Tenure Track

by Victoria Bradley

  Lewis arrived at the Roardan-Straussman home right at noon. Mark greeted him at the front door and led him into the living area, where Perry Waters and his partner were chatting with a bored-looking Dennis and Dana. Jane waved from the kitchen as Mark rejoined her to complete the meal. Lewis hoped they would return soon, as he was not looking forward to talking to Perry, whom he feared would give him an even greater headache than he already had.

  Lewis should not have been surprised to see Perry there. Ever since their first semester at the U., when the three cash-poor assistant professors had banded together for their own feast of friendship, it had been tradition for Perry, Jane and Mark to share Thanksgiving. Every year, no matter what was happening in their lives, the surrogate family came together, donning their comfortable familiarity like an old pair of shoes.

  Jane knew that many faculty, especially younger ones like Lewis, did not care much for her friend. Those raised in the era of political correctness easily took offense at Dr. Waters’s casual use of homosexual slurs. It was one of the many issues on which Jane found herself defending her friend, pointing out that the professor was gay himself, had been fighting for gay rights long before it was fashionable, and came from a generation in which such terms served as a badge of honor. She still took pride in the “#1 Fag Hag” T-shirt Perry had presented her after their first campus victory for same-sex partner benefits. Yet she was also sensitive enough to the current climate to no longer wear the shirt in public.

  Perry cared little about modern sensitivities. If anyone ever called him out on his behavior, he quickly made them ill at ease by pulling the “gay card,” assigning any dislike of his obnoxious behavior to latent homophobia. Such knee-jerk reactions once caused a major rift between him and Mark when Perry condemned his friend’s membership in the gay-excluding scouting organization. Jane had tried to remain neutral in the fight. While she sympathized with Perry’s position, she felt he had been too harsh in calling Mark a “closet homophobe.” The relationship between the two men had been reserved ever since.

  At this Thanksgiving gathering, Lewis cringed just waiting for Perry to say something intended to arouse discomfort. True to form, the older man quickly brought up a sore subject. “Lewis, so good to see you.” He gestured to the younger man with the soul patch, bangs that needed trimming and poor posture. “You remember my partner, Justin, don’t you? Where on earth is that beautiful wife of yours? I’ve been dying to see her.”

  Lewis briefly explained about Laura’s illness. But something about the way in which Perry took the news—a certain glint in the eyes, a lack of overt surprise —indicated that he already knew, which led Lewis to wonder if the question was really some kind of test. What kind of crap are you trying to pull, you little troll?

  Mark broke the tension by returning from the kitchen with a glass of wine for the newest guest, reintroducing Lewis to Dennis and Dana. Even though Lewis had seen the twins several times, they both looked much older than he recalled from the last encounter. Mark talked on and on about the twin’s activities and college aspirations, which only seemed to make the teenagers uncomfortable. They chose to ignore the grown-up conversation by occupying themselves with electronic devices right up until Jane entreated everyone into the dining room.

  The food and dinner conversation was pleasant enough, although with his head still pounding Lewis did not feel much like talking, even when Perry tried to goad him into a debate about the merits of British versus Spanish colonial society. Sensing Lewis’s lack of interest in accepting the challenge, Jane jumped in to rescue him. “Perry, let’s not turn this into a seminar discussion. We do have non-historians at the table.”

  “Thanks,” Justin responded on behalf of all those bored by history. Jane gritted her teeth, trying very hard to mask her disdain for Perry’s boyfriend of three years. She had long ago accepted his penchant for younger men, but always thought he could do much better than supporting a sponge-like 30-ish slacker who worked at a coffee shop and barely spoke to anyone. ‘Barista’ my eye. The man turns on a coffee pot and dares expect tips for it! Mark often joked that perhaps Justin was so quiet because his tongue stud preventing using the organ for speech.

  Taking the hint, Perry tried dragging the twins into the conversation: “So, how’re things at school? Any juicy high school scandals this year?”

