AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Dr. Banks,” she exclaims, crowding in close to her computer’s camera. “It is so wonderful to see you.”
We get through pleasantries and the usual commentary and analysis on recent publications before she finally sits back in her chair, seemingly satisfied that I can, in fact, see and hear her just fine. “I don’t think it needs to be said, but we’d love to have you back, Dr. Banks.”
It doesn’t need to be said, but gosh it is nice to hear all the same. She starts to lay out the needs of the department, apologizing for how it’s still “just” a contract instructor position, when I cut her off. “I’m so sorry, Cecelia, but I don’t think I can take the job.”
She leans in close again, tipping her ear toward the speaker like she’s misheard me. “I’m sorry?”
I take a deep breath. “I so appreciate that you were willing to set up this meeting, but I just don’t think it would be appropriate for me to take this job right now. However, I do have a colleague I would like to recommend. If you’re interested I could put the two of you in touch?”
Cecelia pauses for a moment and I hope I haven’t screwed this up, made her feel like she’s wasted her time on a call that could have been an email.
“She’s an excellent historian and I thought she’d be a great fit so I asked if I could include her in our conversation and she already gave her permission.” A dubious claim but Dr. Lucas doesn’t need to know that. “I wouldn’t mention her unless I thought she would be a benefit for Lancaster.”
“Alright. Tell me more.”
I launch into an explanation of Audrey’s work and how it would be the right fit for Lancaster, just as much as mine would. By the end of the call, Dr. Lucas seems interested, very interested. “So I can give Audrey your email?” I ask.
“Please do,” she says. Mentally, I fist-bump myself. “Tell me why you don’t want this position though first, Lulu.”
“Things were difficult when I first got back here. It was hard to find a job in academia in small-town Pennsylvania.”
She snorts. “It’s hard to find a job in academia everywhere.”
“To be completely honest, my dad got me this job. And while I appreciate it more than I can say because it’s allowed me to get back on my feet, I don’t want to take any more handouts.”
“Lulu, we wouldn’t have considered having you back if this was just a handout.”
“No, I know.” I nod quickly. “I want to do things on my own, though.”
Except that’s only part of the truth. Everything Audrey said was right. I have more opportunities than her, things have been easier for me. But deciding to stay isn’t some sacrifice to the cosmic balance of things. In the depths of my grief when I decided to move back to the States, I held on to the things I could look forward to, like my mom’s buckwheat pancakes and the smell of the back roads in the fall and yelling my order across the Little T’s bar until my throat was sore the next day.
When I think of moving back to Lancaster, I just think of having to see Brian and Nora again, and only being able to talk to my parents at the weekends since between time zones and evening classes we could never seem to get on the same schedule. Lancaster has a great program, but it doesn’t have my father and it doesn’t have my tree and it doesn’t have Miranda, who turns out is as funny as she is smart and who has excellent taste in cheeseburgers as evidenced by her choice of restaurant for our meal later this week.
Lancaster has witches and Pendle Hill but it doesn’t have the unique hysteria of the colonial witch craze and it doesn’t have Jesse, the smell of leather cleaner in the cab of his truck, Betty’s hair stuck to the butt of my pants, his quiet laugh, which is more of a single forced exhale and a smile. And I know that we’re not supposed to think this way about each other. I know that we’re friends, just friends. Departmentally mandated friends. But there’s a learning curve to having a friend with benefits, especially one who made it clear the first time you met that he wasn’t interested in much more than friendship with you, but isn’t that what friendship is? Choosing the people you love, even if sometimes the line blurs between love andin love.
Dr. Lucas smiles. “I can appreciate that. How about this? We’ll consider you both. Have Audrey contact me. The department can make the decision once we’ve reviewed both of your applications.”
A plethora of worst-case scenarios roll through my head. One where they still offer me the job and Audrey will think it was all a lie. One where they don’t offer me the position and it hurts more than I think it will. One where they give me an offer that’s too good to refuse, one that will take me away from here, from home, from Jesse.
“I guess that could work,” I say slowly.
“Excellent. I look forward to meeting Dr. Robbs.”
Jesse picks me up a few hours later with two steaming to-go cups and a paper bag. “Tea,” he says instead of hello when I climb into the truck, nodding at the cup holder closest to me.
“And a honey cruller,” I say, peeking into the bag. We’ve gotten coffee and tea and doughnuts exactly one time, on the way to a group therapy session. “You remembered my order.”
He shrugs. Jesse’s way of brushing off my astonishment. “What are friends for?” he says, over his blind spot as he merges into traffic.
My chest sinks, something that feels distinctly like disappointment, but maybe if I don’t acknowledge it, it will just go away. Like a wasp.
“You don’t have plans after this, right?” he says, staring hard out the windshield. “I thought we could grab dinner after the match.”
Jesse wanted to watch his old rugby team play today and asked that I come as his emotional support person. I wiggle in my seat and say a garbled “no plans” due to the honey cruller in my mouth; honestly, I had no frame of reference for how long rugby matches take. They could be over in a flash or be days long, like cricket. He smirks over at me and turns the radio up, NPR, and rolls the window down.
He parks in a dusty gravel parking lot, turning off the truck and tipping his head back onto the headrest. A referee’s whistle and the crowd’s cheering filters through the open windows. He seems tense.
“Do you want to stay here for a minute?” I ask. Dark blue smudges shadow his eyes. “Did you work last night?”
