“What about the window?”
“Hrm, you’d have to board that up first.”
“And soundproof it,” I add. “What if you had guests?”
“A psychopath wouldn’t have guests. But if they did, they’d just give her sleeping pills. Crushed into her food.”
“I was thinking of Jane Eyre,” I say.
“Yes, though that would make Grace a prisoner, wouldn’t it? I’m not sure I have the power to force Grace to do anything.”
“Why is it always a her?” I ask as he leads me down to the ground floor. “Why not a he?”
“It’s always a her. And this is one part of the patriarchy I can live with, by the way. I don’t want to be locked up in an attic. Or a basement.”
“I don’t think that happens very often,” I note. “It’s a bit of a cliché.”
“Don’t let my wife hear you say that! Her first book featured a woman in a basement.” He leads me to the front door, and it’s only then that I realize I’m being subtly, politely, kicked out of the house. “Did you mention birds? ‘The birds around me hopped and played, their thoughts I cannot measure.’ Don’t suppose you’ve heard that one? I was teaching it the other day.”
When I shake my head, he raises his finger. “Wait here.” A few seconds later, he returns with a tattered copy of Wordsworth’sPrelude. “This is my entire life. I wrote my master’s thesis on this book, my doctorate, and my first book. It’s strange to have your entire life pegged to interpreting the work of a single dead Englishman.”
“Thanks. I’ll read it,” I say weakly. “I don’t usually like poetry.”
“It’s not about liking. Or even loving.” As he looks down at me, I feel he should have a pair of spectacles balanced on the edge of his nose. “It’s about the complete and utter transformation of your soul.”
I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone speak so seriously or pretentiously about a book. I wait for Bradley to smile, but hedoesn’t. He’s staring at me again, without a trace of sarcasm, and it’s disarming.
“You must be a good teacher,” I say.
At the moment, the cat comes trotting up behind me. Bradley kneels and scratches its chin, eliciting an alarmingly loud purr. “I’m the best. Literally. I don’t mean to brag, but?—”
“But you just did.”
He laughs again. This is a person who laughs easily, I think. How strange that he ended up with Grace, who has such a different, almost opposite energy. He’s a golden retriever, while she’s more like a sphynx.
“The truth is, no one cares about teaching. It’s all about reputation in the academy.” He leads me down the steps to the driveway. “I’m facing tenure review right now, in fact. Would you believe it? I’m nearly forty and still being graded like an undergraduate. It’s humiliating. And if they say no, the entire house of cards collapses. Twenty years of grind, subservience, and sucking up—all for nothing.”
“That’s an exaggeration,” I say. “You can still teach.”
“With no job security. Or I can become a high school teacher and live on food stamps.”
“Isn’t Grace—” I begin, before stopping. Once more, I feel like I’ve gone out on a limb. But Bradley doesn’t seem to mind.
“A famous novelist? She is. But fame doesn’t pay the bills. She only published one book. It did well, but it’s been years. The royalties are barely enough to keep the lights on.” He laughs again. “If they reject me, I’ll probably lose my mind. Do something shocking. Maybe join a cult to replace the one that’s kicking me out.”
“Or lock your wife in the attic?”
He doesn’t immediately respond, and I feel a blush forming around my neck. What am I doing? This man is my boss, and I’ve already done and said enough to get fired three times over.
“Always an option, I suppose,” he says eventually. “Don’t think I’m built for that, though. I’m more the self-flagellating type. Grace might lockmeup. What a plot twist that would be.”
We soon arrive at my dilapidated cottage.
“Hey, are you able to take out the shutters?” I ask. “They seem to be nailed shut.”
“Ah, no-can-do,” he says, slowly shaking his head. “The wood is rotting, so if I try to take out the nails, the shutters themselves might break apart. We’d need to replace them all. Besides, it keeps the weather out. I know it seems nice now, but we do get some storms out here. And smoke from wildfires from time to time.”
Given the size of the homestead, I’d think he could afford to replace them, but I keep this to myself. I’ll just have to get used to my tomb.
