Chapter Twenty-Three
Eliza’s new obsession with Monk was doing nothing to distract her from her self-flagellation, induced by the foolish decision to attend Ross’s talk at the Glenside School. She was now in precisely the situation that Mo’s ridiculous suggestions would have led her to. And she had no one to blame but herself.
When she’d told her friend about her unavoidable upcoming meeting with Ross and his colleagues, Mo had been both horrified and, Eliza thought, almost gleeful. “I wish I could be there! I can see why you’re stressing, but, look, you’re getting a chance to get to know him a bit without having to take that big step. And you’re seeing him in his natural habitat?—who he really is.”
His natural habitat. As if she were Jane Goodall and Ross were a chimpanzee.
She switched off the TV in frustration and looked at the time. If she went to bed now, she absolutely wouldn’t fall asleep. Ross had managed to pull together a meeting much sooner than Eliza would have expected?—and certainly sooner than she would have hoped. Mo’s perspective had been that the short time frame meant less opportunity for Eliza to stress out. But it was also less time for some intervening incident to occur?—like an alien spaceship abducting all the NYU faculty.
In desperate need of distraction, she remembered Laura’s diary. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about reading it?—it felt like such a violation of her mother’s privacy, and, even more so, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know any more of her mother’s secrets. But she found herself retrieving it from her bedside table.
She sank down onto the fluffy white throw rug next to her bed and held the diary in her lap. She ran her fingertips over the words MY DIARY and felt the weight of the small book. Both figuratively and literally. She was about to open it but then paused to get her emergency bottle of white wine. She didn’t believe in drinking alone but decided that she’d be having a drink with Laura. Something she’d never been able to do with her while she was alive. Glass in hand, she returned to her bedroom rug, and after toasting the air and taking a sip, she carefully set the wine on the floor beside her.
Okay. No more stalling. She hadn’t relocked the diary, so she opened it to the first page. The date indicated that Laura was seventeen when she started writing.
Dear Diary,
Is that how you’re supposed to start one of these things? Claudie gave this to me as a birthday gift a couple years ago, and I completely forgot I had it. I think she was hoping I’d write my secrets in it, and then she’d be able to read them. Joke’s on her?—I don’t have any secrets! Or at least not any good ones. But I just found it again and figured, why not try to use it?
Well, that “no secrets” thing certainly hadn’t stuck.
So, we’ve got another month of school to go. I cannot WAIT for summer to come. And then just ONE MORE YEAR of high school!
It was so strange reading Laura’s teenage voice. Turning the pages, she learned how much her mom had hated her physics teacher, and that she desperately coveted a red-yellow-and-blue swimsuit Christie Brinkley had worn in some magazine. And then finally, she found the word she’d been looking for: Ross .
I don’t think I’ve written anything about Ross yet. I don’t want to be one of those girls who’s always saying “my boyfriend this and my boyfriend that.” But we just had our six-month anniversary. He took me out to Arturo’s and gave me this gorgeous bracelet. I wish Mom and Dad could understand how I feel about him. I know they don’t like him?—they think he’s not respectful or something. But he’s the smartest boy I know and he really wants to make the world a better place. I told Mom that he isn’t sure he wants to go straight to college?—he’d rather find a way to make a real difference. She said “he can make a difference once he has a degree.” I wanted to scream.
Eliza pressed her lips together. She never got to have fights like this with Laura?—she’d been gone before Eliza had the chance to date anyone at all, let alone someone her mom didn’t like. She was quite sure Jack wouldn’t have thought much of the boys and men she’d been with, but she hadn’t given him the chance to get to know them. For the first time, she wondered if she would have picked the same partners if her mom had still been around.
Laura was not a regular diarist. There were big gaps between entries, and when she did write, it was often remarkably uninteresting. Eliza began flipping through, looking for Ross’s name. She found it again on a page dated midway through their senior year.
Ross’s parents are going away this weekend. He wants me to lie and say that I’m staying at Janine’s and stay with him instead. You have no idea how much I want to. Two whole days just him and me! But the truth is?—I’m not ready to have sex. We’ve done lots of stuff but... I just don’t know. I’m scared, I guess. Kathy did it with Mark and basically right afterward he dumped her. And she said it wasn’t even that great. I know it’s different with Ross, but... AUGGHH!! I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I know he’s getting frustrated, even if he doesn’t say so. But what if I get pregnant?
