Patreon Story: The Tutor, Part Twelve
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Part Twelve
My phone was sitting on my desk, awaiting my decision.
It had been four full days since I left Annabelle’s house. Four and half, if I counted the rest of Saturday after I returned to my little apartment to get started on all my schoolwork for the weekend. All that time, and I still hadn’t fully made up my mind about whether or not I’d return.
When I had left, the decision felt so easy. I was insulted and annoyed that neither Trixie or Annabelle thought twice about subjecting me to chores, and I was flustered from having to deal with Annabelle’s lack of clothes for the last thirty minutes that I was there. However, getting 150% more cash than I expected was a strong temptation to suck it up, and actually having the stack of hundreds in my hand made the money feel a lot more real than if I was given a check instead. And, as each day passed afterwards, it became easier to explain away all the difficulties that I suffered through.
It’s not like I tried very hard to get out of helping Trixie in the kitchen. The girl was dressed as a maid, for crying out loud. And yet, I didn’t have the backbone to put my foot down. At least, not firmly. Looking back, I remembered trying to get back to tutoring, but Trixie had been so short with me. Maybe if I pushed back and stood up for myself, she would have stepped aside and not made such a fuss about it.
And then there was Annabelle. While her half nudity was a shock to say the least, she was also still technically a teenager. That meant she would be opinionated about a number of things, including the whole ‘clothes are a construct’ concept. Maybe instead of fighting her on the issue, I could get away with teaching her downstairs, or outside, or at a coffee shop. Somewhere that would pressure her to maintain a proper and appropriate appearance, rather than being too comfortable in her own room.
Actually, a coffee shop would eliminate the potential for chores. Normally I was too frugal to pay several dollars for a single cup of coffee when I could simply make some at home for a fraction of the cost, but it would hardly make a dent when it was coming out of my tutoring pay. Although, speaking of temptations, if I went into a chore knowing that I was getting $300/hour to do so, I’d be a little more amenable. Would it be manipulative to keep teaching at the Alodia house in hopes that I’d be sent off with Trixie again? A family that wealthy probably wouldn’t miss the money, but I could really use the padding for my savings account. Decisions . . .
Aside from the financial reasons, I was also more interested in tutoring Annabelle after exchanging a few texts with her.
Our first session had already made it apparent that she was intelligent for her age. However, she continued to surprise me with her interest and her initiative on top of that. As requested, I had sent her a copy of the problem set she attempted to complete, as well as a few PDFs and scans from my textbooks. Within 24 hours, she had worked her way through the material and sent me back her new attempts at the problems she hadn’t known how to do before. Not only were all of her answers correct the second time around, but she also went out of her way to show every single step of her work. The formulas and concepts may have been new to her, but that wasn’t enough of a reason for her to be so thorough when I had seen that she was capable of solving plenty of smaller parts of problems in her head.
Maybe I was overthinking it, but it almost felt like Annabelle was saying ‘I’m trying it your way’ to me. But only through her work, as she didn’t mention anything like that over text. It was surprisingly mature of her.
Finally, there was a notable amount of passion for the subject in her texts. Not only did she ask me if she did everything right, and if there was anything she could improve on, but there were also requests for more complicated problems that related to the new material she had essentially taught herself. Once again, Annabelle was subverting any expectations I had about her being a rich girl coasting through life. She wanted to learn, and knew how to apply herself. Honestly, it made her a lot more desirable than when I was messaging her parents. A student that wants to learn is a dream student, as most teachers and tutors end up teaching those that either don’t want to learn or those that are just going through the motions for a decent grade.
Good money for a good student? It was ideal.
Which only left one problem–Annabelle had also been mature about not pestering me to come back. We had a good texting rapport, although she definitely texted like a teenage girl. Even so, it was hard to avoid smiling when she got excited about nailing a mathematics concept and/or getting multiple problems correct with zero mistakes. But through all the back and forth, she never once mentioned another session. Either she was already looking for another tutor, or she was letting me change my mind without interference on her end. Whether it was intentional manipulation or not, it was definitely working. I was leaning towards continuing our sessions, and also trying to figure out how to broach the subject without looking too desperate about it.
A text would be easier, but a call would be more personal. Especially after she seemed a little disappointed when I told her I couldn’t commit to regular sessions.
Taking a deep breath, I picked up my phone and found Annabelle’s name near the top of my Contacts. Calling a younger girl shouldn’t be so daunting, but there was just something about her that intimidated me a little bit despite her texting energy over the last few days.
Before I could overthink it, I made the call.
Two rings later, just when I was considering hanging up and taking the less stressful route of sending a text instead, Annabelle answered.
“Meredith? What’s up?” she asked.
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