“Those stories are just rumors. There has never been a formal complaint filed against Dr. Gould,” she shot back defensively.
“You know that’s because he picks his victims carefully,” Lewis said. “He’s a skilled predator. He knows who’ll tell and who won’t, or somehow grooms or threatens them so that they don’t tell. Yet we all turn the other way. No complaints, no problems. But isn’t that who No Fraternization was supposed to target? Mandy and I are two adults who fell in love. Unfortunately, that violates a university rule, and we’re both too honest to lie about it. Hell, we were too ethical to act on our feelings until we could hide behind the technicality that she wasn’t taking classes. The irony is, the rule punishes honest people and rewards the dishonest. So who’s it really protecting?”
Before Jane could respond, he stood to leave. “Look, here’s the deal. Obviously, I don’t give a flying crap about tenure now. I’ll be in town until Mandy graduates next year, so I can still cover my scheduled classes if you need me to, but I’ll happily clear out at the end of this semester if you’d prefer.”
“What will you do, professionally?” she asked blankly.
“I could do nothing,” he said. “I’m not hurtin’ for money, but I have a number of things in the works. I’m going to be helping my little brother on a new book project and I’ll be taking on a larger role in my family’s foundation. Mandy’s planning on going to law school after graduation, so I’ll follow along wherever she winds up. I love teaching, but I can do that anywhere. Who knows? Maybe I’ll wind up teaching high school or adult literacy or something. There’s always a need. Anyway, let me know if you want me to cover some classes while I’m still around.”
“Is that it?” she asked indignantly.
“I think so,” he grinned, heading towards the door. He turned the handle, but just after opening it, spun around to face her again. “Ya know, I just can’t resist one parting observation. While we’re at it about inconsistencies in enforcing rules, I’d like to know what kind of blackmail photos Perry Waters had on you that made you defend his politically incorrect behavior for all those years. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you finally had the come-to-Jesus meeting with him, but it was long overdue.”
“What’s that suppose to mean?” she asked.
“It means you’re a hypocrite,” he said bluntly before slamming the door behind him and cheerfully waving goodbye to Isobel.
That evening as her entire family enjoyed a rare dinner out together at an Italian restaurant, Jane continued to rant about Lewis’s actions and comments. By this time both twins had viewed the infamous “In the House” finale and developed their own opinions on it, mostly positive. “Chill, Mom,” Dennis advised. “I thought girls liked all that romantic stuff.”
“Yeah, I thought it was cool,” Dana piped up. “As long as they’re happy, who cares?”
“I have to care,” Jane noted, “Since I’m his boss and put a lot of work into salvaging the situation only to have him throw it away. He’s ungrateful, impertinent, and an embarrassment to the university.”
“Geez, sounds like you wanna ground him, Mom,” Dennis commented to snickers from his sister.
“No, you should make him work off his punishment in sweat equity,” Dana chimed in. “’Looks like he enjoys yard work.” This time Dennis snickered.
Sensing that she was being outvoted and mocked, Jane looked to her husband for support. “Mark, back me up here. Two minutes of Internet fame is not worth throwing away a career.”
“He didn’t do it for fame,” Dana pointed out. “He did it for love.”
“LUV,” Dennis repeated in an exaggerated tone.
Shifting the ravioli on his plate with a fork, Mark finally commented, “Well, whether he’s really in love or whether it works out doesn’t make much difference, does it? The guy made his choice. I don’t understand why you’re so upset about it, Jane.”
He leaned his chin against one hand. The truce during his mother’s visit now seemed officially over, the Cold War back on as he muttered, “And you always accuse me of personalizing things. Geez!”
Jane’s defenses went up. “I’m not making this about me!” she insisted.
“Maybe these people have priorities that are different from yours,” he said, raising his voice slightly. “Maybe you resent the fact that this professor and student got their happy ending when you didn’t!”