Eliza’s heart was pounding as she slammed the book shut. She didn’t want to know about Laura’s sex life. She threw the diary back into her drawer and forced herself to take a deep breath. But she felt like screaming. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Her mom’s high school boyfriend shouldn’t be relevant to her. None of this should be.
She brushed her teeth so hard that her gums bled and climbed into bed, hoping that the wine would help usher in sleep, but she couldn’t force her eyes to stay shut. Had Laura decided to sleep with Ross? And how ironic was it that she was scared of getting pregnant? Maybe she should have thought of that ten years later. But then again, if she had, Eliza wouldn’t be here. For the first time, she realized that perhaps she should be grateful for how things transpired. But somehow, that thought made her angrier than ever.
The taxicab halted at the curb, and Patrice paid the fare. Eliza slid across the dark green vinyl seat and followed her out of the car. She was enormously grateful that Vanessa had decided the two of them should go together to this meeting. Her plan was to let Patrice do as much of the talking as possible, while she would do her level best to fade into the woodwork.
They let themselves in through the glass front doors, and a receptionist directed them to a lounge where Ross sat, wearing professorial garb that resembled the outfit he’d worn at the Glenside School event. This time, it was mocha-colored corduroy pants and a cream V-neck sweater. He hunched over his smartphone, thumbs flying.
“Dr. Sawyer?” He’d introduced himself to Eliza as Ross, but she felt awkward calling him by his first name. Or, indeed, anything at all.
Ross stood and slipped his phone into his pocket before sticking out his hand to shake. “Eliza. And you must be...?”
“This is my colleague, Patrice Foster.”
“Appreciate you both coming downtown. My colleagues will meet us in one of the seminar rooms to chat. I’m glad we were able to get this set up before Barbara heads out of town. She’s on sabbatical this semester, so she’s not in the city much.”
Eliza and Patrice followed a half step behind Ross as he guided them to the elevator. They rode up several floors and made their way down a hallway to a small classroom with an oval wooden table surrounded by uncomfortable-looking aluminum swivel chairs. Three women and another man sat at the table, an array of folders, cardboard coffee cups, and reusable water bottles surrounding them.
“Everyone?—meet Eliza and Patrice from Nourish Our Youth.” Ross pointed to each of his colleagues in turn. “Barbara Sylvester. Ian Glass. Julia Spencer-Marks. Kristen Johnson.” There were smiles and handshakes and an offer of water or coffee, and then everyone found seats around the table. Eliza found herself next to Barbara, a petite brunette who was probably Ross’s age. A chunky, brightly colored necklace adorned her simple dress, and Eliza wondered if she had a child who had made it for her.
“Thanks so much for inviting us,” Patrice said, smiling and taking a journal and pen out of her bag.
Kristen?—or was it Julia??—smiled broadly back. “We’re so interested in hearing about your work. Ross tells us that you’re focused on education policy?”
Eliza found it hard to keep herself in the moment as her brain spun with the knowledge that she was sitting at a table with her biological father.
Patrice turned to her. “Eliza, do you want to?—”
Eliza quickly cut her off. “No, Patrice, why don’t you do the honors?”
While Patrice talked about the history of NOY and the research award they were looking to launch, Eliza watched Ross. He continuously clicked his ballpoint pen open and closed and swiveled his chair from side to side. Though he appeared distracted, somehow she could tell that he was listening intently. As soon as Patrice paused, he jumped in to invite everyone to talk a bit about their current research. While Julia?—or was it Kristen??—described her work on puzzle-based math-teaching techniques, Ross pushed his seat back from the table and began pacing.
“Oh, don’t mind him,” Barbara remarked. “Ross can’t sit still. I’m amazed he stayed in that chair as long as he did.” They all laughed, and Eliza couldn’t help but think back to Claude’s description of the fidgety teenage boy Laura had dated. Apparently, some things didn’t change.
They all continued to talk, interrupting each other to clarify points and ask questions, and Patrice asked them for thoughts on structuring a review panel for the NOY award. Eliza tried to force herself to engage with the conversation, but she found her eyes following Ross instead. There was such an intensity about him as he offered his very definite opinions on the right?—and wrong?—way to go about establishing an award. She couldn’t help but smile to herself when Barbara kindly but firmly cut him off to ensure everyone’s voice was heard.
“This is terrific,” Patrice interjected as she scrawled in her journal.
Ross stood across from her, his hands on the back of an empty chair. “So. What are the next steps?”
