Tenure Track

by Victoria Bradley

  After calling Dennis to order him home by dinner, Jane started to phone Mark, then stopped herself. No, I’ll handle this one myself. Without reacting to Mark’s overly lenient nature, Jane could be more rationale about the situation. Mulling it over, the children’s subterfuge was more troubling than Dana drinking. After all, Jane occasionally let both children partake of wine with a special dinner, although she considered that to be very different from drinking with other teenagers at a keg party. And of course, Dennis would do anything for his sister, so it was hard to blame him for not tattling on her. Jane fumed over the knowledge that Hunter’s parents had actually sponsored the party. She hoped the authorities dealt harshly with such irresponsibility. And what to make of the presence of Coach Gibson? Was Dana telling the truth?

  Jane called a few other parents who were always in the know to confirm Dana’s version of the story, more or less. According to one parent whose child had been among those arrested, Coach Gibson arrived just before the police, chewing out the Jameses on the front doorsteps and yelling loudly that none of his players had better be there. When the police arrived moments later, most of the teenagers panicked and tried to run for it. All three of the screaming adults were placed into handcuffs, although Coach was released when the officers figured out that he had just arrived and had never gone inside the home.

  The basic facts seemed clear, yet Jane still had the feeling that there was more to the story. Perhaps Dana had gotten very drunk, or she was lying about how she cut her arm. Something was . . . off. However, by the time the teenagers returned home, Jane had decided what to do. She sat both of them down on the couch and positioned herself on the coffee table, facing them. Dennis tried to retain a disinterested facial expression, while Dana looked red-faced and sullen. Both of their bodies were rigid, bracing against the anticipated verbal barrage.

  Instead, Jane surprised them. While reminding Dana about the perils of alcohol abuse, not to mention what could have happened had she been arrested, Jane praised her daughter again for using good sense in calling Dennis. She chastised both of them for not being entirely truthful the previous evening, but praised Dennis for taking care of his sister. “I wish you had called me,” she repeated, “but I know that’s hard sometimes. At least I know that you two can rely on each other. That’s a good thing. But Dana, for someone who wants an athletic scholarship, you need to avoid trouble. For your own future, if you find yourself in a situation like that again, walk away sooner. Please.”

  Jane leaned back, folding her hands over her crossed knees while the teenagers looked at each other, still awaiting their punishment. “Is that it?” Dennis finally asked.

  “Yes,” his mother answered crisply. “Unless you two have anything else to add.” The twins glanced at one another, again betraying that they were still hiding something, but Jane had determined to exhibit trust and faith rather than doubt. Not wanting to dwell on the subject any longer, Jane slapped her knees, determined to move into a more pleasant position with the children. “Okay, well, since you two now have no plans for the evening, how about dinner and a movie with your old Mom?”

  “Uh . . . okay,” Dennis mumbled, raising one eyebrow askance.

  As they stood to leave the room, Dana paused and hugged her mother. “Thanks, Mom,” she whispered. Inhaling the sweet scent of Dana’s hair and the emotional need in her embrace, Jane was transported back to the times when the child was ill and only wanted her mother’s comfort. Jane had relished those moments, achieving that rare satisfaction that she was able to offer something that Mark could not.

  “Okay,” shouted Dennis, breaking up the sentimental moment. “If you two’re gonna insist on goin’ to some chick flick, I get to pick the restaurant!”

  Jane told Mark about the party when he returned home the next day. In her simplified narrative, Dana had gone to a party, seen that kids were being served alcohol, and called her brother to take her home, after which the place was raided. Jane left out the children’s deception, Dana’s admission of drinking, and her own nagging sense that there was more to the story. As related to Mark, his children had been faced with a tough choice and had done the right thing all around. Jane felt that was all he needed to know.

  She felt no guilt about withholding the information. There were many bits of oral history that she left out of the ongoing narrative she spun for her husband, such as why she so loathed Jim Morrison. She could not look at the singer’s image nor listen to any of his music without thinking of the young man who had tried so hard to mimic Morrison. As much as she tried to edit his existence out of her past, a few simple chords from an old song on the radio would bring it all flooding back. At least, the interpretation she remembered.

