34. Nicole
Chapter thirty-four
Nicole
I sit on top of the desk in Adam’s office as he paces the floor in front of me. Stupid throat. Of all the times to lose my voice, the day before a hearing with the college leadership about the future of my passion project is the worst possible. I’m not even sick! I had a cold a little over a week ago, so I guess my body’s having a delayed reaction.
Adam’s a mess. Even though he helped put together the talking points and watched me present them about half a dozen times, he hasn’t had much opportunity to practice for himself. He’s gone through the script twice, with me there each time to silently remind him about the breathing and grounding techniques I taught him before NLA. I’m pretty sure he’s also puked twice, ducking out of the room pale and clammy and returning a while later looking even worse .
I can’t even give him a pep talk because, you know, no voice. Herb tried to encourage Adam a little bit ago, came in and told him not to be nervous, that our data stood for itself. But the effect was pretty much ruined when Herb grimaced at me and held up both hands with his fingers crossed before leaving the room. So, Adam continues pacing, talking while he moves.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he says. “I got through the NLA presentation just fine, so why am I freaking out so much about this?” He pauses as if waiting for me to respond, and then remembers I can’t. “I’ll tell you why. The NLA presentation was low stakes. Yes, it was in front of a lot more people, but they were friendly people. People who wanted me to do well and were interested in what I had to say. But that won’t happen today. These people will want to pick everything apart. They want me to fail, and they just might get their wish.”
I wave my hand to get his attention. When he stops walking and looks at me, I sweep my hands toward myself while demonstrating a deep breath. Then, breathing out again, I move my hands away from my body in a sweeping motion.
“Breathe. Yeah, I need to breathe.” He takes a deep breath in and out. I watch as his face relaxes just slightly. Then, he looks up at me again. “Ugh, but I really hate disappointing you. You’re so incredible and I love you so much and the graphic novels mean so much to you. I don’t want to be the one who messes it up.”
I have a revelation then. I’m not worried about the graphic novel collection. I’m worried about Adam. Whatever happens after the hearing today, whether the graphic novels stay or go, whether I stay or go, I’ll be fine. I’ve been through hard circumstances before, and I survived. When life throws challenges my way again, I’ll survive those, too. But the thought is crystal clear in my mind: I want Adam by my side through all of it, all life’s ups and downs.
I search across his desk and see his legal pad. I flip to a new page and, finding a pen, write him a note. I tear out the page, fold it into a paper airplane, and send it flying. The plane hits Adam right on the shoulder before bouncing to the ground. He gapes at me, then bends to pick it up. I mouth the words as he reads my rushed penmanship.
All that matters is that I love you and I believe in you. I don’t care about the graphic novels; I care about you, and I know you can do it. Not for me or Herb or the library, but for yourself.
His body relaxes as he reads. I know when he gets to the end because he lifts his head and locks eyes with me. I can’t speak with words, but I try my hardest to imbue all I’m feeling into the expression on my face. Adam reflects it all back to me, and for the first time all day, his lips kick up into a genuine smile. I stand and step forward to wrap my arms around his waist. His hands land against my back and cling to me.
“Thank you,” he whispers into my ear. “I love you.”
For good measure, I search up half a dozen encouraging memes and text them to Adam one by one until it’s time for the hearing. The best one shows a skeptical-looking Jon Stewart with the caption, “I believe in you. But, I also believe in Bigfoot. So, don’t get too excited.” I know when Adam sees it while he, Herb, and I are walking across campus to the executive meeting room because he pulls his phone from his pocket, glances at the screen, and snorts out a laugh. His eyes are sparkling when they meet mine.
As the meeting is being called to order, I sneak a glance at Adam across the table. His face is pale, and he fidgets around in his chair, as if he can’t get comfortable. As he’s shifting, we make eye contact. He holds my gaze; my eyes are a waterfall and he’s standing in the deluge. I soften my expression, letting down the walls of professionalism to let him see my love for him, my faith in him. Bit by bit, his body stills and relaxes. Color returns to his face. He looks into my eyes, absorbing my confidence, until Herb begins to speak.
