So Many Reasons Why (2 page)

Focusing so much on society made me focus on what I was missing
out on. The fact that the last time I went to a movie theatre was when I was
ten. Or a restaurant. I'd missed out on every moment a normal teenager would
look forward to.

Tom skimmed the assignment criteria. “ You don't have any
others you can work on?” He screwed his nose up like he always did when he was
unsure.

“This was your idea.” I pointed out, giggling. He was right
though. This essay was a bad choice, but a bad choice that needed to be handed
in next week.

“You can't get an extension?”

“With six days until it’s due? I doubt it. Besides.” I
added. “Apparently the professor is a bit of an asshole.”

“Surely if you explained-”

“Leave it Tom.” I said, more harshly than I intended. I ran
my hands through my still damp hair. “Just let me do this. Please.” I added
softly.

Tom looked like he was having an argument inside his head.
Finally he sighed, and sat down next to me, resigned to the fact that I'd
gotten my way. Again.

I needed to pick two high profile cases, one recent, and one
not so recent. The past case I'd decided on was my own. I knew the details in
and out, and I had no doubt it was something I could get a very high grade on.
Who knew the impact on the victim and society better than me?

This wasn't exactly taking my mind off
him,
which was
either really good or really bad. My psychiatrist, Dr Mellow (yes Mellow), was
always trying to get me to work through what happened. His theory was the more
I could talk about Derek and the attack, the less it would affect me. To date,
his theory was not exactly working.

My email alert popped up. I'd just emailed the professor for
some clarification. Wow he was quick to respond.

Miss Mancelli,

I appreciate your attempt to clarify the essay, but it
is due in one week. This is something that should have been started at the
beginning of the semester. I can’t fathom to think how you will manage to get a
passing grade for this, let alone the exam that will be in six weeks.

To answer your question, yes victim impact on the
crime is great, try and gather as much info as you can on the crime and the
perception of the community and the victim. Focus on sentencing too. Was the
sentence adequate in your opinion for the crime?

I do offer tutoring of a Monday after lectures for
students who are struggling. I suggest it might be in your interests to attend
for future assignments.

Regards,

Simon Anderson

“Asshole.” My face flamed red. Who the hell did this guy
think he was? The anger bubbling inside of me wasn't only directed at
him.  He was partly right. Easily distracted and leaving things until the
last minute. That summed me up since childhood. My parents would tell me to do
three things, and only the first would get done. What I didn't need was to hear
that from some hotshot professor who didn't know me from a bar of soap.

“What?” Tom hovered over my shoulder, reading the email. He
starting laughing. “He has you worked out, doesn't he?” He teased.

“Didn’t this guy teach the importance of keeping a fair and
impartial view of people accused of something within our society? Talk about
judging a book by its cover.” I muttered, ignoring Toms comment.

Suddenly I felt as though I was five and had been asked to
stand in the corner by the teacher. I was asked to stand in the corner and
think about my actions a lot when I was younger. My report card regularly read
I was a smart arse with a retort to everything. Not exactly in those words, but
you get the drift. I'd always considered that one of my more endearing
features, though not everyone would agree. That Emma was still in me somewhere,
though nowadays she usually saved her appearances for my mother.

Back to professor Asshole. Maybe I'd caught him on a bad
day, but I was not used to being addressed like that. It was like I was half
expecting him to drive over here to spank me on the bottom to teach me the
importance of timing.

I blushed at the thought of that, not entirely convinced I
wouldn't enjoy it slightly.

 
Mr Anderson,

I appreciate your thoughts on my academic abilities.
However, if you look up my record you will see I have consistently scored above
an A for my past units, and I plan to continue this trend. I have no intention
of cruising through your class hoping for a pass, and I am offended you think
you can paint that picture of me based on the very little you know about me.

Thank you for clarifying the assessment.

I will also be unable to attend your tutoring classes
as I am housebound with Glandular Fever at the moment, and have been for the
past month. Another thing you might have realised had you checked my record.

Emma Mancelli

Tom patted me on the back as I pressed send. “What a dick.
Don't let him walk all over you, Em.” Glancing up, I rolled my eyes at him. He
grinned, knowing better than anybody that nobody walked over me.

“Asshole.” I poked my tongue out at the screen. I felt
better already.  Glandular fever was the perfect defence. I'd picked that
little gem up from an Agoraphobia forum. The symptoms for Glandular fever being
so broad and long lasting, it really was the perfect cover. It wasn’t that I
was embarrassed of my Agoraphobia, but I had learnt early on just how much of a
stigma was attached to the illness. It quickly became easier to attach a more
‘acceptable’ illness to myself.

Cass had said Anderson was a bit of a cock, and I was
beginning to see why. My reply had been a bit more heated than intended. 
He'd just copped ten years’ worth of cooped up anger. Any other day I probably
would have taken his comments with a grain of salt, or at least with a little
less attitude.

“I have to go for a few hours Em, but call Cass if you need
her. I will drop past and let her know what happened.” He leaned down and
kissed me, his shaggy blonde hair falling over his face. He was in dire need of
a haircut, not that I’d managed to convince him of that. I smiled up at him. He
was such a wonderful person. “I will check on you later.”

An alert popped up.

Miss Mancelli,

I am sorry, I didn't understand your circumstances,
and I should have checked your file before replying. I am working on a case at
the moment that has me very frustrated, and I think your email was just the
wrong place at the wrong time. Add to that the 26 requests I've had for
extensions over the past three days and I hope you can understand my reaction.
One student's request stated she couldn't complete the essay on time because
she forgot she was enrolled in the subject. Yes, I am serious. Needless to say,
her request was denied.

