by M. Billiter
Where have I been? I’ve been here. For the last twenty years, I’ve made the university more of a home than my own.
I carefully placed the frames in my briefcase and unplugged my phone charger. I didn’t want the humiliation of sorting through my office with a security guard standing beside me, so I packed what belonged to me and left the university purchases, like the espresso maker, exactly where they were.
I scanned the bookshelf. There wasn’t any book on the admissions process that equaled mine, nor any book that actually told the truth, including mine. In the world of academia, it wasn’t just about affirmative action that opened doors. Nor was there a magic five-step process that ensured a perfect candidate. The dirty little secret of the admissions process was that it boiled down to public perception. By tampering with the list of admission candidates, I not only misrepresented facts, I undermined my image. That could easily be rectified by terminating my employment. But by rejecting the senator’s daughter, I undermined the university’s brand, and there was no greater sin in academia than to threaten a college’s brand and, in turn, its ranking.
I had crossed a line that there was no coming back from.
Sliding my chair under my desk, I turned off my computer and placed my phone on night mode. I grabbed my suit and gym bag, walked into the foyer and said goodbye to Rachel and Ben. Then I headed to Dean Bryant’s office without looking back.
I was escorted into his office, where Ryan, a representative from human resources, sat nervously in one of the upright chairs beside Shawn’s desk. I was on the hiring committee that interviewed Ryan. I smiled in his direction and his face relaxed.
A member of the university board of directors, some gray-haired bitty whose name I always forgot, sat cross-legged and stoic in another chair. She never liked me, and the feeling was mutual.
Shawn stood behind his desk, his blond hair was perfectly in place, along with his pressed blue shirt, red tie, and navy slacks. His green eyes were sincere, and it was clear he was not happy about what he had to do.
So before he uttered a word, I did.
“I understand human resources is here to document the last date of my employment, notify payroll so a final check can be issued, notify IT to remove my access to email, company networks, and applications.” I paused and held up my hand. “Wait, that’s already been done,” I said with a lightness in my voice that made Shawn slightly smile.
I lowered my hand. “What’s left is for Ryan to discuss Cobra insurance options and ensure the rightful return of all company-issued equipment and badges.” I unclipped my university photo ID and placed it on Shawn’s desk. “Thank you.” Tears filled my eyes and emotion caught in my throat. “You believed in me and my abilities long before anyone else.” I swallowed hard and quickly flicked away a tear.
“You taught me how to be a good instructor in the classroom. You told me that if I knew how to teach and connect with young minds, I’d know how to identify a good candidate, because they were more than just their application packet.” My shoulders began to shake as the last two decades of my life came to an abrupt end. I quickly regained my composure and looked at my mentor and colleague. “When I was writing my book, I really wasn’t sure if my five-step process would work.” I laughed halfheartedly. “But you were convinced I was on to something, and then you opened the door for me to practice my process. I wouldn’t have had nearly the success I have if it weren’t for you.”
I didn’t break eye contact with him, and he didn’t once look away. “It has been a great honor working under your tutelage and direction,” I finished.
“If it was such a ‘great honor,’ as you claim, to work at the university,” the board member said, “then why did you sabotage the application process for the daughter of one of Wyoming State University’s most distinguished alumni?”
Because the little bitch bullied my son and no one ever held her accountable. But I knew it was better to neither confirm nor deny my involvement, so I simply maintained my focus on my dean. “Thank you again for everything.” My hand went to my chest. “I will truly miss working with you.”
A tear rolled down my cheek, but I quickly wiped it away. It took everything not to break down and tell him what had been going on. That my son was mentally ill. That I had made poor choices. That I screwed up. I had to leave before I completely melted into a puddle of tears, but I knew my termination was far from over.
I extended a shaky hand toward Shawn, and he shook it without question. His face was filled with doubt, but he was too much a professional and too kind a gentleman to push when he clearly knew I was not going to delve into the why of my actions. It simply was. I had made choices that placed us both in an untenable situation, and no reasoning would change that.
I turned on the spiked heel of my Manolos that I wanted to stick straight up the spindly ass of the board member, but instead, I kindly smiled toward Ryan. “I’m sure you have a lot of paperwork you need to go over with me.”
He nodded and stood. “We can use the private conference room.”
As security walked me to my car, I realized I wouldn’t be sitting in the university parking lot watching the autumn sunset before I headed home. Sunset was still a few hours away, so I’d have time to find a new place to enjoy my nightly routine.
Maybe that was for the best. I couldn’t remember the last time I watched a sunset with my kids.
29
Tara
I was almost in my driveway when my cell phone rang. I knew news of my termination would travel fast, but the university guttersnipes who liked to take potshots were unusually fast.
Let me think. It has to be someone in admin. They always hear gossip first. Or maybe one of the English department snobs. They love to feast on fresh carcass.
I hit the clicker to my garage door and watched it rise before me. My cell phone continued to ring and ring and ring. Leave me alone. A chime sounded when a call rolled into voice mail. I grabbed my things and bumped the car door shut with my hip, then walked into the house.
