‘Me too,’ I said faintly.
After we hung up, I bent over, clutching the edge of the sink.
I had to get this job.I had to get this job.I had to fight like my fucking life depended on it, or I was going to let her down worse than I ever had before. If I didn’t get his job – if I didn’t—
‘Don’t panic,’ I told my reflection in the mirror fiercely. ‘Don’t you dare panic, Fisher.’
Too late.
‘I, um, first of all, I’m so delighted to be here.’ My fingers were sweaty, my eyes refusing to adjust to the lighting of the lecture theatre, putting everything and everyone in a blur. ‘It’s… it’s aprivilege to be able to talk to you today about, um, my research into Jacobean drama, and… and my broader teaching philosophy.’
It was all right, I told myself fiercely afterwards, sitting in the anteroom. Everyone in there knew how high the stakes were. They’d understand why I was so nervous. The content of my job talk was good, even if the delivery was shaky. I knew that. Iknewthat.
I couldn’t seem to get enough air into my lungs. I resisted the urge to put my head between my knees.
Rory came out of the lecture theatre. When the door swung closed behind him, he leapt into the air and punched it, like he was some kind of sportsperson celebrating an epic goal. ‘Yes!’ he exclaimed.
Sadie cast her eyes up to the ceiling, shaking her head slightly.
I wanted to laugh.
I wanted to cry.
At least if neither of us got this job, we’d have a new point of agreement. We could sit in the kitchen late at night again, drink tea, and talk about how much we hated Rory Worland.
‘Dr Shaw?’ one of the selection panel said from the door. ‘We’re ready for you.’
Sadie rose to her feet. Her footsteps were even and measured as she followed the woman into the lecture theatre, her chin high, everything about her body language as secure and assertive as it had been that day of the first ceasefire, when she shook my hand and told me that our grade was more important than the fact she couldn’t stand me.
That was the moment I knew, deep down, that I had lost.
I could take Rory Worland. Even on my worst day, with my worst material, I could take Rory Worland.
But even on my best day – even if I produced my very best scholarship, even if I delivered my presentation flawlessly, even if I answered every interview question perfectly, even with all theadvantages I had at my disposal – there was still a good chance Sadie Shaw would come out ahead.
Afterwards, I tried to keep my hopes up.It went ok, I texted Elias in the Uber back to the airport.Job talk was a bit wobbly but think I did well in the interview.
And the interview’s the most important part,I told myself in the Hobart airport bar, nursing another glass of wine.That’s what theyreallycare about.
‘I did my best,’ I told Fiona on our next Zoom call, back in my room in the share house. ‘Now we just have to cross our fingers.’
‘You’ve got this, Jonah,’ she replied, and I made myself smile, made myself ignore the gnawing feeling in my belly, made myself lie and lie and lie – to myself, to my siblings, to everyone – just in case I was wrong.
But I knew.
I knew long before I got the email, a few days before Christmas.Dear Dr Fisher, Thank you for your interest in the position of Lecturer in Literary Studies at Lyons University. Unfortunately, we regret to inform you…
I knew before I heard Sadie’s scream of ecstatic joy, echoing as loudly around the house as if she’d put speakers in every room.
I knew who the winner was, after all these years.
20 I realise that, in this metaphor, we would be clambering over each other to rush headlong into enemy fire, but given the crushing workload pressures faced by most academics and the bloating of non-academic middle management focused on profits over people, I stand by it.
21 Transcript of this incredibly lengthy conversation:
SADIE: We should share Ubers to and from the airport. It’ll be cheaper.
JONAH: All right. I’ll use my account for the trip there, you use yours for the trip back?