  The two teenagers shared a bemused look. They knew their Uncle Perry well enough to prepare made-up stories just to satisfy his desire for salacious information. “I heard our homecoming queen celebrated by losing it to the quarterback at the homecoming dance,” Dennis claimed.

  “Her virginity, I assume?” Perry correctly interpreted, leaning in for more information.

  “Yeah,” Dennis continued. “Apparently they disappeared into the bathroom for at least a half an hour. You could hear ‘em goin’ at it good outside the door.”

  “Really?” Perry was practically salivating at the tall tale.

  “Dennis!” his mother chastised as Dana and Mark both snorted loudly. The boy smiled a mischievous grin, satisfied that the older man was more than willing to believe his fictitious story.

  Jane turned to Dr. Burns, who had been fairly quiet during the meal. “Lewis, why don’t you tell us how you’ve been doing? How’s Laura liking Yale?”

  The professor barely heard the question, being preoccupied with his still-pounding headache and internal debate over the best way to explain to Mandy about his appearance that morning. He filled everyone in on Laura’s career as well as their plans for Christmas and New Year’s. By the time he was done, the twins had finished eating and asked to be excused so that they could go catch a matinee of some big budget holiday movie. As the teenagers walked out the door, they texted friends to meet them at the theater, providing Lewis with an idea of how to apologize to his assistant.

  As the adults sat around the dining table enjoying pumpkin pie and coffee, Lewis waited until everyone’s attention was focused on one of Perry’s long-winded stories to subtly pull out his cell phone and text Mandy. He tried to recall some appropriate acronyms she had taught him.

  IJWTS IMS I Wuz Rude 2day. Wuz sic.

  Within moments he had a return message.

  tnx. cd9.

  He desperately tried to recall what “cd9” stood for. Later, between more academic small talk, he excused himself to go to the restroom just so he could check again. New text:

  cd99.

  He had no clue what “cd99” meant, either. By the time the rest of the group retired to the living room to watch two teams no one cared about play football, Lewis felt he had stayed long enough to politely excuse himself from the gathering. As soon as he got to his car, he called Mandy’s cell phone.

  “Amanda!” he greeted. “What’s cd9 and 99 mean?”

  “Ya mean you gave up textin’ already? You need more lessons,” she laughed. “Code 9 is ‘Parents watchin’.’ ‘Code 99’ is ‘Parents not watchin’.’” Ya called me during lunch, Dude.”

  “Sorry. I just felt really bad about my behavior this morning. I’m sorry. I wasn’t in the best shape.”

  “Let me guess. Ya needed to puke?” she diagnosed.

  Now he felt really stupid. “Was it that obvious?”

  “Hey, I’m in college and I work at a bar. I know hangovers.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  He sounded pitiful. “Dude, you apologize way too much. So did ya barf?”

  He found the question embarrassing, but answered honestly. “A little.”

  “Tell ya what,” she said, “I swear by this fix: drink lotsa ginger tea and take a buncha vitamins. It really helps, especially with the queasies.”

  “I think I’ll be okay, but thanks.”

  “Try to keep your turkey down, Dr. Burns.”

  Clicking off the phone, he realized his headache was gone. How does she do that? He turned on the stereo and switched the channel from his usual NPR to a local pop station. From Jane’s driveway to his he found himself singing o
ut loud and tapping on the steering wheel with his fingers. Upon entering the house, he saw the light on the answering machine blinking.

  “Hey there! Sorry I missed you,” came his wife’s voice. “I just wanted to call and wish you a Happy Thanksgiving. I’m feeling better. At least, I held down some turkey soup. If you need to talk later, give me a buzz. Love you!”

  After listening to the message twice, it occurred to Lewis that if Laura had really wanted to talk to him, she should have called his cell phone, which would not have even cost her any minutes. And she knew that he had been invited to Jane’s house, so he would not be home until late afternoon. As he pulled out his phone and started moving his thumb towards the button to call her, he stopped himself. She didn’t really want to talk to me.

  She . . . didn’t . . . really . . . want . . . to . . . talk . . . to . . . me.

