Chapter 15
Chris
I was fucking done for.
My life was spiraling out of control.
I sat in my car alone, my eyes aimed at my phone screen, focusing and unfocusing on the tiny words. I cradled my forehead in my hand as I read and reread the misconduct page of the UT faculty handbook. The page that informed me that, without a doubt, I would be fired for having an “amorous affiliation” with a student. It was exactly what I’d thought. But seeing it on the screen was even worse. It had turned this beautiful and real relationship I’d begun with Daphne into something gross and shameful.
The letters blurred from disbelief—not in the consequences themselves, but that it had been me. Me. I’d been the one to break this rule, a rule I would have upheld honorably if I had known. Disbelief that I’d now receive their sanctions, that I’d have this stain on my permanent record. This stigma of predation would follow my career.
My eyes stung with the dry heat blasting directly at my face, but I wasn’t capable of lifting my arm to turn it down. The car radio was still tuned to the Merry Lights station and the Burmester surround sound was running through the same sloppy Christmas songs that had been playing on repeat throughout the lightshow and our accident. My life was crumbling into bits while men sang the words Santa Santa Claus , to the tune of “Macho Man.”
The phone buzzed. I was so startled to be caught reading this incriminating information—like they could see what I’d been looking at—I knocked the phone directly under the seat instead of reading the text.
This is the start of it, Chris. Better learn to face that stigma now. Just like when I was twelve, and Dad walked in on me just as I’d unbuttoned my pants, and I had to convince him I wasn’t about to jack off to the porno magazine I’d gotten from Jake. Even though the box of tissues was right there. And I may have been fourteen. Or fifteen.
I’d only been checking the official rules. Checking to see exactly how right I’d been when I told Daphne I’d committed a violation and we’d need to stop all further contact.
Some small part of me had held out a slice of hope that I’d been wrong. That there’d be a contingency for the real relationships. That those rumors I’d heard about a tenured professor losing everything had been a response to something truly heinous. His situation had been nothing like mine; it couldn’t have been.
In Fiddler’s Grove, when she’d reached out for my hand while strolling through the historic buildings, I couldn’t help but thread our fingers together. I knew I was skating on thin ice, but part of me could still dismiss it. Willful ignorance. It had physically hurt my heart too much to deny her that connection.
My right hand had burned with the need to clasp our fingers together and pull her close to my side. I’d delighted in the scratch of her calluses on my palm, the corners of her fingertips, the softness of the backs of her hands. Before I could think, I was turning to face her, reaching up to cradle her neck, and pulling her in for a promising kiss in the middle of the busy simulated street.
In the hospital, I still hadn’t looked at the handbook. What did I care about the rules then? I only cared about her staying alive and out of pain. I cared about the way she’d clutched her stomach and dry heaved over a bag and the way her body shook from head-to-toe torment no narcotic seemed to touch. I’d watched her right hand swell up to twice its normal size, trying to grasp onto some hope, say the right prayer, or think the right positive thought that would make her well again.
Her pain had left me exhausted, wrung out from my inability to stop it.
The way my heart lurched when her body had gone quiet after receiving the larger dose of morphine... no rulebook could drive as much fear into my soul as her momentary stillness had.
In the strip club— outside the strip club —I didn’t need to look to know what I was doing was wrong.
My fingers still smelled like her. This whole fucking car still smelled like her.
Now, she was on the mend. Her hand had almost shrunk back to its normal size and color. The drugs had mostly left her system, and she had no residual pain. I’d given in to her plea to see the Christmas lights because it was easier to give in than fight her. I’d given her another orgasm because it was easier to give in than to fight myself.
But this was it.
There were no more tourist attractions. No more stops. I didn’t relish driving through the mountains at night or in the cold, but after reading the rules in black and white, there was nothing gray about our situation. All I’d needed was for my car to be wrecked to stop denying it.
I was wrong, wrong, wrong.
It didn’t matter that I hadn’t known about her status when we’d met. It didn’t matter how I’d felt about her or how I continued to feel now—for the record, like my heart was breaking. She and I could have no further association. At least not until she graduated, which was two years—maybe longer. Maybe never.
I contorted my body to dig around under my seat, searching for my phone. No luck.
“Fuck,” I muttered to myself as I opened the car door to step out. Cold shocked my face and shoulders through my thin shirt and sweater as I knelt on the gravel. The temperature had plummeted even further. Colder than the sun just going down. This was a bona fide polar vortex. Wonderful.
Finally, my fingers lit on smooth glass and I flicked the phone out from under the seat. I stood, shivering in my shirtsleeves before I remembered I'd given my sweater and coat to Daphne, since her insubstantial leather jacket was even less substantial after the hospital had sliced up her sleeve. I rummaged through my bag for a fleece and slipped it over my head while checking my texts. The wind ripped right through it, but it was better than nothing. And the agonizing bite of the cold felt good, in a way. Like penance for my sin.
It was Decca. Did you get the skull to the lab okay?
