“Sorry I’m calling so early,” I said. “I’m about to head off to U of T. Did you have a nice evening with Jo?”
“I did. She appreciated the company.”
“And how did you sleep?”
“I don’t like my bed. It’s too soft. I like yours better.”
“You like how hard mine is?”
“I had no idea something so hard could feel so good until I met you.”
I chuckled.
“How are you feeling about your meeting with Aaron?” she asked.
“It’s like walking into a dark room. I have no clue what’ll be waiting for me when the light goes on,” I said. “But I’m meeting with Martin after I leave O’Connor’s office, so that’s good. He’s hoping to finalize things for the fall before he leaves for vacation.” I sifted through some papers, trying to decide what to bring with me. “Have you made plans for the day, poppet?”
Regardless of how my meetings played out, I wanted to see her.
“I’ll head out around ten thirty, grab a coffee at the Arbor Room, and spend some time writing in the Hart House library.”
“Do you want to go out for lunch together? We could meet somewhere and eat on campus.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“It’s June first. Convocation is around the corner. It’s about time we started casually dating, don’t you think?”
“Maybe we should wait until your meeting with Aaron is over before we start planning this big reveal—”
“Aubrey, unless Aaron has somehow miraculously found out about us, I don’t see the point in waiting.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am. How’s twelve? The Gallery Restaurant at Hart House?” I suggested.
“Okay…it’s a date,” she said, after a moment’s hesitation.
“Do you suppose it’s our first date?”
“I thought we already had our first date.” She laughed. “A couple of times.”
“This is different, though.”
“Our first on-campus date?”
“Pretty exciting, sweetheart.”
“It is. Gosh, what will I wear?” she asked. “I have to make a good impression.”
“Wear a dress. You’ve got great legs. It’s best to play up your assets in situations like this.”
“A dress it is. And what should I wear underneath? In case one thing leads to another…”
“Miss Price, are you implying that I might get lucky after our first date?”
“After a glass of wine, I might not be able to control my impulses.”
I smiled, imagining Aubrey lying in bed, twirling her hair around her finger, her lip tucked coyly under her teeth.
“I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this before, but one of my favorite things about you is your appalling lack of impulse control.”
As I drove toward U of T, I couldn’t help feeling hopeful despite this impending meeting with Aaron O’Connor. It was a brand new month. Surely June would be less turbulent than May.
June first also meant moving day for Jeremy and Julie. It was taking every ounce of self-control I could muster to refrain from calling him. He was intent on proving he was capable of running his life, and he wouldn’t prove anything with all of us meddling.
I was reminded of Aubrey’s willful insistence on doing things her way and using her own resources. She was still stubborn as hell, but she was mellowing. She’d accepted the Tiffany necklace without a single eye roll or uncomfortable grimace, and even let me buy her a desk without any issues. I’d shown incredible restraint for weeks, but all bets were officially off.
And now her convocation was only a couple of weeks away, an exciting event in and of itself, but once it was behind us, we could really move forward. What I wanted more than anything was for her to officially move in. With her mother in town over convocation we’d be spending five days apart, but perhaps after that I’d be able to persuade her to gradually pack up her things and bring them to the condo.
I arrived on campus in good time, abandoning my meandering thoughts and locking up the car. At the graduate studies office, I took a deep breath before opening the doors to find O’Connor’s personal office. His secretary was sipping her morning coffee while flipping through a pile of papers.
“Good morning, I’m Daniel Grant. I’m here to see Mr. O’Connor.”
“Of course,” she said, appraising me quickly as she picked up the phone. She announced my arrival, and his door opened a few seconds later. As he beckoned me over, I steeled myself for what was sure to be an uncomfortable meeting. He didn’t shake my hand, simply motioning for me to enter. I sat in the chair in front of the desk and crossed my leg, aiming for nonchalance.
“How are you?” he asked, sitting across from me.
“Well, thank you.”
He shuffled through the file folders on his desk.
“And your parents?”
Was he really going to pretend my father hadn’t been on the verge of suing him for slander no more than two weeks ago?
“My parents are wonderful. How was your vacation?”
His eyes snapped up to meet mine. I regarded him with casual interest.
“My vacation was fine,” he said. “Thank you for asking.”
I bit back my desire to ask for details about how he’d spent his time off, particularly interested to hear about Elaine.
He opened a file folder—a file about me, apparently. On top of the sheaf of papers sat the letter that had made its way here from England, the Oxford crest stamped at the top. I longed to grab that page and rip it into a billion pieces. That single piece of paper perpetuated my tainted reputation. A black mark caused by a foolish girl’s reckless lie.
“So, let’s talk about the semester. I read the course evaluations at the end of the term. A few responses raised flags, so I brought some students in to chat to get a better handle on what they meant.”
I almost laughed in his face. Liar. Those interviews had been a desperate bid to ferret out dirt on me which he could use to hurt my father.
“And?” I clasped my hands in my lap.
“One of the evaluations struck me as interesting. A young lady…”
He trailed off as he leafed through the sheets.
