An Odd Man Out (part one)

 

 

 

The Resident

Chapter Four

An Odd Man Out

 

[rerunning the last several entries to help readers catch up, because I haven’t added to this story for months]

 

 

 

---

 

 

 

Think of an anchor, a memory…

A house moved into and high hopes of August, 1990. Or an October collision, of 1988. His life, childhood, schooling, first job, first apartment, seemed sunk in a well, but he knew when Claudie had arrived.

“Oh, that’s a shame. I never get doors, the ones that go out, the ones that go in… That’s weird to you, right?”

“No.” Her chatter made him nervous. Talking made him nervous, and he would have said, it’s all right. To the floor, gathering parts, boxing them again. A foot trodden, or an arm jostled, normally brought, “Sorry. You okay?” and hastenings on.

John Rancilton was the weird one.

But she watched. Then she crouched, picked up a floppy…

And flopped it. Like a child. She felt responsible; he accessed an understanding of that, surprising himself.

“No. Nothing’s broken. It’s not what you think.”

For his students, he demonstrated putting the Atari together, having them disassemble it, put it together themselves.

He told her this. Probably a week’s worth of talk, since patent lectures were not John’s difficulty. “I teach PC maintenance, and basic DOS.”

“Hmm. That’s an 80s thing, right?”

Ha, ha, he said. Though his off-putting laugh sounded more like huhhuhhuhhuh. And a trailing huh. “They’ve been around since the 70s.”

“I’ll have to check my notes. Would you recommend one?”

“Maybe…”

The pause was long. Her eyes met his, steady, not bored.

“Maybe   I   need   to  know    how       familiar     you are with     ”

“PC you said.”

“Personal computers. Do you use one?”

“Not in this place.”

“So you have some idea…”

“But I think it’s your fingers, isn’t it?” Her fingers played the air.

“Uh, typing. On the keyboard.”

“Exactly.” Confident. “That’s kind of wonderful. Old-fashioned ways of doing things, right? Lots of charm.”

You win. He told her, “Thanks for your help.”

And she said, “Can I sit in?”

 

 

Whether her permission to attend was sanctioned, or whether he had exposed himself, giving it…this violation, the next violation, the final “we’ve decided not to renew your contract” violation…

He saw her in his class that Thursday night. As he lit the projector she edged in, wearing a fisherman sweater and baggy cargoes. Her notebook was neon yellow. She used a Bic Clic…

Clicked it like a toy, grinning around her.

 

 

37

 

 

---

Tithonians

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(2022, Stephanie Foster)