Aaron and Branson were at state track in Sheridan and would be gone for the next three days. Maybe I’d take Carson and Jack to Sheridan. Why not? Nothing keeping us from a road trip.
I walked into the kitchen from the garage when my cell phone rang again. “For the love of all things holy.” I glanced at the screen. “Ed?” I looked up at my kitchen ceiling and noticed a crack that ran the length of it. Awesome. “What does he want?”
I blew out a mouthful of air, set my things on the counter, and slid my thumb across the screen. “This is Tara.”
“Tara, it's Ed.”
I nodded.
“Tara?”
“Yes, Ed. Hello. What’s up?”
“Nothing much. I just wanted to call. Branson blacked out again.”
My knees weakened and I reached for the countertop to steady myself. “What?”
“Yeah, I guess he was dehydrated again.”
Again? He wasn’t dehydrated the first time. I shook my head. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. I got a call at work from Aaron. It’s like ninety degrees in those indoor tracks, and he probably didn’t drink enough water.”
I nodded as my mind tried to play catch-up with what my ex-husband was saying.
“Where is he? Where is Branson?”
“He’s just chilling here at my house. I brought him here. He’s on his bed in his room. Oh, and get this. I guess he fought a kid too.”
“What?” My voice rose along with my heart rate.
My ex seemed to think that was funny because he laughed. “Oh relax. Branson was just sticking up for himself. About time. That damn Jesse kid was always bullying him.”
“Is he in trouble?”
“I couldn’t tell you. I just picked him up after Aaron called that he blacked out. I didn’t ask any questions.”
Of course you didn’t. “How’s Aaron?”
“He just called me to say he finished his events. He got eight
h in pole vault, and PR’d by a foot.”
“He didn’t go with you?”
“Nah, I forced him to stay there. I told him this was an important date and he shouldn’t miss it because his brother didn’t drink enough damn water.”
I shook my head. Unbelievable. “Is Branson out of the meet? State, I mean?”
“Well he already missed his one event,” he sniped, the disdain clear, “so yeah, there goes our full ride to college.”
“Who gives a damn about the money, Ed? He just blacked out. You told me some kid was bullying him, he got into a fight, and he blacked out. What do you think that is, Ed? A lack of water? This isn’t about water!”
“I gotta go.”
“No. I’m on my way to Sheridan.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll meet you halfway and bring the boys home.”
I grabbed my car keys and purse. “Ed, I’m in the car. I’m heading to Sheridan, and we’ll take it from there. Branson may need to go to the hospital and there’s one in town.”
“For God’s sake, Tara, don’t come up here. Just trust me for once.”
Yeah, because our son blacked out because he’s dehydrated. “I’m on my way.”
“All right, whatever. I could've driven him home,” he huffed.
I waited for him to disconnect the call so he maintained the one thing he valued most: control.
Whatever. Sonuvabitch.
The next call I made was to my retired neighbor, Helen, to pick up Carson and Jack from school and watch them until I returned home. Overnight, if need be. I wasn’t sure what condition Branson would be in when I reached him.
30
Trevor
Finally he let me in.
I looked at the end of the bed and saw Branson sitting on the edge. His hands were in his lap, and he had a horrified look on his face.
“What have you done?” His voice was that of a man betrayed.
“Don’t worry. I got this,” I said to Branson. My other half. My weaker self.
“You can’t be making me do this. Let me back in.”
“No can do. I kind of like it out here.” I leaned back on the bed and crossed my arms behind my head. “I’m willing to do things you’d never let me do.”
“Who are you talking to in there?” Ed’s voice came from the hallway.
I picked up the cell phone off the nightstand and put it to my ear. “Just a friend,” I said when Ed poked his intruding face into the room. “Seeing how they did at their events.”
“Okay. Your mom’s on her way to pick you up.”
I nodded. That should be fun.
* * *
When Tara walked into the room, her green eyes looked like she’d been crying.
“Mom.” Branson stood up to meet her. “I’m sorry.”
But she couldn’t hear him, let alone see him.
I stayed flat on my back and let her approach me.
“Hello, Mother.”
What resembled a laugh rose from her throat. “You’ve never called me that before.”
Okay, maybe a little too Psycho. “I guess I hit my head too hard.”
She rushed to my side and placed her hand on my forehead. “Is there a bump? Or a bruise?” She felt my head for injuries, her hand warm, her touch gentle.
For a second, I turned off and Branson turned on. Tears ran down his face. I watched from the outside, desperately wanting control again.
She wiped his tears and kissed his forehead. “Are you all right?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“What can I do?” she asked.
“I need my medication.”
31
Trevor
“Pills weren't part of the plan,” I told him.
“There is no plan.” Branson opened the one thing that could shut me down forever. It was labeled with every day of the week.
“Come on, what are you, fifty and popping pills? Next you’ll need a blue capsule to make your dick hard,” I said.