A young lady? Fuck, what now?
“Yes, here it is,” he said, pulling a page free from the pile.
My heart rate spiked. Was it Aubrey’s course evaluation? He peered at me across the desk.
“Tell me about Cara Switzer,” he said.
Cara Switzer? Oh no, what had she done?
“Cara was…She struggled. She required significant help, I suppose you’d say.”
He started to read from the page, looking at me occasionally across the top of the sheet. “‘Daniel was the best TA ever. He was super helpful and never made you feel like you were taking up his valuable time, and believe me, I know, because I took up a lot of Daniel’s time.’”
Although he was obviously trying to make a point, I had to suppress a laugh. Cara’s words sounded silly coming from her mouth, but coming from his, they were utterly absurd.
“‘He helped me with all of my papers and was really great all semester long. I know I wouldn’t have the mark I do if it wasn’t for Daniel.’” He lowered the page. “High praise.”
I shrugged. What else could I do? His eyes traveled down the page, and he continued to read Cara’s comments. “‘Daniel’s an awesome TA. Sometimes I understood Daniel way better than Professor Brown. I always looked forward to his amazing tutorials. Keep up the great job, Daniel.’”
O’Connor narrowed his eyes again. “You struck a chord with this girl. During my meeting with her, she was even more enthused, if that’s possible.” As he spoke these words, he flipped to the beginning of the file, placing Cara’s evaluation beside the letter from Oxford. A symbolic gesture? Prick.
I gestured to the folder, trying to corral my frenzied thoughts. “I did my best to help her. I thought I was do
ing my job. Perhaps you’d correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t it a TA’s responsibility to help students with course content and class assignments?”
He tossed his glasses on the desk and tapped the letter from Oxford. “I’d be interested to hear a more about what happened over there, Daniel.”
Ah, here we go.
Our eyes met, and I smiled, allowing my gaze to drift across his shoulder to a framed photograph of the Coliseum. How fucking appropriate, considering I felt as if he were trying to throw me to the lions.
“It’s pretty straight-forward. Apparently, I screwed up.”
His eyebrows shot up. “I was led to believe you’d denied her allegations.” He bridged his hands and gazed at me, his interest piqued.
“I did deny them.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “But now you’re saying the accusations were true?”
“I didn’t say that,” I replied calmly.
“You just claim to have ‘screwed up.’”
“When I look back at what happened, that’s sometimes how I feel,” I explained. “Maybe I allowed that girl to get too close. I let down my guard—failed to maintain an appropriate distance. Either she got the wrong idea, or she saw my desire to help her as leverage she could use when she had no other recourse. Regardless, I was too generous with my efforts. I sincerely wanted her to succeed. She used my sincerity against me.”
“I see. And how does that differ from what happened with Miss Switzer here, who seems to believe you bent over backward for her as well?”
I paused to gather my thoughts. “I suppose it doesn’t differ at all, with one notable exception. Cara didn’t falsely accuse me of molesting her to get back at me for not compromising my principles.”
I spoke quietly, but vehemently. I’d done everything possible to help Cara. I wouldn’t let this asshole take that away from me.
“So, assuming what you say is true, and this young lady at Oxford was lying, are you saying you fell into a similar relationship with this Cara Switzer? What was to stop her from accusing you of impropriety? Did you learn nothing from your experiences overseas?”
Assuming? I itched to take a swing at him, but if I wanted to make my point, I’d have to rely on the one weapon that had rarely failed me: words.
“With all due respect, I think it would be impossible to go through an experience like that and not learn something. At first I blamed myself for being too naïve, but the more I thought, the more I realized I’d been taken advantage of. When you do the right thing and someone treats you so abysmally, you inevitably conclude that some people prefer to trample on others to achieve their goals instead of working hard and using their own talents.”
I spoke these last words hoping he’d realize I was referring to his behavior as well as Nicola’s. Explicitly referring to his appalling treatment of my father would be tantamount to falling on my own sword, but I wasn’t about to sit there and let him browbeat me without getting in a few subtle digs.
He looked at me pensively while I struggled to remain composed. He had the most piercing gaze. I had a vision of Aubrey sitting in this very seat in April, squirming under his scrutiny. I wondered if he’d still been bent on finding out dirt about me by that point, or if he’d merely wanted to see her with his own eyes before pursuing those ridiculous accusations against my father. Again, I had to stifle the desire to throttle him.
He didn’t comment on my veiled insult, preferring to bring the conversation back to my failings.
“I suppose it’s a moot point because, as you say, Miss Switzer didn’t follow in the footsteps of this young woman at Oxford. Even so, you must be careful—”
“For the record, I was extremely careful,” I said. “I never once met with a student behind closed doors. I avoided treating students as friends. I scrupulously avoided developing bonds with them beyond the classroom.”
Fair enough, this was a bold-faced lie, but given my relationship with Aubrey, there was no getting though this meeting without telling a few untruths. Aaron wagged his finger at me as if he’d suddenly been reminded of something.
“Now, it’s interesting you’ve said that. You do need to be aware of the way you’re perceived by students in that regard too.”
