The police and I agree on how very tragic the whole situation is and I tell them the university is reviewing how it assesses students’ mental health, which is something that just popped into my head—I make a mental note to bring it up at the next staff meeting. They nod, write things down and thank me for my time. They speak to June, who no doubt tells them the same thing, and to Geoff, who wouldn’t have known anything anyway.
I am so relieved when they leave it makes my head spin. After that I can’t concentrate. At one point, during a meeting with Bernie, one of my post-docs, I ask if he’s able to help with tutorials next week and he says, “You okay?”
“Sure, why?”
“Because I’ve just spent fifteen minutes telling you I’m away next week. You haven’t been listening to a word I said.”
In the afternoon I stare at the pile of papers I still have to mark and wonder if I could offload them to one of the teachers’ assistants, except that would mean I could leave for the day, and I just don’t want to go home yet.
When I’m done marking, I sit with my fingers pressing into my eyes. Maybe I should confront Luis. But what will I say? I keep thinking about that odd artisanal dinner set. I didn’t think it was Luis’s style. Did she buy it for him? Maybe she’s another artist working in the same building. Maybe the whole time I was there he was on another floor, kissing some willowy young thing. A potter maybe.
In the end it’s Geoff who puts me out of my misery. I’m sitting with my forehead propped against the heel of my hands when he walks in. He knocks twice on my desk to make me look up and perches himself on the corner.
“What a day, hey? I’m sorry about Alex. Feel like a beer?”
I cock my head at him. “You should have told me I missed out on the professorship yourself, you know. Shouldn’t I receive a formal notification? Having Mila tell me was a bit… weird.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t know she would do that.”
“Out of curiosity, why didn’t I get it?”
I’m sure I catch the glimpse of a smile, but it disappears so quickly I think I might have imagined it.
“Who knows? It’s up to the board. But my guess is, you haven’t published enough. That’s where the gap is. And look, maybe it’s not your thing. Plenty of people are happy to remain associate professors for life. Have you considered that?”
And I think, What is it with everyone? First Alex fires me from being his supervisor and co-author conveniently at the moment when his research is ready and he no longer needs me, and now Geoff, having let me do all that extra work for months in support of my application, all this stuff to show what an indispensable and brilliant team player I am, now tells me that it wasn’t my thing anyway. Some days it’s hard not to feel used and spat out in this world.
“You know that’s not what I want,” I say. “Why would you even say something like that?”
He frowns. “Because I’m not sure you’re ambitious enough, Anna. Not in that way. When was the last time you presented a paper at a conference? Or chaired a panel? Or attended a symposium? Mila is all over that stuff. You’re not.”
He has no idea how much his words hurt me. I’ve always felt that Geoff and I had a certain kinship. If he thought that way about me, why wouldn’t he say something before? And what’s this about Mila anyway? Mila is all over this stuff. It feels like a slap in the face. Suddenly I feel old, past my sell-by date. Like the scales have fallen from my eyes and I see now that I don’t stand a chance against the Milas of this world. All this time I thought I was the star of the show, it turns out I was just the supporting act.
Geoff gets to his feet. “Come on, come and have a beer. We can discuss it.”
I sigh. “I don’t know. You’re paying?”
“Nope, Law is. There’s a birthday party or something happening over there right now. If we move fast, we might score two each.”
I hesitate. But then, I’m feeling so strung out anyway, I may as well go for it. I check my watch. Five thirty.
“Is Mila going?”
He cocks his head at me. “No, she’s left for the day.”
I look up at him under my eyelids.
“Come on, Anna. Let’s go hang out.”
I sigh. “Okay.” I shut down my computer, grab my bag and follow him out of the building. Normally I’d walk on the path that meanders around the flower beds and then backtracks towards the Law faculty, but today I follow Geoff as he strides across the lawn, even though you’re not supposed to, and steps over the leafy hosta patch and what’s left of the blue irises. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with me: I never break the rules. Maybe that’s why I never get what I want.
It’s not a birthday party: it’s a retirement farewell and we missed the speeches, but not the alcohol. I’d never do something like this normally—crash a professor’s retirement party. That’s very Geoff, though. He’s always looking for a way to get something for free.
We stand at the drinks table—plastic cups, carrot sticks and dips—and Geoff finds two beers at the bottom of a plastic bucket full of watery ice. He hands me one and we clink bottles.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, then disappears to talk to someone at the other end of the room.
I watch him go, confused, and shake my head. I don’t know why he bothered asking me along. I should just leave, I think, as I lean against the table, holding the bottle of beer without a bottle opener, wondering what I’m even doing here.
“Is that your boyfriend?” A man in his mid-thirties with a short beard and green eyes has slid up next to me. “Sorry, is it okay if I join you? I should probably have asked that first.”
I’m about to say no, I’m leaving anyway, but I clock Geoff glancing my way, then checking this good-looking man chatting me up, and I change my mind.
I lift my beer. “If you can open this, you can absolutely join me.”
He takes the bottle and unscrews the cap with his hand before handing it back to me. I laugh.
“Easiest job I’ve had all day,” he says. He leans against the table too so we are next to each other, sipping our beers. He points with his chin in Geoff’s direction. “So, is he?”
“What? Oh, no, he’s not my boyfriend.” He glances at my left hand. “Your husband then?”
“No, not my husband either.” At the word ‘husband’ I feel the sting of tears in my nose and take a swig to hide my discomfort. “He’s an asshole,” I say, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I’m not even sure who I’m talking about anymore.
“Really? Wow, okay, what’s the story?”
My eyes never leave Geoff as I turn my head slightly so I can whisper in this stranger’s ear.
“He’s having sex with one of the math lecturers, and just gave her a full professorship in return.”
“Ha! So the whole hashtag MeToo thing, not really on his radar, amiright?”
“Please. He wouldn’t know how to spell hashtag.” He laughs.
“The professorship was actually meant for me,” I continue. “But I refused to have sex with him. He tried, once. I said no.”