“Exactly. With Charlottesville so close, we spent most weekends driving in for one thing or another.”
“So you’re a local boy.” She tilted her head. “Now it makes way more sense why you believed you’d run into a past acquaintance. You were probably expecting to.”
“You’re saying I wasn’t totally gullible for falling for a fraud?”
“Not at all. You were behaving as expected. This fraud…” She glanced at her notes. “What was her name?”
“Elizabeth.”
Her eyes widened. “Yeah. You’re definitely off the hook. Elizabeth was operating outside the norms of civil decency. I have no idea if her motives were innocent or malicious, but none of that was your fault.”
I exhaled. I hadn’t known I’d needed that vindication, but I wanted to go find Elizabeth right then and there, point in her face, and say,Booyah!
Chapter Fifteen
Elizabeth
“Do that good mischief.”
The Tempest
Saturday morning, the rain had cleared out, leaving the skies a muted November blue. I sat out on my porch, blanket draped over my legs, laptop propped on my knees, reading and re-reading the text I was editing.
Kate had emailed the chapter Friday afternoon, saying,Juliet can’t finish the Diderot collaboration, and I need the last 60 pages by Monday. Would you have time?
It was always like this. Feast or famine. If only I could count on a steady forty hours. As it was, sixty pages wouldn’t take more than a day, if that. Kate paid well, so it was decent extra cash for a few hours on a Saturday. Hardly rent money, though.
Academic work was slower than other writing, mainly because I’d have to double-check quotes and sources, plus now in addition to running a plagiarism scan, I’d need to try and detect AI. But I had a system, and I rocked. Normally, I loved sinking into a job, but this morning, a yawn escaped as I tried to make sense of the author’s argument.
It is hard to resist comparing this tripartite paternity to the triangular structure presented by Lacan in his study on Poe’s “Purloined Letter.” Lacan presents three positions that repeat: the first is blind; the second sees that the first is blind; and the third sees what the second wishes to hide.
I suggested changing “presents” to “posits” to avoid the echo with “presented” in the prior sentence, but that took no real effort. I was phoning it in, so I decided to put it aside to sip my coffee and stare at the autumnal trees. Maybe I’d walk to the library so I could focus.
My phone buzzed, and when I saw Chelsea’s name on the screen, I rushed to answer.
“Distract me,” I said, knowing she’d wake me up.
“I wanna take a walk. Will you come with me? We can head toward the library.”
Like she was reading my mind. I knew Chelsea’s list by heart, and we did haveTake a long walk in townon there. I wasn’t sure if the two miles from my house to the Corner counted as long. If so, I could have checked it off ages ago.
“It’s gorgeous out,” she continued, as if I needed more encouragement. “You can wear your college gear and pretend you’re going to class.”
Man, she knew me well. “Sold.”
I dug out a worn-in Cavalier hoodie, but then opted for a mega-soft cashmere sweater with matching cardigan that was giving major Back-to-School. With a headband pushing my hair back and sticky pink lip gloss, I was ready to be someone’s teacher’s pet. I got a little buzz from the thought of sitting in a classroom desk again. Nothing beat stocking up on school supplies and perusing the reading lists of the upcoming classes. Maybe I’d duck into the student bookstore and check out this semester’s lit curriculum, live vicariously.
I sighed. My extracurricular reading time had whittled to nothing, never mind writing.
Chelsea showed up just as I was locking my door, and we strolled up the sidewalk toward Main Street.
“You must really want a destination vacation this year,” I said.
Her desire to run away was one of the many things we did not share. She teased me because I’d be as happy on a beach in Florida as I would be on the Mediterranean. Beach is beach, and I’d have my nose in a book anyway. But my motivation was keeping Chelsea happy, and so I’d do her therapy with her—and help her get as far away as we possibly could, point by brutal point.
“I can nearly taste it,” she said, eyes closing briefly as a blissful smile lit her face.
“Can we make it to Europe yet?”
