How to Fail at Flirting(2)
When I got hired at TU, I’d explained the concept of tenure to my grandfather as a seven-year audition for a secure job. He’d shaken his bald head and clarified that I’d gone to college for four years and graduate school another five, to then have to prove myself for another seven before my job was safe.
He’d said, “Mija, no tiene sentido!” A quick glance in my mother’s direction gave me a translation. It doesn’t make sense! I never learned Spanish, so my mom was always helping us communicate. Every time I saw him when I was growing up, he’d ask, “Estás aprendiendo?” Are you learning?
“You’re the first doctor in our family, and I’m so proud of you, but you tell me when you’re done auditioning for this job, okay? We’ll have a party.”
I remembered that conversation when the hours got long, the process seemed interminable, or impostor syndrome set in. When I decided to merge my love of math with my interest in education, my grandfather actually gave me the idea of what to study. He told me teachers assumed he wasn’t smart as a child because Spanish was his first language. He didn’t think they ever tried very hard to teach him. I wondered how I could make an impact, to prepare teachers to help all kids love math.
He was in the throes of Alzheimer’s and had been for a couple years, but I couldn’t wait to visit him one day and tell him I did it, that I was done auditioning. That the work I was doing would help all kids realize they were smart. He was only comfortable speaking Spanish at this point, so I knew I’d need to figure out how to say what I needed to. Joe’s worry lines and the looming uncertainty made me wonder if I’d get the chance.
“If they cut our program, what happens to us?”
“Depends. Faculty handbook allows for them to lay off people with tenure if the department is cut. They might keep some of us around to teach general education and intro classes from other departments, but I doubt there would be support for much research.” If it was possible to slump more, Joe did. His expression said everything I was thinking. “Without tenure . . .”
So, even if I got to keep my job, I’d spend every day teaching the Quinton or Quentons of the world who didn’t want to be there. No, thanks. I sat in silence with Joe for a moment, letting his words sink in. I had finally gotten near that finish line, I’d run the gauntlet, and now this crushing blow loomed on the horizon.
“Just be prepared, Nay. I’d hate to lose you, but don’t be caught off guard, okay?”
“Got it, Joe.” I glanced back across the desk. “Is there anything else?”
“Yeah.” He scrubbed his hand over his jaw and drew his mouth to one side. “I saw Davis the other day. I think he’s back on campus. Have you talked to him?”
I glanced over my shoulder instinctively, as if the man in question might be lurking in the corner. “No.”
Joe looked unsure. If he’d known the extent of what happened with Davis, he wouldn’t have had to ask. “I thought you’d want to know.”
“Sure. I’ll keep an eye out, boss.”
Down the hall, I closed the door on my office with a reassuring click and leaned on my desk, taking a deep breath. My mind raced and my stomach knotted as Joe’s words looped in my head.
After cracking open my laptop, I searched Davis’s name to see if there were any announcements about a new hire. If I could find out where he would be and when, I could shift my plans in order to avoid him, find new routines, stay holed up in my office. I’d done it before.
My cursor hovered over one of the search results. The headline read, “TU Professor Wins Prestigious Duncan Prize,” and the photo featured Davis accepting a glass statue with a broad smile on his face.
I’d attended with him in a backless black gown, beading across the low neckline. Davis had picked it for me, saying he wanted me to wear something slinky and sexy, and how much he loved knowing other men would want me, but I was his.
“I want to show you off, sweetheart.”
It had been tighter and more revealing than I would normally wear, the dark fabric hugging every curve and the back dipping to just above my butt, and I’d spent much of the evening trying my best to cover my body. Still, it made him happy, and I was determined to do that, knowing how wonderful he could be when he was in a good mood.
Despite my discomfort, I was relieved to find Davis was full of cheer and humor. He’d held me to him and kissed my forehead throughout the gala that followed the awarding of the prizes. We’d made love that night in the hotel’s king-sized bed, and he’d been tender. “This means big things for me, Naya. Big things. I’ll help you get there, too.” He’d seemed genuine, and I’d thought he meant it.
I shook away the memory and didn’t click on the article. Instead, I scoured the results for any recent TU references and found none. What the hell are you doing back here?
I glanced around my office. I’d spent so much time alone in this room over the last six years. The keyboard under my fingers, the scatter of the light as it filtered through the blinds in the morning, and the way the old building creaked late at night were all as familiar as my childhood home. The job could be demanding, but it wasn’t just that. In my little office, I could control things. I’d let those four walls become my whole world, and I didn’t know who I would be without them.