by Lea Coll
“Are you sure he’s yours?” She smiled triumphantly as if she knew all of my darkest fears. That Sawyer wasn’t really and truly mine. He was only mine for now or until he got bored of me, which was only a matter of time. The strong walls I’d erected against this girl crumbled at the first suggestion Sawyer would leave me the way all the others had.
“Stay away from him,” I repeated.
“You seem awfully worried. What? Afraid he won’t be faithful to you?” She inched closer to the boathouse door. Then she called over her shoulder, “If you’re so worried, it’s probably true.” She’d tied her tight white tank top in a knot below her breasts and as she walked up the steps, her Daisy Dukes left nothing to the imagination.
It was then I noticed she was wearing high heels. There was no way she was injured if she was walking in those shoes. Her plan was to get close to Sawyer and seduce him. My feet itched to run after her and jump in front of her to stop her but I didn’t. I had to let Sawyer go. If he was going to cheat on me then so be it. He wasn’t the man I thought he was if he falls for Cindy after a moment like we just shared.
I kept telling myself that as I slowly made my way to my SUV, dropping my head to the steering wheel. Should I wait to see what time Cindy came out? If she was alone or with him? No, that would look like I was stalking. It went against everything in my being to put my car in reverse and back out of there, but I did it. I checked my rear-view mirror as I drove away, but I never saw anyone leave the boathouse.
It was hard for me to believe he could want me when he could have a twenty-something co-ed who looked that amazing in those shorts. I’d never looked that good. I’d always been taller, curvier, and louder than most women. Most days it didn’t bother me. Only when my boyfriend needed to choose between me and whatever new thing came around. I was never enough for him to stay.
ON THE WAY HOME I called Ashley over the Bluetooth in my car.
“Hello, chicky,” she called loudly.
“Hey.”
“What’s wrong?”
Should I tell her? I’d called my best friend for a reason. I needed her support right now. “I need you. I’m worried Sawyer’s going to cheat on me.” And I almost wouldn’t blame him. I saw how Cindy looked. She was young, thin, with large boobs. Who could resist that? I felt suddenly frumpy in my usual knit dress and flats.
Her loud sigh was clearly audible over the speakers in my SUV and I’d never felt so defeated. Would I ever not worry? “Want to come over?”
“Yes.”
“Drive carefully. I’ll see you in a few.”
“K.” I clicked the hang-up button on my steering wheel.
I pulled into Ashley and Logan’s driveway and knocked on the door. As I waited for her to answer, I was in a full-on self-pity session. I didn’t deserve Sawyer. I didn’t deserve anyone. I drove anyone important to me away—my mother, my father, my sister, every single boyfriend I’d ever had and now Sawyer. I wasn’t capable of trusting anyone.
Ashley opened the door, a glass of wine in her hand, and a sad smile on her face. “Come in, girlfriend. I’ve got you.”
I stepped inside and dropped onto her sofa as she closed the door. Even my friends thought I was pathetic. I shook my head when she offered me a glass of wine. “Where’s Logan?”
“Working late on a jury trial that starts tomorrow.” She sat on an overstuffed chair across from me. “What happened?”
“I left Sawyer,” freshly fucked and smelling of sex, “at the boathouse with Cindy Young.”
Ashley’s face wrinkled. “Who?”
“She’s the one who started the bet on campus to bang the professors. She was dating Owen Mason, the other history professor, he dumped her and now she’s out for revenge.”
Her face relaxed as she finally understood. “Ah, okay. Why is it a problem if you left her alone with Sawyer?”
“She said she was there to talk to Sawyer about her injury, but she went in with her T-shirt tied in a knot below her boobs,” I held my hands out in front of my boobs to indicate her size, “Daisy Dukes, and sky-high stilettos.”
“Well, she clearly didn’t injure her legs if she was walking in stilettos.”
“Exactly. She asked if I was fucking Sawyer and if I was sure he wouldn’t cheat. Then she went back to his office.” Where she was alone with him right now.
