31. Space Oddity
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
space oddity
ABI
EMERALD BAY UNIVERSITY
FALL, 2021
He teaches here.
The guy I haven’t been able to stop thinking about teaches here .
You know that episode of Friends where Ross keeps repeating he’s fine, but he’s really not fine? That’s what I’m going through right now.
I’m Ross.
Back when we met we agreed on first names only, and we didn’t talk much about our personal lives. Even promised we wouldn’t look for each other online.
And now… I really thought that drink with Logan was going to clear my head, but all it did was make things more complicated. I’m totally fine with being friends, I just… Having to tell him that we couldn’t be anything more made me feel a little nauseous, but I really need this fresh start.
And now I have to pick myself up and be peppy and upbeat. It’s the mask I put on, and I’ve been doing it my whole life: smile, even when you’re falling apart. I think I probably picked it up from my mom.
I check my watch. The meeting to officially sign my contract starts in 5 minutes, and then I get to sit in on my first ever department meeting at EBU. No way I’m gonna be late for that.
The lobby is a big, open space, with sunshine pouring over the students making their way to and from classes, or huddled together at a couple small tables in the corner, working on assignments. It kind of reminds me of my days at U of T, working late into the night on papers and group projects with other researchers who were just as passionate as me.
I turn and head for the elevators, hoping to reach Dr. Hughes’ office with approximately two minutes to spare, but as I’m striding toward them the doors begin to close.
“Oh! Hold it, please!” I squeak, making a mad dash.
These fucking boots were a terrible choice; my feet are aching with every step, but I manage to catch the doors just before they close and slip inside. There’s only one other person in the elevator with me. The man is around Logan’s height, but much bigger, with a long straight nose, salt and pepper hair, and a matching beard. He’s dressed in a tight navy t-shirt that shows off some tattoos, distressed black jeans, and cowboy boots.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, briefly giving me the once-over. “I didn’t see you.”
“No, it’s my fault. It’s my first day, I’m still kind of figuring out the campus.”
“Ah,” he replies softly. “You’re the postdoc?”
“How did you know?”
“Because I was on the search committee.” He extends his hand, grinning from ear to ear. “Roman Burke. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Abi King!” I chirp, grasping his hand and shaking it a little too enthusiastically. “But you… probably already knew that.”
Roman chuckles as we both awkwardly pull our hands away, and he leans over to press the button for the Sociology floor.
“How’s your first week treating you?” He asks.
“Pretty good so far! I accidentally spilled coffee on Dr. Flynn on my first day visiting, though.”
He snorts.
“Well, I’m sure it wasn’t entirely your fault. Dr. Gumby might be a sociology whiz, but his spatial awareness needs serious work.” He sighs. “General awareness, actually. He almost got run over by a cyclist last week.”
“Thank God it wasn’t me.”
“Well, it could have been worse,” He laughs, leaning up against the wall.
I can feel an awkward silence coming on, and I figure it’s as good a time as any to step out of my comfort zone. How else am I going to become more outgoing?
“How long have you worked here?”
“A long time,” he replies with a curt smile.
There’s a sadness in his eyes that I can’t quite figure out, but before I can think about it any deeper, the elevator dings for our floor.
“I’ll walk you to Frankie’s office. It’s right next to mine.”
“Oh, thank you!”
I follow Roman down the hall, keeping close like a kid on their first day of school. I know I’ve only known him for approximately two minutes, but I kind of like him. At the bare minimum, he’s not talking down to me.
“So, you’re an anthropologist?”
“Yeah— well, I was. I did my MA in sociology, though.”
“I know,” Roman replies. “I read your stuff.”
“You did?”
“Sure,” he chuckles. “You’ve got a lot of ambition, and a good amount of talent to back it up.”
Before I can say anything else, we’ve stopped in front of a closed door near the end of the hall, and he offers me his hand again.
“It was great to meet you, Dr. King.”
“You can call me Abi,” I murmur.
“You can call me Roman.”
His shake is firm, but there’s some real tenderness to it as well. I have a feeling this guy’s a big softie underneath it all. Sometimes I just get a good read on people.
Like I did with Logan.
Shit, no time for that right now.
Roman gives me a quick wave as he disappears into his office, leaving me alone in the hall. I glance at Dr. Hughes’ door, noticing after about a minute of waiting that it’s actually slightly cracked. I draw in a deep breath and give a gentle enough knock not to accidentally shove it open.
“Come in!”
I push the door open, and immediately spot Dr. Hughes at his desk, hunched over and typing madly on his phone. It’s another minute or two before he glances up, his eyes sparkling when he sees me.
