Chapter Text
"Come on, Roger.” Ela says a few hours after her talk with Miles.
The talk has made her mood rise significantly. The mere thought of it makes her chest constrict with a sense of pride.
Thinking about the whole political climate and the options of Presidential Candidates, makes many people's mood sink in the past months. Finding a way to laugh about the thing that scares her feels oddly therapeutic, in a way. Even though she herself is not able to vote, as she only has a Green Card and is not an American citizen, she still has to live with the outcome. Whichever that may be.
They have done a few projects at school on encouraging votes, and educating students. Now they are waiting and hoping for the best.
“What do I even talk about?”, her colleague says, mildly hidden panic in his eyes, as they walk together in between classes.
As it happens to be Monday, Ela has to find a stand-in for TT, because she has something important to do. Roger Harrington just might be the perfect person for that.
“It's just for today, and you don't have to talk too much. You can just have a cup of tea, do some work and listen a bit if someone wants to talk.”
The panic is growing bigger in his eyes. Well, maybe he is not perfect, but you work with what you get.
“But what if they have female problems or something like that.”
“Female problems?”, she stops and looked at the man with her eyebrows raised high. “You mean periods and the like?”
“Or what if they want to talk about sex?”, his voice is shrill now. A few of the students, that are walking by, give him concerned looks.
“Roger, do you really think, that teenage girls, or boys for that matter, will want to talk to you about sex?”, Ela asks, with a frown between her eyebrows. “Think about it.”
He opens his mouth, lifts a finger to protest and closes it again.
“Exactly. And”, she smiles at him now. “I'll owe you one. So, you'll get the two last packets of fresh Lokum I brought back from Turkey this year.”
He seems to be considering all of his options, but in the end it is probably the promise of Lokum – Ela knows how much of a sweet tooth the man has – that makes him nod, the last bit of panic merely a scowl on his face.
“Okay, just today. And I am going to eat your biscuits.”, Roger Harrington says.
“Of course, help yourself”, Ela says with a big smile as she hands him her office keys. “Don't lose those, please. And thank you, really.”
“Ah, well. Might not be so terrible to talk to the teens for a bit, right?”
“Right.”, Ela says with a small smile now, as she walks to her last class of the day, with a short nod towards Roger.
Thinking about her own talk she feels nerves flare up in her system, the worry and anxiety still there inside her are raging a war. As if she were about to have a job interview or an oral exam.
But it is a talk with Peter. Just Peter. It will be fine. Hopefully.
“Hey, Miss U, I've been thinking about that thing we talked about the other day. Have you considered doing something for Mental Health Day this year?”, Michelle says, entering the office and tucking her notebook out of her bag as she speaks, not looking up.
“Because I've had this idea-” Michelle looks up towards the desk. She sees, not the round, smiling face of Miss U looking at her from behind it, but rather a slightly frantic looking Mr. Harrington. A frown settles between her eyebrows.
“Hello MJ.”, he says, his hands hovering over the keys of his laptop, a book propped up next to the screen.
“You are not Miss U”, is all that Michelle manages to say, through her confusion.
It is odd seeing Mr. Harrington in this setting. Kind of similar to seeing a teacher out and about, shopping for groceries or walking in the park. That feeling of: what is this person doing here, in this setting that is so different from their usual surroundings. Somehow Mr. Harrington here, rather than at a park or even the movies, feels even more out of place.
The whole room has so much of Miss U in it. The pops of color here and there, the slightly high but manageable looking towers of paper on her desks, the assortment of pictures and drawings on the wall, quite a few of them done by Michelle. It feels odd to see Mr. Harrington eating biscuits and drinking tea, from a pink cup, behind the desk that seems to scream that it is not his.
“Ding”, he says, seeming to relax a bit, that it is her who walked in. "That is correct."
“Did you mistake this for your office?”, Michelle asks slightly irratably. She really wanted to tell Miss U about her idea. Maybe even ask her a few more things about a few things, that she can't see herself talking to Mr. Harrington about.
“No, Ela had some important things to do. So, I am her stand-in for the day. Or rather”, he looks down at his leather watch. “the next half an hour.”
“Oh, okay”, Michelle says, still frowning slightly, unsure whether leaving would be considered as rude. “I guess, I'll just”, she makes a quick motion with her thumb, over her shoulder, towards the door.
“Or you could read, if you want to do that. You do like to read”, Mr. Harrington states, taking a look at the book shelf. “I don't mind. As long as you don't have any questions to ask.”
Michelle can feel a small smile tug at the corners of her lips. “What did you hear today?”
“I would really like to forget about that”, the man appears to shudder a bit, but there is a small smile on his lips, as well.
He pushes the screen of his laptop down and gets up, stretching his arms over his head and walked over to pour another cup of tea. “If you want, you can tell me about your idea for Mental Health Day. I got permission to eat all of the biscuits.”
Michelle watches him-
as he walks over to the orange desk, puts one tea cup on each side and the biscuit tin in the middle. She takes a tentative step towards the desk and slips into the chair opposite her teacher.
He pushes the tin towards her and the gesture feels so familiar, she wonders whether the man might be visiting Miss U frequently, as well.
After nodding at him she takes a sip of her tea and a biscuit. She muses, that as much as it feels different to be sitting here with him, that it doesn't necessarily have to be a bad thing and so she begins to talk.
“Well, I've had this idea.”