“Well, she certainly knew what to say to get to you.”
I didn’t mention that I was spiraling before I ran into Cindy Young. That sex with Sawyer left me raw and I was still reeling from the emotions.
Ashley was silent for a minute as she turned her wine glass in her hands. “You’re going to have to trust in someone. Why can’t it be Sawyer? I can’t think of a better person. There’s always a possibility that someone could cheat, and I know it’s hard for you, but if you want to get married and have a family one day you can’t do it without trust.”
Everything she was saying was right and nothing different than what Dr. Hirsch had already said, but I didn’t know if I could—especially with the image of Cindy smirking as she turned on her heel.
“Speaking of trust, I was thinking about this sorority bet. I think you have to report the relationship between the student and the professor. I’m sure there’s a policy against it.”
“There is.”
“It’s an abuse of power, whether Cindy is an adult or not. This professor controls her grades, writes recommendation letters. There’s a reason schools have rules against this. And who knows if Owen has done this before.”
Relieved I had something else to focus on rather than Cindy being alone with Sawyer, I said, “I called one of the professors in the history department of his old school but she didn’t say anything.” Not that I’d specifically asked her about it. “Maybe I should follow up with her and a few others at his past schools.”
“But if you write a story, Sawyer could get caught up in it. You said yourself, you think Cindy is trying to lure him into doing something too.”
Any story published referencing a bet to sleep with history professors could potentially affect his career. How could I protect him and still do my job? “So, what should I do?”
“You have to tell Sawyer what you know. Tell him before someone else does and certainly before any story is printed.”
Thinking back to his story about the professor at University of Baltimore who got in trouble for speaking her mind, I said, “Even speculation could ruin his chances at tenure. He’s going to get caught up in this thing whether I want him to or not.”
“I agree. That’s why you have to talk to him.”
Before I spoke with Sawyer, I wanted an alternate story that would remove the focus or impact on Sawyer entirely. I needed to follow up with Owen’s past employers. My gut was telling me Owen wasn’t in Chestertown by choice. The first time I met him he complained about living here. So it was possible he had been forced to leave his last job. If I was right, these colleges kept pushing him from one school to another. It didn’t solve the problem and maybe that was the bigger story. Shouldn’t these professors be blocked from moving to a new school and doing the same thing over and over again?
I didn’t want to write the story without having the whole picture. I needed to know if Owen was a habitual offender. “I have a few more questions I need answered. I think there’s a bigger story here than the bet. And maybe he won’t be as upset if I have that bigger story in hand when I tell him.”
“Don’t wait too long to talk to Sawyer.”
“I won’t.” First, I’d focus on investigating and writing the story. Once it was done, I’d talk to Sawyer. All of these questions about Owen were swirling in my head and I wanted answers. Was there something in Cindy’s background that could help too? Make her seem less credible? I wanted to protect Sawyer. I just hoped he was worthy of my trust and support, however tentative it was.
“I better get working on it.” Glancing at my phone, I saw that it was already eight P.M. When I gave Ashley a
hug before leaving, she said, “Don’t screw this thing up with Sawyer.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Screwing things up was my greatest fear but it was usually completely out of my control. I couldn’t stop Sawyer from wanting me, from choosing me, or from cheating on me. That was on him.
“All you can do is trust in him and what you guys have.”
I nodded because I didn’t know how I felt. I vacillated between wanting to trust him, knowing our relationship was easy, to the worry about the constant temptation paraded in front of him as a professor.
As soon as I got home, I opened my laptop to research Owen’s prior employers and determine which professors would be good to contact. I made a note to call the one I’d spoken to earlier in the week first thing the next morning. Then I logged onto the paper’s network to dictate what I had so far. Bob was going to want a status update and I was sure he’d want it printed as soon as possible, but I wanted the student paper to print it first. Hopefully, it would take the heat off of me.
