading. I roll my eyes at his well-chosen subject. He wants me to write about false appearances, he doesn't know what he is in for. My surprise has turned into anger, my stomach ache now a faint part of how I feel. I pitch my idea about someone catfishing someone else to the girls and they love it. They wanted me to write, but every time I lower my head, a wave of nausea hits me, so Vivienne ends up with the piece of paper. When we are about halfway through our story, Mr. Lincoln and Matthew/Liam stop beside our table.

"Here, Matthew, we have the finest of our senior class. Blair writes the best poetry I have heard in a long time and Eleanor was the winner of our analogy and metaphor contest. Let's not forget about Vivienne who has more imagination than Stephen King when it comes to thrillers." I keep my eyes away from Matthew/Liam's. I don't want to see his smile or the way he raises his glasses every two seconds.

"Eleanor and I met actually." Blair's elbow nudges my side making me wince. "My agent sent the copies of Apocalypse where she works. It's nice to see you again." I don't have a choice this time, I have to look up at him. My eyes meet his for a second when I give him a small smile. "She kept telling how much she loved my book." I can't help but chuckle at how false this is. I told him the exact opposite. When I think about it, I would have probably lied about myself too if someone told me how much they hated my work. I look up at him again, and my eyes stay longer this time. I shake my head and smile when I see him play with his glasses.

"What is your story about girls?" Mr. Lincoln was trying to get the control of the conversation back. I answered for the first time since they came to talk to us.

"A guy who pretends to be someone else to impress a girl." I stare directly into Matthew's eyes when I speak. This time, he is the one who looks away from me. His eyes are fixed to the floor for the rest of the conversation. Mr. Lincoln gives us a few tips on how to improve our story and they move on to the next team.

We finish our story with a few minutes to spare. We are all very satisfied with the plot, the characters and the ending. A team at a time, we are asked to go on stage to read our story. I don't know if he did it on purpose, but Matthew calls us last. The second I get up, I know something is wrong. My vision blacks out for a moment before coming back. I walk on stage behind Vivienne who will read our story. She is reading the first line when I grab Blair's arm. I hold tight waiting for my vision to clear up again, but it doesn't. Instead of clearing up, it darkens even more until I can't see anything, until I can't feel anything. I don't feel myself fall on the ground, I don't hear Blair's scream. Everything is black.