Memoir in the Making: A May-December Romance by Adrian J. Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

slower than it should have, Meredith was sure. Most of her class was still there, the ones who had shown up the first day, but Ainsley had yet to arrive. Meredith stewed in front of the students as they waited for her to start the lecture for the day. If Ainsley quit her class because of what happened, Meredith would never forgive herself.
    Rubbing her lips together, Meredith smoothed down her jacket on her pantsuit and turned to the students. She pushed all thoughts of Ainsley aside and focused on the lesson for the day. Flinging her hair behind her back, she spoke to them all, talking about the different kinds of memoir possible, and the one they would be working on specifically for their first assignment due the next week.
    She had just gotten to the second type when the door to the classroom opened. Ainsley slinked inside and sat in the front corner, where the only chair left was. Meredith took a deep breath and glanced at the clock above the wall. Ten minutes late. Technically, according to her syllabus, it was an absence. And like always, she would say something to the student.
    Nodding in Ainsley’s direction, Meredith said, “Ainsley, please see me after class before you leave.”
    Before letting Ainsley have the opportunity to say anything else, she continued in her lecture. The memoir due the next week was a childhood memory, one vivid in their minds. Meredith talked through the first thirty minutes and then sat down at her desk.
    “It’s time for a free write. Ten minutes, and then we’ll discuss what we wrote. Your topic is childhood. Go ahead and write now.”
    Each student was scribbling on paper with pens or pencil. She’d asked them not to bring laptops or tablets into the classroom to avoid distractions and to allow them the ability to know what free-form, old-school writing looked and felt like. Meredith got out her own piece of paper and scribbled down on it, not something to do with her childhood but something with childhood in general.
    She glanced at Ainsley a couple times throughout the ten-minute sprint, locking gazes with her once. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she bit her lip, forcing herself to focus back on the paper in front of her. She needed to stop whatever fantasies she had with Ainsley. She took a deep breath and finished her paragraph with a flurry.
    The clock on the wall hit ten until the top of the hour, and Meredith straightened her back. “Finish up your sentences, please.”
    Students either scurried to write the next sentence or they looked up with boredom. Ainsley wrote quickly, scratching down whatever last sentence she had. Meredith gave them each another two minutes and then told them to stop. They needed to move on with the class.
    “Is there anyone who would like to share what they wrote?”
    Silence echoed through the room. For the first round of sharing in a class, Meredith would expect the majored students to volunteer first. The only other one in the class besides Ainsley was out with the flu, and Ainsley did not look to be in a sharing mood.
    Meredith took a deep breath. “Anyone?”
    “Why don’t you share yours?” Ainsley asked.
    Rubbing her eyes under her glasses, Meredith nodded. “All right, then.”
    She had not intended on sharing her work at all. It was far more revealing about herself than she wanted her students to know, but if no one else was going to share, then she would be forced to either share herself or pick a student to read theirs—which was not something she was fond of doing.
    Clearing her throat, Meredith picked up her paper and read.
    “My son dances around to the beat of the radio, his wobbly foot hitting the ground soon followed by his stronger one. I watch with certainty he will fall—he does every time. He spins in circles, hands in the air, his voice echoing through the house as he screams along with the song.
    “There—there it is. His wobbly foot turns, and his knee rolls under. Watching him fall to the ground every single time