“Because he was covering for me.” Another breath, and then—“He was with me. We’ve been having an affair.”
Laurence stretched back, looking past me. You could almost wonder if he was paying attention, he seemed so unbothered. Eventually, he lowered his head and spoke.
“I see. He’s a student of yours?”
“Yes. Or he was, last semester. That’s when we met. We started seeing each other in November. We stopped in January, but we started up again last week, during the break.”
“Tyler seems like a good kid.”
“He is.”
“He did get a little skittish when we asked about leaving for Charlotte. I thought maybe he didn’t want to talk about whatever trouble at home. But if I’m understanding, he didn’t want to get you in trouble. I guess particularly not with some administrator there.”
“That’s right. But when he told me, I thought—I don’t know. It would create unnecessary confusion.”
“What kind of confusion?”
“About where Addison had been. Or who he’d seen.”
“Seems like the two of them are pretty close.”
“Tyler is really worried about him.”
“Was Addison your student, too?”
“No, I’ve never had him in class.”
“Look,” Laurence said. “I understand it must have felt like a risk coming in here. I appreciate that. Whatever your relationship with Tyler, your personal business, that’s not my concern. Tyler’s an adult, you’ve broken no laws. And you’re right. We would have sorted the details eventually, but you saved us that time.”
“Tyler wants to be helpful. He just—he got scared.”
“Understandable. Anything else?”
“No. That’s it.”
“Alright then. I think that’s probably all we’ll need. But let me know how to reach you if something comes up.” He turned to a blank page and pushed the notepad toward me.
“Of course.” I scribbled out my name and number and handed it back.
“One sec,” Laurence said. He pulled out a stack of printouts and scanned. He flipped a page and I caught it—a phone log.
He looked up. “Tyler’s records. I don’t see your number, though, even back here in November, December.”
They were already looking at Tyler. It was a good decision, coming in.
“I used a different phone with him. An old number.”
“I see.” He looked back at the records, running a finger down the page. “646 area code?”
I nodded. “That’s right.”
“Sawyer must seem really small after New York.”
“Sometimes,” I said. “Sure.”
“We moved here from Philly at the start of the year. My wife’s family is out here. It’s pretty quiet, comparatively. Though not this week.” He smiled and stood and so I did the same, confused by theabrupt end to our meeting. He grabbed my hand to shake it and then—“Oh, one more question.”
“Sure.”
