SomeWhere On... (BXB)

EPILOGUE: FIVE YEARS ON

...University Road, USA - September

"...so, if culture is experienced at the present time through architecture and planning, couldn't we consider it, as not just monuments to long-gone civilizations, but also reflections of the time and people it was built for? The...Guggenheim. The Sydney Opera House. What do these postmodern examples means, and what do they represent?" A pause, and Murph takes in a breath. "Even new purpose-built developments like Poundbury in England, or Putrajaya in Malaysia; how do these modern examples of town planning and their use of architecture reflect our society at the time of construction, and now?" Murph steps away from the podium, cracks his fingers, and continues. "The syllabus is online for anyone who still needs it, and my office hours are Tuesdays and Thursdays at 3 to 5, or by appointment." He checks his watch. "I don't have anything else to say, so if you guys have any more questions, you're free to go."

Everyone begins moving, packing their things to go. A few students linger to ask him something, and I take a front-row seat and just watch him. Murph's not being goofy like he normally is. He holds himself tall. His tone is low and calm. It's the perfect voice for an audiobook. His face isn't super expressive, but his hands make up for it. He's tired, and the bags under his eyes remind me of how many hours he's been working for the start of the year, but there's still a warm smile on his face. There's this air of genuineness about him.

My art history professor husband is so fucking weird and amazing.

When the last girl goes, he sees me. And Murph's big, goofy, toothy smile breaks out. Dimples. "Hey," he says, going back behind the podium. "What are you doing here?"

I stand up, backpack on my shoulder. "I can't believe I'm sleeping with the teacher. Mum would be so proud."

He turns red. "Oh my God, Tommy. Stop." He looks at me. "It isn't as funny as you think it is. I promise." But his smile stays put. "And I'm not a professor. Ms. Ito's just away on sabbatical."

"Yet the teacher with, what, like a decade of teaching experience left you in charge?"

Murph doesn't say anything.

"Pup, this is your second year teaching. With her syllabus, but you've got a knack for it."

He sticks out his tongue at me and grimaces.

It's so cute. I grin. "Now c'mon. We got guests tonight."

His blue eyes light up. "Yes! Yes! Everyone's back in town again!" His hands flap against his sides.

"Pup, come on," I say, nudging him with my shoulder. He begins throwing everything into his bag. "You can bore everyone back at the loft with the art of urban planning talk till you're red in the face."

"Tommy, it's 'blue in the face'," he whispers, chuckling.

I sigh and roll my eyes. I move the backpack to my other shoulder. "Come on." I swing my feet then stop. "I gotta question. Is there any class in here next?"

Murph nods. "Yeah. The 'Intro to Art History' lecture is in here next. Why?"

I purse my lips. "Damn."

He stares and shifts his weight to his other foot. "Tommy."

"Wha?"

"You have that look on your face."

"What look?"

Murph shakes his head. "You're a bad liar, you know that?"

I groan. We know each other too well now.