Patrick Mac had been sleeping soundly in his bed for the past few hours after working an eight-hour shift at Chelsea High. He found it funny how incredibly comfortable a simple bed could sometimes seem and that night, it was like the bed was ten times softer. The pillows, the irresistibly soft comforter, the fleece blankets, the mattress…all blended together so perfectly. With how easily his head sunk into the cushiony pillow, there was only one thought that often jumped into mind when he felt so impossibly snug.
How am I getting out of this bed?
He only ever had time to think this for a moment or so when the alarm on his comm would intrude on his slumber with its familiar beeeeeeeep. Unlike some alarms that were all but loud, piercing and not at all pleasant sounding, the alarm on his comm sounded more like the whistling of a bird. Fortunately, not all alarms were designed to function as a shrieking nuisance.
This morning, however, there was something else that got to Patrick sooner. For the past few days, he often found himself being woken by this equally effective alarm. He actually preferred this over the alarm on his comm. What forced him awake wasn't the sound of a beeping alarm.
It was a soft, fuzzy tail tickling the tip of his nose. Following this, he'd open his sleepy eyes to see a furry, inquisitive face staring into his own. Next thing he knew, he was feeling the tiny, sandy tongue of his kitten Earnest licking his cheek, as if she were telling him: Rise and shine, mister!
Of course, there was no way he could stay sleeping with a kitten pressing its face against his own. He might not have had his new kitten for very long, but he knew her well enough to know she was just getting started. She knew how to maintain total control over her owner by continuously showering him with affection. Rubbing up against his legs, gazing up at him with her emerald-green eyes, following him around the apartment while purring contently, curling up on his chest for a cat nap – she knew Patrick could never resist.
"Hey, Earnest," he said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He then yawned, gave his arms a long stretch and gave her the usual morning rub behind the ears. "You sure like substituting for my alarm clock, don't you?"
Staring up at his much larger face, she reached out and started pawing gently at his nose, as if to say: Out of bed, sleepy head!
"Okay, okay!" he laughed, raising his hands in surrender. "I'm up!" Earnest – clearly pleased with her victory – responded by meowing and making her way to the end of the bed, her skinny tail flickering behind her.
Patrick watched her and shook his head in both amazement and amusement. He called out to his tiny friend, "I've got to hand it to you, Earnest…you really know how to get a guy out of bed. Who needs an alarm clock when he can just get tickled to death? Makes sense."
His orange tabby glanced back at him, letting out one of her characteristic chirps.
"Don't tell me," he smiled, well aware of what it was she was asking of him. "Breakfast?"
As if in answer, she chirped again and trotted out of the room to make her way into the kitchen. Not wanting to keep her waiting, he gave his arms another quick stretch and crawled out of bed. Even from his bedroom, still he could hear the chirping and trilling of his hungry friend, calling to him.
When he entered the kitchen, there she sat in front of the cupboard she knew belonged to her. With her tail flickering slowly, she looked up to Patrick expectantly and before he could speak, he heard a tiny sneeze escaping her.
"Alright there, Earnest?" he asked, kneeling down to open the cupboard. He added in a joking tone, "Careful, or you'll get me sneezing!"
He reached inside, pulled out the bag of food that belonged solely to her, as well as her food and water bowl. Both were a brightly colored blue with repeating cartoonish pictures of fishes and paw prints. As soon as Earnest saw the scrumptious bits of food pouring into the bowl, she leaned her head in closer, meowing excitedly.
"Hold on, miss," said Patrick, filling the bowl with a few more pieces. He then set the large bag of food to the side and gave her another friendly pat on the back while announcing, "Dig in."
While Earnest was hard at work keeping her head buried in the bowl of tuna-flavoured pieces, Patrick went ahead and prepared his own breakfast. Normally, his morning routine consisted of sitting down to a quick, simple meal of cereal, buttered toast and a swig of Hazelnut coffee. There weren't many flavours he hadn't tried and most he'd enjoyed – French Vanilla, Peppermint, Banana Caramel, Coconut – but Hazelnut was the only flavour that seemed to ignite a spark in him. He remembered having tried tea once, but hadn't been too fond of the taste, so he decided to stick with what he knew he enjoyed, and that was coffee.
On that morning, though, he felt like something different from his usual meal. He glimpsed down to see the time on his comm read 7:00am. He had to be at the school by eight, and as Chelsea High was only five levels down from his apartment, there were never any worries about not showing up to work on time. Patrick could make it from dead asleep to his classroom in fifteen minutes, ten if he pushed. One thing was certain, if there was anyone who could shift into fast-forward mode, and make it to work in barely any time at all, it was Patrick.
