47. Queenie
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
QUEENIE
RECOMMENDED LISTENING ‘ARE YOU HAPPY NOW’ BY MICHELLE brANCH
In my head, I walk into this man’s office on the first day of winter term.
It says Professor Joseph Washington on the frosted glass. My fists are clenched. And I stare defiantly, accusingly at him.
“Professor Washington,” I say woodenly to the man smiling genially at me, like he really is nothing but my professor.
In my head, I throw my latest graded paper at him. “ Why did you give me a C? I worked hard on this paper, and I researched the crap out of it.” My voice shakes, so does my hand.
“Because you deserve it, Miss Madhavan. Your arguments were poorly presented and moreover I ? —"
“Good evening,” Washington replies smoothly, at the restaurant. He’s dressed in a black suit like the blackheart he is. His temple, his sideburns are silver-grey. But he gleams like a shiny, golden god. All smooth charm and surface smiles.
All lies.
“Good evening.” I grip my wine flute tightly, holding it for balance. To keep me grounded.
In my head, I’m thrown back to the rest of the disastrous conversation.
“You gave me this C on purpose,” I accuse him. “You’re strongarming me because I asked questions about Dolly’s last meeting with you on Halloween to the team running the CCTV. I know it.”
Tears flow down my cheeks. Because the man smiles. The monster smiles. He has no remorse, no regret. He doesn’t even care I know. That he did something so reprehensible.
“Miss Alderton was a lovely student but the pressures of the academic program at Thorndon got to her and ? —"
“You assaulted her,” I yell.
“You look good, Miss Madhavan,” Professor Washington compliments me at the restaurant, all golden charm.
I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t talk.
I just keep staring at him as the past washes over me in waves.
“I did no such thing. Miss Alderton was overwhelmed with her poor grades, just like you are, right now, and I simply…”
“You simply pawed at her like you owned her. And she let you,” I whisper the words out. Unwilling to believe them. Unable to not.
Washington’s smile fades. Becomes a hard mask of power, of privilege. “Whatever happened between us was a mutual decision, Miss Madhavan. And I am under no obligation to ? —"
I cut him off with my own hard words. “She left Thorndon because of you. She said if she stayed here one more day, she’d throw herself from one of the towers. That’s what happened to her.”
The man does not flinch. “I don’t understand what you want from me. Do you want me to change your grade?”
“As a bribe to keep my mouth shut?” I hurl at him savagely. “No, I don’t want that. I’m going to tell everyone the truth. I have a meeting scheduled with the Dean’s office tomorrow. And I’m going to tell him everything… what you did to Dolly and how you turned the other faculty against me because I started asking questions. How you and the other professors are making my grades suffer because I know the truth.”
I am so righteous, so confident in my conviction I don’t even consider the possibility of losing. I’m the heroine of my own life. I will win this battle. The truth always wins.
“It’s good to see you, Miss Madhavan,” Washington says politely, now. Then he nods at Noah who smiles at him.
In my head, though, it’s a different story.
Joseph Washington, predator and monster, leans back against his chair. Winter sunlight pours in through his office window. Giving him a false halo.
“Even if anything you say is true, and I am categorically denying it is, who is going to believe you, Miss Madhavan?” He talks softly, rationally. “You just lost your roommate, who dropped out of college for unknown reasons. You’re a troubled young woman whose academics have suffered from the pressures of thriving in college, just like your roommate. And now you’re here, in my office, accusing me of insane and untrue things.”
I blink. Take a shattered breath. “I’m telling the truth.”
“What is truth, Miss Madhavan? It’s just a hypothesis based on facts and evidence. Where’s your evidence?”
I lick my lips. “They’ll have to believe me when I tell them what I know.”
“Or will they believe me when I tell them you threw yourself at me, and begged me to change your grade because you didn’t want to lose your scholarship? You instigated advances on me…”
He opens his jacket and unbuttons his shirt under it.
I get a glimpse of curly chest hair and turn away violently, immediately.