  Screw it! Snapping the telephone shut before dialing, he picked up the newspaper and scanned to see what mind-numbing movies were being offered to help him escape from this crappy holiday for which he only had one thing to be thankful.

  Chapter Nine

  Secrets and Lies

  Jane was momentarily alone in the house.

  Mark was assisting a weekend training session for adult Scouters. The kids had gone to a football game, after which Dana planned to hang out with some of her friends and Dennis’s Geek Squad would be returning for a sleepover in the basement rec room. One of the cable networks was running a Star Trek: The Next Generation marathon that the boys planned to watch until the wee hours of the morning. Jane took advantage of the quiet before the sci-fi storm to continue some Internet browsing. Dennis had just posted a new segment of the Bubbe interviews, this one focusing on the years she and her brother had spent on she run, some fighting with the Jewish resistance. Jane admired how well Dennis had filled in missing images of the participants with stock historical footage. Perhaps he had the makings of a historian after all.

  Hearing her son and his friends come in, Jane took a break to greet them. Chris and Duncan were always very polite young men, if a bit socially awkward. “Is Dana home?” Chris eagerly asked. She knew both boys harbored lifelong crushes on Dennis’s sister.

  “I’m afraid not. She called right after the game ended and said she was going to hang out with Tiffany for awhile. She should be home before 12.”

  “Oh, okay.” Chris’s face fell. “Well, if she calls again, tell her she can come down and watch the show with us, okay?”

  “She knows that, Dweeb!” Duncan chastised.

  Dennis informed his mother that the three were headed into the dungeon, but not before asking for pizza money. Just before disappearing into their mancave, Jane whispered to her son, “I saw the new entry on Bubbe and Jakah. You did a great job!”

  “Thanks. I’ll tell Dana,” he said before ducking out of the doorway.

  With the boys safely tucked away in their burrow, Jane returned to her computer. Upon leaving the Bubbe site, she went to Nana’s Boys Productions. It was now mid-October and the Burns case was stalled as the complaint worked its way through the labyrinth campus bureaucracy. Technically, Jane was not supposed to do anything until requested by the administration. Still, her historian’s curiosity often got the best of her and she could not help checking the main record that existed about Lewis’s past relationship.

  She noticed that, while “In the House” was still online, certain webisodes portraying Katherine had been deleted. “Undergoing re-editing” the site explained. There were only two entries that had been shot during the previous summer, and none that revealed anything about Mandy and Lewis. Then she found one shot in May, in which Mandy was preparing for a date.

  Gus (in background): This is it. Big date night for Mandy and the professor. Think you’ll get lucky tonight, Man’?

  Mandy: Don’t be gross, Gus!

  Gus (background): Come on, Dude. You know you want it!

  [Mandy gives the camera a dirty look]

  [Scene cuts to the next morning. Shot shows a vase of roses sitting on the dining room table. Blanca and Julie are standing on either side of it.]

  Blanca: These just came for Man’. I think somebody got a booty call!

  Julie: At least the dude sent flowers! Let’s take ‘em in.

  [camera follows Julie and Blanca as they take the flowers to Mandy’s room and wake her up]

  Blanca and Julie: Good morning!

  [The two girls jump on the bed and wake up their roommate. Mandy rubs her eyes, then sees the flowers.]

  Mandy: Whoa!

  [Julie pulls the card out and hands it to Mandy.]

  Julie: Read the card!

  [Mandy reads silently.]

  Gus (in background): Oh, come on, Man’!

  Mandy: Okay, okay. ‘My Dearest Mandy: Thank you for a wonderful evening. You mean the world to me. Yours, LB’

  Julie: ‘You mean the world to me.’ Aaww!

  Gus (background): Looks like somebody got lucky!

  Blanca: ‘Dude’s got style! Take notes, Gus.

  [The camera closes in on Mandy, holding the card and smiling.]

  [End]

  Jane stared at the closing shot of Mandy. She looked so . . . happy. Such a contrast with the devastated girl in the entry just three months later. So much can change in three months. The spark of something new and magical fades into something old and boring, perhaps even dangerous. What had transpired between these two entries?