  Chapter 10

  A Fateful Holiday

  Lewis’s anger over Laura’s Thanksgiving Day snub subsided by the time Christmas break arrived. He hoped that three weeks together would help them recharge their somewhat strained relationship.

  On the last day of finals, Mandy dropped by Lewis’s office to wish him a Merry Christmas. She was in a festive mood, wearing a Santa Claus hat with a jingle bell on the end of it. “Ho! Ho! Ho!” she shouted.

  “Well, Merry Christmas, Santa!” he joked. “What brings you down from the North Pole?”

  She handed him a tin of cookies. “The elves ‘n’ I were busy bakin’ and thought ya might like some extras.”

  The smell of homemade cookies filled his nostrils as he opened the tin, instantly bringing back loving memories of his mother. He could not resist biting into one immediately. As a sugar-covered morsel melted in his mouth, Lewis let out a moan of delight. “Mmmmm . . . man that’s good,” he said with a full mouth. He offered her one, but she declined, noting that she still had tons at home.

  “Baking makes for good study breaks,” she explained.

  “Hey, take a break anytime!” he declared, shoving another cookie into his mouth. He then remembered that he had something for her. “Before you go. . . . Merry Christmas!”

  He pulled a small bag out of his desk and handed it to her. Inside was a stuffed panda holding a book. “I saw this when I was in DC and it just reminded me of you,” he said.

  Mandy was touched by his thoughtfulness. Not needing to be anywhere soon, he invited her to take a load off for a few minutes. He asked if she was expecting anything special from Santa this year. “Red convertible? Stocks? More real estate?”

  “Nothin’ too big,” she said. ‘Though I am goin’ to the bowl game. It should make for a fun New Year’s, even if I am with the folks. I told Momma I wanted a university ring. Ya know, high school rings seem so important at the time, but if ya go on to college or grad school, you just wind up replacin’ it. So what’s the point?”

  She held out her right hand, upon which she still wore her high school class ring, set with an aquamarine birthstone. “Very nice,” he said approvingly. Impulsively, he picked up her left hand, upon which she wore only a pinky ring with a small diamond in it. A 16th birthday present from her mom, she explained. He continued to hold her hands for a few seconds, carefully examining the rings.

  After a moment, she awkwardly nodded towards the third finger of his left hand. “Is that your weddin’ ring?” she asked. “It’s really different.”

  “Turquoise,” he explained, holding up his hand to show off the metal and stone band. “Made by one of the Navajo artists I got to know working on my dissertation.”

  Mandy held his finger lightly to get a closer look. “Does your wife have a matchin’ one?”

  “Oh no, she hates this thing. My mother-in-law really hates it. But I wanted something that would remind me of my roots, as much as I have any. Just to make the mother-in-law happy, the metal part is pure silver, so it does have some monetary value.”

  “Oh, well. Ya can’t go around with a cheapass weddin’ ring,” she declared. “How lame!”

  Before leaving, she paused in the doorway. “Have a great time with your wife, Dr. Burns.”

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nbsp; Lewis nodded. “I hope to. Merry Christmas, Amanda.”

  A few days later Lewis met up with Laura at her parent’s colonial estate. The entire Hennig clan was assembled for the holiday, making for a very crowded abode. There was fresh snow on the ground and more in the forecast. Laura’s nieces and nephews were excited about having a white Christmas. To escape the claustrophobic house, Lewis spent a great deal of his time outside playing in the snow with the children and his brothers-in-law. He wished that he and Laura had spent a few days alone together before joining the family, as they had very little private time after arriving. He was glad they had at least planned to spend New Years’ together in a romantic setting.

