Is This What I Want? (8 page)

“Mom, all I can do is ask him. What else can I do, explain the situation to my chair? I don’t think so.”

My head spun and I nibbled on the piece of bread I had been trying to resist.

“And part of me thinks maybe I should just go for it, just go all out and have that one night with him I wanted so bad. After all, I just found out Rick cheated on me too, a long time ago, with a paralegal in a supply closet at a Christmas party. They did more than I got to do with Dave, so why not even the score? You had your chance to pay Dad back, why shouldn’t I get mine?”

Another gasp, and softly, with empathy, “Oh, Beth!” This time she kept it more controlled so we didn’t attract any unwanted attention.

“So there it is. We’re all cheaters. If I’m honest with myself, the truth is I’m dying to have sex with my student, even though it could get me fired and ruin my marriage. I need to ask him to drop my class, but part of me doesn’t want to. I’m a horrible wife who should be thinking about how I can help my poor husband who hates his job. And I’m a terrible mother who deserted her son, leaving him with scary strangers. Not to mention what a bad friend I am. Shelly’s pregnant and thinks her husband is cheating on her and I haven’t even called her in two weeks to see how she’s doing. I’m more interested in listening to my crazy friend Jill’s stories about her and her husband’s escapades as swingers.”

Her eyes opened wide and she leaned in. I figured she must have questions but it felt so good I didn’t want to stop and I knew she understood.

“Just keep going, B. Get it out.”

I scowled at my empty glass of wine. She put her glass in front of me, the rich, dark pinot sloshing from side to side. I hung my head down and looked at my watch again.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll drive when it’s time to pick up Jack. Just let it all out.”

And so I did.

“SHELLY? ARE YOU THERE?”

“Beth? I can barely hear you.”

I pushed the annoying little device further into my ear and tried to position the tiny mouthpiece that was supposed to capture my voice closer to my lips.

“Can you hear me now, Shelly?”

“What? Beth?” The echo reminded me of when I was growing up in New York, how I used to scream words out of the car window in city tunnels for the thrill of having them repeated back to me.

“I’ll call you back, Shelly,” I yelled.

Risking a ticket for a non-hands-free phone call seemed better than causing an accident while trying to figure out the impossible new Bluetooth setup that Rick insisted I use. So I dialed again and held the phone to my ear, like in the old days.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t call sooner. I’ve been thinking about you so much. How are you? How’s the situation with Max?”

I didn’t have time to ease in with small talk since it was only an eight-minute drive to campus and a five-minute walk to my building, Hudson Hall.

“Don’t worry, Beth. I would have called you if I needed you. Stop feeling guilty for nothing all the time.”

She was right. I lived in a constant state of fear that I wasn’t doing everything that everyone expected of me. In the sober phases of my people-pleasing addiction, I could see that others were likely focused on their own concerns rather than dwelling on what I had or had not done for them. But those times were rare.

“Thanks, I did feel bad, so I’m glad to hear you would have called if you needed me. So, hey, I don’t have a lot of time, but I really wanna know what’s going on.”

“What’s going on with what?”

I wondered if I had the wrong Shelly on the phone.

“Um, what do you mean, what’s going on with what? With Max! When we had dinner together three weeks ago, you were crying because you thought he was having an affair.”

“Just a sec.” There was a shuffling sound and I couldn’t hear most of what she said, but it was some excuse to get the daughter who was in the room with her to leave, something about laundry or lavender.

The shuffling sound was repeated and she was back, presumably solo now.

“I was wrong. I confronted him and he had a perfect explanation for everything. He’s been so sweet and attentive since then too. He brings me flowers almost every day. I can’t believe I thought he would do something like that. This pregnancy has made me crazy.”

I wanted to believe her, to instantly accept that Max’s exculpation was rightfully earned, but there was something off about how happy she sounded.

“But what about the text messages? You said…”

“I was being paranoid. They’re just friends. He helps her with her problems because he’s such a good guy. There’s nothing more to it.”

The icon of Elizabeth Kübler-Ross’ Five Stages of Grief, which I always used in presentations on communication about loss, invaded my mind. The word “denial” passed in front of my eyes repeatedly like the news ticker at the bottom of the screen on CNN.

“Well… okay, but maybe you should still keep checking…”

I paused to choose my words carefully. Maybe too carefully.

“No, never mind, I’m just jaded because of my own experiences. I’m sure you’re right. That’s great. I’m so relieved for you.”

