Dan went back to his office as soon as the ceremony wound down and everyone left. As Marvin had predicted, it took just about an hour from start to finish. He opened the door and was surprised to see Katie still working, peering at the top drawer of the five-drawer filing cabinet on her tippy toes. Her tight, form fitting navy blue business suit accentuated her fine figure which he could not help but notice—especially as she stood on her tippy toes, with her skirt above the knees and her . . . He caught himself, began to blush and quickly went to the Compaq computer, sitting on what was now Katie’s desk, and booting up.
“What are you still doing here,” he asked, intently looking at the integrated green five-inch screen as WordPerfect came up. “It’s after 5:00 p.m.”
“I know,” she said, still fussing with the files on her tippy toes, her nose barely above the rim of the topmost drawer. “Almost done. No biggie.”
She then closed the drawer and turned to face him—or rather his back.
“What are you looking for?” she asked, tilting her head slightly to the right.
“I need to take the latest file of the new program proposal home to make the changes Bob suggested and incorporate whatever other relevant information I find tomorrow at my university’s libraries,” he said, still not looking at her.
“But I already gave you that, remember? It’s in the file folder on your desk along with the notes that Bob made—you put it back before going to the graduation earlier.”
“Yeah, right, I forgot,” he said shutting off the computer and finally turning to face her. “Thanks.”
“Geez Louise, no need to blush about it,” she replied giggling her little girl giggle. That only deepened the shade of crimson on his cheeks.
“Early dementia,” he replied sheepishly.
“So how did the ceremony go?”
“What?” he replied.
“Golly Ms. Molly, get a grip will ya?” she retorted chuckling some more, her head tilted slightly more to her right.
“Yes, sorry, the graduation ceremony . . . went well. It was not what I expected, but I actually enjoyed it. It was fun and unexpectedly emotional for me.”
“Were they all dressed up?” She asked.
“Yeah, almost all of them. Some were a bit over-dressed, but it made me realize how important it was for them—and for their families. A few of the grads had young children with them—also all dressed up. I realized that this is a red-letter day for them, and for their loved ones. I had a very long and challenging week this week. And I had more than my share of pessimism thrown my way in my meeting with my counterpart at the Manhattan school and even some people here. I got hammered with the idea that this is a racket—that our typical student is here only because they want their welfare check, to stay out of jail, or because they’re getting a free ride and have no intention of ever paying back student loans. And, honestly, I know that this is true in some cases. But I don’t believe for a moment it is true for the vast majority of our students who are here because they may not know all of their options or may have been seduced into coming by the advertising on network TV with well-known ex-NBA players and other celebrities. But they are mostly here because they want what all of us want—a better life for our families and for ourselves, hope for a better future, to see a light at the end of the tunnel.”
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
She did not respond, immediately just looked at him, head still slightly tilted to the right. “So, you literally drank the Kool-Aid, huh?” she said, smiling broadly and giving him another gentle giggle—not derisive, neither laughing at nor with him.
“No, I have no illusion about what PEMTI is about—it is a money-making operation first and foremost. But that does not mean we can’t make a difference—you, me, all of us here. I had a bit of a revelation during the ceremony.”
“Drinking the Kool-Aid will do that to ya,” another half laugh, head still slightly tilted, huge brown eyes looking intently at him, through him.
“I’m serious, Katie. I think we are in the business of changing lives for the better. Or at least I want to be—need to be—in that business. I hope I can do that here. And I’ll try my best to do that. But if find that I can’t, I’ll have to find somewhere where that need is fulfilled.”
“That’s some revelation boss.” She said, her smile waning.
“Yeah. It is.” He then looked at her as intently as she had been looking at him. “I want you to know you made a huge difference for me this week.”
“Oh puh-lease,” she said dismissively, waving off his compliment.
“I mean it Katie. It was very important for me to get all my ducks in a row for Monday’s meeting—I need that new lab to be approved. I had to have the SED filing ready—I know it was an unrealistic goal, but I had to try. I also had to do scheduling and prepare for my first faculty meeting and acclimate myself to a job I know almost nothing about with no time to master the learning curve. No way on earth I could have done any of that without your help. None.”
“I just transcribed your admittedly challenging but highly organized work—no biggie. And I typed in information into a spreadsheet. Call the Pope, St. Catherine is ready for beatification.” She smiled and framed her face in her upturned hands looking angelically towards heaven.
“You can waive away my thanks all you want, but it is the absolute truth. I COULD NOT have done it without you. You bought me time and did what would have taken me the better part of a week in three half days. And if my proposal was delayed for several more weeks, I doubt I would have half as good a chance of getting the lab I desperately need. I am very grateful.”
“Geez,” she said, looking down, “Fine, you’re very welcome” she said, with exaggerated emphasis. She then looked at him intently and very seriously and continued, “I like working for you. And I did not do anything special.”
“You work with me, not for me and both you and your work are very special.”
“I better go while my head still fits through the door,” she said, her turn now to blush again. “Have a good weekend boss.”
Dan sighed, “Have a nice weekend, St. Catherine.”
She left at about 6:00 p.m. And she would not be able to clock out, so he could not get her the extra hour’s pay. He would not push the issue this time. But he was, in fact, very grateful for her help.
He remembered he had promised to see Linda today after work, and, having no reason to stay late this day, he grabbed his file folder with the disk and draft of the program proposal and left after a quick round to check on the evening classes. First week done. Check. He had a lot to feel good about all things considered. Yet he could not help an irrational feeling of unease along with the sense of satisfaction. “Just a long week” he thought, trying to shake it off while walking to his car, carrying the now empty cooler. “That’s all it is. Just a long week.”