The executive conference room is on the second floor of Harkness’ historic main building. One wall is all glass windows showcasing the beautiful old-world streets and architecture of St. Anastasia. Most of the space in the room is filled with a massive oak conference table with high-back chairs on wheels surrounding it. The table seats twenty and every chair is occupied. In addition to the three of us from the library, I count six members of the board of trustees, including Dr. Wright who is a known library champion, five individuals from the college leadership team, including the provost Dr. Clifton, and the five faculty members who agreed to come speak in support of the library. In the corner sits another man who looks familiar, but I can’t place him. I tune back into the meeting, turning my attention to my boss .
Herb introduces himself and gives a little background on the graphic novel project. He notes that it’s a pilot, but a successful one so far.
“The two employees in charge of this project, Mr. Burgess and Ms. Delaney, are professional librarians who presented me with a well-thought out and researched proposal that I approved,” Herb emphasizes. “Research in the literature and expert opinion maintain that graphic novels support critical thinking, engage students, and expand their worldviews.”
I hide a smile. That line is directly from our project proposal, where I included references to back up the information.
Herb winds down and then it’s Adam’s turn. I hold my breath, even as I watch him release his. He pulls air in deeply through his nose, and then quietly blows it out through his mouth.
After a quick glance in my direction, he smiles and begins to talk.
“Mr. Wallen mentioned that our graphic novel collection has been successful, so I want to share some stats to show what he means. On the first day the collection became available in February, ten of the fifty titles were checked out right away, and since then, forty-five of the fifty have been checked out, some multiple times.” Adam looks around the room and makes eye contact with the audience as he speaks. “So, clearly the collection is popular, but it’s also an academic pursuit. Just a couple of months ago, Ms. Delaney and I presented this project at the National Library Association Annual Conference, which is the largest conference for librarians and information professionals in the country. The organization accepted our presentation proposal out of the thousands they received. The audience during the presentation itself was standing room only.”
Adam’s voice is strong and steady. He commands the room, and his confidence is stupidly sexy. Before the meeting, he changed into a shirt and tie, leaving on his black chinos. The crisp white shirt clings to his arms and chest, and the burgundy skinny tie complements the honey brown of his eyes.
“Every book in this collection is owned by libraries at other colleges or universities,” Adam continues. “Prestigious colleges and universities that we aspire to be like. This is something I checked on myself before we bought the titles. We’ve also assigned Library of Congress academic subject headings to each book, showing how they fit into the academic record. We currently have partnerships with courses being taught in the art department, the English department, the history department, and even the education department. In the last two months of the spring term, we had ten requests to expand the collection so that students have more options to choose from for their course projects. Faculty members from those courses are here today to support the collection.”
Adam pauses and then invites each of the five faculty members in turn to speak about how the graphic novel collection has impacted learning in their courses, or how they plan to use the collection in the fall term. Dr. Calder from the art department even brought a selection of artwork from her students showing the influence of the graphic novels .
Several of the college leaders and board members are nodding, which I take as a good sign. A few even look impressed, which is an even better sign.
Then, Dr. Clifton speaks. “I just don’t see how superhero comic books have anything to do with the learning we’re trying to foster here at our institution. They’re juvenile entertainment for children.” He shifts in his seat. “Plus, the content of some of these cartoons is questionable. They don’t align with the values of the college.”
Childish entertainment? Questionable content? I catch myself gritting my teeth, and for all I know, literal steam may be rising from my head at this very moment. Laryngitis or not, I swallow to moisten my throat and prepare to take him down in my scratchy, barely audible voice.
Before I can say a word, a deep voice speaks calmly from the corner. “Robert, last I checked, you weren’t an expert in which educational mediums have value.”
Every head turns toward the sound. I now recognize the man as Dr. Henry Parker, the founder of Harkness College. From what I’ve heard, he’s minimally involved in the running of the college as an advisor of sorts. Despite his official role, however, I know his opinions are still taken seriously at Harkness. I’ve seen him around, but I’ve never met him in person.
