I Love You, Always (14 page)

Waking up I’ve finally seen

This life of mine has been a dream

And now it’s time to take my expectations

And turn them all to revelations

∞

“Mr. Taylor, a word please,” Professor Matthews says as I’m walking down the stairs to leave the lecture hall. Fuck, I should’ve left by the back door. I turn to look at him as the twenty or so other people in my class file out. He gestures for me to take a seat in the front row, and I reluctantly do, slumping into the chair and dropping my bag on the floor just to show how much I don’t care what he has to say to me.

“Luke, we need to talk about these grades you’ve been getting,” Professor Matthews eventually says to me, closing the door on the lecture hall after the last person has left, so no one will hear us. I don’t really care if anyone does. I couldn’t give a shit
who
knows I’m practically failing, because I don’t actually give a shit about being here at all. Maybe if I fail for long enough, they’ll just kick me out, save me the hassle of even showing up for class at all.

“Now I know this isn’t because you don’t understand the material,” he continues, taking a seat on the desk at the front of the room so he’s facing me. “It’s obvious you are extremely bright, so what I’m trying to ascertain here, is whether you want to be taking this class at all?”

I look up at my lecturer. He’s actually a really nice guy and if I’d made the choice to be here, taking this course, I’d probably be making more of an effort. But the thing is, I’m not. I’m not here by choice and I’m not here because I want to study this. I’m here because my father decided I should be. And when he makes a decision about something that he wants, there’s really nothing anyone can do to change his mind, least of all the person he’s making the decision for.

“Luke?” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Any thoughts on this?”

I shrug, not really sure what he expects me to say.

“Okay then,” he continues, when it’s obvious I’m not planning on answering his question. “Given that this course is not exactly mainstream and it’s certainly not easy to get in to, I’m just going to put it out there and ask, if you really don’t want to be here, then why are you?”

I’m staring at this guy as he says this to me and the only thing I can do, is burst out laughing. I actually start laughing, right in his face. I can’t even remember the last time I genuinely laughed.

“Okay then,” Professor Matthews says now. “You want to maybe explain this to me?”

I exhale loudly, figuring, why the hell not. It’s about time someone understood why the fuck I was bothering to be here. “No, Professor Matthews,” I say, sitting up in my seat a little. “I really don’t want to be here. No offense or anything, but I’m just not interested in this course.”

Professor Matthews uncrosses his arms, holds them out on either side of him and looks up at the ceiling. “Finally, he speaks.”

I can’t help but smile. He’s right; I’m not exactly known for talking much. I rarely answer questions in class and never participate
in group
discussions. The most he ever gets out of me is a shrug and
an
I
don’t know
. I’m actually starting to feel a little bad for treating him like this. It’s not his fault I’m forced to be here.

“Yeah,” I say, looking up at him. “I speak.”

“Good to know,” he says, his hands on the desk now as he waits for me to go on.

I take a deep breath, figuring I’ve started now; I may as well keep going with this. “I’m here because my father wants me to be here,” I say, a strange feeling of relief washing over me as I finally say the words out loud. “He decided where I was going to study, what I was going to study and when my dad makes a decision, you kinda don’t have much say in it.”

Professor Matthews tilts his head at me, as though he’s confused about what I’m saying. “Your
dad made you take
this course?”

“Yeah,” I say staring at my hands, splayed out on the desk in front of me. “My dad tends to dictate pretty much everything I do.” I’m waiting for him to speak, to tell me that this is all the more reason for me to try harder, start studying and lift my grades, make my dad proud or some other bullshit like that. So it shocks me when I hear him start laughing, and not just laughing a little,
but
actually laughing his ass off.

“What?” I ask, looking up at him, pissed that he seems to think this is all a joke. “What the fuck is so funny?”

My professor shakes his head, finally getting himself under control as he says. “Tell me something, Luke, how old are you?”

I scowl at him, not sure where he’s going with all this. “Twenty, why?”

“Well, last time I checked,” Professor
Matthews
says. “Twenty does make you a legal adult, so if you don’t want to be here, then don’t be here.” He stands up now, walking towards the desk I’m sitting in. “I mean don’t get me wrong, you’re a smart guy and I’d like to have you in my class, but if you don’t want to learn this and you definitely don’t want to be here, then don’t be.”

He stops in front of me and I immediately stand up, not wanting him standing over me. It’s too reminiscent of my dad and the intimidation tactics he employs. “I wish it was that simple,” I say, wishing that I hadn’t actually opened my big mouth in the first place.

Professor Matthews walks around the desk and sinks into the chair next me. I glance down at him; see him nod towards my chair, indicating I should take a seat too. “I know you think I don’t understand your situation, Luke, and I’ll be honest and say, I probably don’t. But what I do understand is trying to do something that you’re just not interested in doing. That’s something that’s never going to get you anywhere.”

“Speak from past experience, do you?” I ask, glancing sideways at him.

Professor Matthews is looking at me, his fingers threaded together on the desk in front of him. “Me personally, no, but I’ve been at this place for nearly twenty years and I’ve certainly seen my fair share of students in the same position you find yourself in now.” He stops, clears his throat before he goes on. “And I say the same thing to each of them, as I’m saying to you now. Don’t do it to yourself. If you don’t want to be here, don’t. But don’t just sit around and do nothing about it either. You need to go out there and find what it is you’re looking for, because I can guarantee you, it’s never going to come looking for you.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I say, wishing it was that easy.

“Luke,” he says now, his hand on my shoulder causing me to flinch a little. “You don’t have to do this you know. No matter what you think, no one can tell
you
what to do.”

I take a deep breath, exhaling as I stare straight ahead at the white board. “You don’t know my father,” I finally say. “He’s not used to people saying no to him.”