  She was still engrossed in the webisodes when Dennis stuck his head in the office door, startling her. “Hey Mom, we need some more Romulan ale. I’m just gonna run down the street real quick.”

  “We have plenty of sodas,” she pointed out.

  “Not any that’re blue!” he replied indignantly, already walking out the door with car keys in hand.

  Jane just turned back to the screen, muttering to herself, “Blue . . . okay.”

  What Jane did not know was that, shortly after settling down in front of the TV and calling in a pizza order, Dennis had received a frantic cell phone call from his sister. Dana’s speech was slurred and she sounded out of breath. “Dennis, you gotta come get me. I was at a party with Tiff and somebody called Coach. Then the cops came. I need your help!”

  Dennis was flabbergasted. “What happened to Tiffany?”

  “She took off. Bitch! I flew outta window and ran down the golf course. I’m at the, uh, . . . 16th hole on the Forest Green Course. There’s kids scatterin’ everywhere. Come and get me ‘fore I’m busted.”

  Dennis snapped the phone shut and turned to his friends. “Gentleman,” he said, authoritatively, “Captain Picard has been called out to an emergency rescue mission. You must protect the Enterprise in my absence.”

  “What’s up?” Chris asked.

  “That’s classified, but I can tell you that it involves Commander Troi. Whatever you do,” he instructed, lowering his voice, “do not let the Borg Queen know about this. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Captain,” they replied in unison. Dennis knew that they would comply, especially if it meant helping Dana.

  He raised his right hand in the classic Vulcan split-fingered salute. “Live long and prosper.”

  As his friends returned the salute, Dennis slipped out of the room and told his lie about Romulan ale. Once outside, he texted Dana, just to let her know that he was on his way. Twenty minutes later, he was parking Jane’s Cruiser along the road on the eastside of the Forest Green Golf Course. Across the course, he could see an array of flashing police lights. Holding a small flashlight, he scooted towards the edge of a wire fence, bending down low.

  “Dana!” he whispered frantically. From out of a nearby clump of trees he heard a rustling noise, followed by the sight of his sister stumbling out of the foliage to meet him.

  “Dennis, I’m so glad you’re here!” Even through the fencing he could smell the stench of alcohol and vomit.

  “Man, Dana, you stink!”

  “Oh, fuck you, Dennis, just ge
t me outta here!” He definitely knew she was drunk, since he had never heard her use the f-word before.

  He quickly cut an escape hatch in the fencing with a pair of wire cutters pulled from a toolbox in the trunk. As she slid through, Dana’s left arm caught on the wire, slicing through the sleeve of her university rugby shirt and across a long streak of flesh. As she cried out in pain, Dennis instinctively placed a hand over her mouth. In the near distance he heard a dog bark in response to her cry. Dana dropped to her knees and began to sob.

  “Is it that bad? Let me see,” Dennis asked, taking a look at her arm. “’Just a scratch. Your shirt’s in worse shape than your arm.”

  Dennis placed a comforting arm around her shoulders and helped her walk to the car. As she carefully sat in the passenger’s side, Dennis pulled out the first aid kit that Jane kept beneath the driver’s seat. He gently pulled back his sister’s sleeve and cleaned the wound, drying it with a puff of breath as Dana shuddered in the chilly night air.

  “There ya go,” he said, rubbing an oversize band-aid into place. “Good as new. Now aren’t ya glad you’ve got a Boy Scout around? Always prepared! ‘Just don’t barf in Mom’s car. I didn’t get my Puke badge yet. That’s for Venture Scouts.” He smiled comfortingly at his sister as she managed to laugh a little through her tears. The next thing Dennis knew, Dana was throwing her arms around his neck and holding onto him tightly, sobbing into his chest.

  “Hey, hey,” he said, patting her back. “It’s okay. We’ll get ya home and sneak ya in without the Borg ever knowin’. I’ll take care of it. We Starfleet captains can handle anything. I’ll just teleport you straight into your bed. ‘Kay?”