“What?” she blurted out, honestly taken aback. “That makes no sense! I’m concerned about the reputation of our department.”
“So you’re really upset that this somehow might make you look bad?” The accusation stung, but she knew it was partly correct. With the children watching the exchange, she decided to set a good example by admitting her own culpability.
“Yes, I suppose that’s part of it.”
What he said next stunned her. “That’s kind of hypocritical, don’t you think?” He stared at her with a look that indicated he was talking about much more than Lewis’s situation. She gave him a puzzled look in return, but decided now was not the time to delve deeper into his meaning. “Why don’t we talk about this later?” she said under her breath, still stinging from two accusations of hypocrisy in one day.
Dennis and Dana silently exchanged looks to communicate that they knew something major had just transpired between their parents. Trying to break the tension, Dennis chose that moment to announce: “Oh, by the way, I’ve decided on MIT.”
Jane and Mark never resumed their conversation. The foursome spent the rest of the evening focused on the children’s upcoming end of senior year rituals, including the prom. Finally, as they settled into bed, facing away from one another, Jane quietly spoke up, “Are we going to talk about this?”
“Do you want to?” Mark asked.
She rolled over to face him, though in the darkness neither could see the other very well. “Mark, you’ve been angry at me for weeks and I’m not sure why. What’s this really about?” He breathed in deeply. “Talk to me,” she beckoned.
“Sometimes you are just so damned judgmental,” he said. “I feel like I can’t do anything right with you.”
“That’s funny,” she remarked. “I feel the same way.”
“You never show it,” he commented. “You’re always so . . . in control. I don’t want to live life on pins and needles. Not now.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, touching his shoulder. She suggested counseling, perhaps a session with Phyllis, but he wasn’t interested.
“I think you need to make up with Perry,” he said.
“What’s Perry got to do with us?”
He snorted. “If you have to ask, then you’ve already forgotten too much of your own history. Just make up with him, please. We need our friend back.”
As they drifted off to sleep, those words continued to haunt her. Then, in slumber, the answer to Lewis’s question of why she had let Perry get away with crap for so many years came back clearly into view.
Perry. Her dear, sweet friend. The only person who had known. The person who had insisted on making her laugh and getting her drunk in order to numb her psychological pain. The person who had called her hotel room everyday to check on her while she was recuperating. The person who, just a few short years later, would sob into her shoulder to confess secret desires that even he did not understand; desires that led him to cheat on his wife with complete strangers, men he met in darkened parks, bathroom stalls, and backrooms of seedy porn shops. The person whom she had stood by as he finally accepted himself for who he was and openly sought the love of another man. The person who, despite his gossipy reputation, had never, ever, revealed her secret to another living soul. The person who would always be welcomed at her table for Thanksgiving.
Chapter 27
Revisiting the Past
Perry was still angry and perplexed about Jane’s calling him out on his slurs. It was not so much that she told him to change his behavior. He knew he was out of line. He just enjoyed irking his c
olleagues by testing the boundaries of their political correctness. Jane had always understood this. Her request did not bother him as much as the stern manner in which she had delivered it. He would have been much more receptive if she had just said, Knock it off with the fag quips, Pere. Had their relationship really deteriorated so much that she needed to treat him more like an underling than a friend?
Expecting more of the same, he was in a haughty mood when she dropped by his office. “Good day, Madame Chair. To what do I owe this honored visit? Did I piss off someone today? You said I could still use the b-word, or is that out now, too?” he asked snidely as he flipped through a mediocre senior thesis on the Salem Witch Trials.
“Perry,” she began, “I’m sorry I jumped on you. I was out of line. Well, you were out of line, but you know that. I should have handled it better. I’m sorry.”
He still wasn’t quite ready to forgive, though he did look up from the paper. “Okay,” he said, removing his reading glasses.
