I felt a tightness in my throat as Adam finished the poem and looked up. I was staring right at him, my mouth agape, and he caught my eye and smiled. I blushed clear to my ears and looked quickly away.
“Thank you for that, Adam,” Dr. Russell said and began to lecture on the poem, talking about Arthurian legend and the ballad form and how the poem could be read as an allegory of female desire and blah blah blah. At least that’s what I wrote in my notebook. I hardly heard what she said. I was too busy trying not to look in Adam’s direction.
Just as class was finally coming to an end, Dr. Russell announced that she was returning our most recent papers. There was a general murmur of anticipation and trepidation in the classroom—Dr. Russell was a notoriously tough grader. “Your prose hobbles along like a lame show pony,” she’d once written on someone’s paper. As Dr. Russell walked over to me, I felt my hands grow cold.
“Come speak to me during office hours,” she said, handing me the paper.
I blanched, flipping through the pages to the back, preparing myself for annihilation. She had written just one sentence in pencil.
“A pleasure to read. A.”
I felt myself flooded with a mix of joy and gratitude. Hugging the paper to my chest, I turned around to leave and walked straight into Adam, who’d been standing behind me.
“Oof,” I said, finding myself up against Adam’s chest. He was tall, much taller than me, six feet, at least. “I’m sorry,” I squeaked, blushing again, hardly daring to look up and catch his eye.
“You’re Anne, right?” he asked, smiling at me.
“Yes,” I said, wondering how he knew my name.
“I’m Adam,” he said. “Listen, I have to run to work, but I wanted to know if you were free for coffee later this afternoon, maybe around four? I get off my shift then.”
“Today? Four? Sure, I’m free. That sounds great!” I babbled.
“Great, I’ll meet you at the student center. See you later.”
I watched him walk out of the classroom, his backpack slung across his shoulder. I was stunned. What did he want to have coffee with me for? I wondered. It couldn’t possibly be because he was interested in me. I was the smart girl, the one boys wanted to hang out with because I was a great study partner. That must be it, I told myself. Adam probably just wanted to borrow my notes.
*
BACK IN MY CURRENT classroom, I heard the university carillon clock chime the top of the hour and loudly cleared my throat. “Time’s up,” I announced. I gathered the quizzes, glancing at them quickly before I filed them away.
Chad had taken a stab at the extra credit: “EKPHRASIS: a popular club drug.” I stifled a laugh.
When I got out of class, there was a text message waiting for me from Larry.
“Meet you at reception. Heading there now.”
I texted back, “Not feeling well. Might just go home.” My stomach did feel a little queasy.
“No excuses,” he texted back. “Steve will be there. I’ll save you .”
I groaned. Steve was our department chair, a rotund medievalist with a Vandyke beard who liked members of the department to be “visible” at campus events. I was eager to prove my devotion to the college, especially if it improved my prospects for continued gainful employment. If I could just show them what a great teacher and scholar I was, how collegial and hardworking and responsible, maybe they’d keep me around a little longer. I’ll just stop by briefly, I told myself—mingle a little so my colleagues saw I was there, then duck out without having to see Adam. The reception was bound to be packed, so no one would notice my quick exit.
Still, I spent a few extra minutes in front of the bathroom mirror, fixing my makeup, adjusting my hair, making sure I wasn’t covered in cat dander. I was thirty-two, and while I tried to take care of myself, walking to and from campus, drinking plenty of water, and always wearing sunscreen, no one would mistake me for the eighteen-year-old Adam had fallen for. I’d gotten my hair cut recently—a few layers, nothing too dramatic—but I thought it made me look more stylish. My hair, once a dark brown, had lightened in the California sun, and I now regularly wore mascara and a little bit of blush. The round cheeks I’d so hated as a teenager were gone, and I’d finally grown into my looks—or so I hoped.