I have attached some notes you might find helpful.
Have you picked your cases yet? I may have some more information on those if
that will help?

Again, I am sorry. I hope you can forgive my
behaviour.

Simon Anderson

Huh. How about that. I felt pretty proud of myself. Proof
that speaking your mind can get you places, some of the time. If only the
parole board had been so easy to persuade.

Jumping up, I did a little victory dance, not entirely sure
what I'd won here, but it felt good. So he was having a bad day. Get over it.
Every day is a bad day when you're agoraphobic. God I needed to start writing
these down. I can see it now, my own range of mental illness T-shirts.

Absolute gold.

I focused back on the email. I had no idea what would
possess someone to become a professor. Twenty-Six requests for extensions in a
class of about ninety? Seriously? That would piss me off big time. Not to
mention all the marking, exams, lectures, and tutoring. No wonder the guy was
having a bad day.

Mr Anderson,

Apology accepted, thank you for the notes. Sorry if I
sounded defensive, I guess being cooped up at home has taken its toll on me.

Emma

Again his reply was immediate. Wow, this guy has fast hands.
I blushed at my insinuation, even though it was not intended. 

Emma,

Please, call me Simon. It must be very hard for you. I
can’t even handle two days at home with a cold! Watch some movies, read a book,
it might make time pass for you. Or better yet, do some homework ;)

Simon

Oh, on a first name basis now are we, I mused.

I kicked my legs up under me.

Simon. I had a cat named Simon when I was little. He was
underweight, scrawny and full of worms when I brought him home. I had found him
behind the dumpster of the local shops. He also scratched my dad on the back.
That was probably my fault, considering I threw poor Simon onto his back from
two feet away. Poor terrified Simon. My dad hated him after that, and I’d never
owned up.

I tried to associate the name Simon with the deliriously
sexy voice I'd heard on the lecture recordings. It just wasn't working for me.
I kept seeing that poor defenceless scrawny cat.

I realised I hadn't thought about Derek in over fifteen
minutes. I was more than happy to play email tag with Simon if it kept my mind
off things.

Simon,

In the last 24 hours I've watched three movies, read a
book, and watched countless reruns of Seinfeld. I am the master of trying to
make time pass faster.

Oh, and I have also bathed Carol.

Emma

Beep. I clicked on his reply.

Emma,

Carol? Who the hell is Carol? I have visions in my
head I probably shouldn't have as your teacher.

Simon

“Oh shit.”

The inappropriateness of my comment wasn’t completely
accidental, but now I felt weird. What the hell was I doing? No doubt he was
fighting off images of me and my smutty neighbour Carol with her heaving
breasts heating things up in the shower. I glanced at the windowsill, where
Carol had just hissed at me. She glowered at me. Carol always looked at me with
disapproval. I swear that cat hated me. Especially when I worked her into
awkward conversations with strange professors.

Simon,

Oh yes, you should have seen her! We had a bit of a
food fight, and she ended up head to tip covered in trifle
(This was
true. Long story)
. The least I could do was get in there with her and
help her wash the mess out of her long golden locks. I couldn't keep my hands
off her!

It was all good though. We spent hours rolling on the
bed after and finally fell asleep
(again true).

Emma.

I was flirting with Simon, and it felt good. Human contact
with someone new. It had been so long since I'd had any type of
conversation with someone outside my circle of friends and family. Unless
you consider the fifteen year old grocery delivery boy a social outlet. I
don't. Ping!

Emma,

I must admit I sat here speechless for the good part
of five minutes. I know that you're messing with me, but not all of me agrees,
or wants to agree at least. Can you please put me out of my misery here and
tell me who the hell Carol is.

Remember, I am your teacher. I can fail you.

Simon.

I laughed at his empty threat. I'd love to be in on that
conversation when he told the dean the reasons behind my fail mark. I'm sure he
knew as well as I did our email exchanges were probably breaking several rules
about teacher/student relations. Finally, deciding he had suffered enough, I
tapped out an email telling him who Carol was. He replied back straightaway
(again).

Who names their cat Carol? Are you serious? What a
poor cat. Anyway, you have distracted me for long enough. I need to go do some
work now. I am giving you my home email only because I don't check my work one
as often as I should. If you get stuck with any of the notes, or need to
clarify anything, please let me know.

Thanks for the chat Miss Mancelli

I threw myself back on the couch and smiled. Home email,
hey? For purpose of helping me if I got stuck? Bullshit. The guy was clearly
flirting with me. What would I do about it though? Feeling ballsy, no doubt due
to the several beers I'd consumed, I typed out an email and sent it to his home
address. 

I used to have a cat named Simon.
Do you
give all the girls your home email, Professor?

Emma

As my finger hovered over the send button, I felt sick and
excited at the same time. Click. This was so not like me. I didn't do
relationships. I could barely manage friendships. And flirting with a professor
was so not my style. There was something about Simon. Something I liked.
Something that made me feel fuzzy in the stomach, for lack of a better word. I
was used to feeling sick in the stomach, but this feeling was different.

It was good. A nice feeling.

I'd been attracted to boys in the past, but I had never
acted on it. Tom and I had tried kissing once when we were twelve, but that
didn't go so well. Cass and I tried kissing also (which surprisingly went
better than Tom and I), but again, nothing really there. It was hard meeting
boys when you never left the house. Cass went through a phase where she had
been determined to set me up, we had gone through five boys, all were nice
enough, but none of them really had anything in common with me.

One of them had turned into a relationship that had actually
lasted a few months, but it was far from the mind blowing attraction my
addiction to romantic movies had conditioned me to look for. Is that what this
was? A crush? That undeniable chemistry you find once in a lifetime? God, I was
turning into a greeting card.