“It’s just. . . just. . . . Well, there’s been a lot going on at home.” She could feel her voice begin to crack. Realizing that something serious was up, Perry stood and offered a comforting pat on the arm while she composed herself enough to talk. She sympathized with the difficulty Dana must have had in forming the words. Perry waited patiently for the mysterious bomb to drop.
She finally spit it out: “Dana came out.”
Perry, never usually at a loss for words, said nothing. Staring into his dear friend’s troubled eyes, everything came into focus. As he hugged her and patted her back, she held on tightly, weeping softly on his shoulder. The tears released months’ worth of stress over her children, work, and marriage. Her friend understood that, allowing her the release she needed. After hugging for what seemed an eternity, Perry lifted up her chin with two fingers and dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “This is not a conversation we should be having sober,” he declared.
There was a time when Jane would have immediately told Perry about Dana, not just because he was gay, but because he was a trusted member of the family. He had earned that honor by protecting her darkest secret.
She had never intended to tell anyone about the abortion, save for her trustworthy fellow alumna and ob-gyn. Those had been among the loneliest days of her life. As she counted the minutes until the scheduled operation, she had gone into a self-imposed exile. Thinking she was angry with him for some reason, Perry finally caught her in her office a few days after classes ended, furiously grading a batch of term papers. His friendly salutation of “Knock, knock!” nearly caused her to jump through the ceiling. She dismissed it as frazzled nerves from too much coffee.
“Uh-huh. So, Little Missy,” he said, folding his arms across his chest, “Why have you been avoiding me? Did I say something to offend?”
“I’m sorry, Pere. I’ve just been swamped with work and I’m leaving town in a couple of days. . . .”
“Oh poo! We all have grading to do.” He waved one hand in the air. “That’s no excuse for ignoring your friends. Mark’s just heartbroken that you haven’t been returning his calls. Don’t tell me you’ve turned into a snob!”
Just as would happen in her office 32 years later, she fell to pieces before his eyes. Her face turned red as the tears welled up, releasing the flood of her misery. There was no way to stop the trickle of water that began to leak down her face.
“Oh, Janey, I’m so sorry!” Perry ran over to her side and gently took her by the shoulders as he pulled more than enough tissues out of a box on her desk. “What’s wrong? Did somebody die?”
“Not yet!” she blurted, then burst into a fit of inappropriate laughter, so that she was simultaneously giggling and sobbing.
“God, you’re not going to commit suicide are you?” Although Perry was semi-serious, his question made her laugh even harder. Between the laughter and the tears, she found it impossible to speak clearly. “Well, come on, what is it?” he beckoned.
When she could finally get the words out, she confessed everything. Once she started, she talked without ceasing until her brain suddenly registered who was listening. “Oh, Perry, you can’t tell anyone! I’m serious. This isn’t something I want spread all over campus!”
“Janey, Janey. I never dish about people I love. And I love you most of all, Scarecrow. Come here and let Uncle Perry make it better.” He gave her a friendly, gentle squeeze, which she returned, dripping tears and snot down the front of his designer shirt. She apologized for her behavior, leading him to quip, “That’s okay, I like soggy shirts. It’s the drowning disco look. Very chic.” She chuckled through her tears, then sat up.
Leaning his forehead against hers, he quietly asked, “Are you sure this is what you want to do?” She nodded. “Does the father-to-be even know?”
“No, and you can never tell him!” she ordered.
“Oh, heaven forbid! I don’t even know the young man. He sounds like a turd. Well, I’d offer to marry you, but my fiancé might object. Bigamy’s still illegal.” She laughed at the pseudo-proposal. “Hey, we could ask Mark. He’s mad about you. I bet he’d do it. He’d make a great father!”
“NO!” she yelled. “And you can’t tell him, either! No one. You’ve got to swear it, Perry! I mean it!”
“Cross my heart!” He marked an “X” with his index finger to seal the promise.
“I’m not looking for a husband,” she insisted. “I just want to forget this thing ever happened.”