As he stood there considering what to make, he felt Earnest pressing up against his leg. One look to her bowl and as always, there wasn't a single piece of food remaining, not even a crumb. His tabby took her eating as seriously as she took her playtime, bathing, and napping next to Patrick.
"What do you say?" he asked her, hands on his hips. "Any suggestions?"
She tilted her head as if giving the question some thought.
"French toast?"
Her tail flickered from side to side as she went on observing him, her green eyes appearing as if they were shining.
"Okay, scratch that. Omelette?"
Her response to this was to carry on purring.
"I got it…pancakes?"
Earnest stood up briefly on her hind legs while planting her small paws on his own leg. She then gave that familiar, classic meow that was her own unmistakable way of communicating to him, "Yes!"
Shaking his head, Patrick laughed, "I know, Earnest. You smelled the maple syrup on my pancakes last time I had some…and now you want some. Sorry, miss. Can't go feeding you syrup. But I can give you the next best thing. How about some Crunch-Its?"
His tabby hurried over to the same cupboard where she knew her stash of chicken-flavoured treats and other goodies were stored. Patrick always found it funny that despite the fact that Earnest was but a small kitten, she was very much a clever and vocal little pet. If she was hungry, or wanted to play, or liked or didn't like something, she would let him know through a chorus of meowing, chirping, or purring or silence. She was also a very serious little kitten, and just as Patrick took his many responsibilities at Chelsea High seriously, she too took hers seriously.
Sincerity and earnestness filled her heart, and the one thing she took most seriously of all…was to make her new owner, Patrick, happy.
As Patrick took his seat at the kitchen table, he scooped the kitten up into his arms and placed her on the chair opposite him. She peeked her tiny, orange head up over the table and he could have sworn her eyes grew twice as large at the sight of the freshly made pancakes…and the warm, thick layer of syrup coating them.
"How are you still hungry?" asked Patrick in a dumbfounded voice, while taking an eager bite. Earnest remained sitting upright on her chair, eyeing the stack of mouth-watering, delicious syrup- coated pancakes on her owner's plate that she knew were not meant for cats.
Nonetheless, that didn't stop her from watching intently.
While eating, Patrick had forgotten how much he enjoyed pancakes and syrup; it had always been his favourite breakfast growing up. In his eyes, there wasn't a person he knew who could make a finer stack of pancakes than his mother. He could still recall how effortlessly she could put together a grand breakfast that would leave him wanting seconds, and even thirds. And each and every time she'd whip up a heap of those golden delicacies, Patrick would be treated to an added taste of strawberries, raspberries and blueberries.
He made a pretty good helping of pancakes himself but no one could replicate the delectable treats his mother had been known for making.
As he raised his mug for a sip of Hazelnut coffee, he shifted his focus to the little friend seated across from him. As if in a daze, she followed the cup as he brought it to his lips but knowing Earnest, he knew she didn't care for the coffee.
What she wanted was a lick of those scrumptious, syrup-drenched pancakes.
"Really, Earnest?" he asked, setting his mug down and grinning widely at her. "You'd think we were having a staring contest. You're persistent though, I'll give you that. Instead of playing with all those nice new toys I bought you, you'd rather sit here and watch me eat pancakes and drink coffee."
She meowed, pawing the top of the laminated table while staring more keenly at the now almost empty plate.
"Don't worry," he added, throwing her a frivolous smile. "You're always welcome to sit here and watch. And you'll always have a front-row seat."
Earnest chirped lightly, and then proceeded to bathe herself.
Patrick shrugged and said, "Or there's that."
He spent the next few minutes enjoying the last few bites of pancakes and one final sip of coffee and checking his comm, he saw he still had thirty minutes till his morning class began. That was more than enough time for him to shower, get dressed and head down to the twelfth floor where his school was located.
As he sat there running over the topics in his mind on what he had planned for class that day, he felt a sudden, but recognizable sensation surfacing. It wasn't the first time he'd been struck with this unexplainable feeling. For the past few years, it would pop up every now and then as if it were living inside him and resurfacing from time to time. It wasn't so much uncomfortable or unpleasant, but it did leave him baffled as to what it meant, why it was there at all and if he could do anything about it. When he tried interpreting how exactly it made him feel, the only solid conclusion he could come up with was when it was there, he felt an undeniable sense that something was…missing.
There was no questioning that the loss of his beloved parents had punched a great hole in his life, and there wasn't a day that passed where he wasn't missing them terribly.
