# 38 – Class 8

Liza sat on the edge of the marble bench outside of Norton Hall.  Saint Francis Hospital discharged Bruce yesterday afternoon, but he was still a mess.  Besides a bunch of cuts and bruises, he ended up with a severe concussion, a broken nose, three missing teeth, and two cracked ribs.  Liza visited him every night for the six days he was hospitalized.  Casey was in Saint Francis’ pediatric oncology division, so Liza would sit with her until she fell asleep, then go up to Bruce’s room and sit with him until he fell asleep.  Bruce had been quiet all week.  He wouldn’t talk about what had happened that day or much else.  Liza didn’t press him, but she was frustrated and hurt that she apparently didn’t rate any kind of explanation.  What was he hiding?  It had to be something significant. Maybe he thought that she wouldn’t see him anymore if she knew.  Liza couldn’t see that happening.  The secretiveness made her consider not visiting, but then she found herself drawn to his room every night.  She told herself that she was going because Nurse Bill told her that Bruce had no other visitors.  Really, she just missed him.  He always seemed glad to see her when she showed up.  Even though it pained him to move, he would slide over and pat the bed.  He would wrap his arm around her and they would watch TV until he dozed off.
Liza would ease herself out of the bed, pull the covers up over his chest, find an uninjured spot on his cheek, and kiss him goodnight.  Usually, she would end up standing there watching him sleep, thinking.  Was he a drug dealer?  An alcoholic?  A serial killer?  A serial rapist?  Maybe he was as crazy as Scary Witch Hat Guy, only he hid it better.  Her cynical nature had her convinced that he was bad news. Then, what happened yesterday confused her all over again.



# 5 – Class 2



Traffic was light.  Liza arrived on campus almost an hour before class.  She could have gone home first, but she didn’t feel like dealing with Laura.  A little garden with a seating area lay tucked on one side of Norton Hall.  It was out-of-the-way and didn’t get much use.

Liza tossed her bags onto an old marble bench and slumped down next to them.  She fished a cigarette from her purse, making a mental note to try to quit again next week.  Her eyes were killing her from staring at spreadsheets all day.  She closed them and sat enjoying the peace and the nicotine buzz.  A minute later she heard the soft tread of shoes on the mossy brick ground.  She opened her eyes to find Bruce looming over her a few feet away.

“Mind if I sit down?”

“Not at all,” said Liza, dragging her bags closer to make room.  Today he wore jean shorts and a cheery bright shirt with little fruit people walking across the front.  He was sporting an impressive five o’clock shadow and one eye was closed slightly more than the other.  He looked dead tired.  “Rough night, Professor?”

“Are you in any of my classes?” he asked.


“Are you ever going to take any of my classes?”

“Literature?  I’d love to, but no.”

“Then it’s Bruce, and, to answer your question, I did have a rough night.  The storm kept me up,” he said.  “So, if you would love to take one of my classes, what’s stopping you?”

“Well, unlike you, I don’t work here.  My employer only pays for business classes.  Even then, they only pay half…”

“Ah, point taken,” he said, eyeing the energy drink that she produced from one of her bags.

“I feel bad drinking this in front of you,” she said.  “You look like you need it more than I do.”  She cracked open the can, took a swig, and held it out to him.  He looked from her to the can and back again a few times before accepting it and taking a big sip before handing it back.  Just then Halestorm blared from Liza’s phone, signaling an incoming call.  She pulled it out of her pocket.  It was Laura.  The smile slid off of her face.  She looked at the phone for a minute before rejecting the call.

“Who’s Laura, if you don’t mind me asking?” said Bruce.

“I don’t mind, but it’s a long story and I don’t want to talk about it,” said Liza.

“Fair enough,” said Bruce.  They were quiet for a minute, passing the energy drink back and forth, enjoying the beautiful summer evening.  “Just tell me this – is Laura your girlfriend?”

Liza looked at him, not comprehending at first.  “Oh!  No, Laura isn’t my girlfriend.  I’m not gay,” she said with a smile.  Ok, so maybe he was interested.

“Boyfriend?  Husband?” he asked.

“No and no.  You?”

“No.  Not anymore.”

Liza hesitated.  She wasn’t sure if it would be rude to ask or rude not to ask.  “Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

“I don’t mind, but it’s a long story and I don’t want to talk about it,” said Bruce with a grin.  Her heart melted.  There was no doubt that he was handsome; greys, five o’clock shadow, sleepy eyes and all.  When he smiled, he looked unbelievably cute; younger than she figured him for.  She couldn’t stop herself from smiling back at him.

“Fair enough,” said Liza, passing him the can.