Eliza didn’t hear Patrice’s response. Instead, she was brought up short by hearing those same words echo in her head, but in Jack’s voice. That was exactly the phrase he used when she or Scott went to him with a problem. Poor performance on a test? Broken bicycle chain? Jack never told them what to do?—he’d turn it around on them. What do you think you need to do? What are the next steps? And they couldn’t leave the room until they’d outlined at least three actions they needed to take to solve the problem.
She pushed her seat away from the table, and it was only when heads turned in her direction that she realized she’d stood. “Oh, sorry. Can someone let me know where I can find the restroom?”
Julia?—or Kristen?—pointed her in the right direction, and she swiftly headed down the hallway. The ladies’ room was a standard, institutional space with square tile and pale green stalls. She went straight to the sink to run the cold water over her wrists.
Was she betraying Jack by even being in that room with Ross? By seeking Ross out, was she just compounding what Laura had done to him twenty-seven years ago?
She looked at herself in the mirror and wanted to touch up her lipstick but realized she’d left her handbag behind. What was she doing here? Mo would probably want her to slip personal questions into the conversation. So, Ross, you must make your kids’ teachers crazy since you have all this educational knowledge. Oh, you don’t have children? That’s so interesting. Did you ever wish you had any?
She sighed. She couldn’t put off returning to the seminar room any longer. She shut off the tap and realized that the cuffs of her blouse were now spattered with water. She unbuttoned them and carefully rolled them up, aware as she did it that she was just delaying the inevitable.
An animated conversation was happening when she got back, and she slipped into her seat.
“I’m really excited about this,” Patrice exclaimed. “Of course, we have to talk to our colleagues.” She nodded at Eliza as if she hadn’t been sitting there, mute, for nearly the entire meeting. “But I think these are some great ideas.”
Eliza absently wondered what those ideas were.
And then everyone was standing up and shaking hands again, and Eliza found herself holding the folders that had been on the table. Apparently they contained printouts of journal articles and abstracts describing current research.
“I’m going to run to the ladies’ before we go,” Patrice said as they moved toward the door.
“I’m going that way myself,” Kristen/Julia replied.
Barbara put a small hand, decorated with a variety of silver rings, on Eliza’s arm. “Just wonderful to meet you. Can’t wait to get this off the ground.” Eliza smiled back at her, wishing that Ross’s personality were more like his warm colleague’s. She watched her new acquaintance’s retreating back, and then, suddenly, she was in the hallway alone with Ross.
He leaned against the wall, apparently intending to keep her company until Patrice returned. “So, how long have you been with NOY?”
“A little more than four years. Since I graduated from college.”
“Is your degree in education?”
“No. Sociology.” Was this how she normally made small talk? She seemed to have forgotten how.
He cocked his head. “But I guess it’s held your interest. These days, four years is an eternity when it comes to jobs.”
“I’ve learned a lot, and my responsibilities have grown.” Why did her words sound so awkward and stilted? Did they sound that way to Ross as well? She could hear Mo like a devil on her shoulder. Ask him something about himself! This is your chance!
“So. Um. How about you? Have you always been in academia?”
“Oh, I bounced around a bit. Took a gap year partway through college. When I went back, I changed my major to education. Thought I might teach high school. Actually, I did teach high school for a couple of years before I decided to go back for my doctorate. I do better when I don’t have to be in daily contact with other humans.”
“You seem to do okay.” She gestured at the room where they’d gathered.
He laughed. “Yeah, in small doses. I don’t have a lot of patience for people.”
Somehow that didn’t surprise her. Eliza wrinkled her brow. “But don’t you teach now?”
“Yeah, but there’s a big difference between teaching high school and teaching at the college level. At least in terms of hours in the classroom.” He pulled his pen out of his pocket and began clicking it rhythmically. “Sorry. Bad habit.”
“You should get one of those fidget spinner things.”
“You’re probably right.”
“We gave them out at last year’s gala in the swag bags. I bet we have some left over. I’ll have to send you one.”
“Or just give it to me at our next meeting. Sounds like we’ll be working together.”
Does it? She realized she really hadn’t been listening.
Patrice came back down the hall at that moment. “Ready to go?” she asked before turning to Ross. “Again, really nice meeting you. I’m looking forward to our collaboration.”
“Likewise. Especially now that fidget spinners are on offer.”
Patrice looked puzzled.
“Eliza can explain. Do you know how to find your way out?”
“I think we’re good.”
And then finally they were back in the elevator, Patrice going on and on about how successful the meeting had been and Eliza wondering if perhaps it was time for her to look for a new job.