Fuck. Decca was the last person I wanted to talk to. Actually, anyone but Daphne was the last person I wanted to talk to, and I couldn’t fucking talk to her.
I thought back to the smirk that had been on Decca’s face when she introduced me to Daphne. The insinuation of naughtiness when she suggested I bring Daphne to my parents’ home rather than drive all the way back to Spring Hill to pick her up the next morning.
Fuck it. Decca was the reason I was in this mess to begin with. She’d known Daph was a student. She’d known we couldn’t be together, and yet she encouraged it.
She could play coy all she wanted, but she was a party to my downfall, and I wasn’t going to let her off the hook easily. She deserved to be in this mess with me.
I skipped a courtesy text and went straight to a phone call, my stomach tightening with every ring. I paced the gravel parking lot at the end of the Merry Lights, where Daphne had insisted on waiting in a line as long as the Nile, at the hot cocoa truck. I looked up at Daphne, who was laughing with Eva and some other people she’d met in line. The twinkle lights from the awning of the food truck illuminated her white hair and gave her a halo. She looked up and smiled at me. No, not at me; it wasn’t meant for me. It was about me. She was talking to someone about me. And smiling. I raked my hand down my face, scratching at the stubble.
She still had nothing but confidence that we’d walk through this unscathed. That tomorrow we’d be boyfriend and girlfriend, and no one would have a problem with it because we hadn’t known what we’d gotten ourselves into, and whoops, now it’s just a funny origin story that everyone would accept because she was so damn adorable, they’d take pity on me and cheer for us.
God, I hated this. Hated this situation. Hated that I couldn’t really share it, now that I knew what we couldn’t be. I couldn’t be in this with her. She was all smiles and hope, and I had to be the one throwing rocks at her to get her to leave. When all I wanted was to protect her and care for her.
“Hey!” Decca answered finally. She sounded like she was smiling. “How’d it go yesterday? You get the skull to the lab okay?”
I fully intended to use words, but ended up huffing out a laugh at how not okay everything was. Where did I even start? My indignation had overtaken.
“We’re not... there. At the lab. And... I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t call the lab to let them know our ETA just yet.”
“Ooookay. What’s the matter? Where are you?”
“Lebanon.”
“The country?”
“The city.”
She was quiet. “Lebanon’s a suburb of Nashville, which you were supposed to leave two days ago. You could have walked farther by now.”
“We couldn’t have walked through the Merry Lights of Christmas now, could we? It’s drive-through only.”
“Funny. You sound like my friend, Chris Carter, but it’s almost like someone’s gotten hold of him and turned him into a man who participates in spirited holiday extravaganzas. Care to elaborate?”
I blew out a long breath. “Daphne and I... um... hit it off, and we ended up staying at my house an extra night.” My words tripped out slowly at first, before the rest of it came out all in one slurred sentence. “When we finally got on the road, we stopped at a rest stop. Daph had picked up this brochure for Fiddler’s Grove Historic Village, and she told me about her dad and about how she’d never been able to take a real road trip and stop at all the dumb little places along the way, and I fell for it. So we stopped.”
“Okay…”
“How much of this do you want to hear, before I make a complete jackass of myself?”
“Oh, full jackassery. I want it all.”
I’d assumed as much. “When we were in the gift shop at Fiddler’s Grove, she reached into a back corner for a jar of cilantro jelly—”
“What’s cilantro jelly?”
“Not the point. She got bitten by a spider and had a bad reaction. By the time we got the proper antivenin and... ate some food, it was dark, and she really wanted to see the Merry Lights of Christmas, so we’re there. Here. She’s getting cocoa.”
“Is she okay now? How were the Merry Lights of Christmas? I’ve always lowkey wanted to—”
“Why didn’t you tell me she was a student?”
“She’s not a student. Yet. She’ll start in January.”
“Right. So... student.”
“Oh.” The line was dead for several seconds while she worked it out in her head. “Wait, by ‘hit it off,’ you mean you..."
“Precisely what you’re imagining. What the hell else do you think we were doing alone in my house all day?” A mother yanked her child away from me, scolding me with a deservedly nasty look.
“ All day ? Good for her.” I could hear the smirk in her voice.
Here I was at the finish line of my career. Telling Decca made it official that I’d violated the ethics of my office.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“Technically, I told you to give her a ride to Knoxville.”
“Bullshit. I shouldn’t have even been at the site. You set this whole thing up. And… and … I specifically remember the words don’t let her get away coming out of your mouth . ”
“I love your faith in my omnipotence, but… alright fine. I said that. I set you guys up. I love you two together. I don’t see what the problem is.”
“There are rules about faculty and students.”
“Yeah, but…” She laughed. “Come on… You’re not even going to be her teacher. You work mostly in the dental school. Besides, it happens all the time. We all know at least one professor whose spouse was once their grad student.”
“Not here we don’t. At least not recently. More than my job is now on the line, Decca. My expertise as a witness.”
