The Interview
By
Karen Fainges
Lisanna stepped from the bus, rechecked the precious folder holding her study proposal and heaved her bag on to her shoulder. Unable to find an earlier bus from her hometown, she had been forced to bring her belongings with her to the interview. It had meant a rushed journey, but a chance to do her post-graduate work with Professor Channings-Jones was too good to pass up, even on 48 hours notice.
Once the interview was out of the way, she would find a place to stay. She had banked everything on getting this job, even quitting her old job. No great loss there though.
Spotting a map, she carefully traced a path between the bus stop and the Archeology building. Now sure of her bearings, she hurried to make her appointment on time. As she crossed the courtyard there was a cry of 'heads up'. There was the sound of thudding feet and Lisanna was knocked flying. Her papers scattered in spite of her desperate attempts to save them.
She landed heavily on one knee crushing the papers into the grass. "Oh no, it's ruined. They're all ruined." The frantic haste of the last few days started to tell. She felt the sting of tears. Angry with herself, she turned on the man that had knocked her down. "What did you think you were doing?" Lisanna demanded.
"I was playing football."
Lisanna was forced to stop and actually examine her assailant. Bare feet were typical of a footy hooligan. Well-worn footy shorts above tanned legs with well-formed muscles. He was bare-chested in the warm sun, smooth brown skin with a handsome face and long hair tied back out of his way. But it was his eyes that made her snatch back her next comments with a hurried breath. Filled with humour, they were black pools that went on forever.
"Please forgive me. Let me help you up." The educated tones contrasted sharply with his attire. "Then we can collect your papers. I'm sure there is no real harm done." Strong hands easily lifted her to her feet.
"No harm done!" Her earlier anger returned. "I worked so hard. Everything depends on him liking those papers. My job, my career, being able to afford my studies, everything."
"They must be very important papers." The humour in his voice did nothing to calm Lisanna's nerves. He crouched down and gathered them up. Rifling quickly through the papers as he straightened, he found the title. "Astrological Archeology. Determining historical sites based on astrological evidences. By Lisanna Smith." He handed the papers back with a raised eyebrow. "Do you really think that is possible?"
"Yes I do. Professor Channings-Jones own work using local myths proves the technique works, but he doesn't take it far enough. You need to encompass every local belief to be accurate."
"You believe the Professor is wrong and you are right?" the humour became strained.
"No, he is not wrong." The absolute conviction in her tone returned his good humour. "He just needs to go a little bit further."
A wry laugh escaped his lips. "Now not going far enough is one thing he has never been accused of." A confused look crossed Lisanna's face which seemed to amuse her companion all over again. She became aware he was studying her very closely. For a moment, she fought the impulse to cover herself with her hands. It was if he could see every inch of her. He reached out and touched her hair. She felt a shiver go through her body. 'Oh great', she thought, 'he touches your hair and you go all gooey. You aren't an undergrad now.' Lisanna hated her reaction to this arrogant man, but seemed to be powerless to prevent it.
His voice was almost a welcome distraction. "Your hair has come loose. The clip must be around here somewhere." He glanced around then bent down once more. "Lean back." Lisanna obeyed the order without thinking. He walked behind her. She felt the warmth of his body. His hands were sure and confident as they brushed her hair back and twisted it gently but firmly into a knot. "Now straighten up."
She obeyed and he stepped even closer to return the clip to her hair. She was amazed how warm he felt. Then he stepped back and she almost followed him back to keep the warmth. "Turn around." Lisanna turned to face him, brushing her hair with her fingertips.
"It's perfect. How did you do that?" Lisanna had struggled for what seemed like hours to get her hair tidy for the interview.
"My wife always found me doing her hair very … enticing. I got very good at it over the years."
Lisanna found her eyes straying to his hands. A band of gold rested on his finger. "She is a very lucky woman. Now if you will excuse me, I have an interview to rescue." Lisanna returned her bag to her shoulder, brushed down her clothes and tried to regain her bearings.
"Lisanna, wait." She turned back, surprised by the emotion in his voice. "I have not been honest with you. Maybe you should ask why Professor Channings-Jones is taking an assistant after so many years working without one?"
Lisanna's frustration came out as anger, "And maybe you should mind your own business!"