I thought back to when I first started teaching nearly ten years earlier. Back then, I’d had trouble establishing authority with my students because I was so short and looked so young. I took to wearing my hair pulled back, dressing in business suits, and never cracking a smile. No giggling, no bringing in cookies, no ending my statements with a girlish uptick. As I got a little older, I loosened up, partly because I became more confident in my teaching but partly, too, because I no longer looked like such a child. My students now saw me as vaguely “older”—someone whose inner life they couldn’t really imagine or identify with, a stranger. I still walked into the classroom wearing my armor, but now I occasionally offered peeks into my personal life, carefully calibrated to offer just a hint of intimacy.
I looked at myself now and thought I looked professional—maybe not beautiful or young, but capable, tasteful, even attractive. You can do this, I told myself. You’re a smart, accomplished woman. I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and smiled bravely at myself in the mirror. Before I could change my mind, I walked briskly out of the bathroom and crossed the campus toward the faculty club.
chapter three
THE ROOM WAS PACKED. A buffet table had been set up with trays of crudités and cut fruit, a platter of cheese and crackers, and a pyramid of tea sandwiches. A red Fairfax banner hung on the wall, fringed in gold. I grabbed some grapes and one of the sandwiches as I walked in, less because I was hungry than to have something to do with my hands. I scanned the room as casually as I could. Where the hell was Larry?
Standing there awkwardly, I remembered how anxious I’d felt before meeting Adam for coffee that first time. I’d practically run back to my dorm room, located in an ancient Gothic tower all the way across campus. There, I spent an hour agonizing over what to wear, changing my clothes five times before settling on a black skirt and a cardigan. I even briefly contemplated blow-drying my hair straight, decided that was too obvious and try-hard, and ended up pulling it back in its usual ponytail. Once I got to the student center, I’d spent several minutes strategizing how best to situate myself, choosing a table in the corner of the coffee shop, a little out of the way but not so hidden that Adam wouldn’t see me. I’d even brought my Norton anthology with me so if Adam just wanted my notes or to be study partners for the midterm, I could act like of course I knew that was why he wanted to meet, no big deal, happy to help out anytime.
Now, though, I was armed with nothing but finger food. Slowly, I walked the periphery of the room, glancing at the various people sitting at the tables or standing in small groups conversing, plastic name badges pinned crookedly to their lapels. Larry wasn’t at the bar, which was jammed with people waiting for a beer or plastic cup of wine. I did, however, catch sight of Steve, who was already flushed from drinking and who waved excitedly when he saw me.
“Delightful to see you here!” he said, raising his plastic cup of red wine. “I always like seeing my junior colleagues at these events. Shows a commendable esprit de corps.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” I said, smiling brightly.
“We should schedule a meeting next week to talk about your, er, your future here. I believe your employment contract expires in the spring?”
“It does—but as you know, I’d love to stay at Fairfax.” My voice sounded strained and overeager.
“Oh, and we’d love to have you,” Steve said. “But as you know, it all depends on your getting your book published. How’s that going, incidentally? You haven’t secured a book contract yet, have you?”
“Not yet,” I said, feeling my stomach sink. “But I’ve sent out some proposals, so I should hear something soon.”
“Well, my dear, bonam fortunam!” Steve said
. “I’m glad you’re working on it. You should be just fine so long as you have a book contract by the new year. Any later than that, though, and I’m afraid my hands are tied.” He spied an opening at the bar. “Now please excuse me as I go refresh my libation.”
As I watched him amble away, I wondered what I’d do if I lost my job. Adjunct? Tutor the SATs? Go to law school, like my father had always wanted? Each option was more dispiriting than the last. For the millionth time, I wondered if I’d made a complete mess of my life. Here I was with zero job security and so much student debt that by my calculation I’d be sixty-two by the time my loans were paid off.
I finally caught sight of Larry in a knot of people, talking animatedly, a cup of white wine in each hand. He’d saved me a drink like he’d promised, thank God. I was heading over to him, calling out his name, when the crowd shifted slightly and I realized with a shock who Larry was talking to.