“Hey, Dr. King! Sorry about the wait, recently I’ve found myself pretty easily distracted.”
“Dr. Hughes, hi–”
He raises his hand, cutting me off.
“Call me Frankie, Dr. Hughes makes me feel like I’m a hundred years old, now come in, come in!”
His phone chimes and he returns to it briefly, snorting with derision before stashing it in his desk drawer.
“Sorry. Department stuff. You want coffee or anything? I don’t have a machine, but I’m not above breaking into Dr. Burke’s office to use his Keurig.”
I really like Frankie— actually, I like everyone I’ve met at EBU so far. They’re professional and warm, which is rare to find in the workplace these days. Everyone’s so obsessed with productivity in this capitalist hellscape, it’s nice to get a breath of fresh air every once in a while.
“Oh, no. I’m staying away from coffee. I accidentally spilled Dr. Flynn’s on him last time we had a chat. So… Red Bulls only.”
God, why do I keep bringing him up?
“Oh, you got to meet the human tornado that is Logan Flynn,” Frankie laughs, leaning back in his seat. “And what’s the verdict?”
My face goes hot immediately . I don’t want to say anything that could compromise my contract, or get Logan in trouble. This whole thing with us could be a big conflict of interest and I’d rather just pretend it never happened.
“Well, I was very apologetic and he doesn’t seem to hate me,” I reply, trying not to make my anxiety too obvious.
I’ve gotten good at hiding it over the years, primarily behind a big, forced smile.
Yeah, I can do that extra work.
No, everything’s just fine at home.
Seriously. It’s all fine.
“Well, that’s good. Logan’s good people. I’m sure you’ll get used to his antics in a few months.” He slides a file folder across his desk. “Anyway, this is your teaching contract, your postdoc research contract, your salary contract— I tried to negotiate for something a little higher but the budget committee is…”
Frankie rolls his eyes.
“Red tape,” I mutter. “I understand.”
My salary isn’t great, but it’ll keep a roof over my head, food in my belly, and give me a few extra dollars to thrift some clothes. It’s not like I have kids or a mortgage to pay or anything. There’s a part of me that wishes it actually was more of an issue, that I had a bit more going on, but I try not to think about it too much as my pen glides across each page.
After a few minutes of signatures, and another fruitless couple pretending to read the fine print of the contracts, I slide the papers into the folder and pass it back to Frankie.
“Perfect!” He checks his watch, nodding to himself. “Well, why don’t I show you your office. Sorry if it’s a little cluttered. I told Dr. Barnes to get his shit out of there, but he’s taking his time.”
“Oh, it’s really no trouble. I actually expected to share space with the PhD students.”
“If you’re going to teach a class, you’re not holding office hours in a shared space,” he replies firmly.
To tell the truth, I didn’t think I’d even have an office, but one of Frankie’s emails said there was a small, quiet space available for me to work out of, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited as I follow him out of the room and down a long hallway.
“You’re right down the hall from Dr. Flynn,” Frankie informs me, sliding the key into the lock and pushing the door open. “And right next to Dr. Janine Rogers.”
“Domestic violence research, correct?”
Frankie grins.
“You looked into us?”
“As many of you as I could,” I reply. “I like to know the people I’m working with.”
“Well, that’s great, because you’ll get the chance to tell the department all about yourself at the meeting.” He pauses, reigning himself in. “Actually, sorry to spring that on you. It’s just that the timing’s pretty perfect, so I figured…”
“Don’t worry, I kind of assumed you’d be pulling out the icebreaker,” I laugh as we step inside the office.
Frankie was right, it’s small, but it’s kind of perfect. Dr. Barnes even left a couple of plants hanging by the window, and there’s an empty bookshelf or two waiting to be filled. I’m already itching to cover my brand new desk with a bunch of my kitschy knick knacks, all the stuff that keeps my brain on-task while I’m trying to read or write.
“It’s not much, but it’s quiet, and most importantly you’ll be able to actually have confidential meetings with students.”
I take a moment to breathe it all in.
A brand new job, and a brand new space just for me.
“Thanks, Frankie. This is really kind of you.”
“You know, I was just about to bring up how we’re a family here? But then I remembered how much I hated it when they said that shit at some of my old jobs.” He leans forward, grinning. “That said… we are kind of a family here. In a weird, really dysfunctional sort of way.”
He checks his watch.
“Ah, shit. The meeting’s starting in a few minutes. You sure you don’t want a coffee or anything?”
“I’m really okay.”
