Banister
is handing back another stack of papers. His silence hangs like a weight around
the neck of the room. Out of papers he grabs his satchel and leaves the room
without a word. Only when the door closes solidly behind him do the students
check the grades on their papers. Sanders turns his paper over to find another
note on the first page. The title of his paper is “An analysis of series plot structure, the destruction of artistic
ingenuity and creative expression: A history of the Mario Brothers.”
Banisters note is in big bold red sharpie pen. “All right then, see me after class.”
Sanders flips the paper face down.
Every
stack of paper on Banister’s desk is different than the ones that were on his
desk during the first meeting he had with Sanders. And yet the defensive castle
wall looks almost exactly the same. Sanders walks into his office without
knocking. Banister doesn’t even look up from the essay he is grading.
“Was that
your idea of a joke?” He asked.
Sanders
dropped into the empty chair on his side of the desk and shook his head. “Not
really. It just sounded like an interesting hypothesis.” He explained.
Banister
looked up from his work and slowly put his red pend down. “And this had nothing
to do with you trying to pry into my life?” He asked skeptically.
Sanders
smiled and shook his head again. “Have you always been this self-centered? I
didn’t write the paper to get your attention. If I had I would have written
something much more eye catching.” His smile betrayed a secret but Banister
couldn’t figure out which.
“Such
as?” Banister asked.
Sanders
thought about it for a second, then made up his mind. “Do you really want to
know? Or are you just hoping I’ll give you a decent reason to kick me out of
your office?” he challenged.
Banister’s
hostility cracked slightly. “After you worked so hard to get here?” He started.
“That would be rude.” He finished.
“I didn’t write the paper to get your attention.”
Sanders groaned.
Banister smiled. “I heard you the first time.” He confirmed,
picking his pen up and getting back to grading essays.
Sanders takes a moment to glance around the tiny office. “Hey,
how come you don’t have any photos of family or friends?” In my experience most
professors are super sentimental.”
Banister glanced up from his papers again. “I thought you
wanted to be my friend, not my psychiatrist.” He asked.
Sanders shrugged his shoulders. “In a place like this they are
pretty much one in the same.” He looked at Banister. “Don’t you think?”
Sanders point threw him for a second. He set his pen down and
sat back in his chair. “Are you sure you’re just a student?” He asked.
Sanders met his gaze. “Are you sure you’re just a teacher?” He
asked in return.
Banister glanced down at his castle of paperwork. “Some days,
I’m not even sure about that part.” He admitted.
“How so?” Sanders asked.
Banister began to fidget with his pen. “I came back here
because this is the last place I remember being happy. I used to want that.”
Banister was looking at his pen, talking more to himself than Sanders now.
“What Changed?” Sanders prodded.
Banister’s mind returned to his body and he sat up straight in
his chair. “Mostly it’s like you said. The fire started, and sadly the first
thing to burn was my love of this place.”
“So why are you still here then?” Sanders asked.
Banister leaned back over his work. “Paycheck.” He answered
without looking up.
Sanders shook his head. “Bull”
Banister let his pen hover over the essay he had read half of
three times now. His mind and Sanders distracting him from his work. He gave up
finally, capped the pen and set it down on the desk. “Where else would I go?
What else would I do? He asked to the universe.
Now Sanders mind went a million miles away. “Somewhere you can
finish grieving.” Sanders said mostly to himself.
Banister cocks and eyebrow at in curiosity. “What?” He asked.
Sanders mind snapped back to the office. He shook his head and looked at his empty wrist where a watch might sit. “Sorry, nothing, was talking to myself.” He said as he stood up out of the chair and grabbed his bag.
“About what.” Banister asked.
Sanders shook his head. ‘Nothing, I. uh, I gotta get to my next class.” He excused himself and opened the office door quickly disappearing on the other side of it.
Banister watches as the door pulls itself shut. “Damn” He
grumbles, picking up his pen again.
