The Department of Rare Books and Special Collections(23)
Garber bared his teeth at Liesl. She gave him a nod, indicating that there weren’t any trail-mix scraps caught behind an incisor. He took his place at a microphone that had been set up at the front of the space. The room fell quiet immediately.
“A very warm welcome to you all, and thanks to Liesl Weiss and the team at the Department of Rare Books and Special Collections who are generous enough to host new faculty for this welcome reception every year in this wonderful space. I hope you’ll see that we’re showing off a bit, introducing you to the wealth of resources you’ll have during your career here.” He gestured at the beautiful books, as he did every year at that part of the speech. The humanists looked up in awe. The scientists looked down at their muffins. “Tremendous opportunities await you here, where the best students, faculty, staff, and alumni are embracing innovation, teaching, learning, and research. If this is your first faculty appointment, welcome to the academy. If you are joining us from another institution, from government, from business, or from the nonprofit world, we are grateful that you have brought your experience here. We will offer you the tools to be exceptional. We will offer you state-of-the-art laboratories, we will offer you cutting-edge technology, we will offer you administrative support that year after year attracts over one billion dollars in research funding, and we will offer you unrivaled library collections that you will use to teach and discover.
“Today, our university is a success story with a distinct identity. That identity is excellence. That should be daunting, and it should be exhilarating. Because now that you are part of our community, we expect that excellence from you. We are giving you the tools: the labs, the tech, the administration, the library. But we want something in return. From every single member of our community we expect excellence because that is this university’s reputation, and we will not compromise it. I will not compromise it. My job as president is to give you an unimpeded path to excellence. And your job as faculty is to not let me down. I want to thank you for joining the university. Thank you for your commitment to discovery, to collaboration, to teaching, to excellence. You have my best wishes as president, and as your colleague.”
“Been taking oration lessons from Churchill, hasn’t he?”
Liesl hadn’t seen Francis enter the room or take up a spot behind her. She shared his sentiments about the fervor of the speech, although she might have drawn a parallel to another early-twentieth-century European orator.
By eleven that morning the pastries were gone, as were the attendees. Liesl was fielding phone calls about late invoices and scheduling appraisals of new collections and finding herself interrupted every time she tried to step out to go to the bathroom. Then she blinked and it was six o’clock and she was alone in the library again, typing the code into the alarm panel. Liesl had broken her promise and had failed to speak with Miriam at all that day. In the coming days and weeks and months, Liesl would reflect on that broken promise. But that evening, Miriam was the furthest thing from her mind.
Ten Years Earlier
Miriam snuck downstairs at the first sign that Dan was alone in the basement. She wanted to speak with him without anyone else around, without Christopher around, to see if she could make an appeal on her own behalf that would stick with him.
“I hope, Dan,” Miriam whispered as she came up behind him in the stacks, “I hope this can be it. And that we never have to talk about what you saw again.”
“It’s Miriam, right? Miriam, you’re putting me in an unreasonable position. It was wrong. You know it was wrong, and you know that I should report it.”
A pipe clanged overhead, indicating that the heat was switching on. Miriam and Dan stood facing each another by the oversized map books, fifteen feet from where Dan had walked in on Miriam’s secret a month earlier while he was bringing in a skid of author papers that had just come through the shipping department.
“It happened once,” Miriam said. “It didn’t hurt anyone.”
He stopped stacking books onto his book truck, wriggled his toes inside the tip of his combat boot. He was still dressed like he belonged in shipping and receiving. He hadn’t seen anything to make him eager to fit in with this new crowd. How could he know whether it was true, whether anyone had been hurt by what he saw?
“I could lose my job,” she said.
Dan cleared his throat and looked at his shoes. He almost told Miriam that he was a new father, that he had a daughter, because he thought it would make her trust him more, but then he didn’t say it because what he mostly wanted was to remain uninvolved in Miriam’s mess.
“Maybe someone should lose their job,” he said, looking up at her with golden retriever eyes and hoping she would understand his meaning.
“I love working here. You’re new, but you’ll see, we’re so lucky to work here. I don’t want to have to leave.” She didn’t understand his meaning. Or she did, but she understood the world better, because she was right that if responsibility were being apportioned, she would probably be the one sent somewhere else.
“I liked working in shipping and receiving,” Dan said. “I get that I’m supposed to view the transfer to rare books as a favor, as some sort of promotion, but it’s all the same shit to me. Buying my silence with this ever-so-slightly fancier job? I’m delivering books instead of packages.” He tapped his pen against his clipboard. “It’s all the same shit,” he repeated.