I am so close to having everything I want.
But it will all go away if the university doesn’t offer me a contract in the spring. That’s just how it is when you’re contract faculty. I have more job security than a lot of people, because I teach classes the tenured professors aren’t interested in and because my classes are usually full. Despite that, everything I care about is dependent upon the whims of the university.
So, yeah. “The university’s gratitude” is no small thing.
“You work for a different department,” I say. “You’re College of Agriculture and Life Sciences. I’m College of Liberal Arts. You have zero say over whether or not my contract is renewed.”
Ihatethat I sound defensive.
“I know that,” Clive says, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I’m not threatening your job. I wouldn’t do that to you, even if I was in a position to affect your contract. However, if Ramsey gets this fellowship,especiallyif he gets it because of the work you do, I will make damn sure everyone who does affect your career knows that you’re a miracle worker.”
I don’t know for sure if Clive’s praise would make any difference in whether or not my contracts continue to get picked up, but Clive does move in the highest circles of the university. He has clout. This university is world-renowned for its Agriculture and Life Sciences programs. So, yeah, Clive pretty much trumps everyone in my department.
In a perfect world, my ex-husband would have no influence on my career one way or the other. Of course, in a perfect world, I’d already be a mother. I’d have a five-year-old little girl asleep in the other room, dreaming of starting kindergarten in the fall. I’d have two working ovaries instead of one and a blown-out mess of scar tissue from the pregnancy that had taken out my fallopian tube and damaged my left ovary.
But this isn’t a perfect world. Far from it. So instead of the kids I always wanted, I have rescue animals. Instead of a daughter I gave birth to, I have two empty spare bedrooms I hope to one day fill with foster kids I will love just as much. Instead of career stability, I work my patootie off to be invaluable to the university. I strive to be so good they can’t afford to let me go.
I blow out a long breath and will away the tension in my jaw.
“Okay, Clive, I will do whatever I can to help Ramsey.” I hold up a cautionary hand before Clive can shower me with praise and thanks. “But it’s him you have to convince. That man may be the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. I can’t force him to accept my help and I can’t fix what he won’t acknowledge is broken. Please tell me you understand that.”
The smile Clive sends me is smug and arrogant. Once upon a time, when I was young and stupid, I’d loved that smile.
“I do. But I know you better than almost anyone. You are clever and determined. Ramsey may be the most stubborn personyou’veever met, but you’re the most stubborn personI’veever met. My money is on you.”
And then he winks at me.
I roll my eyes. Clearly, I’ve made his night.
A few minutes later, as he’s leaving, Clive’s enthusiasm slips just a little. “But also . . .”
“Also what?”
“Be careful with Ramsey.”
“Careful? What do you mean?”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“How would I get hurt?”
Clive’s mouth twists into a bittersweet smile, and he reaches out a hand, like he’s about to touch my face or maybe my hair, but then catches himself. “Look at you, Holly. You take in every stray and misfit you come across. You find a way to love the most unlovable creatures around.”
“No, I don’t,” I protest automatically.
He holds up his hand as evidence. It’s covered with fur from Lou, the least hypoallergenic labradoodle ever bred. “You do.” He brushes his hands together, clearly a little confused about how to handle the dog fur. “And Ramsey is brilliant and emotionally unavailable. He’s exactly your type.” He quirks an eyebrow and wryly gestures to himself. “Case in point. Exactly the kind of guy you’d fall hard for and who would never be able to love you the same way. The way you need to be loved.”
I step back, putting some space between me and my ex. “Wow. Sounds like that therapist has been earning her three hundred bucks an hour.”
I expect defensiveness from him, but instead he smiles. “Yeah. She has. Just think about what I said.”
“Clive, the job you’re asking me to do is not simple. You’re asking me to help him write speeches that will win over minds of the McPherson committee. And then to teach him how to deliver those speeches with passion that will win over their hearts as well. Do you honestly expect me to do all that and not get at least a little emotionally involved?”
He frowns, clearly weighing my words, then shrugs. “Just keep it professional. It’s just a job. I’m not asking you to become his best friend.”
I bristle at the patronizing condescension in his voice. It is so like him to imply the problem is with me, not what he’s asking me to do.
Once he leaves, Lou and I both spend a long time staring at the door. Lou is once again devastated. Me, I’m just confused.