It was Adam, listening thoughtfully to Larry and nodding in agreement. I could feel myself go cold with excitement and anticipation. He was still lean and athletic, with a restless energy that kept him constantly in motion, his hands gesturing, then folded across his chest, then released again. His dark hair was cut shorter than I remembered, and it was turning silver at the temples, but his face—his face was the same. The dark brows, the brown eyes, the sharp profile. In his dark suit and silk tie, Adam looked like the lawyer he once was, someone who took clients out to lunch at the Four Seasons and had an office in a sleek skyscraper. He was someone I’d see in the airport and assume was off to broker a big deal or pass legislation or counsel governments. I couldn’t believe it. He looked presidential.
It was too late to hide. Larry had heard me calling his name and was motioning me over with a big smile. I could see him leaning toward Adam as if to say, “Here’s someone you must meet!” and Adam turning slightly to see who it was. I felt myself flush. I wasn’t ready yet. I stood there paralyzed as Adam half met my eye and gave me an imperceptible nod. Then he turned away.
Did he not recognize me? I thought. Was he ignoring me? Was he mad at me?
Larry was still motioning to me wildly, tipping his head toward the cup of wine in his hand. I had no choice. I had to say hello to Adam. My stomach clenched, and my throat felt tight. Go, I ordered myself. Go and get it over with. At least it’ll be quick.
“Anne!” Larry cried, handing me the glass of wine and giving me a quick peck on the cheek. “Are your ears burning? I was just talking about you. This is President Adam Martinez. But the two of you already know each other, from what I gather.”
“Yes,” Adam said, shaking my hand. His palm was warm, his grip strong. As he let go, I could still feel the imprint of his hand in mine. “We went to undergraduate together.”
He was being so formal. As if we were just passing acquaintances.
“Welcome to Fairfax,” I said. “I hope you’ve settled in well.”
“It’s beautiful here,” Adam said.
Polite. He was being too polite. We weren’t friends or former lovers. We were professional associates. Even on our first date so many years ago, he’d been open and warm from the start, our casual coffee date quickly turning into dinner and so much more.
Now, though, Adam was tight-lipped, offering nothing, barely even making eye contact with me. Ten years was a long time, both of us had changed, and apparently he wanted to make that clear to me.
“It’s really a nice little college town,” I ventured lamely. “I mean, it must feel like a huge difference from Houston.”
“It does,” Adam said. He took a sip from his glass of water.
“You must be exhausted, meeting all these new people,” I tried again.
“It is busy,” he said, nodding.
“Adam! Here you are!” Tiffany Allen interrupted. The director of the Office of Development, Tiffany was a tall, bubbly blonde who grew up in Newport Beach and used to play volleyball at USC. She was a fund-raising machine, always throwing mixers for young alums and charming large donations out of the old. I sometimes saw her driving around campus in her white convertible, with its USC and Fairfax decals and her sorority letters on her license plate frame.
A group of women hovered behind Tiffany, waiting for an introduction. Adam turned to them and shook their hands, expressing his pleasure at meeting Danielle from the VP’s office, Rhonda from the registrar, Celia from student affairs. They’d worked at the college for years, these older women in their sensible separates and pumps, quietly keeping the campus running from behind the scenes. I saw how they looked at Adam with delighted eyes, seeing in him someone who could bring excitement to this sleepy college town, someone who was easy on the eyes, someone who they wouldn’t mind attending meetings with. I stepped back as Tiffany took Adam’s arm and elbowed me aside, guiding Adam across the room.
“Looks like he needs to make the rounds,” Larry said.
“Yeah,” I said, taking a big gulp of my wine.
Larry was happily tipsy, taking me by the arm and whispering excitedly in my ear.
“He’s divine,” Larry said. “You know these admin types, they’re usually so stiff and bureaucratic, but this guy—you can tell he’s got principles. He really seems to get this place. He believes in the humanities! He believes in the life of the mind! I mean, after our last president, that moron, Adam’s just a breath of fresh air! So you have to fill me in. What was he like in college? Give me the dirt!”