Perry would not let her remain alone, helping finish her grading, then insisting on taking her out for dinner. “I’m craving Mexican,” he said, making her wince slightly at his word choice. “And you won’t be able to get any of the good stuff in New York or England. You’ll be lucky to find a spice rack in London! I hear that Chug pub has good south-of-the-border food.”
The duo walked arm-in-arm across campus to the Chug-a-Lug. Just breathing in the fresh evening air made Jane feel better. Half the time she closed her eyes and let her companion lead the way. Whether by intention or coincidence, the path Perry chose took them right by Austin Hall, home of the Math Department. Realizing where their journey was headed, Jane gave her friend a piercing look.
“Oh, come on,” Perry insisted. “He’ll be so hurt if you don’t at least say goodbye.” They walked the corridors until they spotted Mark mingling with some fellow Math nerds.
“Hi, ho! It’s off to summer we go!” Perry shouted as Mark’s face broke into a huge grin at the sight of them.
Jane apologized profusely for ignoring his calls, excusing herself with the overabundance of paperwork. Before she knew it, the mathematician was joining them on their hike to the Chug-a-Lug. Although she felt a bit uncomfortable being around him, having Mark present at least guaranteed lighter conversation. Perry said nothing more about her predicament, instead making her cry tears of laughter at his exaggerated anecdotes. Diving into a bowl of toasted tortilla chips with spicy salsa, she realized that for the first time in days she was not nauseous. Perhaps just not dwelling on the pregnancy was improving her appetite.
Yet she could not escape reality completely. Every time she thought her friends had completely rescued her mind, something else would draw her back to the tiny seed she was preparing to expel from her body. It could be the smallest detail, such as the moment she stumbled when ordering a margarita before realizing that she needn’t worry about harming the fetus. Almost as if he was reading her mind, Perry declared, “You know, tonight is the perfect evening for getting hammered! Let’s do like the kids and tie one on to celebrate the end of the semester. Waitress, bring us a pitcher of margaritas and another of sangria, andele, andele!” He turned to Mark. “I assume our teetotaling friend here will be able to escort us home safely tonight.”
“Only if the three of us can fit on my bike,” Mark declared, to which Perry instantly produced the keys to his Mustang.
“You do have a valid driver’s license, don’t you?” Perry quizzed. Convinced that a sober Mark who rarely drove was
still safer than either inebriated companion behind the wheel, Dr. Waters relinquished his keys.
Mark spoke of his plans to teach summer school and travel with a group of students to Georgia to help build a Habitat house. Listening to his noble plans only made Jane feel worse about her less-than-noble activities. He’s such a good guy, and I’m such a bad girl. I don’t deserve him as a friend. Every time Perry sensed the gloom overtaking her, he started in on yet another funny story and poured one more glass from their shared pitchers.
By the time the trio finished splitting a plate of sopapillas, Perry and Jane were far beyond toasty, giggling and laughing like hyenas, loud enough to incur a friendly visit to their table from the manager. Convinced they would drink no more and had a safe ride home, he left them alone. “What a poo poo!” Perry whispered loudly, sending Jane into another giggling frenzy.
By the time they reached Jane’s apartment, Perry was quietly dozing on her shoulder in the backseat, with Mark up front acting as chauffeur. Arriving at their destination, she eased the heavy head of her sleeping companion off her shoulder and onto the seat. Mark gallantly offered to walk her to her front door, but she barely made it three steps out of the car when a familiar wave of nausea hit. She stumbled a couple of feet before vomiting a bitter concoction of tequila, sangria, and cheese enchiladas all over some bushes. Mark dashed over to help hold her up as the entire contents of her insides spewed forth. Finally convinced that there could not possibly be anything left in her system to disgorge, she stood up.
Mark chivalrously pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her face. “Are you going to be okay?” That simple, caring question unleashed more tears. “Is there anything I can do?” he offered, to which she just shook her head.
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