  They headed to New York on December 30, settling into their outrageously expensive hotel room with a balcony view of Times Square. They had very little down time in the room, as Laura had booked them reservations at an overpriced restaurant, followed by tickets to a Broadway revival of a Pulitzer-Prize-winning play starring some popular television actor. By the time they arrived back in the room, Laura was complaining of a migraine. Much to Lewis’s disappointment, they retired without making love, just as they had every night of this holiday.

  Laura rose early on New Year’s Eve to get in a workout and massage at the hotel spa. The afternoon was devoted to getting hair and makeup done for a gala ball that evening. Lewis tried to work off his sexual frustration by exercising for hours in the gym, where one of the television sets was tuned to the U’s big bowl game. He caught himself trying to scan the spectator shots for a glimpse of his young assistant. For a split second, he thought he might have seen her in one of the box seats. His heart, already racing from the treadmill, picked up an extra beat at the mere possibility. He thought about texting Mandy to find out exactly where she was sitting, then decided against it. He continued to work out just so that he could see the end of the game. When the university team came from behind to win with a wild catch in the last 10 seconds, the professor who had never cared a bit about football found himself shouting for joy amidst a roomful of sweaty strangers. The win gave him a better excuse for texting Mandy, as he dashed off a quick smiley face and victory sign. She did not reply, as his was just one among dozens of similar messages she received after the highlight-filled game.

  Lewis made it back to the room in time to shower and get dressed before the soiree. Laura casually asked where he had been all afternoon and thought she was hearing from the wrong person when he breathlessly told her about the dramatic ending to the bowl game. “Since when are you so into football?” she asked, adjusting her strapless slip in the mirror.

  Without even thinking, her husband retorted, “’Gotta fill my weekends somehow.”

  She shot him a sharp look at the inference of her neglect, but stopped herself from returning a snide comment. She was determined not to fight with him tonight. They finished dressing in silence, trying to stay out of one another’s way as much as possible. Later, as Lewis vainly struggled with his tuxedo tie, wishing he had selected a simple clip-on, Laura finally emerged from the bathroom looking radiant in a brand new midnight blue evening gown.

  “Whoa,” he whistled. “Very nice!” She was as beautiful as he had ever recalled seeing. All at once a familiar rush of desire returned to his body. If he had had his way, they would have shucked off the fancy clothes right then and spent the rest of the evening celebrating in bed. Laura walked slowly towards him, smoothing the outline of her dress. She actually seemed a bit nervous. He noticed her hands shaking slightly as she gently tied his bow. As she finished, Lewis took her hands in his and kissed them before offering his elbow to escort her down to the official celebration.

  The evening was perfect. Dancing together at the ball, Lewis commented that they were like Cinderella and Prince Charming moments before the clock struck midnight. Champagne flowed freely all night. Lewis noticed that his wife seemed to drink more than usual, but it served to put her into an uncharacteristically giddy mood that he rather enjoyed. Not long before midnight, Laura grabbed him by the hand and announced that she wanted to watch the Times Square ball drop from their balcony. “We paid top dollar to get the view, why fight the crowd below?” she insisted. As they left the party she grabbed another bottle of champagne to bring with them.

  Moments later they were standing outside on the balcony, bundled up in their coats and formal wear, watching thousands of revelers below. They counted along with the crowd as the magical ball descended towards a new year. Lewis wrapped his arms around his wife lovingly, looking over her shoulder at the sights of the celebration. Humming “Auld Lang Syne” in her ear, he could not see the sad expression on her face nor the tear that fell softly from her left eye. When he finally noticed, he assumed that she had been overcome by a rare display of sentimentality.

  “Hey,” he said, holding her face in his hands, “It’s supposed to be a Happy New Year.” When he kissed her gently, she took him by surprise by returning the kiss with more earnestness. Her kisses were hungry and desperate, unlike anything he recalled in years. Despite the below-freezing air, she began tugging at his clothes, trying to undress him. Her urgency was exciting. Ignoring the cold, he groped around, lifting up her dress beneath her coat as she unbuckled his belt and pushed his tuxedo trousers down. They could have gone inside to the warmth and comfort of a bed, but there was greater intensity in the idea of copulating in the public setting of the open balcony. Grabbing tightly onto one another’s buttocks as they stood, their parts joined together between the folds of their formal wear. They rang in the New Year with their own excited screams above the roaring crowd of revelers. Eventually they made their way back to the warm bed, where they continued to celebrate for hours.

