Babysitting My Professor's Son

Ronan

"Ronan, you barely come to the house anymore for our family dinners. Being a professor doesn't mean you won't have time to see your parents," my mother said with an intense voice. 

 "As I have always told you, Mother, I am very busy right now. Once I've cleared up my schedule, I will come visiting."I replied, matching her tone.

"That was the same response you gave last year, and the two years before that. I don't believe I raised you in this manner," she spat.

I paused. A dark memory floods my mind as I fight to stay focused on the present.

"Last year and the year before that were not the best years for me... and you know that," I said through gritted teeth. 

She sighed, with a weary disappointment. "I understand. We all do. At least let your father get to see his grandson every now and then."

"You know my rules, Mother," I state fully, my voice dropping. "I cannot send Ace over without me coming with him."

"But you can always use a maid to send him over. Or better still, I have a personal maid who can bring him over..."

"Mother." I infused the word with a slight warning. "I will bring Ace when I can. If you can't come over to see him, then this conversation is over."

Before she could fire back, i hung up. I dropped the pen in my hands and leaned back, pushing my head against the headrest. A small throb began to pulse at the corner of my temple.

A light, hesitant knock came on the door.

"Come in," I said, my voice barely rising above a whisper.

The door glided open, and Luxe, my secretary, walked in. She carried a pair of thick documents. "Sir, the list is ready. All in hard and soft copy, just as you requested."

I gave a small nod and began to scan the documents briefly, the text blurring slightly before my eyes adjusted. "Any calls regarding the advert put out?"

"The calls that came in did not fit.... the requirement you need, and so most of them were turned down."

"I see," I responded, my eyes tracking the data on the page.

"But..." she continued, her voice trailing off in a way that suggested she was weighing the risk of speaking. "I have a cousin who can do the job, sir. She's great with kids. And she's...."

"She has a cat. I said, finally looking up. My gaze pinned her to the spot. "And my son is allergic to cats."

Luxe's face drained of color instantly. 

"How did you...?"

"You spoke to the assistant director about her some time ago." My eyes fall back to the stack of documents before me. I turned a page, the crisp sound of paper echoing in the room. "I happened to hear it in passing."

"R...right..."

She turned to leave almost immediately

"Hold up," I called out. "Connect the number on the advert directly to me, this time."

"Of course, sir." She gave a small nod and hurried out, the door clicking shut behind her.

I checked my watch. 1:30 PM. I had a lecture in thirty minutes, a class I shouldn't even be teaching. Prof. Johnson's "unavailability" was a headache for the entire department. The Vice Chancellor had been vague, mentioning something about "wrong affairs" and a "dilemma" that sounded like a scandal waiting to explode.

 I love teaching, but babysitting college students was a chore I didn't have time for.

I entered lecture room 507 and took a seat at the far end, trying to do a small revision of my lecture notes. The hall was mostly empty, just a few shadows scattered toward the back rows.

As I worked, I felt an intense gaze of someone drilling a hole into the right side of my head. I kept my focus locked on the words glowing on my screen while my fingers moving over the trackpad.

At exactly 2:00 PM, my phone alarm buzzed against my thigh. I stood up and walked toward the front of the hall. There were maybe fifty to seventy students in total.

 As I scanned the room, taking note of the faces, my eyes landed on a young woman sitting near the front. The look of sheer surprise on her face was enough to confirm she was the one who had been staring.

"I am Ronan Sterling. I will be taking you on Altermodern henceforth," I said, trying to keep my voice calm, but with a firm edge that commanded the room to settle.

The silence was expected. Dozens of eyes, filled with a mix of confusion and curiosity, stared back at me.

"I will be covering for Prof. Johnson, who is currently... unavailable," I continued, my voice projecting easily to the back of the room. "I expect everyone to continue taking this course seriously. In fact, I will be significantly stricter regarding the quality of work submitted. If you were looking for an easy credit, you are in the wrong room."

I let the words hang in the air as i looked across the room to ensure everyone understood what i was saying.

 The moment I uttered my final sentence of the lecture, the lady in the front, the one who looked a bit chubby, practically leaped from her seat and bolted out of the hall.

I was surprised by the sudden exit, but my curiosity was cut short by a vibration in my pocket. A text message from Ace's school. It wasn't detailed, but the urgency was clear: my presence was needed. Now.

I moved quickly, exiting the hall and sliding into my car. As I drove toward the edge of campus, my phone rang. A number I didn't recognize. I ignored it but it rang again. 

I realized it could be someone from the advert but now was not the time.

I entered the principal's office to find the Chairman of the school waiting for me, which was an anomaly in itself.

"Mr. Sterling, how do you do?" he asked, offering a hand.

"Very well." I glanced around the room, noting the tension in the air. "Mr. Charles, care to explain why I am being summoned on such short notice?"

"My sincerest apologies, Mr. Sterling. We just had a little situation that we felt should be brought to your attention. But before that, please take a seat."

I sat, watching him with an intensity that made him shift in his chair.

"Mr. Sterling, without wasting your time, I will go straight to the point. Your son, Ace, has been demonstrating.....some serious signs of a rebellion."

My eyes narrowed. "How do you mean?"

"Right. Aside from the fact that he is withdrawn, which is common enough, he tends to push or unnecessarily cause harm to other children. This has raised questions about whether he is doing well at home."

I leaned forward, my gaze locking onto his. "Are you by any chance saying he doesn't have good support at home?"

"N...not exactly," he stammered. "Just that his behavior is unlikely for him. Based on our observations, it seems he needs more... attention and care. Not just physical presence, but emotional. It can go a long way for children his age."

I nodded, "I appreciate your concerns, Mr. Charles. I will do what I need to do. You do your job as well."

"Certainly," he said, looking visibly anxious to see me leave.

*****************

That night, i barely slept. Even the two glasses of wine I had didn't dull the edge of my thoughts. I couldn't take him to his mother, never again, not after the disaster of last time. And my mother? She had the patience of a lightning strike. I couldn't risk him with her.

I looked at my phone and noticed the missed call from earlier.

"Roxy, at least let me finish a sentence before you hang up next time!" a voice spat as soon as the line connected.

"This is not Roxy," I said, my voice cutting through her frustration.

"Who... who is this?" I could feel the sudden spike of fear in her tone.

"You called me at 3:00 PM today. Twice."

"3:00 PM... oh. Yes. I, uh... I called about the babysitting advert?"

I leaned back, calculation forming in my mind.

"Meet me at the High Flyers office tomorrow at 12:00 PM noon. Bring every form of identification you have. Do not be late."

I hung up without another word. I had stressed the time for a reason; if she couldn't even manage a simple appointment, there was no way she was getting near my son.

I picked up the file Luxe had left on my desk, flipping to the very back, where a single, unfiled photo from Prof. Johnson's "wrong affairs" investigation sat, and my heart stopped as I realized the girl in the photo was wearing the exact same unique necklace I had seen on the student who bolted out of my classroom that afternoon.