My phone buzzed and I was happy to see my sister had responded to my plea to come home and help our mother. Dr. Hirsch thought it was important that the whole family meet with her the first time to convince her to get help.
Lindsey: Do you think this is real? I don’t want to waste my time.
I couldn’t blame her. We’d hoped in the beginning she’d pull out of it, it was just a phase, but as she got progressively worse we’d lost hope. Lindsey was the first to really give up. When I’d ask her for help or tell her Mom needed us, she’d disagree. That our mother had given up on us, on life, on everything, and there was nothing she could do that would make a difference. It was heartbreaking but true.
Stella: We’re going to try. I have a therapist willing to work with us and Dad is on board. Dad told me some stuff about why she’s depressed. I get it and I think you will too. Who knows if she wants to get better but let’s try this one time. The odds of recovery are better if the whole family supports her.
My phone was silent for awhile, so I researched professors sleeping with students at other colleges and the general reasons it was forbidden. It was bad for student-teacher relationships. Some said professors socialized differently with men than women, worried they’d be accused of something improper. It was bad for the department, the school.
I felt sick when I found a flippant article why these affairs were attractive for both parties—the fact it was forbidden, elicit, secret. Another article referred to it as a fantasy that fourteen percent of students admitted to indulging in. Normally, I’d use this as inspiration for an online post to ask other people’s opinions. Is it your fantasy to sleep with your professor? Do students sleep with their professors for better grades or the fun of sneaking around? I dictated some notes on a possible online post knowing it would generate a ton of comments and interest especially with a simultaneous article about the bet, but I didn’t want to post it yet.
Then I dictated the article on the bet using the headline: Owen Mason Caught up in a Sorority Bet to Sleep with Students. Is it the First Time? I saved it to the newspaper’s network and shut it down. Finally, I checked my phone to see that I’d missed Lindsey’s response.
Lindsey: Fine. I’ll come home for this intervention and to hear what Dad has to say but that’s it.
She was still skeptical and I got that. It wasn’t Mom asking for help, it was Dad. Hopefully, when Mom saw the support she had, she’d want to get better. As much as I tried to distance myself from my mom and her situation since I’d graduated and moved out, I was resigned that she wouldn’t get better. But the desire to have a mother present in my life would never go away. Maybe if my grandmother was still alive she’d fill that role, but with her gone, and the relationship with my sister strained, my mother was all I had.
As I re-read Lindsey’s response my phone buzzed with an incoming text from Sawyer.
Sawyer: Goodnight. Sweet dreams
I felt the initial flow of euphoria from the sweet text, then my fingers hovered over the keyboard unsure if this was a sweet goodnight text or a guilt-ridden one because he’d done something with Cindy. In the past, I didn’t get over-the-top gifts or more attention when they cheated. It was more of a gradual pulling away that caused me to panic. They’d say I drove them to cheat, being too clingy, but I wasn’t sure about that anymore. Dr. Hirsch made it seem like certain self-involved guys did it and it had nothing to do with me. I wanted to believe that so badly. So I’d choose to believe Sawyer was the honest sweet guy he’d always been with me.
Stella: night!
With that simple exchange I wanted my relationship with Sawyer to work. I wanted to get past my trust issues. I wanted more amazing birthdays with him by my side, I wanted his support when I tried something new and crazy like developing a college course and teaching it, and I wanted his support when we confronted my mother with Dr. Hirsch. I wanted him to see the good, the bad and the ugly sides of my life. I wanted everything. But did he?
I needed to get this bet investigated and resolved and make sure nothing would touch Sawyer. He had to understand I was protecting him. I needed to find dirt on Owen. If Owen had a habit of sleeping with students, it would draw Bob and readers’ attention away from the bet. The real issue would be Owen’s bad behavior and why universities kept sweeping it under the rug and shifting the problem to a different school.
I shut my laptop and went to bed, everything turning round in my head making it difficult to sleep. I had this deep-seated nagging feeling that Sawyer wouldn’t understand my involvement in the bet or the investigation, despite all of my efforts.
