5. Abbot
ABBOT
Abbot tucks himself into his coat as they walk, letting Ned hold his hand and wishing he could rewind to the moment Ned found him in the conference room.
He should have stood up. Grabbed his things, steered Ned toward the door, and left with him then and there.
He could have hauled him close on the sidewalk and kissed him and kissed him, the rest of the world fading around them.
And then they could’ve hurried from the building together, away from Chris and from…
I’m going to take you to see your mom, okay? So you can have a nice visit with her in the hospital, Beverly had said, holding out his coat like he wasn’t old enough to put it on himself.
The night air is icy in his lungs. Ned squeezes his hand as he chats with Steve, and Abbot returns the pressure. He’s fine. Just surprised is all, to find Beverly here at Callahan.
Holding that envelope.
“Are you and Pat finally going to go to spring training this year?” he asks so he doesn’t have to think about it. “Or rather, are you keeping your entire department in Boston for spring break and insisting on daily practices?”
“Jess has declared we’re going skiing, so I’m out,” Steve says.
“Only if plane tickets magically are free,” Ned says. “And you’re out anyway, jumping ship up to Callahan. Really, what the hell?”
“You’ll find another pitcher.”
Ned opens the door to Pat’s cafe. “If I don’t, you’re driving back to Boston for each game.”
Abbot follows Ned’s magnetic pull inside, still amazed to see him here, taking his favorite stool at the bar and hooking one foot over the rung like he always does. Abbot settles beside him, and Ned’s hand lands on his knee. Abbot covers it with his hand, marveling at the touch.
“So. Newbury, huh?” Steve asks.
And the evening shatters back into pieces.
“Can we get a drink?” Abbot asks. It’s crowded in here, and loud. He finally spots Pat, not behind the bar but in the back corner, talking animatedly to someone short enough Abbot can’t see them over the crowd.
Ned follows his gaze and grins. “Knew it. I’ll get us drinks. Beer, Steve? And don’t change the subject.”
“Whatever you’re having,” Steve says as Ned circles behind the bar. “Henry, I’d ask how you stumbled into a job offer at Newbury, but it’s you.”
Ned holds up a half-finished bottle of red wine, the cork stuck in the neck. “Hon, this okay for you?”
“Please,” Abbot says.
Steve takes his beer from Ned. “Thank you. So, Newbury. Damn. Like I said, you gotta take it.”
No, Abbot wants to say, but it will only invite a Why not?
he certainly doesn’t want to answer. Not to Steve, not even to Ned.
It’s enough that Beverly will apparently be in Boston and Abbot won’t be able to avoid her as neatly as he has for years now.
He certainly doesn’t have to work with her, let alone talk about her when he could be enjoying this evening with Ned.
“You okay?” Ned asks softly.
Steve taps his phone, either politely giving them some space or actually absorbed in it. The music thumps a fast beat, the volume higher than it normally is. Loud enough that Ned bends closer, waiting to hear an answer.
“I’m happy you came up tonight,” Abbot says.
“I am too,” Ned says, but he doesn’t take the opening to change the subject. “Is it Newbury? Or Beverly?”
Abbot swirls his wine, trying to forget that perfume in his nose all over again. How she fumbled with the euros in her wallet, the currency clearly unfamiliar to her, and the grating on his ears whenever she tried to speak French.
She shouldn’t be here. Not tonight, not when Ned is here to surprise him, not in the halls of the department building, not back in Geneva—
I can go to the hospital by myself, Abbot had told her, but she’d insisted on accompanying him.
I want to see your mom too, she had said, a hand smoothing his collar, the intended comfort unwanted, and her company even more so, since it meant he couldn’t slip away into the city and keep as far from the hospital as he could manage while his mother lay in her bed there, pale and wan.
He pulls his hand back from Ned, like Ned might somehow be able to discern that memory, and carefully sets his glass on the bar, aligning it just so with the edge of the beer mat.
“Abbot—”
“I’d just rather work at Adams,” he says, pitching his voice loud over the din of the bar.
“Okay, but…”
Abbot busies himself looking around. It’s crowded for a weeknight, a mass of women in the back dancing to the pounding hammer of the music.
Abbot and Ned should retreat to Abbot’s house. Surely Ned didn’t drive all this way to sit in a too-warm, too-noisy bar.
“Hey.” Ned squeezes Abbot’s knee.
“It would be a great opportunity,” Abbot says. “Adams. I hadn’t thought there’d be an opening there.”
“I mean, no, me neither. Are you really interested?”
“If Steve’s position is available.”
Steve sets his phone down, clearly giving up the pretense of not listening.
“So, about that. I’m sorry for the runaround, but it’s been a hell of a couple weeks.
And I knew there was no avoiding Henry here at Callahan, so Ned, I should have told you I’m aiming to get hired here, and I didn’t. I’m sorry.”
“No worries. Job hunting is complete madness, and you gotta do what you gotta do. But what’s the story?”
“That we want to move to Portland and Callahan is the obvious choice?”
“Nice try.”
“Fine, but you two can’t say anything.”
Ned claps his hand over his chest. “I swear on the baseball team.”
“Damn, you are serious. Fine. Listen, I can’t tell you much, but let’s just say there are going to be some changes around the university, and Jess wanted to get out ahead of them.”
“What kind of changes?” Ned asks.
Steve cups his hand around his ear. “What?”
“Aw, c’mon, you heard me.”
“The music,” Steve half shouts and shakes his head. “It’s so loud!”
“Steve,” Ned says. “You didn’t even tell us anything.”
