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She sits down opposite me, her notepad at the ready. I have so much work for her to do, all the work I’ve been neglecting these last few weeks, in fact. Reports to send, applications to collate, class schedules to update and send to students.
“You can never work with anyone else but me, you know that, right? I couldn’t bear it if you stopped baking me these divine treats.”
“Well, I can’t promise. I might just get a better offer, you know.”
“Don’t even try. Pretend this job is some kind of hostage situation. One hint you’re considering another position and I’ll blow the place up.”
“You’re in a good mood,” she says, when she’s finished cackling.
“I am!”
June gets to her feet, taps the notepad with a flick of her pen. “I’ll go and get this done, shall I?”
“Thank you, June. You’re the best, you really are.” I glance at my watch. “Also, I have to leave early today, as I have to get Mateo from soccer because Luis has a dentist appointment. Just so you know.”
I teach my classes, sit on my meetings, do my job. At lunch I eat a Greek salad at my desk while scouring the internet for Christmas decorations. We’ve had the same ones for years, and I’ve decided it’s time for a refresh. I want to get enough Christmas lights to outshine every other house in the neighborhood. The kids will be beside themselves.
And because this is a great day, the afternoon passes without me seeing Geoff at all. A record, I think. Which just goes to show the planets are aligned in my favor.
Until there’s a knock at my door and, just like that, my happy mood disintegrates.
Because it’s Geoff.
My stomach does a back flip. The complaint. Ryan. I’ve done nothing about it.
“What’s going on?”
There’s something odd about him. Something about the way he stands, overly relaxed.
“Do you have a moment?” He comes in without waiting for an answer. I dread whatever is coming next. It must be about the complaint. Some kind of follow-up maybe.
Then Mila shows up. “Hello, Anna, Geoff. Am I late?”
“What’s going on?” I ask again, but no one answers. Mila closes the door and they settle themselves in the armchairs opposite my desk. Geoff hauls one leg over the other and takes hold of his ankle. I suspect he thinks this is cool and casual, but he’s so out of shape it looks painful. Meanwhile, Mila just taps on her iPad.
No one says anything. “Did I forget a meeting?”
“No, no,” Geoff says. “Sorry to intrude. This won’t take long. Come and sit down.” It’s amazing, really, how perfectly civil he can be, like he didn’t assault me, like he is a normal person and not a violent creep. Like he has nothing to reproach himself for because it was allmyfault.
My cellphone buzzes. I reach for it and shut it off without looking to see who it is, then shove it in my bottom drawer.
Because they’re occupying both armchairs, I have to bring my own office chair over. I’m now sitting higher than they are. It’s awkward, seeing them so relaxed, with me perched on the very edge of my seat with my hands in my lap waiting to hear my fate.
“What’s going on?” I ask again, desperate to get this over with, but also dreading whatthisis.Please don’t let it be about the complaint. Not in front of Mila.
“Okay, so the situation is this.” Geoff uncrosses his legs and leans forward, forearms on knees. “Jack Dawson from the Forrester Foundation got in touch this morning. They have some concerns.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m getting there. The upshot is, before transferring the prize money to you, they would like you to submit more information. The information you were supposed to—”
“I don’t understand.”
Geoff and Mila share a glance.
“The problem is, Anna, that while you wrote a paper about the solution, they feel you’ve never actually written abouthowyou discovered the solution itself. I understand they’ve been asking but that you haven’t been forthcoming.”
“I haven’t had time.”