I UNLOCKED THE OFFICE, MAKING sure to walk around to ensure it was empty for my phone call with Dr. Howe. I didn’t know if she would reveal anything but I wanted to be careful. Bob was already pushing for a story. I didn’t want him to have any details until it was done. I saved Bob’s office for last since it was the only enclosed room at the back of the office. The door was locked and the lights off. I breathed a sigh of relief and made my way to my cubicle.
I picked up my phone and dialed Professor Howe hoping she could give me more than the other day.
“Professor Howe.”
“Professor Howe, it’s so good to talk to you again. I’m Stella Lewis. I called the other day to get information on Owen Mason.” I kept my voice light and happy.
“I remember.” Then she was quiet for so long I thought she’d hung up or I’d lost the connection.
“Dr. Howe? Is this a bad time? Because I can call—”
“No, it’s not actually. I’ve been thinking about your call, how popular you said he is with the students, and I feel obligated to tell you what I know.”
“Ok.” Was this it? Was she going to spill dirt on Owen I could use? I gripped the pen in my hand so hard my knuckles were white. “Dr. Howe? Do you mind of I record the call?”
“That’s fine. I know he hasn’t worked at Washington College for long, but there’s a reason why he’s worked at so many schools, and it’s not that he loves traveling and seeing new places.”
“Oh?” I could barely contain my excitement. This was the break I wanted.
“He sleeps with his students. He sucks them in, makes them feel like he’s into them, and then he cuts them loose.”
Not wanting to interrupt her flow I remained silent but my mind was reeling with thoughts of this being the breakthrough I needed.
“A student approached me and told me how he’d treated her. He seems to go after the vulnerable ones who are desperate for a relationship, a father figure, something. He tells them he’s serious about them, wants to get married, then he dumps them. Someone older could probably handle it better, but these women are younger and more vulnerable.” She fell silent for a minute. “He’s in a position of power. The woman reported him and the school fired him, but unfortunately he just keeps going from school to school doing the same thing.”
Everything she said was second-hand information, so I hoped she�
�d give me the name of the girl so I could talk to her directly. I needed to speak to the source in order to publish this information.
“Since the last time you called I called the last school he worked with. I called around his department until one of the professors was honest with me. Same thing happened there.”
“So, the schools fire him, but there’s nothing on his record. He’s free to keep doing this somewhere else.” How is that okay? Why are these schools ignoring the larger issue? “Dr. Howe, thank you so much for telling me this. It’s happened here too and I’m afraid it’s about to blow up into a bigger issue. Can I have the name of the woman he did this to at your school so I can speak to her?” Then I held my breath because it was unlikely she’d want to reveal her identity to me even if she didn’t already know I was a reporter.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’d have to talk to her first.”
I needed to be forthcoming with her too. “Listen, I haven’t been completely honest with you. I’m actually a reporter here at the Kent County News and I’m the advisor for Washington College’s student paper.”
I heard her sigh over the phone and I hoped I hadn’t screwed everything up by not being upfront with her the first time I’d called.
“I’m sorry I lied but I wanted to see if he’d done the same thing at his old jobs. The student he slept with here wants revenge and I’m afraid that she’ll take down other innocent professors with her.”
“I understand. I’m not sure this woman will want to talk to you as a reporter.”
“I get that and I can’t run the whole story without her cooperation. I can call the higher-ups in the school but they’re unlikely to talk to me.”
“Any publicity and this will be bad for the schools he worked for. They covered it up.”
“And that’s the larger issue.” These men essentially get away with it and go on to do it at another school. I had to print this story. I just hoped this woman would talk to me. I could promise her anonymity for now, at least until it blew up, because I had a bad feeling it would. But my job was to hunt down the story and print it. What the public did or felt about it was out of my hands. Except this time my story directly affected Sawyer’s reputation. If I could focus the article on Owen’s behavior, maybe I could avoid mentioning the bet at all.