So one morning I’m at the dentist, waiting for my turn in the hot seat, and I’m thumbing through a limp copy ofCleveland Socialand there she is, smiling up at me: Hailey Evans, divorce lawyer extraordinaire. They’ve got her whole Fam Damn-ily there too. Reckless, I think, having photos of your children showcased like that.
She looks good in the pictures. So does Malcolm “Mack” Evans, assistant professor of English at the Cleveland Institute of Technology. Before I have to face getting my wobbly veneer repaired, I get a little five-hundred-word peek into their lives, and I feel like I’ve struck gold without even digging.
(And I have dug, I admit it. I’m a little obsessed with them: I’ve found his name on old track and field score sheets from the late nineties, seen the two of them posing at a Heart Foundation fundraiser at the Chagrin Valley Hunt Club. Then it’s click, click, click and before Iknow it, the corner of my screen says 4:00 a.m., my eyeballs look like the surface of Mars, and I’ve spent another whole night on Mack and Hailey Evans.)
So anyway, there was Hailey Evans on page 7 ofCleveland Social, talking about how not to get divorced. She dropped this Tom Wolfe quote, which at first I thought was pretty damn impressive—she’s not even the literary one. Then later when I looked it up, it turns out it was Hemingway who said it, not Wolfe, and he was talking about bankruptcy and not divorce, and even that was a loose interpretation of what he’d actually said. Hailey should really have checked with that husband of hers before she started spouting stuff like this.
Her point, I guess, was not to let the little troubles of married life build up, lest they suddenly explode on you. I myself like a little explosion every now and then, but it’s a wholesome thought, this idea that diligent couples would take time to air tiny grievances each day: You call that loading a dishwasher, snookums? Might I suggest an alternative placement for some of the silverware, dearest, if it wouldn’t offend you too much?
Somehow I doubt that Mr. and Mrs. Evans really practice what she preaches. I mean, far be it from me to contradict the expert, but who could live like that? Such relentless diplomacy would be exhausting.
(Then again, so is divorce. When you’re ready to throw in the towel on your marriage, hire a hit man. It’s definitely an easier way out.)
11.
Mack
The dean of humanities was stuck on the fact that Mackenzie Ewing, an eighteen-year-old rising sophomore and a member of Mack’s tutor group from last year, had regularly referred to him in emails and text messages as “Big Mack.”
“It’s just a reference to McDonald’s,” Mack told Ernest Favre. “And to both our first names.”
“But you concede that it was a nickname?”
“I guess you could call it that. I have a friendly relationship with all of my students, and we just thought it was funny that we were both called...” Mack gave up. He had lost Favre at “relationship,” could see him shut down. Neeta Tulley, head of the English department, had fallen even earlier, at the first meeting a few weeks back, when Mack had had to admit that he had sent and received multiple text messages from Mackenzie, some at unsociable hours.
“So you deny the suggestion of the anonymous student mentioned previously that ‘big’ is a reference to the size of your... manhood?” Favre’s specialty was Renaissance prose and poetry. He had written an inexplicably successful nonfiction book calledThe Tragedie of Grand Theft Auto,some garbage that Mack hadn’t read about how poetic virtual carjacking could be. Favre would probably leave soon, head for somewhere with a proper big-boy English department, and Mack simmered with jealousy every time he saw him, which made the current situation even worse, if such a thing was possible.
“Yes, I deny it. It’s ridiculous.”
“This student is lying?”
“Or mistaken. I can’t really speak to a rumor I know nothing about.”
“But you don’t deny hosting these get-togethers at your home, at least some of which were during a pandemic?”
Mack sat still as a Michelangelo as he explained for the thousandth time: “During the pandemic we sat outside. Some of my group—a lot of them actually—were having mental health issues, and I—”
Favre leaned forward and straightened the stacked copies of his own book on the corner of his desk. “I’m going to be straight with you, Mack. Everyone in the department has heard talk of these little parties, and we turned a blind eye to them because you’re a good professor. A very good professor. But what I’m hearing now is extremely disturbing. Booze, drugs, underage students...”
Mack could only stare down at the floor.
“Did you ever meet with Mackenzie Ewing alone?”
“No, never alone. Always with at least one other student.” This was atinybit of a lie, because sometimes the students who were supposed to be with Mackenzie came late or left early. That wasn’t Mack’s fault, though, and it certainly didn’t need mentioning now.
“Mack, listen. I don’t want to believe anything happened with this girl.” Favre leaned forward again, lowered his voice. “But this looks bad. We’ve got all these text messages back and forth, withnicknames...”
“Nicknames? It’s not like I called her Sugar Tits, Ernie,” Mack said, and watched Favre recoil in horror. “I care about my students. She was afriend.”
“She’s twenty years younger than you. A student can’t be your friend. And for your sake, I hope to God she wasn’t more than that. No—don’t say anything, I don’t want to know. Just be aware that if there was anything sexual involved, the university will come down on you like a ton of bricks and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”
“Did someone say that there was sex involved?” Even Mack could hear the panic creep into his own voice.
“It’s been insinuated, is all I can say. It’s pending investigation.”
“What does that mean,insinuated? What is this, Kafka? As far as I can tell there isn’t even an accusation, so why am I being pressured into time off? Maybe I need a lawyer.”
“Maybe you do; I can’t advise you on that. Talk to your wife about it.” Favre had met Hailey and must have been aware of her profession, but this was not the only reason he was bringing her up. “This isn’t going away, Mack,” the dean told him. “It’ll be on the minutes of the Board of Trustees meeting next week, and possibly in the public domain. And I’m afraid that because of the alcohol and substance charges involved, and the accusations of grade inflation and fraud, we have to refer the matter to the police. It’s just standard procedure these days. You must understand; the college has to protect itself.”