She was silent for a long time. “I’m sure they have contingencies for this. The semester hasn’t started yet. You’re a star. They’ll grant leniency. You really think Jeanette’s going to let you go?”
I was silent for a while. Staring at the woman in line. The blonde in the oversized camel car coat, playing hand clap games with the kids in line next to her.
“This is real, isn’t it, Chris? She’s it for you.”
Just then, Daphne locked eyes with me and gave me a wave so silly and cute, my eyes stung with unshed tears. “Yeah,” my voice broke. “That’s the problem.” Wind whipped through my insubstantial layers. I cleared my throat. “But I’ll wait for her. I’ve told her that already. I know it’s going to be hard, but there’s no other way.”
“Want me to talk to Jeanette?”
“No. I’ve read the rules. They’re not going to break them for me. God, if this were any other university, it wouldn’t be as big of a deal.”
“They must’ve had issues in the past.”
“No kidding. And I wouldn’t do that to her, anyway. I know how it would look if she came in dating someone from the department. Like she’d slept her way in. Or onto a team or a paper.”
“That’s how I felt as soon as I met Gus. I just knew he was for me. How’s Daphne, anyway? What kind of spider sent her to a hospital?”
“Black widow, we think. That’s what they gave her antivenin for. She’s fine now. Like it never even happened.”
“No superpowers?”
I laughed. “She wishes.”
“Chris? If you want me to help you hide this, I will. No matter what the rules say, I do not consider love a breach of ethics. Just tell me how I can support you both. I’m going to tell her the same when I call her. In the meantime, I’ll ask the cards.”
I felt strangely lighter after talking to Decca. Maybe it was the confession, or maybe it was just nice that she understood, she had my back, and didn’t think less of me. I leaned back against the driver’s side door when Daphne returned, bearing two steaming cups of hot cocoa.
I stared at her hopeful face for several impotent seconds before taking the cup from her.
“Aren’t you freezing?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry. I should’ve—”
“Nope. Keep it.” I was in that weird, almost drunken, half-manic headspace where nothing made a difference. I was floating in a daze of surrealism. The wind blew and cold hit my face like razor blades. Somehow, I was able to simultaneously recognize the feeling while disconnecting from the ability to do anything about it.
She handed me a cup. “It’s probably still too hot to..."
I grabbed it and gulped down the viscous chocolate. It wasn’t too hot. No commercial beverage was ever hot enough. But it was… bad. Revolting, actually. And that wasn’t me being a snob.
“What is this?”
“It’s anise. They had different flavors.”
“What, in God’s name, would make you order a licorice-flavored hot chocolate? What’s wrong with just chocolate-flavored hot chocolate?”
“No! That’s not what this is. It’s—” She took the cup back and sipped. “Oh, ugh. That’s really gross.”
“No kidding.”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t know anise meant licorice. I ordered you something that sounded fancy, thinking you’d like it. Anise is such a pretty word. It’s a floating, lacy word. They ought to just call it licorice. Except that’s a pretty word, too. Not at all like something that tastes like demon piss. Here. Have my salted caramel.”
“No thanks.”
“Come on. Don’t go all Scroogey on me.” I couldn’t meet her teasing smile. Couldn’t even meet her eyes. “Chris.” She placed her hand on my cheek and turned my face to hers. But she said nothing. She only looked deeply at me, as though looking alone could tell her what she needed to know. Yet somehow it did.
She swallowed and nodded. “Dance with me?”
Frank Sinatra was singing the opening lines of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” It wasn’t Judy, but it was worlds better than Christmas at the disco. And despite everything, it made me want to wrap my arms around her and embrace the joy of the season. Even if it was a melancholy joy and we were dancing to a melancholy song.
I could deny her nothing. As wrong as it was, everything felt right when she was in my arms.
Taking both cups from her hands and placing them on the roof of the car, I held my arms open. When she clasped my right hand, we were both too cold for there to be much sensation, but every time I touched her meant something.
She laid her head on my chest as I led us over the gravel lot. She followed my lead with ease, our legs a compatible length. Further proof that our bodies had been made for each other. I inhaled deeply and let my breath out slowly.
Other couples started dancing around us. Even Walter and Patty. We were no longer the only attraction. We were just another couple, dancing outside our cars under the strings of glowing Christmas lights. So anonymous it felt safe enough to lift her chin, lower my mouth to hers, and brush her lips with mine.
She didn’t let the kiss end there. Daphne never settled for a little when she could have it all. It was something I loved about her. Her body moved closer, as if she’d been waiting for my invitation. Her icy hand slid behind my neck, sending shivers up my scalp. My mouth pressed more firmly against hers, parting her lips and breathing me in.
We’d stopped dancing. The world fell away. As long as we were together everything felt perfect, even when it couldn't get worse.
“We’d better go.” She was the first one to say it after pulling back. Finally, she must have realized the direness of our situation.
Why was I reluctant to go now?