“That’s some very intense peer pressure,” I say finally. It’s not as if I have much of a choice. He’s here, and I can’t force him to go back into the rain. “Just one glass. And I’m getting a ride first thing tomorrow. Promise?”
Bradley nods, already pulling the cork from the bottle. “Promise.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“I like what you’ve done with the place.”
He’s strolling around the cottage like it’s an art gallery, examining the walls and ceilings. It’s nearly dark, and the cottage is lit by two fat torch-lamps that Bradley brought with him.
“Don’t tease.”
“I mean it. There are about six thousand fewer spiders, for one.”
“Yeah, that wasn’t a fun job.”
“But you did it. You did the hard thing. You didn’t procrastinate or try to pass it off to someone else. You didn’t even complain.” He turns back to me. “Do you know how rare that is? To find someone who just does what needs to be done?”
“I’m not sure I had an option.”
I’m sitting cross-legged on my bed, nursing my glass of wine. I’m enjoying the compliments but also aware of the subtext: Every time Bradley praisesme, he’s complaining abouther.
“Yes, you did. You could have walked away. You could have said this isn’t what you signed up for. You could have done the easy thing and gone back with your ex. But that’s not Brie MacKenzie, is it?” He walks over to me and holds out his hand.“Let’s sit outside. I love watching a storm at night. Nothing better.”
I don’t want to touch him—with the storm and the lighting, the evening is already feeling dangerous—so I ignore his hand and shuffle off to the other side of the bed. He takes the bottle from the table and gestures to the propped-open door.
“After you.”
As I pass by, I feel him touch the small of my back. Shit—there it is. An intense charge of electricity.Shit. Shit. Shit. I can feel the muzzle of Grace’s gun, cold against the back of my neck. But the threat doesn’t stop what I’m feeling. If anything, it only makes the feeling more intense.
I need to pour a bucket of cold water over the evening, and quickly.
“I’m sorry about tenure,” I say, as I sit down in the rickety old chair on the veranda. I feel cruel, but it seems to work. Bradley’s shoulders slump as he sits down. The wind gusts powerfully through the trees. The rain is coming down in bullets.
“I’m nearly forty.” He swirls the liquid in his glass, then finishes it in one go. He pours himself another, then holds out the bottle. I haven’t finished my first, but I let him top me up. “Doesn’t that sound strange? Forty years old. You’re supposed to have life figured out by forty. I’m supposed to be a success by now.”
“I don’t think that’s true. Most people aren’t successful. By definition.”
“It should be true if you work your ass off at a single thing for twenty years. I’m an expert in nineteenth-century poetry. Christ. There are maybe three jobsnationwidethat could offer tenure in this field. And the worst thing is, I got close! So close! Now what am I going to do? Go to law school? We can’t afford that.”
“Why not try again next year?”
“Tenure isn’t like an exam you can take again. It’s a message, really. And it doesn’t get much clearer.”
“What’s the message?”
He makes the shape of a gun with his right hand and places it against his head. “They want me gone. My career’s done. Twenty goddamn years! I could have done so much.”
“You did do so much!” I say, feeling a surge of passion. “You taught so many young people about the world, about life, about beauty.” I pause, embarrassed by the words I’m using. Most people would laugh at me for being so pretentious, but not Bradley. He isn’t ashamed of deep conversations. He has them for a living. “How many lives did you change? How many people did you inspire?”
He stares at me for a moment, then sips his wine. “Maybe one or two,” he says eventually. “But that’s over now. No point romanticizing it.”
“You shouldn’t regret anything,” I insist. “That’s my point. Even if it’s over.”
“You’re quite wise for a scientist.”
“Hey!”
“I’m just saying. Your type is usually more inclined towards facts than emotions. I’ve taught enough of them in Gen Ed classes.”
