Everything We Never Said: A Novel by Sarah Banks

Author:Sarah Banks [Banks, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-02-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 36—Olivia

I don’t leave my things in the classroom, mainly because it’s not my classroom. As an adjunct and one who’s on probation, nothing here is mine yet. I’m effectively a guest lecturer. Marsha doesn’t have to explain this to me; it’s spelled out clearly in my offer of employment.

We continue our tour. Marsha points out bathrooms and explains which classrooms are used for which courses. The main building is reserved for humanities, including English and history.

After leaving Main, as Marsha calls it, we move out to an expansive circle of thick green grass, dotted with maple trees that are abloom in pink buds. Around the lawn are four more buildings, and we visit each. Art, mathematics, science, beauty. When we leave the building that houses aesthetician labs, Marsha explains there’s a satellite campus down in Franklin that has the automotive department as well as the welding department.

We head back to Main, where Marsha ushers me into the offices at the front. I’m familiar with most of this space. I say hello to the secretary, whose name is Pat, I learn. Pat is kinder to me now, perhaps because I made it through the initial judgment.

Maria Barillo bustles out efficiently. She pumps my hand, beaming, and tells Marsha she’s got it from here.

“This space is my domain,” Maria explains, taking me in an opposite direction to the hall where I interviewed. “Now that’s my office.” She gestures as we pass the tiny room on the left from where she’d emerged. “Down here are faculty restrooms—unisex, mind you.” She stops and looks at me. “You are also welcome to use the public restrooms in Main or any other building, just to be clear.”

The way she says this is a little strange, as if she thinks I’m on edge about private matters, and though it’s clear she’s reassuring me and being as welcoming as a southern granny, her words have the opposite effect. I tense up, nod curtly, and smile. “Thank you.”

Maria hesitates a moment but moves on. “And here is our lounge.”

I step into a colorful kitchen space complete with a mismatched set of leather sofas and armchairs. It’s a big room, and there’s even a wooden table that stretches down the middle. A hodge-podge of wooden chairs line each side, and I realize that this is the prettiest room in the whole campus. It’s free from the community campus sterilization effect. Instead, it feels like a true teacher’s lounge. Homey, cozy, and practical. There’s a yellow fridge from 1985, which I’m immediately drawn to, along with a mini red oven with a stovetop, and a sink pitted into a long wooden countertop. The countertop is marked with knife cuts as if it’s more commonly used as a butcher board than as a place to set dishes out to dry. I wonder about this and even ask, “Do people cook in here?”

“We have a few faculty who all but live on campus. Tom, for example. I tell you, you’ll often find him sleeping in here when you arrive in the morning.

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