“Did he catch on and get you fired?”
“No. Nothing so Hollywood as that. He was sleeping with this student in his undergraduate lecture. She was nineteen, so there wasn’t anything illegal, but it turned out she was just one in a long line of affairs. He’d been discreet in the past, but this time word got out. The administration tried to keep it quiet, but the student involved wasn’t having it. The campus newspaper printed the story, and the whole school lost its mind.” Cold sweat trickled down his spine as memories started to play like a highlight reel in his head. “The students demanded that the chair be reprimanded, but the school decided to go with the ‘consenting adults’ argument instead.”
Seb shook his head and snarled. “Fucking old boys’ club.”
“Everything they did to resolve it made it worse. And then it turned out he wasn’t the only one.” The second week, when the school paper ran a story about a retired professor who had several relationships with students over the course of his career, saw the beginning of demonstrations on campus. First, they were small, but as the university continued to try to protect its reputation and handle the situation quietly, the dissatisfaction grew. The longer it went on, the bigger the crowds got. “The protestors started coming to classes. Any time someone from the history department had a lecture, they would be there.” Martin took a sip of his coffee to calm his shaking hands.
“They protested at your classes? That doesn’t seem fair. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He hadn’t, but, “At night, all cats are gray.”
“What?”
“It’s a saying. In German, it goes—”
Seb waved him off. “And the school didn’t fire him? Any of them? That wouldn’t have stopped it?”
“He was the chair. He brought in a lot of funding.” Months later, more removed from the chaos, that reasoning was clearly backwards. But at the time, surrounded by angry voices, nothing was clear. “He even told the school paper that relationships like his happened at campuses all over the country. They probably do, but—”
“That’s no excuse.”
“Of course not.” Getting to class had been like running a gauntlet. The students shouted accusations and insults, while the university kept asking for cooler heads to prevail and talking about decades of sterling academic excellence. “The administration dealt with it badly. They were more interested in protecting the staff and their reputation than they were in admitting anyone had been wrong.” He shook his head. His knees were trembling. They were back where he had started this story.
“But they fired you and not the others?” Seb’s eyes flashed.
“The chair was encouraged to take a long sabbatical.” He was probably on a beach somewhere, working on his next book and flirting with the cabana attendants. “I—” Had Martin resigned? It still wasn’t clear. “It got pretty bad. I’m sure you’ve noticed that I can be a bit—”
“Skittish?” Seb raised an eyebrow and Martin laughed. His laughter warmed over some of the tension that had formed in his neck and shoulders. He could tell this story to its end.
“I’m not a horse. I was going to say shy. Asserting myself has never been my strong suit.” He’d tried. Mount Garner had been his home. When the university continued to sweep everything under the rug, Martin attempted to reason with his students. “They didn’t like it when I explained the university’s position. Not that I thought what happened was okay, but there was a lot of funding at stake.” He’d been wrong, but at the time, his world was going to pieces, and no one seemed to be able to fix it.
“What happened?”
Martin shivered. “One of the students followed me home, and they started organizing protests outside my apartment building.”
“But that’s harassment!” Seb’s declaration was so welcome. Martin had been waiting months to hear someone say it.
“Free speech. At least, according to the police. They were on public property and not posing a safety risk, so—”
“So what did you do?”
Shame clawed at the small spark of confidence that had flared to life. “At first, I tried to pretend like it was all normal, butI’d lie awake at night, picturing them outside my house and on campus while I tried to get to class. It felt like they were everywhere. Like their only purpose was to shine a giant spotlight on me and point out all my failings. I wasn’t brave enough to bring forward my concerns about the chair. Wasn’t strong enough to confront him myself. And then the voices in the dark pointed out the other things I wasn’t. I wasn’t prolific. I had a few publications, and that was it. I wasn’t a very good teacher. Too shy to really hold my students’ interest.” The list could go on for hours. He’d never been cut out for academia, not really, but he’d found his niche and stayed there because the idea of packing up and moving on to something new was even more terrifying than a lifetime of lectures to students only there for the credit hours.
“And then?” Seb’s sad eyes said he got the point.
“And then one day I didn’t get out of bed. Because why bother? No one wanted me on campus. Not the protesters. Not my students. No one from my department even noticed when I didn’t show up. The administration still had its hands full.” It was like he’d become invisible. Or like he’d never existed at all. He’d worked hard for his PhD and his place on the faculty, but in the end, his presence had signified nothing.
“How long were you like that?” Seb’s voice was soft.
“Three weeks, give or take a few days.” It was a bit vague. He hadn’t exactly marked it into his calendar.Stop interacting with the outside world, Monday, 8 a.m.
Seb whistled. “That’s a long time.”
It was and it wasn’t. Time hadn’t meant the same thing then.
“Brian finally came when he hadn’t heard from me.” As they talked, they’d moved away from the pile of books out toward the open front area of the store. Martin sank onto one of the old leather couches by the window. Talking about this was good, but the telling was exhausting.
“Are you and your brother close?” Seb settled on the couch opposite him.