“Um, he was great,” I said. “I really don’t have any dirt. He was a nice guy, really good student.” I couldn’t bring myself to tell Larry the truth—not yet, at least. I was still reeling from Adam’s frosty reaction to me.
“He’s certainly popular with the ladies,” Larry said, glancing over at the knot of women surrounding Adam.
I nodded. Adam had always had that effect on people. When we’d first started dating, I could tell people were looking at us, wondering how someone as charismatic and good-looking as Adam could be with someone as regular as me. Adam had laughed when I told him this, told me I was beautiful and that, if anything, the situation was reversed. In his eyes, I had the perfect heart-shaped face, the clearest brown eyes, the softest skin and hair. When we were alone, he would cup my face in his hands and brush his lips across my face, and in those moments, I believed him, believed that he found me attractive and desirable. But when we were around others or when I was alone, I only saw my stubborn, curly hair, the smattering of freckles on my nose and cheeks, the zit on my forehead that refused to go away.
“Yeah,” I said to Larry, keeping my voice unemotional. “He was like that in college, too.”
“Boo. That’s too bad. I don’t like it when people are too perfect. What is it with this guy? He’s got the fancy degrees, the high-powered CV, and he’s good-looking, too! I mean, why do some people get all the cookies? I want some cookies, too!”
“Larry, you’ve got plenty of cookies on your own,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I mean, give me a break, you’re a tenured professor with a PhD from Harvard. What more could you want?”
“Oh, a personal life, maybe. Or some more hair would be nice,” Larry said, pretending to pout. “I just want more cookies.”
I started laughing, and Larry joined in. When we finally caught our breath, Larry paused to take off his glasses and clean them with his handkerchief.
“But seriously, Anne,” he said, putting his glasses back on. “Why is he still single? There must be a reason.”
“He’s single?” I gulped. “How did you find out?”
“I just asked him.”
“Larry!” I yelled, whacking his arm. “That’s so tacky!”
“Anne, honey, calm down. I don’t like being physically assaulted,” Larry said, rubbing his arm ruefully. “I did it discreetly. And obliquely.”
“How?”
“I told him that our local public schools were excellent and that if he had kids, they would thrive here. Clever, yes?”
“And what did he say?”
>
“He said, ‘Oh, I don’t have kids. I’m not married.’ ”
So he was single. I felt a prick of hope inside. Maybe we could rekindle things? Maybe he could forgive me and we could start over? If we could just spend some time together and I could explain myself, explain how stupid I’d been, how sorry—
Larry yawned. “It’s really too bad you two didn’t know each other better,” he said. “I was hoping that seeing you might help jog his memory, but when I first waved you over, he had no idea who you were. ‘That’s Anne?’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t have known her.’ ”
I wouldn’t have known her. My heart sickened. Of course. How dumb I was to think there might be something still there. He might not be married, but for all I knew, he probably had a serious girlfriend, maybe even a fiancée. It had been more than ten years, after all. Of course he’d moved on.
And I’d moved on, too. After our breakup, I’d dated plenty of other guys—a fellow grad student in my program, a musician in a terrible rock band, even Larry’s brother, Curtis. None of the relationships had worked out, but it wasn’t as if I’d been sitting around, waiting for Adam. I’d grown up, become a different person. I wasn’t that girl anymore—he’d said so himself. If Larry hadn’t pointed me out to him, he would’ve had no idea who I was. I was just another face in an endless sea of academics and administrators.
The only problem was that Adam still looked exactly the same—better, even. The years had made him more attractive. He looked worldly and sophisticated, secure in himself, accomplished. Even the traces of gray in his hair just made him look more distinguished. I felt a tug of longing and shame. Adam might not have recognized me, but I—I definitely recognized him.
“Hey, Larry, I think I’m going to head home,” I heard myself say. “I have a ton of grading to do.”
“Good luck,” Larry said, giving me a sympathetic look. “Set an egg timer. And have a double scotch. It will fortify you.” He kissed me on the cheek and headed back to the bar.
By the Book Page 2