“Alright, let’s keep this train rollin’!”
Roman is already seated, cradling a book in his hands as we step into the conference room. And right next to him? Logan fucking Flynn.
My heart leaps into my throat, my body seemingly anticipating a shitload of awkwardness. We had a good talk earlier, played some pool, and I walked away with a budding friendship. I should feel good about that, if only I could get the butterflies in my stomach to calm down whenever I look at him.
“Hey, Abi!” He chirps, waving me over.
“Hey!” I manage to squeak out, raising both hands. “No coffee to spill on you today, sorry.”
Roman snickers, briefly giving me a wave before returning to his book. I glance around the room, noting the only real furniture is a small-ish table and a few scattered chairs surrounding it.
Logan pulls one closer to him, gesturing to it.
“Here. Now you can sit with the cool kids.”
His eyes are a little puffy, the dark circles only slightly obscured by his horn-rimmed glasses, and combined with his chaotic sandy blond hair it makes him look like he’s just rolled out of bed.
One of the things that first drew me to Logan was the fact that he dresses like an accountant, running straight to a second not-so-secret job at Spirit Halloween. It shouldn’t work, but he makes it look effortless.
“So, how was your first week?”
Frankie is busying himself setting up for the meeting while some of the other faculty come strolling in, so there can’t be any harm in chatting a little bit.
“Not half bad. I got an office!” I clear my throat, trying not to blush. “Right, uh… next to yours, actually.”
“I’ll make sure not to blast my late night party tunes too loud.”
“Why, do you listen to death metal or something?” I snicker.
“Nothing that refined. I’m down in the pits with some Beethoven.”
“Alright,” Frankie announces. “Can I have everyone’s attention please?”
“Unlikely,” Roman replies flatly, flipping the page in his book.
“Thank you, Dr. Asshole,” Frankie quips, not missing a beat. “Abi, I don’t know if you’ve met our local ray of sunshine, Dr. Roman Burke?”
Roman rolls his eyes, leaning toward me.
“Frankie has a condition where everything he says sounds sarcastic.” He nods, his tone somber. “Don’t pay too much attention to him.”
“Okay, can we focus?!” Frankie snaps, clapping his hands. “We’ve got a lot to get through a lot today. First off, I want to introduce our brand new postdoc, Dr. Abigail King. She’s come all the way from Blackburn Falls, Ontario to join us.”
There’s a small round of applause from the other faculty members; it makes me feel like I’m at a restaurant and my mom just told the staff it was my birthday.
“Abi, why don’t you introduce yourself to the department?”
I clear my throat, getting to my feet.
“Hi, I’m Abi. I went to the University of Toronto for my master’s in sociology and my PhD in anthropology. I did most of my doctoral work at a safe injection site near Belleville, Ontario.”
“Any particular reason?” Roman asks, the book he was reading now resting against his chest as he looks up at me.
“It’s been the topic of a lot of controversy, so I wanted to get up close and personal with the people who work there. The goal of my research was to look at communities who have been hit hard by the opioid crisis and to see what kind of access they had to long-term harm reduction facilities like safe injection sites. I found that neighborhoods that didn’t have access saw higher overdose, arrest, and death rates. Right now we don’t treat drug users as people, we treat them as something to be discarded, and what we really need are long-term, community-focused solutions.”
I take a deep breath, slowly letting it out as I survey the room. Whenever I talk about my research, I get emotional. I thought that going into this field would help me better understand my father’s struggles; I spent so long being angry with him but over the course of my life, my work made me more empathetic.
Even if that empathy hurts sometimes.
“Right on,” Frankie murmurs, scribbling something in his notebook. “Was this participatory research?”
“Yes. I volunteered at the center and drew my sample size from there. I had about twenty people who were willing to sit down and talk to me.”
“We could use work like that out here. Seattle’s getting hit hard and it’s tough to watch,” Logan chimes in.
“Yeah, actually I, uh, I was looking into overdose rates. The number of deaths in King County alone has grown significantly in the last few years.”
Frankie stares at me, and I swear I see a hint of pride in his face— either that or I’m projecting my massive need for approval.
“Anyway, I’m really looking forward to getting to know everyone and, uh, teaching as well. I’m—” I blush, my nerves kicking in full-force. “Uh, thank you.”
There’s another, shorter round of applause as I take my seat again, and Logan glances over at me, that bright smile of his not even slightly faded.
“I’d love to pick your brain on your methodology,” he murmurs. “Maybe tomorrow over lunch?”
I can’t.
I shouldn’t.
“That sounds great.”