The Empath Cycle: 2001 It Takes One - Book 2

The most troubling had been that very morning when she woke up with an uneasy feeling. She didn't remember the dream. When she tried to, only the image of the woman came to mind. She laughed it off and rushed to get ready for her first class of the day.

Chapter 10

"What was that?" Claude exclaimed, sitting bolt upright.

"You said you wanted to talk it out, didn't you?" Patricia answered. "That's exactly what you are doing."

"But... But... I..." Claude sputtered until she felt a soft hand on her arm. Looking down, she saw Lucia smiling beatifically at her as tears of joy flowed down her cheeks. She fell in the inviting arms and joined her lover.

When they regained their composure, they saw the six women looking at them with expressions of tenderness.

"How did you do this?" Claude asked uncertainly.

"Sylvie gave you a nudge to help you relive your memories of your relationship." Patricia explained. "Sometimes we play like this together, either in a conscious fantasy or letting our subconscious take us along for the ride."

"If I judge by the examples of pulchritude our own subconsciouses came up with earlier, those must be spectacular." Claude grinned.

"You have no idea." Karlie's laughter was joined by the others' except for Sylvie who had locked gazes with Lucia.

Lucia lifted her hand to Sylvie's cheek and gently pulled her face down so she could kiss her tenderly. "Thank you from the bottom of my heart." She whispered.

Sylvie tried to reply, but her throat was closed by emotion.

Patricia pulled her in a loving embrace and answered for her. "You are most welcome, sweetie. Are you both ready to continue or do you wish to take a break?"

"I wouldn't stop for the world." Claude said. Lucia wordlessly conveyed her acquiescence.

"Do you still wish us to 'listen' to your story or is it getting too personal?"

Lucia took Sylvie's hand and brought it to her lips.

"What she says." Claude confirmed.

Claude laughed with the other TAs as they shared their first encounters with the new students. Each had his or her own tricks they liked to play on the 'kids'. Some were funny, some seemingly cruel, but all were meant to break the ice and put them at ease in preparation for the tough semester which awaited them.

As she had for the last four years, Claude had sown a seed of genuine advice and she was looking forward to reaping the crop of students who were really interested in psychology. The ones who would still be there at the end of the fall semester, who would graduate with their B.Sc. And, most especially, those who would go beyond, to advanced studies.

That was the goal of all the real teaching staff. To form the future Psychologists, not only those who meant to exchange their Bachelor's degree for a better wage outside the field. The researchers couldn't care less, so it fell to their TAs to pick up the slack in their classes. Fortunately, there was a dedicated core of teachers who gave their all to see their students succeed.

Claude was proud to be Assistant to such a teacher. That he was also her doctorate thesis' director was only a bonus.

Professor MacDonald had been her favorite since the first class she took with him. It was 'Critical Thinking' in fact and she felt a twinge of nostalgia in each class of this course.

Over the years, they had become as close friends as a mentor allowed himself to be with his student. She was regularly invited at his house for supper. Claude loved his wife, Maria. The two women cooked together or in turn as each tried to outdo the other with new recipes to Professor MacDonald's gustatory delight.

She grinned as she looked at the two sealed envelopes pinned to the cork board in the the office she shared with four other TAs. The Professor and Claude had standing bets on how many students would quit after Initiation Week, after the mid-terms and how many would show up for the finals. The loser had to cook for the winner. Of course, Maria would fill-in for the Professor who couldn't boil water without burning it.

She had a good feeling about this group. Only half a dozen had stopped paying attention by the end of the first hour and only a couple more in the following half hour. Of the forty-two students who had registered, she was confident at least ten would continue to the second cycle to earn a Masters. Each year, the School lost many at that point since they could then work as low-level psychologists, but she hoped three or four would continue to the Doctorate, adding to the body of knowledge in the field.

So it was with a light heart that she reviewed her notes for the first part of the class which she would be teaching that day since the Professor had been called in to consult at the University Hospital and would be late.

Lucia had made it a point to arrive early in class, both so she would get a better seat and also to talk to the TA. She wanted to thank her for being so considerate as to foresee the effects of the schedule for some students.

That was the reason she had come up with and by God, she would stick to it... as far as the outside world was concerned.

Inside was another matter entirely. She had never been good at lying to herself and it had gotten increasingly difficult in the years since leaving the familial influence. The previous evening, she had finally admitted to herself that the woman had an effect on her and that she wanted to get to know her. She was only a few years older after all, like Isabelle who had become her good friend. So what was wrong with wishing to be her friend or at least seeing if it was possible? Yeah, right!

As the class filled in and the TA didn't arrive, Lucia worried that she wouldn't show up. When she did, it was time for class to begin. The woman dropped her notes and books on the desk and addressed them immediately.

"Professor MacDonald will be late today so you are stuck with me for a while." She grinned wolfishly at the collective groan. "If you remember, I suggested some reading material last time. Soooo, those of you who didn't look hard enough for those books, I suggest," she emphasized the word, "you either work harder at finding them or make arrangements with your more diligent colleagues to photocopy theirs."

