In the Middle of Somewhere (Middle of Somewhere, #1)(123)

“Feel so much better when you’re around,” I tell him. “’S not fair you get to be with you all the time.”

I can feel Rex smile. I hope he doesn’t think I’m a drunk. Like my brothers. Like my whole f*cking family. I burrow my head into his neck, thinking that maybe if I can get close enough I’ll just be absorbed into him.

“It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs into my hair. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

“I want to leave tomorrow,” I say, my voice so rough it’s barely even there.

“What about the wake? Party thing?”

I shake my head and pull the blanket up so it’s almost covering my head.

“Don’t want to go. They won’t care anyway.”

“All right,” Rex says. “Sleep now, love. Just sleep.”




I DON’T even notice when Rex drives us straight to his house when we get back to Michigan.

“Oh, sorry,” he says in the driveway. “I didn’t ask if you wanted me to drop you off?”

Do I want that? I have no clean clothes and I desperately need to do laundry. There’s no food in my house. I could go get my laundry and do it here, I guess. No, I can’t, because my car is dead. And if—

“Hey.” Rex squeezes my shoulder. “Let’s go get your laundry and bring it back here. We can stop and get some groceries and I’ll make dinner while you do laundry. We can just go from there, okay?”

I nod, relief flooding me.

While I’m doing laundry, my phone rings, practically scaring me to death, and I walk into the living room to answer. It’s Virginia Beckwith, my dissertation advisor and all-around mentor from grad school.

“Hey, Virginia,” I say. “How are you?”

“Well, Daniel, I’m well. You?”

“I’m okay,” I say, not wanting to get into any of the shit about my dad, not to mention field questions about why I didn’t come see her when I was in town.

“Listen, you remember the junior faculty position that you applied for last year at Temple?”

“Yeah, sure. I thought the interview went well, but then the line got canceled because they didn’t have the funding to hire anyone. At least, that’s what they told me.”

“Yes, that’s my understanding as well. You were at the ASA meeting in Detroit, no?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you probably heard about the, er, incident regarding Maggie Shill?”

“Oh, I saw it.”

“Yes, very bad form, of course. Well, Maggie Shill was up for tenure at Temple this year and because of the… incident, she didn’t get it.”

“Oh wow.”

“Point being: I got a call from the chair of last year’s search committee. He asked me about you—where you had ended up, whether you were happy there. Since Maggie Shill was denied tenure, she’s leaving Temple, which means a nineteenth-century Americanist position has opened up. They don’t have the funds for a senior hire, so they’re opening it to junior faculty. The chair of the committee indicated to me that they would very much like you to apply for the position.”

“Wow, Virginia, thank you. I mean, yes, that’s great.”

“Yes, it is. I don’t like you up there in Michigan, away from even a decent library.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, listen, I’ll e-mail you the details. Of course, it’s early still, so the official call won’t be out until next month, but I wanted to make sure you could get a head start on putting your materials together. Yes?”

“Yes,” I say, because that’s what you say to Virginia.

“All right, then. You’re well?”

“Um, yeah, I’m fine. How are you?”

“Fine, fine. All right, Daniel. I’ll send you that information. Bye-bye.”

“Bye.”

“What’s up?” Rex asks, clearly having heard from the kitchen.

“The, um, the job I really wanted last year—well, almost the same job—might be open again this year and they want me to apply.”

“That’s great,” he says. “Right?”

I nod. But there’s a weight settling in my stomach that feels like a cannonball.

“What’s the job?”

“It’s a nineteenth-century Americanist job.”

“Isn’t that perfect?”

I nod again.

“It’s at Temple,” I say.

“Where’s that?” Rex asks.

“Philadelphia.”

“Right,” Rex says. “Well, of course they want you.”

“Just to submit an application.”

“Still,” he says. He kisses me on the cheek. “Listen, Will’s going to come over in a few minutes to drop Marilyn off, okay?”

I nod.

“I think your laundry buzzed,” he says, and heads back to the kitchen.

Marilyn comes bounding into the laundry alcove as I’m switching the loads, nuzzling my hand and trying to jump up on me, which I let her do because I think it’s cute and because Rex can’t see.

“Hey, girl,” I say, dropping to my knees to hug her around the neck. “Did you know that my timing is epically off?” She licks my face as if to say I know better than anyone, since you were driving down the road at the exact moment I was trying to cross it.