“I know you feel protective, but trust me, I’m sure about this,” she said. “You know how I am. I wouldn’t let anyone put one over on me.”

That was how I saw her. Her confidence and forthright style were enviable. So she must be right, I decided. Still, something gnawed at me. I couldn’t figure out if it had more to do with my situation or hers.

“So now you know everything’s fine here, what’s up with you?”

I looked at the dashboard clock. Seven minutes left of the drive and walk combined. “Well, Jack started preschool. We got a last minute spot at the lab school.”

“The lab school? That’s incredible. I’ve heard it’s almost impossible to get in there.”

“Yeah, it is, but…”

“I know how you torture yourself over these things, but it’s good for him.”

“I’m trying to manage the guilt, but it’s hard for me. I have to admit it’s a little easier this time than it was with Sam, though. The first few days were a living hell. But then the fourth day, I got there early and watched him through the glass window in the door. He didn’t see me, you know?”

She laughed and the tightness in my chest from just thinking about the topic loosened up a little.

“Wait, let me guess,” she interrupted. “What you saw through the glass was that he was having fun. But then when you came in and he saw you, he put on a great show, with tears and clinging to you as if unspeakable acts of terror occurred while you were gone.”

She laughed again. I wondered why I took these things so hard. What was wrong with me? Other mothers seemed to be so much better equipped to ride the ups and downs of the parenthood roller-coaster.

“Wow, you’re good, aren’t you?” I asked. “Not much more I can say on that subject.”

“Okay, then tell me what I really want to know. Have you seen Dave since you went back to teaching?”

Might as well give it to her now since things are about to come to a head, I figured.

“Yes, I have. But I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, because I didn’t ask for this and Rick knows all about what’s going on.”

“Okay,” she said with an apprehensive tone.

I checked my makeup and tamed an errant eyebrow hair in the rear view mirror before continuing.

“Dave seems to be in my class. But I’m going to take care of it today. I’m going to insist that he drop it before the deadline this Friday.”

There was a long silence and I knew she was processing the implications.

“What do you mean he ‘seems’ to be in your class?” She never misses a beat, I thought.

“He showed up the first week. God, I almost had a heart attack when he walked in late. I’m so freaking disorganized I forgot to print an updated roster. If I had, at least I could have prepared myself emotionally, you know?”

“Yeah, would have been nice to know ahead of time.”

“Anyway, we only meet once a week, so the second week I was all ready to ask him to come to my office so I could demand that he get the hell out of the class. But he didn’t show up. That was last Tuesday, a week ago, so I’m ready to do it today. I’m sure he’ll be there.”

I waited for her to say something. She didn’t.

“So that’s it, it’ll be resolved as soon as class is over tonight.”

More silence. Maybe she was the one who didn’t believe me now.

“How did you feel when you saw him?” she asked.

All of a sudden my throat closed up and I started coughing uncontrollably.

“Beth? Are you okay?”

The coughing subsided but things opened back up slowly so that when I could talk again, my voice was strained.

It was time to get out of the car.

“Sorry, must be having an allergy attack. I can talk for a couple more minutes while I walk to class, but I have to be careful about what I say.”

As I stood, I smoothed the front of my new blue and white striped dress and pulled it down a little from the bottom, not wanting it to seem too short for a professor. I wondered if Dave would think I looked good in it. I knew he liked my toenails polished red, but hoped he wouldn’t think I did it for him.

I had to walk extra slow in the new white wedge sandals that were already causing a blister right under the chafing strap on the back of my left ankle. Wheeling my briefcase along with one hand, holding the phone up to my ear with the other, I tried to whisper.

“I’m not sure how I felt. I guess I was a little angry that he would put me in that position. But it was also…”

“You still have feelings for him?”

“I don’t know. I’m confused. Everything was so intense with him and things were stagnant with Rick for a long time. You know that.”

“But everything’s good with you and Rick now, right?”

“Things have gotten better, yes. But, it’s not that simple. And it’s even more complicated now because he told me something I never knew…”

I looked over both shoulders. Three emaciated young blonde women wearing matching fuchsia tee shirts with large indigo Greek letters brushed past me, laughing loudly.

“Shelly, I have to go. I can’t really talk now. Can I call you back tomorrow?”

“Please do. This doesn’t sit well with me.”