She looked around the room to spot those with the panicked look and those at ease. She was happy to see the high number who had obviously found all of them already. There were even more than a few self-satisfied smirks attesting to the efforts deployed toward achieving that goal.

Without further ado, she picked up where Professor MacDonald had left off. If she didn't have his oratory flair, it was evident to all that she was passionate about the subject as she rarely had to consult her notes and had the ability to share her enthusiasm with her audience.

An hour later, she gave the class a ten minute bathroom break. She wondered if the Professor had managed to get back on campus, but she was ready to fill in if he did not.

She was scanning her notes when she sensed a presence at the edge of her personal space. Sure enough, when she looked up, there was a woman standing -- fidgeting would be a better word -- in front of the desk with a book clutched tightly to her chest.

Claude was tempted to prolong the agony by waiting for the student to speak up, but she relented when she saw the most spectacular pair of blue eyes she had ever seen begin to mist as the woman's anxiety level went up under Claude's stoic gaze.

"Yes, what can I do for you?" She asked in a neutral tone of voice.

Claude was about to start betting with herself whether the woman would pee in her pants or faint when she took a deep breath and spoke in a rush.

"ThanksfortellingtheProfessorabouttheschedulingsituationandfindingasolutionforus." Her message transmitted, if in a barely intelligible form, she spun on her heels and rushed back to her seat where she slumped, her eyes riveted on the book she had finally lowered, leaving a speechless TA to stare at her.

Then it was time for the second object lesson for this group. At the ten minute mark exactly, she began the rest of the lesson, paying absolutely no attention to the stragglers. They were in this class for a reason and it was not for gossiping in the corridor. The Professor's time -- and hers for that matter -- was valuable and they deserved respect. It had taken her two semesters to convince the Professor of this and she had absolutely no qualms about enforcing it.

When the silent alarm on her watch indicated the approaching end of class, she finished her point and grinned at the students.

"Here is the material you are expected to read before the next class... and my personal suggestions. Those who have read them can attest to the others how helpful they are. Again, feel free to ignore them. I'm not getting graded on this course after all as I've already passed it years ago." She allowed a reasonable time for the expected groans, then continued. "You may be aware that next week is Initiation Week. Let it be known that I have absolutely NO tolerance for students who feel their time is better spent partying instead of doing the work for which they are in this fine institution. Nevertheless, just so you will not think me a heartless person, you have until next Friday at the beginning of the class to submit a five pages, single spaced essay on the subject indicated. The rest of the pagination rules for the documents are in the booklet you should all have by now. Those papers which do not meet said rules will be unceremoniously dumped in my wastebasket and will count as not submitted. You all know that means an F, I'm sure. There will be no extensions and no excuses will be accepted except in cases of force majeure such as amputation or a sudden attack on the campus by zombies. Do I make myself clear? It should be easy enough as we have covered the matter in class and all the references are in the books I have strongly recommended last Tuesday. By the way, plagiarists beware. I know the reference books by heart from cover to cover."

Claude let a few seconds pass so her words would sink in before finishing. "Finally, today, I have magnanimously allowed stragglers to disturb the rest of the class when they finally deigned to grace us with their presence. This has been the last time. In the future, the door will close at the end of the break and will re-open only at the appointed end of the class unless we have to let in paramedics to succor one of you should my own attempts at resuscitation in general and CPR in particular be unsuccessful. Be advised that should you happen to be locked out and should you bang on the door like a savage until I open it, you will be asked to pick your things up and leave, never to return during this semester."

She was hard pressed to keep a straight face as she delivered the speech. She had practiced in front of the other TAs, but had never managed to complete it.

"You may all take me for a reincarnation of Genghis Khan, but you couldn't be further from the truth. I am actually a very nice person. Unfortunately for you, I do not suffer fools or disrespect gladly. We all have a job to do and I expect you to do yours as well as possible so you can pass this course successfully and go on to graduate from this university in this our common chosen field. On these words, I wish you a nice week-end and I will see you all next week, I hope."

Without another word, she picked her things up and walked calmly out of the utterly silent room. Once in the corridor, she raced to the nearest stairway and hurried to the second floor where she erupted in the Assistants' lounge, firmly closing the door behind her. She just stood there until her friend Gaétan asked, "Well? How did it go? Did you finish it this time?", before she crumbled on the nearest couch, helpless with laughter.

There followed a chorus of 'I knew she would finally make it', 'Bravo, madame Xavier', 'Well done, old girl', 'Hip! Hip! Hurray! Cheerio! And all that crap!' everyone chiming in to the general hilarity.

The following Friday, both Professor and Assistant meticulously, if discreetly, counted the students as they entered the room, deposited their assignment on the desk and took their seats. As the time to begin arrived, they looked at each other, both with a self-satisfied grin.

When the time for the bathroom break came and went with no indication of it being granted, nobody was really surprised. Expect the unexpected seemed to be the rule rather than the exception, so it came as no surprise when the Professor concluded the day's material half an hour before the scheduled time.