“You’re a monster.” I am shaking. Gasping. About to have a panic attack. “You’re a heinous monster.”
“I’m just doing my job, Miss Madhavan. I’m trying to be a good teacher to you. And I’m telling you, nothing will come off this,” he hesitates before continuing softly, “This crusade you’re on. Except your own sad end.”
“You don’t know that,” I snap hotly.
“Oh, but I do. Because I’ll make it so.” He reaches one hand out.
I shrink into my chair. Clutching the paper against my chest. My heart’s pounding, I have chills all over. My mouth feels dry. I am not…not myself.
“Do yourself a favor. Forget any of this ever happened,” he suggests. “I can even talk to dorm management and get you a new room. You have a bright future as a doctor, Queenie. Don’t throw it away over this.”
I take a deep breath. But knives have filled my air passage. Pricking me. Wounding me. Bleeding me.
He sounds so reasonable. So calm. So logical. He sounds like he’s telling the truth. He’s the victim here. Not Dolly. Not me. After all, who will believe me?
“Well,” the monster says now, adjusting his cufflinks. “I’ll let you get back to your night. Apologies for bumping against you, right then.”
And he walks. The man walks away. Unscathed. Unaffected.
And in my head, in that room… my future ends.
I accept defeat. I see the logic of his words. In my head, I stop wanting to win. Stop trying even.
“I—”
“I’ll change the grade to a B, of course. If you can just leave the paper with me. I’m sure I can find a reason to—” he says kind words. A favor. A benediction for me.
I know it’s a curse. A tether to this vile man.
I don’t want it.
I tear the paper in two. And walk out of his office. I close the door behind me with a snick. It’s audible, that snick. It’s the door closing on my future. My bright future as a doctor.
I lean against it, tears creeping down my cheek. I can’t win , I think. I can’t win against him . I wipe them away with shaking hands.
A couple of students passing through the corridor turn their faces. They shield their hands and talk to each other.
I can even imagine what they’re saying.
“Poor Professor Washington. She’s throwing herself at him. Of course, she did it. She’s got bad grades, didn’t she? She’s at fault.”
I start running down the corridor.
I don’t stop till I’m out of the college and out of campus. I drive Lizzie out of town and cross into Barrons Bay. I stop in front of Ma’s Pantry, struck by a sign on the sidewalk window.
Help Wanted.
I walk in and get a job as a waitress at a diner.
And I give up my future. Just like that.
Noah’s kneeling at my feet, shaking my hands. Trying to get my attention.
I give him a distracted glance. He’s blurred through hot, unshed tears.
“Are you okay?” He looks over his shoulder. “Who is that?”
I shake my head. I can’t talk. I’m still back in Washington’s office. Hearing the door close. Over and over again. I keep losing. Failing. Over and over again. It’s never over for me.
Never.
“Queenie, —”
I wrench my hands free of his grasp. They’re restrictive. Not reassuring. I can’t look at him. I can’t…I can’t…I can’t breathe.
The restaurant noises – the clink and clattery of flatware, the low murmur of voices, the ambient music – it magnifies, amplifies… until my ears start ringing. I see sounds. I hear colors.
I stumble away from the chair.
It clatters to the floor.
I can’t take a breath. It’s trapped in my lungs. I’m gasping, holding my chest, my stomach.
I start running again. I run out of the restaurant, pushing against a waiter. His tray clatters to the floor. Something breaks.
I break.
I burst out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk.
Noah follows me. I look at him, tall and strong and dependable, and I run again. But this time he catches me.
“Let me go.” I struggle against him. Violently. Vehemently. “Let me go.”
He lets me go immediately.
Tears stream down my face. Contorting me into an ugly, futureless thing. “I have to go,” I heave out. “I have to go.”
“Okay,” Noah says quietly. “Okay.”
We say nothing else as he drives me home in Lizzie Bonnet.
Because I know there’s nothing else to say.
There is nothing at all.