“Nobody was making fun of you. What I’d like to know is when you and Professor Collins hatched your horrible little plan.”
“It wasn’t like that.” Except her expression tells me it was exactly like that.
“Oh, really?”
“Alright, maybe it was. I just thought if you weren’t here, I’d get Ethan as my supervisor, and I thought about what happened with your mother. And Professor Collins said I should be aware that Ethan might show you bias on the dig. And you said yourself, it’s always the student who gets let go if there’s a dispute. Then when we got to Egypt, it seemed like I could … I don’t know.” Riley's words tumble over each other in her rush to excuse the inexcusable.
I can’t believe I was so blind.
“So that’s what this was about? You were embarrassed and jealous? And instead of talking to me about it, or to Ethan, you let Professor Collins, of all people, get in your head? All to get rid of me?”
“I’m sorry. Okay. I was wrong. I can see that now.” And I can see she means it. Tears start overflowing her lashes, leaving mascara tracks down her cheeks.
Garret has come up behind Riley and puts in his two cents’ worth.
“You sure were. You ruined the dig for everyone. Now we’re going to lose the best lecturer we’ve had in years. Well done, you.”
“It wasn’t supposed to work out that way!” Riley squawks.
“Well, it has. You’ll be lucky if you don’t end up like Marie Antoinette when the students hear Ethan has resigned.” Garretstalks away, every line of his retreating back indicating his disdain.
“You know what, Riley? Enough with the justifications and excuses. Just do the right thing and fix it.” Maybe one day I’ll find it in myself to feel sorry for Riley. Right now, things are too raw.
I can’t believe Ethan resigned over this. He said in Egypt that he’d make it right, but I never expected him to give up his job for me. And I find I don’t want him to.
He’s a brilliant lecturer. Garret’s right. He’s the best lecturer I’ve known. But I don’t want to leave either, despite what I said to Jennifer earlier. Can it work? Both of us staying here? I guess the only way to find out is to have a conversation about it.
I test his office door. It’s locked. I still have a key from last semester when I was taking his tutorials. So I let myself in and wait. Wait in a room that smells like him. Where there are notes on his desk in his messy, loopy writing. Where the whiteboard has plans for the coming semester that we worked on before we left for Egypt. I wait in the room where I started to fall in love with him, as hard as I tried not to.
The door flies open.
“Oh, thank fuck,” he says and sweeps me into his arms, burying his face in my hair. “I was worried you’d left. Or that you wouldn’t want to speak to me.”
I take a moment. Just a moment. To relax into his hug. To enjoy the feel of his body against mine. But there are things that need to be said. Air that needs to be cleared. So I pull away.
“Ethan,” is all I can manage because I don’t know where to start.
“I know. I know.” He runs one hand through his too-long hair, plants the other on his hip and paces to the window. It’s a bright day. The sky almost the same colour as the sky in Egypt.
“Jennifer said you’ve resigned.” I want to sit. My knees are shaking. So much depends on this conversation. But I need to stay standing. Maintain an equal balance of power.
Ethan turns and smiles.
“I told you I would fix this. And I have. I don’t want you to feel you have to leave the uni. So I’ll go. The gossipers will know it was me in the wrong and you’ll be able to hold your head up and finish your PhD.”
“But you weren’t in the wrong. And if it looks that way, you won’t get a job at another uni. You’ll be unemployable.”
“I’m aware. But here’s the thing.” Ethan returns to stand in front of me. Almost but not quite touching. Surrounding me with his warmth and his peppery scent. “I allowed my ambition to dictate the direction of one relationship. I’m not going to do it again. I don’t care if I end up teaching history at Upper Bumfuck West High. Or stacking supermarket shelves. What I care about is you”—his fingers gently cup my jaw—“and making sure you get the chance to have the career you deserve. Because I don’t recall if I’ve told you in so many words, but I think you’re brilliant, Sadie Montgomery.” His smile is soft and gentle and full of affection and sincerity, and something else I dare not hope I’m seeing.
“I think you’re brilliant, too. I don’t want you to lose your job. But can we go back to the relationship part?”
Ethan laughs.
“If I’m not working here, there’s no reason I can’t ask you out on a date. Is there?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to be dating someone willing to waste a brilliant mind stacking shelves.”
Ethan throws back his head and roars with laughter. Bigger and louder and more joyous than any sound I’ve ever heard.