Sitting on the corner of the desk, he smiled at the class. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I please ask for your indulgence as I take a few minutes of your time." So saying, he pulled two envelopes from his inner jacket pocket and walked to the front row of desks. "Young woman", he told a student in the front row, "would you verify that these envelopes are still sealed, please. Thank you. Now, would you open the one with the illegible but definitely masculine signature in blue ink and read the number on the piece of paper within. Eight it is!" He repeated with satisfaction. "Now, please show it to your neighbors so there can be no future contestation of the result." To everyone's amazement, Professor MacDonald improvised a short jig in front of the class before turning to his Assistant and sticking his tongue out at her.

"Hum, Professor, aren't you a bit quick to celebrate?"

"Why? I won, you lost and I will be eating Borscht next Saturday."

"Are you sure, sir? The second envelope is still sealed."

He looked at her incredulously. "No! Don't tell me..."

"Yes, sir. Miss, please open the envelope with the equally illegible though delicately feminine signature and call out the number within."

"Oh nooooooo!" The Professor lamented to the Heavens. "Why of why?" Turning to his students, he asked again. "Why are you all still here? Why?"

It took a few seconds for the realization that he actually expected an answer to sink in.

First, a man in the back row answered hesitantly. "Because we enrolled in this class to learn."

Then another continued. "Because you are both great teachers and you make the material interesting."

"Yeah! Even Genghis Khan."

"Because we chose this field and we won't let even her throw us off."

Professor MacDonald got into the game, racing excitedly from one and of the class to the other, pointing at students. "And you? And you?" Until most had spoken.

Eventually, he went back to his desk and sat on it again while he waited for the excitement and the laughter to die down.

"You see, ladies and gentlemen, you have participated in a psychology experiment. Of course you all chose this field, but have you ever thought about your deep motivations. Have you ever asked yourselves how much of yourselves you are ready to invest in what is essentially at least a three to five years project? So, in order to stimulate your deeper thought processes, you have been punked by the splendid thespian, Miss Xavier. She provoked you, she aggressed you emotionally. I see you bristling, but I ask again 'Why are you still here?'"

He watched and waited while they mentally went back over their previous answers.

"Do any of you want to reconsider your answer? No? Do any of you think what she demanded of you was unreasonable? Egregious? Hum? Obviously, this was not presented in the format you have been used to, but I submit to you that the important elements were obvious enough that you saw through the form, if only unconsciously, and recognized them for what they were: the same parameters you have always be asked to work within. Again, why are you still here?"

As he turned and began to pick his papers up, Claude stepped up and deposited the usual stack of papers on the desk. "Here is the reading material for the next class..." She grinned at them as she waited to see which one would be the quickest on the uptake.

She was surprised when the shy woman lifted her hand and said. "And your personal suggestions." She laughed wholeheartedly with the students.

"Your next assignment is to answer the Professor's question with five items at most. No dissertation, this is an exercise in summarization and clarity. Each item should have the minimum of words possible while expressing the idea the most clearly. Here's a hint: 'I may not be Genghis Khan's reincarnation, but your assignments will be on this desk at the beginning of next Tuesday's class'. And the lady in the varsity volleyball team sweatshirt has given you another. Have a great party tonight, folks."

"And a good week-end too." The Professor said as he turned to leave.

"Hey wait, sir. What about the envelopes? What did the numbers mean?" The woman who had opened them asked.

He affected a dejected air and shuffled his way out. "You tell them since you beat me... again."

"It's simple." Claude answered. "Look around you and you will notice that there are a few less student in the class than were here last week. Eight, in fact. We have a bet each year as to how many will quit before the end of Initiation Week and the loser has to cook a gourmet meal for the winner. I have yet to lose. At most it ends in a tie like this year."

The atmosphere was much lightened as everybody filed out to get ready for the evening's bash.

The temptation had been strong to skip the festivities altogether, but Claude knew she needed to clear her head and nothing did that better that an evening among friends drinking a couple of beers, listening to loud music and... avoiding her ex.

Okay, two out of three ain't bad as the song says. With any luck Hélène would be trolling for yet another conquest at the younger students' party where the girls didn't know her reputation as a cheating slut yet. If she stayed among the older crowd, everything would be fine. Right? And she believed in Santa too.

Claude was standing just inside the door, scanning the crowd warily when she felt an arm around her shoulders pulling her to what could only be described as a mountain of solid muscles.

"You can relax, buddy. She's not here."

She let out a breath she had not realized she was holding and leaned her head against the friendly shoulder.

"I was only looking for the gang and getting used to the noise level." She told her best friend.

"Yeah! Sure! Anyway, you're safe for tonight. I asked my kid sister to bring her friend over and to sic her on the bitch. She has no chance. That one is a major league player and she'll keep her away from here. So you can let your hair down and enjoy the evening."

"What would I do without you, Andrew?"

They had met on their very first day at the university waiting in line at the registrar for their documents. Though she was uncomfortable in pressing crowds, needing plenty of personal space, this wasn't too bad. The lines were sufficiently far apart and she could leave some room between herself and the person ahead. The problem was the people behind her.

Claude had always been aware of anyone around her. She could tell if they were men or women, friendly or not.

What she sensed was male, or rather males. And if there was no animosity, there was the potential for aggression. Maybe she had been ill advised to wear her jean jacket with the rainbow patch.