Settling into a desk in the part-time faculty office, it was a relief to find that only one other professor was there. I hoped Lance Long wasn’t in the mood to chat. I usually enjoyed talking with him. We had a similar pedagogical philosophy and I loved his sense of humor. I could see why so many male and female students alike had crushes on him. His half Asian, half black features were striking. But it was his relaxed manner and seeming lack of awareness of how sexy he was that made him so endearing. I opened my laptop right away and tried to appear very busy.

I reviewed my notes for class and mindlessly added a picture here and a quote there to my slides. My attention kept drifting. As if I willed it to happen by staring out the open office door thinking of him, Dave was suddenly standing there. Lance turned from his work to determine the identity of our guest.

“Hey Dave, how’s it going?” Lance asked in a familiar, friendly way.

“Hi Professor Long. It’s going well, thanks. How are you?”

“You know how the beginning of the semester is. Trying to get back into the swing of things. Still missing those lazy days at the beach surfing.”

Dave smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

I knew for a fact that Dave had never been surfing.

As he sat down in the chair right next to my desk, we looked at each other and it became clear that neither of us knew how to have the conversation we needed to have with a third party in the room.

“Just give me a second to finish this,” I said as I turned back to my computer to buy some time.

As I pretended to complete an email response to another student, I allowed myself to take in what I had just seen, smelled, felt. His sweet face. His new and intoxicating clove scent. His strong arms, the ones that held me once. Those deep green eyes, the eyes that looked at me with a burning desire I had never felt before. His perfectly messy brown hair. I shouldn’t know how soft it was to the touch, but I did. I thought Lance Long might die of shock if he knew the truth. Or maybe not. Maybe he had been here too. He certainly must have had the opportunity.

There was nothing we could do. We’d have to talk in code.

I turned to face Dave and steeled myself as I tried to convey the message, “follow my lead,” with my face. “So when you didn’t come back to class last week, I figured you’d be dropping it, that you must have found another class that fit your schedule better.”

Dave looked confused. Lance had his back to us so I tilted my head toward him and opened my eyes wide.

Dave nodded and seemed to start to get it. I continued. “So I know you’re not going to be in my class. But you’re still on the roster, so you have to make sure you officially drop it by this Friday, okay? That’s the deadline.”

He was still silent, but I could see he was trying to figure out how to say what he needed to say.

“Actually, Professor Thomas, um…”

He looked over at Lance and then back at me.

“Yeah, I was trying to change my schedule around to get all the classes I need at the best times. But, um…”

I crossed my arms in front of me to appear impatient. This seemed to fluster him even more so I uncrossed them and tried to smile a little. He smiled back and I couldn’t be angry. He looked so lost and innocent. He didn’t look like the kind of person who could hurt anyone. He was well-liked in our department. He had plenty of friends. I was the one who did terrible things I should never have done. A brief thought about how good it would feel to hug him crossed my mind and I chastised myself for going there, even for a second.

The silence went on for too long and I worried Lance would pick up on something so I nonverbally encouraged Dave to keep talking by nodding in an inviting manner.

He opened his mouth but it seemed to take forever for the words to come out.

“The thing is, I need your class to graduate and I couldn’t get into any other sections of it. That’s why I wasn’t there last week. I tried to get into Professor Long’s class, but he…”

Lance turned to join the conversation, confirming that he was listening, even though he was trying to look as if he was doing paperwork.

“Yeah, sorry again dude, the class is just too full. And I’ve already got a waiting list a mile long.” He turned back to his work and I prayed that Dave and I were doing a decent enough acting job.

It all made sense now. He hadn’t signed up for my class because he still wanted me. It was because a space in a course he needed to take to graduate opened up and he took it. It just happened to be my class. Maybe he was rushing and didn’t even see my name as the instructor. When he saw my negative reaction to his attendance the first day, he did everything within his power to switch to a different class.

I took in a deep breath and asked, “When are you graduating?”

“This May. Business communication is required and I’m sure you know it’s only offered in the fall so if I don’t stay in your class, I won’t be able to… um…”

I was trapped. I couldn’t stand in the way of his graduation. I would have to make this work somehow. A barrage of questions ran through my mind. How did Dave feel about me now? How did I feel about him? How would I explain this to Rick? How could I see and smell him every week for twelve more weeks? Would I be able to get a new job teaching at another college if I were fired from this one?

Dave looked at his watch and stood up. His facial expression was such a mix of anxiety and apology that I decided to do the mature thing and start our new relationship off on the right foot.

“Well then, I’ll see you in class in fifteen minutes, Dave,” I said, exactly the same way I would have said it to any other student.