But this was unlike how he felt when missing his mother and father.
No, this unknown, recurring feeling was one that gave rise to a blend of other emotions that frustratingly…he just couldn't put his finger on.
And more often than not, this sea of same emotions seemed to resurface at random.
While strolling through the complex underground mall, he'd feel it building and spreading till next thing he knew, he was faced with a genuine sense of…emptiness. But it went past simply feeling some hollow void within him that he was unable to find an explanation for.
So many other emotions would grab hold of him, leaving him frozen and locked in a state of utter confusion.
Loneliness.
Curiosity.
Desire.
When he spent time trying to sort all these emotions out in his own crowded mind, there was something else he felt more frequently.
Longing.
There was no use in attempting to clear his head of these lingering emotions, but he wished some light could be shed on what all of this meant. Why was it that when he was walking towards Chelsea High that he felt that swelling sentiment of lonesomeness? Or why was it when he was passing through Grand Blossom Park that a weight of curiosity fell on his shoulders? Yet still, what caused him to feel an increasing sense of desire when he was sitting at home in his underground apartment?
Above all, what was this longing he had so abruptly become introduced to?
Unfortunately, Patrick had not even a single answer to even one of these questions.
In spite of the frustrating confusion of it all, he told himself there was no use dwelling too heavily on it. All he could do was try to make sense of it all the best he could and hope it would all become clear soon enough.
In the next ten minutes, he was showered, dressed and ready to go.
"Well," he said finally, giving Earnest a quick rub under the chin. "I'm off to work, miss. We'll play with that new toy when I get back, alright?" She nuzzled her head into his outstretched palm and with her tiny tongue, gave it a ticklish lick.
He picked up his brown, leather satchel, stepped through the door…and was on his way to another day at Chelsea High.
When he closed the door and started walking down the hallway, he heard the sounds of voices. He realized instantly that the voices were coming from behind him and as he was turning around to see who it was, a small figure rushed past him, catching him by surprise.
"Oh, sorry!" It was a little girl who looked no older than six. Her hair was long, blond and tied back in a braided ponytail, and she wore a pretty flowered dress with a matching headband. On her back was a red-and-pink striped book bag and in her hands she carried a lunch box that displayed a smiling ladybug.
"That's okay," Patrick smiled. If he were to guess, he'd say this little girl were getting ready for her first day of school, what with how excited and in a hurry she was.
"Sweetie, wait up!" a man's laughing voice called.
Running to catch up with the young child was a man who could have been in his forties, with short black hair and blue eyes.
When the girl saw him gaining speed, she took off running again and called back to him, "Run faster, Daddy! Faster!"
"I can't!" Patrick heard the man call back to her, still laughing. "Daddy's not as fast as his little girl."
"The school bus will be here soon!" she exclaimed excitedly. "I don't wanna be late for my first day of school!"
"Don't worry, don't worry," her father assured her. "You won't be late. We've still got lots of time before the bus gets here."
"I'm all ready for school, Daddy!" she told him proudly. "I have crayons and erasers and books and I have an apple for my teacher!"
"Sounds to me like you're ready," he told her, zippering the rest of her book bag up. He then picked up his daughter and lifted her up and over his head and like a bird, soon she was flying.
The little girl then caught sight of a woman striding toward them.
"Mommy, look! I'm flying! See, Mommy?"
"Yes, I can see" she answered, smiling broadly. When the girl's father lowered his daughter back to the ground, the woman walked up to him, wrapped her arms around him and the two embraced with a kiss.
"Big day, today," she proclaimed, holding her husband close.
"Sure is," he replied, holding her close. "She's all ready for school."
"Question is…am I?" she asked him. She stared down at her daughter for a moment, and explained, "She's getting to be so big. Already she's starting preschool today."
"It'll be fine," said her husband encouragingly. "She's growing up, but we'll be there with her."
"Every step of the way," he heard his wife say.
"Can we go outside and wait for the bus?" the girl asked, tugging on her mother's hand. "Please, pleeeeease?"
Her parents exchanged looks and chuckled.
"Sure we can," said her father.
As the three stepped into the elevator and began their rise to the aboveground world, Patrick felt that feeling bubbling inside him again. Ever since he'd left his apartment and heard that voice – a voice bursting with joy, excitement, fun and curiosity – he'd felt it returning. In a way, that sense of loneliness that had just recently taken hold of him seemed more prevalent than it had been previously.
But like every other time, he couldn't quite put his finger on why he was experiencing this at all. What reason was there to feel lonely? He was a teacher and the librarian at a wonderful school, he taught a great class, his students were good kids, he got along with the other staff members…so why was there still a hint of loneliness lurking inside him?
