Winter Jacket: New Beginnings by Eliza Lentzski

house.”
    “How do you pass up sex?” Troian looked truly flabbergasted.
    I shrugged. “It’s not the only important thing in life, you know.”
    Troian pointed at me and waved her finger around. “You so lose the right to bitch about being sexless from this day forward. So don’t complain to me when Hunter stops spreading it for you.”
    “Ugh.” I cringed at her words. “Why are you so crude?”
    Troian grinned triumphantly. “Because I love the look on your face when I am.”
    I rubbed at my eyes. “My brain feels like mush today.”
    “Student papers that bad?”
    I made a noise of agreement. “That and I’m still nursing this damn cold.”
    “I’m curious,” Troian stated, tapping her fingers against her ceramic mug, “what makes a student paper painful?”
    “Oh, you know; they do things like add unnecessary words and phrases just to bulk up their word count. Or, my favorite is when they give two thumbs up to a Pulitzer prize-winning author. Like, ‘John Updike does a good job writing this novel,’ – funny things like that. Plus,” I continued to rant, “I see the same stylistic mistakes over and over again until I legitimately start to worry if I’m the one who doesn’t know how to use commas.”
    Troian snickered while I made a disgruntled noise.
    “And if my writing seminar doesn’t pull their weight in discussion today,” I continued, picking up steam, “I’m going to lose it. I’ll shame them and send them home.”
    Troian’s dark eyes widened a bit. “O-okay?”
    “When you were in college, did you ever show up to a class that you hadn’t done the reading for?” I asked, feeling myself unraveling. “Would you just sit there taking up space and oxygen instead of participating in class discussion?”
    “All the time.”
    I threw my hands up. “Who are you people?”
    Troian cocked her head to regard me. “Are you sure you’re not sexually frustrated, Professor Graft?”
    A little. But it wasn’t my fault. I challenge anyone to feel sexy when they’ve got a cold and their mother is staying in their house.
    “No. I’m just disgruntled. I’m still pissed about that book proposal rejection and that Dean Merlot thing, and now my mom is staying with me, so every little thing my students do is annoying me.”
    Troi an hid a smile behind her coffee cup. “You know my response. You could always come work with me.”
    “I know, I know.” I roughly ran my fingers through my hair. “But I’ m fine. This is just my once-a-semester rethinking of my career choice. I’ll get over it.”
    Despite the unnecessary headaches that working at this school provid ed me, I still loved teaching. I got a strange thrill of satisfaction looking across a sea of student faces, observing them diligently take notes while I lectured or watching them scribble furiously in their blue books during a final exam. There was something magical happening in that exchange of knowledge, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to liking the power.
    “Speaking of work – I, um, I have some news.” Troian set her coffee cup down and regarded me with a serious expression.
    “Uh oh. You’re pregnant,” I joked. “How are you going to survive without caffeine?”
    Troian rolled her eyes. “As if.”
    “Am I supposed to keep guessing?”
    Troian smirked. “That might be fun, but no. Nik and I, we’re, uh…” She paused deliberately and cleared her throat. “We’re moving to California.”
    I blinked once , taking my time to let the words connect in a meaningful order that actually made sense because what Troian had just said didn’t register. “Say that again.”
    My best friend breathed in sharply. “The Studio tapped me as head writer for a new show they’ve given the green light. If I want to do a good job, I can’t telecommute,” Troian explained. “It’s an amazing opportunity,” she said, almost apologetically.
    “What about Nik’s business?” I asked. Who was I kidding? Forget