Rawlins
When Rawlins got home, he put the note he had made at Ellsbeth’s apartment on the corner of his desk. It was not enough to completely unlock the ritual he would need to complete, but it was enough to give him hope, to convince him that what he had in mind waspossible.
So in the morning, he called the office of Alan Greywall, the chair of the parole board who would decide Max’s fate, and left a message. His call was returned just as he was about to launch into his lecture for his undergraduate course, and he signaled to one of his TAs to vamp for a couple minutes while he answered his phone in the hallway.
It was not Greywall himself, but an assistant on the phone. Rawlins got quickly to the point. “I’d like to set up a meeting with Mr. Greywall, regarding the case of Maxwell Keene. Sometime before his parole hearing next month.”
“What for?” she asked sharply.
“It’s a high-profile case,” Rawlins said. “And as a prominent scholar in the field of arcane mechanicals, I think my perspective on clemency should be heard.”
“Mr. Greywall is very busy,” said the clipped voice on the other end of the phone. “And he doesn’t take meetings regarding parole hearings. If you’re interested in writing an amicus letter, he will be happy to consider your perspective.”
Rawlins had been prepared for this, and had a strategy—but hisheart started pounding as he launched into the lie. “I understand the standard procedure, but here’s what I’d like you to communicate to Mr. Greywall. I’ve been talking with a few newspaper editors about publishing a larger editorial piece. To articulate my thoughts on this case, and how Mr. Greywall has historically handled parole for such offenders.”
There was a pause, silence on the other end of the phone.
Rawlins hated lying, not so much for the ethical quandary as for the way it made him nervous; he was used to speaking the truth with ease, but now he could feel himself breaking out in a sweat, and fought to keep his tone level. “If Mr. Greywall will hear me out in person, I’d appreciate it. And I promise, I’ll refrain from making my case more publicly.”
There was another beat before the assistant replied coldly: “I will pass that along.”
All day, Rawlins kept refreshing his email, hoping for a response, distracted in his office and unable to focus on any of his work. But before the email came, Lennox arrived unannounced at his door. She didn’t knock, just strode into his office with her arms folded over her chest, making no effort to hide her displeasure. “I just got off the phone with Max’s lawyer, who tells me that you’re trying to get a meeting, in person, with Greywall. Afterthreateninghim?”
“It wasn’t a threat,” Rawlins said. “I gave him an option.”
Lennox stared at him with a mix of anger and bewilderment. “I don’t understand what you’re doing. You know this won’t help.”
“I can be very persuasive,” he said casually. “Some consider me charming. A minor celebrity, even.”
He had expected Lennox to laugh. She did not. “Sure. Within the narrow confines of an academic world that Greywall utterly deplores.”
“All the more reason to change his mind. And what is there to lose at this point?”
“How about the reputation of our field?” Lennox shot back. “Your job? The college’s funding? The lawyer asked me to get you to back off.”
“Tell her she should thank me for doing her job,” Rawlins said. Then he softened. “Just trust me on this, Maggie. I really think it could work.”
Lennox shook her head, irritated, and left his office without closing the door.
The email from Greywall’s office came an hour later. Terse as he expected, but delivering the news that he had secured a thirty-minute meeting with Greywall, three weeks from now.
Three weeks, then. To take a rudimentary obscuration ritual to the next level. To achieve a deeper effect than, as far as he knew, had ever been attempted. To create a ritual that could truly change someone’s mind.
It was possible. It would have tobe.
Over the following weeks, theproblem of the obscuration ritual took up more and more of Rawlins’s mental bandwidth. He attended to his own work in the most cursory manner. His lesson planning was rote; his grading was lax. He gave up making progress on the book that was due, informing his editor it would have to wait until next semester.
But his mind was continually pulled from the singular focus of the work by Ellsbeth. He had hoped that having his carnal appetites sated would liberate his thinking, that the moratorium on emotional attachment would compartmentalize the whole thing, but it continued to expand its footprint on his mind. And while her mature, matter-of-fact attitude had mostly placated his guilt about having a relationship with his student, he now wondered if he should feel guilty aboutusingher—both sexually and intellectually.
He told himself to enjoy this more and think about it less. Since he met Ellsbeth, their relationship had been fraught with second-guessing, contemplating consequences, carefully making sure not to hurt her or create a mess of drama. Now she had given him permission to ignore the problem of emotional entanglement, so he could finally indulge his desire in the most simple, selfish way possible. He was like the driver of a sports car who had finally left behind the stop-and-go of city traffic and opened up onto the highway. Every debased thought and impulse he had only seemed to please her more—which prompted him to try to come up with more perverse pleasures (and ways ofinflicting pain). His mind drifted in faculty meetings and while undergrads droned on during their class presentations. His cock hardened in the library, as though he were seventeen years old again and the thought of sex was omnipresent.
The difference was that it wasn’t just athoughtnow. A text or an email could lead to Ellsbeth half naked on the floor of his office an hour later. Then she’d be tugging up her jeans and heading off to class, leaving him at his desk, pleasantly confused by his own good fortune.
It was perfect. It was the thing he’d wanted his whole adult life—sexual gratification, without the challenges and vulnerabilities of a relationship. And Ellsbeth was fully on board with this arrangement; it had been her idea in the first place, and he knew that her pride, her fierce independence, and her relentless ambition all meant that she would protect their secret.
So why did he still feel a twinge of dissatisfaction?
He tried to chalk up his misgivings to something fundamentally wrong with him, a perpetual inability to feelcontent,and he resolved to enjoy what was, on its face, an unimprovable situation.