He scooped two pills in his hand and popped them in my mouth. I tried not to swallow, but Branson was getting stronger.
“Hey, we’re heading to the track party if you want to come.” Aaron appeared in the mirror beside us.
I nodded. “Oh yeah, let’s party it up.” If there was one thing that would keep me around, it would be getting high and drunk. And I was still in charge.
I tossed Aaron the keys. “You drive.”
The party was being held at some kid named Jacob’s house. An Eastside home that made Branson’s look like a shithole. It would help my cause. Nothing like being in a mansion off Cribs to make you feel like you have so little.
I walked in behind Aaron, who was sporting a T-shirt that was one size too small and American Eagle jeans that sat so low his plaid boxers showed.
He always thought he was better than Branson. Always.
I turned to Branson. “Why would you even want to hang out with him?”
“He’s my twin, my brother. I love him to death.”
“Whatever. He’s still a douche.” I cocked my head toward Aaron, who looked back at me.
“Who’s a douche?” he asked.
“Jesse.” I looked across the room at the cocksucker I'd almost killed and grinned, making eye contact with him. That’s right motherfucker. I’m back.
“Hey, we’re not starting that shit tonight,” Aaron said. Always the diplomat, the peacekeeper. The bore.
I slipped away from Aaron and headed toward the backyard where the alcohol was. Anything that someone could grab from their parents’ fridge, minibar, or buy from their older siblings was laid on a patio table beside a stack of red plastic cups.
I grabbed a bottle of Captain Morgan and chugged half of it. It tasted like shit and burned my throat, but it would get me fucked-up drunk and quick.
“Dude, are you even tasting it?” one of the shot putters asked.
I shrugged. “Taste? The faster you get it down, the quicker it does the job.”
I felt a hand on my back. “Hey, babe.”
Dakota. Great. What does she want?
I cocked my head in her direction. “What’s up?”
She shook her head. “Uh, nothing. What’s up with you?”
“Just drinking like an Indian on payday,” I laughed.
Shock filled her face before she turned and walked away.
“Dude, isn’t your girl Native?” the shot putter asked.
I shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”
I shoved a bottle of beer in the pocket of my loose-fitting cargo shorts and put a bottle of vodka in the front pocket of my hoodie. I was well on my way to maintaining control of Branson, who stood beside me glassy-eyed and confused. Medication and booze were not a good combination.
“Hey, you need to take a break.”
I spun on my heel and found Aaron in my face.
“Take a break?” I shook my head. “Hell no.”
“Dude, I’m going to drive you home right now if you don’t knock it off. We’re here to have fun, not ruin our fucking lives.”
“Just fuck off.” I turned to walk away when Aaron grabbed me by the shoulder.
Shouldn’t have done that.
I went in for the tackle but stumbled and fell in slower than anticipated. Aaron reached around and grabbed me by the neck, pulling me forward using his momentum and sweeping my feet out from under me. I fell to the ground hard.
Shocked, I stared up at both Aaron and Branson. “What the fuck?”
They stared at me in disgust.
Dakota appeared beside them. “Let’s just go home,” she said softly.
“Fuck you, rez trash,” I said to the Native American who Branson adored and I despised.
Dakota’s dark eyes filled with sorrow that cut through the alcohol fog and medication that blurred my vision and slurred my speech. Even though I was losing my hold on Branson, I made sure everyone in that party heard my parting remarks before I passed out.
“You’re al
l dead to me.”
32
Trevor
When I woke up, I wasn’t in Tara’s Better Homes and Gardens house or Ed’s bachelor pad. I looked around at the mauve-colored walls with paintings of flowers and landscapes, then glanced out the one window before settling on the narrow bed with adjustable side rails and scratchy sheets.
I was in some fucking hospital.
What the hell am I doing here?
Branson’s identical half walked in with his arms crossed and stood in the corner of the bleak room.
Aaron. I gritted my teeth to shut Branson down. There’s no time for sentimentality. Your brother is not your friend. He tried to kill you last night.
“What’s up?” I said.
Aaron stayed silent.
“Really? We’re going to do this?” I shook my head. See, Branson, what did I tell you? He’s not your ally. “I don’t need you here, and I’d rather you just leave.”
“I’m not going to leave until you do.” Aaron took a step out of his corner. “I know you’re not Branson. My brother would never flip out on me like that, and the brother I know cares about his girlfriend. He’s not an ass to her.”
Maybe I pushed it too far last night. What would Branson do? But suddenly Branson was quiet. “I’m sorry, bro. I guess I let the alcohol get to me.”
For a moment, I watched Aaron consider my response. I looked like his twin brother. I sounded like his twin brother. For all he knew, I was his twin brother.
“No, I’m not buying it,” Aaron said at last.
Well I suppose I could always let the shadow people convince you. “Look, I understand you’re skeptical. I would be too. But I’m back on my medication, and I was just letting off some steam last night.”