Dream Girl(45)

Ah well. It’s her story. Let her sweat the details.

Aileen arrives that evening with a large insulated bag from Whole Foods, which appears to be empty, given the way it dangles from her wrist. When she says goodbye in the morning, it is slung over her shoulder, bulging with whatever has been stored inside.

Gerry takes his Ambien and asks no questions.





1986




“GERRY, THERE’S BEEN A COMPLAINT.”

The head of the Writing Sems looked sheepish, yet jolly. Still, his words hit Gerry hard. He was not used to being in trouble. He never got in trouble. He led an exemplary life. Just this week, he bought a case of wine at Eddie’s, for a party he and Lucy were planning, and when he got home, he realized he had been charged for one bottle, not twelve. He had called the store and made sure they charged his credit card for what was owed. It wasn’t expensive wine, not even eight dollars a bottle, but it was the principle of the thing.

“Gerry?”

“I don’t know what to say. From a student?” He had flunked a student last semester, which was rare. But the student had failed to do her work and received multiple warnings, even an extension into this semester. After assuring him she would submit her outstanding assignments, she called and said the registrar had said it was fine to grant her another extension. He had refused and given her an F, a rarity at Hopkins these days.

“Your colleague, Shannon Little.”

“Oh.”

“She says you, um, approached her and that you commenced a relationship.”

God, there are so many things wrong with that sentence. She “approached” him. It was not a relationship, which was the true source of her complaint, Gerry was sure. Also, how disappointing that Harry would use the word commenced in this context. Embarrassment must have rendered him less articulate than usual.

He took a deep breath. “Shannon made it quite clear that she wanted to have sex with me. It was not something that interested me, not really. But she was adamant. Determined. One night we were alone, going over applicants for next year’s Writing Sems. We had sex. Once. I was disappointed in myself, but it’s not a mistake I wish to repeat. And, no, I haven’t told my wife. Lucy has always been very clear that if I am unfaithful, our marriage is over.”

Lucy’s attitudes about sexual fidelity were more nuanced than this, but his boss didn’t need to know that. She would, in fact, divorce him if she learned about Shannon.

“Shannon’s version of the story is somewhat different.”

“I’m sure it is. I’m trying to be a gentleman here, Harry, but, I’m sorry, she’s a woman scorned. Well, not scorned—I like to think I’ve been cordial—but she didn’t get what she wanted. I’m not excusing my own behavior. I have regretted what I did every day since then. I’ve been waiting for the shoe to drop. I guess this is it. Humiliating as it is, I’m almost relieved that she decided to make it a professional issue, rather than call Lucy and make it a personal vendetta. Although I suppose she thought filing a complaint against me here might have a ripple effect.”

“‘Heav’n has no rage, like love to hatred turn’d, / Nor Hell a fury, like a woman scorn’d.’” Coleman used his reciting voice, plummy and pompous. “Do you know the source?”

“One of the Restoration writers, I think?”

“Congreve, The Mourning Bride. His only tragedy. I was briefly enamored with Restoration comedy, as an undergrad. In 1969, it felt radical to care about Restoration writers. I was quite the pedant.”

Harry Coleman was still enamored of pedantic corrections of famous quotes, but that wasn’t something Gerry was inclined to point out.

“What happens now?” Gerry asked.

“It was a consensual, um, encounter, by your account, and you haven’t pursued it in any way. No calls? No trying to get her alone here in Gilman Hall, no repeat, uh, performances?”

“No. Is that what she’s saying?”

“More or less. More or less.”

Gerry felt a cold fury quite unlike anything he had ever known. Yes, he had done something wrong. But it wasn’t his fault. She had initiated it, after weeks, months, of insinuation and pressure. She put her hand on his leg, just above the knee, and began working it up. He had said no. He had said it was wrong. That was the problem. It was wrong and that excited him. Lucy had only one rule, a rule that most men would have been happy to live by. I know you will be tempted, Gerry, and that’s okay. I have only one rule. But who was Lucy to make rules for him? He was the one who had published a novel. It was successful. He had won a prize. No one got to tell him what to do. Especially not Lucy, who refused to own her envy. If Lucy were honest, he would be honest. But she wasn’t, she wasn’t, she wasn’t—

And that was all he had been thinking about as he plunged into Shannon Little. The next day, he called her and said it was a terrible mistake and it must not be repeated. He said she was a lovely woman, but he was married. She didn’t take no for an answer, Shannon Little. She had cajoled, she had threatened, she had cried, she had even claimed she would kill herself. He had gone to her apartment that night, taken pity on her, held her and—okay, so there had been a second time. Maybe a third. But he had never wanted those subsequent episodes. Now she was trying to destroy him.