He continues, “My stance is that we’ve hired professionally-trained librarians to run the library, so let’s trust them to do it.”
The room is conspicuously silent for a few beats.
Then, Dr. Wright clears her throat. “Hear, hear,” she says. “This meeting is a waste of time. I move that we drop this discussion and leave the matter up to the library to handle as they see fit.”
“Second,” says another board member.
“Fine,” says the chairperson. “The motion on the floor is that this meeting be called to a close and that the library handle the graphic novel collection as they see fit. Any discussion?”
No one says anything, though I notice Dr. Clifton’s nostrils flaring and the death grip he has on the arms of his chair.
“Hearing none, all in favor of the motion before us, please say ‘aye’,” the chairperson requests.
Of the six board of trustee members in attendance, nearly all resound with “aye.”
“Any opposed?” the chairperson asks.
A lone Dr. Clifton crony on the board lifts his voice to say, “Nay.”
“The motion passes. This meeting is adjourned.”
I pump my fist under the table as everyone starts talking at once in side conversations with their neighbors. Some of the attendees stand to leave the room or approach colleagues sitting on the other side of the table.
I push back my chair and, shaking hands with the faculty members on either side of me, mouthing my thanks, stand. I slowly pick my way across the room to Adam. When I reach him, I fling my arms around his neck and whisper raspily in his ear, “You were amazing. And you look very handsome.”
Adam’s neck flushes red as he murmurs, “Thank you. ”
Breaking out of his arms, I make a beeline toward Dr. Parker to thank him. Adam follows me. When we reach him, I put out my hand and say in my hoarse voice, “Dr. Parker, I’m Nicole Delaney, one of the librarians — ”
He smiles. “Oh, I know who you are. I’ve been hearing a lot about you.”
Taken aback, I ask, “From who?”
“From Adam, of course.”
I turn my head and see my boyfriend’s sheepish expression. I raise my eyebrows in question.
“Well,” I say to Dr. Parker. “Thank you for your support today. It really means a lot.”
Dr. Parker nods his head decisively. “I’m happy to help.” Then, grinning at Adam, he says, “Come see me later this week. I need you to catch me up.”
We find Herb next, smiling in his usual affable way. He pats Adam on the back and beams, “I’m proud of you! Excellent work, Adam.”
Adam smiles. “Thank you,” he says. Then he leans closer to Herb. “I have to know. Is it true? That you were in the CIA?”
Herb leans in, and Adam’s face lights up. Herb winks and then whispers, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
Adam groans.
After the hearing, there’s not much time left in the workday, and neither Adam nor I can focus on anything else anyway. We sit in my office with the door open in case anyone needs to find us, and even though it will surely cost me in the coming days, I risk straining my already-thin voice to rehash the day’s events with Adam.
“I can’t believe you had an ace up your sleeve the whole time and didn’t tell me.” I shake my head at Adam in mock offense.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“Dr. Parker,” I say. “Did you know he was going to support us?”
“I didn’t realize he’d be at the meeting, but I’m not surprised.”
“How do you know him, anyway?”
“Well, we’re sort of friends,” Adam says tentatively.
“Friends?” I ask dubiously.
“Yeah. We started talking about his dog one day, and now we talk all the time.” He shrugs. “He kind of reminds me of my dad.”
I raise my eyebrows. “And you talk to him about me?”
Adam smiles, brushing hair off my face. “He’s given me some advice along the way.”
“Good advice?”
“Very good, based on the outcome.” And then, despite his usual no-PDA-at-work rule, Adam leans forward and kisses me softly on the mouth. Testing the boundaries of his good mood, I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. Rather than pull away, which I half expect, his arms encircle my waist and pull me flush against him. Minutes pass that could be hours. Finally, I break the kiss.
Resting my head against his chest, I sigh, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he says .
I reach up to give him another peck and then tease, “Look at you! One victory and you become an office floozy. I never thought I’d see the day.”
Adam chuckles and shakes his head. “Your fault,” he says. “I’d do pretty much anything for you.”