Why?
He just didn't know.
Rather than stand there and ponder about it, he cleared his mind of it and sauntered down the now quiet hallway towards the elevator.
In about ten minutes, Patrick had arrived at the school with still five minutes to spare. He glimpsed over at the large, white building that was Chelsea High and couldn't help wondering again why he'd begun feeling so strangely? He hadn't recalled his life's agenda consisting of feeling odd and unexplainable emotions.
Like before, all he could do was shake it off and focus on the present.
And right then, he had a class to teach.
So he strolled up to the school, his mind now focused on ensuring that he made the best out of that day. For him, each day served as a new opportunity to learn, grow and improve on the previous day, and to strive to be the best possible educator he could.
He was almost at the entrance doors when he heard the distinctive sound of approaching footsteps. Turning, he saw a young woman who looked about eighteen also heading towards the school. At least, Patrick thought she looked about eighteen – she certainly looked like any of the other twelfth graders at the school. She could have been older, but could easily blend in with the rest of the older students of Chelsea High. Her eyes were dropped and from what he could tell, she wore an expression on her face that was a blend of both worry and intense concentration. She had shoulder-length brown hair that was tied back in a practical ponytail, and her eyes were a chestnut brown. She wore a short-sleeved black-and-white plaid shirt, jeans, black flats, and carried a grey-and-black striped shoulder bag. Draped around her neck was a white, cotton scarf.
Patrick noticed the woman shifting her gaze fleetingly in his direction. Her eyes remained on him only momentarily though, and she then continued on towards the front doors, moving in long, purposeful strides. He hadn't the slightest clue as to who she was but it seemed to him that she was a woman on a mission.
When he got inside, Patrick quickly dug into his pocket and pulled out his comm. Scrolling through his list of reminders, he saw that he had an appointment with Dr. Shaw the following evening for his yearly physical. He took that time to open a new page, and add a 7:00pm check-up for Earnest that Friday night with Dr. Shellen.
That was when he heard voices coming from the office of Director Ms. Simmons.
"A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Norm," he heard her saying. "Glad you could make it today. I finished reading through your resume, and while we do have five other applicants trying for this position, I believe in giving all who're interested an equal chance. So it says here that you're twenty-four, possess a Bachelor of Education of Computer Technology and are hoping to join our staff of teachers?"
"Yes, ma'am," Ms. Norm answered, her voice quiet and suggesting a hint of nervousness. "I…I've wanted a job in teaching as long as I can remember. I was one of those kids growing up who really liked school and I spent so much time on computers. There was just something about computers and learning and teaching that made me feel…like I was capable of achieving anything. Growing up, I couldn't see myself as being anything other than a teacher. I love helping and learning and…and really challenging myself."
Patrick hadn't expected that. Here, he'd thought she looked no older then the twelfth graders there at the school but really…she could soon possibly be landing a job as a teacher. How wrong he'd been!
Seeing the woman sitting there in the office, it brought him back to the time when he'd been sitting in the very same seat across from Ms. Simmons. How could he forget how nervous, yet hopeful he'd felt while being in that immaculate room that belonged to the one woman who would decide if he was to become a teacher there?
He wondered if this latest applicant – Ms. Norm – would have luck on her side and be given the job as the newest Education of Computer Technology teacher. But Ms. Simmons had mentioned five others who were also interested in obtaining this teaching position.
It was clear there was some competition.
As to who would become Chelsea High's newest teacher, that decision would lie in the hands of Ms. Simmons alone.
Patrick tucked his comm back in his pocket and started walking towards the stairs that would bring him up to the third floor and to his classroom. When he was just a few steps away from entering the classroom that had become his own, he flashed back to the image of Ms. Simmons and Ms. Norm. Anyone could have plainly heard from her voice how badly she wanted this job. He didn't know anything about who the other applicants were and what their stories held, but he found himself wanting it to work out for the young woman.
After all, he too knew what it was like to sit in the office of the person who was either going to offer you the job…or send you on your way.
Good luck, thought Patrick, and stepped into his classroom.
A/N: Hello! I'm currently working on the third chapter. I'm almost halfway through, so I'm hoping to have it posted within the next few days or so.
I'm going to be heading back to school Jan. 4th, so my next update won't be for a couple of months, unfortunately. I wish I could find the time to keep plugging away at this, but I'm going to be very busy, but I'll be back in the summer when I have lots of free time to work on this story!
Reviews are always very much appreciated, if you have a minute :)
Until next time!