Professor Matthews removes his hand and I immediately relax. “Then don’t say anything to him, just withdraw from the course and go and find out what it is you’re supposed to do. Go find yourself, Luke.”

I turn to look at him. He’s no longer laughing; he’s not even smiling. Instead he’s looking at me like he not only means every word he’s saying, but that maybe he once took a journey like that himself. There’s a part of me that wants to believe him, wants to ask him all about it. But I don’t get the chance, because the next thing out of his mouth shocks me into silence.

“And I do know who your father is, you know. And even knowing that and everything he does for this university, all the things he did to make sure you’d get in here, I still think you should do this. You need to find out what it is that
you
want, Luke, and only
you
can do that. Not him, not me, not anyone else.”

“So, what, you’re suggesting I just ditch this course and leave?” I ask, not sure what I should be doing.

Professor Matthews smiles at me now. “I’m not suggesting you do anything, Luke,” he says. “Only you can be the one to know if you should.”

And for the first time in my life, I’m starting to wonder if maybe I do.

As I walk back to my dorm, deciding to skip the rest of my classes today, I can’t get the words that Professor Matthews said to me, out of my head. No one has ever told me, let alone encouraged me, to stand up to my father. Most people are petrified of him, wouldn’t dare cross him, much less encourage anyone else to. So not only does what Professor Matthews told me make me respect the guy even more, it actually lets me think, for just a second, that maybe he’s right. Maybe I should just do it. Just walk out of here. Go and find out what it is that
I
want to do, for once in my life.
Because it sure as shit beats sitting around here and letting him tell me what to do.

I have no idea where to start, let alone where to go, or what to do to make this happen. I pull out my cell, thinking maybe I’ll call Mia, see what she thinks or if she has any bright ideas.

“Luke.”

I glance up as my chest constricts. I know that voice and sure enough, there he is, standing in front of my dorm rooms.

“What are you doing here?” I blurt out, wondering if he has any idea what I’m thinking about doing right now.

“I had a board meeting and thought I would check in on you, aren’t you supposed to be in class?” he says, his eyes boring into mine.

“I’m on my way,” I lie. “Just picking something up from my room.” I don’t know why the fuck I say this. Why can’t I just open my mouth and tell him the truth? That I don’t want to be here, that I’m actually thinking about leaving.

He glances at his watch, before looking back at me. “You’ll be late,” his says, his voice like steel. “I don’t pay good money for you to be late.”

I feel my hand clench into a fist at my side, my heart pounding in my chest as a wave of anger floods through me. Fuck, I hate this man, so fucking much. “Then I better get going,” I force out through clenched teeth.

“You’d better,” he says, still holding my gaze. “I have meetings until five, so we can go over everything this evening. I’ll pick you up here at six.”

“What?” I blurt out.

“Your grades and coursework,” he says, his face impassive. “Don’t be late.” And then he turns and walks off before I can say another word.

I walk inside in a daze, but when I reach my room, I’m consumed with anger.
Of all the fucking days for him to show up here.
I throw my books on the floor and fall back onto my bed. Staring up at the ceiling, I rake my hands through my hair, gripping it hard as my eyes close.
What the fuck am I doing here?

The noise of an incoming text pulls my attention back to the present. I reach over and grab it from my bag, remembering I was going to call Mia. As I open up the message though, my blood starts to boil again.

6pm,
don’t be late.

Like I’ve possibly fucking forgotten? “Jesus fucking Christ,” I say to the empty room, does he think I’m an idiot? Fuck it, that’s it. I’m not meeting him tonight. I’m not going to fucking bother with him at all anymore. I’m getting out of here. I’m leaving this place, this course, and most of all, him.

He can’t tell me what to do anymore, he doesn’t know me, and he sure as shit doesn’t know what I want. Professor Matthews was right, only I can be the one to work that out.

And the only thing I know right now is that this is not it.

I’ve been drawing the same thing over and over again. I don’t even know what it means, but it seems to come to me, day after day after day. It’s been four weeks since I left. Twenty-eight days, seven hours and thirteen minutes to be exact. And it’s been nothing short of a relief. To be gone, to be free, the weight that has been lifted, it actually feels pretty damn amazing.

At first, my phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Dad obviously pissed about the fact I’d just walked out, ditched school and him and everything. I would have loved to have seen his face when he showed up and realised I’d gone. That would have almost been worth sticking around for.

But I didn’t, instead I got myself a new phone, texted Mia my new number, and things have been a lot better. He must be absolutely shitting it over the fact that I’ve disappeared though, but I don’t care, do not give a fuck. Only Mia knows how to contact me now, even if it seems that she’s not ready to talk to me just yet. I know she’s going to be pissed I’ve just upped and left and I’m trying to explain to her why I have, but it’s a little hard to rationalise with a voicemail. Sooner or later she’s going to have to pick up and when she does, the first thing I’m going to do is apologise for it all happening this way.

The bus I’m on is passing through countryside now. I’ve lost count of how many states I’ve gone through. It no longer matters. I just need to get as far away from him as possible. But I might hitch soon just to save some cash. I have enough; I made sure I took what I could. He’s frozen everything now, as I knew he would, so I have to try and make it last. And I really don’t want to draw attention to myself; I certainly don’t want to give him any way of finding me.

This drawing should be the last thing I’m thinking about. But for some reason I can’t stop myself. I can’t stop thinking about it and I can’t stop picturing exactly what I’m going to do with it. He would despise it and that thought alone makes me smile. Right now all I want to do is something he will hate, something that will push his buttons, something that will piss him the fuck off.
Even if he never gets to see it.