  The next morning, Lewis woke up feeling rested and relaxed. He was still naked, but Laura was already dressed, scurrying about the room picking items of clothing up off the floor. “Hey,” she greeted him, almost in passing.

  “Hey,” he yawned, scratching his head, then stretching out seductively across the comforter in hopes that they could continue their previous night’s celebration.

  Laura ignored his amorous mood, instead looking at the complimentary issue of the Times. “I already ordered breakfast. It should be here in a few minutes, so you might want to put some clothes on.”

  He sat up. “Already? I thought we might have a little more quality time this morning.”

  Offering no vocal response, she opened the curtains to allow the full sunlight to fill the room. “It’s already 10 o’clock, Lewis. I wanted to hit Rockefeller Center before noon.”

  Lewis was not quite sure what to make of Laura’s behavior. She seemed very agitated, which was surprising given their encounter just a few hours earlier. He started to ask if something was wrong but was interrupted by a knock on the door and the call of “Room Service!”

  Laura quickly threw a robe on the bed and ordered her husband to put it on. Once he was properly covered, she opened the door to let the server enter with their breakfast. After he left, she turned on the television set and finished her food in small, quick bites as she alternatively watched news reports and stared intently at the newspaper. Lewis found this behavior particularly strange because his wife had never been much of a television watcher. Lewis’s few feeble attempts to make small talk were rebuffed.

  “Is something wrong?” he finally asked.

  Laura started to say something, then stopped herself. “No, I’m just very tired. Late night and too much champagne.” She patted his hand reassuringly, convincing him that it was just a hangover.

  An hour later, they were skating around the ice at Rockefeller Center. Laura was like a gazelle—free, graceful, seemingly very lost in thought as she glided across the ice. Lewis finally gave up his awkward shuffling and just sat down to watch her.

  After awhile she skated towards him. “What? Did you give up already?”

  “Better to throw in the towel now than wait until I break something. Besides, I like watching you more.” He smiled w
ith admiration. For a second, she returned the smile, then her expression turned to one of dead seriousness.

  “Lewis,” she sighed, squinting from the bright sunlight. “We have to talk.”

  “I thought something was bothering you.” He motioned for her to sit down next to him, which she did. She sat upright, her back refusing to touch the bench across which Lewis lay an outstretched arm.

  “What’s up?” he asked with a furrowed brow.

  Laura took another deep breath before speaking. “I’ve been trying to think of the best way to tell you this, but there isn’t really an easy way, I guess.”

  “You’re pregnant!” Lewis interrupted, only half-joking, as the thought had crossed his mind.

  “No,” she replied sternly, looking him straight in the eyes. “Just don’t interrupt, please.”

  “Uh, okay,” he obeyed.

  She took another deep breath. Now he was starting to worry, his hands sweating as he waited through an interminable silence. “Lewis,” she finally said, “when I get back to New Haven, I’m filing for divorce.”

  That was it. No, “I’m thinking about divorce,” “I would like a divorce,” or even “I think there are some problems in this marriage. What can we do about that?” She was just going to file for divorce. End of discussion.

  Lewis felt as if he had been punched in the chest, a sensation that also seemed to render him mute. He inhaled a deep breath of frigid air as the bitter wind blew harshly against his skin. Unable to look at his wife, he watched the ice skaters instead. Some glided effortlessly, as if they had been born with skates on their feet. Others were more like him, struggling just to remain erect on the ice. He watched as one small child of about four or five fell down, bumping a knee. The little one had on so many layers of clothing that Lewis could not even tell if it was a boy or a girl. The child’s mother quickly scooped it up and offered a comforting hug to quell its cries.