“I’m not sure what you mean…”
Reclaiming his glasses, he flipped through the pile of papers in the file.
“In your attempt to distance yourself, you have to be careful not to appear arrogant or supercilious. There were a number of comments about you seeming condescending at times, treating people with an overly superior attitude, and even being argumentative during tutorials.”
I felt my spine stiffen. “Are you serious?”
“Now, most of those comments came with the caveat that you softened as the semester progressed, but even so…” He looked down at the page in his hand. “Yes, this is what I was looking for. According to a couple of young men in your Friday tutorial, you spent a fair bit of time challenging a particular student in that group, calling into question many of her arguments and claims in what they called a confrontational way.”
Oh Christ. Friday tutorial? A female student? Well, that was a no-brainer.
“Did they mention the name of this student?”
He looked at me over the top of his glasses. “Yes. They did.”
There was no doubt in my mind that he was referring to Aubrey. Sure, we’d often held genuinely conflicting beliefs about things and sincerely enjoyed debating, but there were other times when our arguments were incited by our personal crises. As I’d feared, our hostility hadn’t escaped the notice of the others in the room. Well, if Aaron was going to bring the conversation around to Aubrey, then I was going to turn it to my advantage.
“If it’s Aubrey Price you’re talking about,” I said, “you’re right. I do need to work harder to rein in my feelings if I don’t get along with someone.”
“You admit you didn’t get along with her?”
“I didn’t particularly like her at first, to be honest,” I said—or more accurately, lied.
“Really? How so?”
“She challenged virtually everything I said from day one. I was nervous at the beginning of the semester. She seemed to enjoy making tutorials difficult for me.”
Say what you like, there wasn’t anything false in that last claim. She had made my life a living hell. Every look, every innocent smile, every hair twirl, and every lip bite had been pure torture.
“Why do you suppose she was so keen to engage you in conflict?”
“In hindsight, I suppose she might have been trying to be playful, thinking her pre-existing relationship with my parents afforded her that luxury. As I’ve mentioned, I had no desire to cultivate friendships, so I didn’t rise to the bait. This might have annoyed her.”
Good God, where had that come from? I was on a fucking roll!
“I see. So, did your feelings influence your ability to assess her work impartially?”
Absolutely, but not in the way you’re thinking, dick wad.
“I admit to being particularly picky on one of her tests. Martin and I discussed it as being an area of growth for me. Martin overruled my assessment and assigned her a perfect grade. I learned a lot from the experience.”
He nodded. “I met with her, and we discussed the incident you’re referring to. She said you were open to seeing where you had gone wrong.”
“Absolutely.”
“And there were no other major conflicts with her, then?”
I shook my head and smiled at him wryly.
“Things are quite amicable now. I’ve been forced to get along with her out of necessity. I’ve run into her a few times at family events over the last few weeks, like the party at Victoria College to celebrate my father’s promotion. I’m sure our paths will continue to cross.” I paused for effect. “As you know, Aubrey is close to my father and my mother.”
He pursed his lips and tapped his pen on the pile of papers in front of him.
; “I suppose I deserved that,” he said, weary all of a sudden.
I clasped my hands and leaned my elbows on my knees.
“Look, I’m not here to rehash what happened between you and my father. He led me to believe you’ve come to an understanding. That’s fine. It’s between the two of you.” O’Connor looked at me steadily, saying nothing, so I continued. “All I want to do is work on my paper and gain more classroom experience. I have a meeting with Martin after I leave here. He’s keen to have me assigned to his Intro to Shakespeare class.”
I gestured to the folder on the desk.
“If everything you’ve gathered here indicates that I’m not a complete moron and might actually be of some use to a group of first-year students, I’d like to tell him things are settled.”
He tossed his glasses on the desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. Our talk seemed to have sucked the life out of him. I wasn’t particularly distressed by this fact, nor could I summon up any guilt about my lack of empathy. He closed the folder. After pondering for a moment, he nodded.
“Martin is an excellent mentor. I see no problem with you working with him again. Consider it done.”
He walked over to the door and opened it. Just like that, we were finished. I could only imagine he wanted me out of there as badly as I wanted to leave.
“Someone will be in touch with you in late August to finalize details,” he said. “And please, remember what we talked about.”
I nodded as I escaped through the doorway. “I will. Thanks.”
I turned, almost knocking over a stack of boxes piled outside his door in my haste to get the hell out of there. I didn’t look back as I strode down the hall, pushing my way through the doors and walking steadily until I reached the archway to the UC quad. I turned, dropped my bag, and bent double, resting my hands on my knees and breathing deeply.
My heart pounded in my ears, but this was not anxiety. No, this was something else. Maybe euphoria. I wanted to hoot with laughter. In a secret corner of my mind, I’d feared something horrible would happen at that meeting with Aaron—that today he’d reveal his knowledge of my relationship with Aubrey. But by some fluke, O’Connor believed that we’d been nursing ill-will toward each other all semester long. It was almost impossible to believe.
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