“I can’t, okay?” Steve asks, dropping the act. “But Henry, don’t set your sights on Adams. Trust me on that.”
“Why not?” It’s perfect. So perfect. Ned is there, as simple as that.
And Beverly isn’t.
“They’re not rehiring for a tenure-track position when I leave,” Steve says.
“Of course they are,” Abbot says.
“Why wouldn’t they?” Ned asks.
Steve takes a comically long sip of beer so he doesn’t have to answer.
“Are they hiring an adjunct, at least?” Abbot asks. “Or a lecturer? To cover your classes?”
Ned laughs. “Okay, Mr. Overqualified-For-That, don’t even think about it. No way are you going to end up without tenure. Something else will come up.”
“Might want to move on it now, if it does,” Steve says. “If you’re serious about being in Boston. Like Newbury, for instance.”
Newbury isn’t an option. Surely he’s made this point.
Frankly, it’s also a nice idea to not only turn down that offer, clearly machinated by his father, but also to allow himself the idea of doing exactly what Ned is so horrified by: giving up his professorship, and doing so at a school like Adams University.
Joining an institution several tiers down from Newbury? Ranked far weaker than Callahan? Oh, his father would be horrified by Abbot taking any job there, let alone an untenured one. How satisfying that news would be to share.
And it is tempting. Not the lack of benefits, or the salary or job security he’d be giving up, but the idea of being with Ned.
He could continue to look for a different job while working at Adams. It’d be a poorly strategized career move, but it would mean any interim of waiting for an ideal job would be spent with Ned, not up here in Portland.
Because now that he’s had the thought, he finds he doesn’t want to wait.
He should have made motions to leave Callahan already, rather than lingering here, their lives punctuated by workweeks and waiting for weekends.
Why not go as soon as he can? Move to Boston this spring?
Catapult his life with Ned forward that much quicker?
It’s been over a year that they’ve been together.
It’s time. It’s past time, Abbot is suddenly sure.
“I’m just saying that entertaining this Newbury thing would be a very, very good idea,” Steve says.
“Are you trying to free up Abbot’s spot here?” Ned teases. “So Chris has the budget to bring you on?”
“I swear I’m more altruistic than that,” Steve says. “I’m looking out for you, Henry, if you do want to move.”
“What’s next, you offering your grandmother’s house?” Ned asks.
“Oh, wait—that’s actually a good idea,” Steve says. “You want it? That’d be so much better if it went to someone I know.”
“You forget I’m a mid-thirties professional living at home with his parents,” Ned says.
“Exactly,” Steve says.
“Happily living at home,” Ned says.
“Henry, you take it then,” Steve says. “I’ll take yours up here. Easy, right? And how nice is your office? Do you have your own parking spot I could snag too?”
“One thing Callahan has is plenty of parking,” Ned says.
“See? This is the best move of my life.”
“It isn’t, because you’re lighting out of Adams, and you and Jess both love it there,” Ned says. “And now you say your position won’t be open? And there’ll be changes? What gives?”
Steve groans into his beer. “I can’t tell you anything else.”
“I will make sure you get my old office,” Ned says. “It comes with your very own coworker you have to share it with. And the window doesn’t work. It’s either up or down, so make sure you choose right, ‘cause you have to live with your decision in summer and winter both.”
“Air conditioning?” Steve asks.
“Of course not.”
“Shit, you guys are good friends. I feel bad, but I promised Jess.” Steve squeezes his eyes shut and then says in a rush, “Listen. Keep your eyes out for something for yourself too, okay, Ned?”
Ned laughs. “Like a job? For me? Is that what you mean?”
“I never said anything,” Steve says. “But this thing at Newbury? Henry, it sounds like you’re a shoo-in, if you take it. You two might want to jump on the spousal hire idea too.”
Ned has to laugh again, because Steve is just too ridiculous. “What? We’re not married, if you haven’t noticed.”
“I really can’t talk about it because I don’t officially know anything, but just say, hypothetically, my wife caught wind of some news and we’re both looking for new jobs. And—and you should too, Ned.”
“I love it at Adams. I’m not leaving,” Ned says.
“How much is changing?” Abbot asks.
“A lot,” Steve says.
“Hey, lovebirds,” Pat says, appearing at Ned’s shoulder before Steve can say more.
He has a woman in tow who comes only to his shoulder.
She tucks short brown hair behind her ear, but it immediately slips loose again.
“Steve, right? Hey, man. This is Claire. And Claire, this is Ned’s better half, Abbot.
Certainly smarter. Less annoying. I like him more, for sure. ”
“I’m sitting right here,” Ned says.
“Hello,” Abbot says.
“Nice to meet you,” Claire says. “And Ned, thank you, really. My sister is so happy.”
Ned leans into Abbot, a warm press against him. “I stuck Pat with a bachelorette,” he whispers with a grin.
“You hate those,” Abbot says.
“I am nobly helping a bridal party in need,” Pat says. “While Ned systematically gives away all the beer and wine in this place.”
Ned points at Claire’s glass. “Need a refill? Steve?”
“Sure,” Claire says, and Ned grabs her glass to fill it.
“I can’t,” Steve says. “I gotta hit the road.”
“Wait, tell us more about Adams,” Ned says.
“Newbury,” Steve says. “Focus on Newbury, not on Adams. I’m serious, alright?” He points a finger first at Abbot and then at Ned. And then he’s gone, weaving through the crowd, the door opening with a burst of frigid air.
“What’s going on?” Pat asks.
“Steve’s being weird as shit about things going on at Adams,” Ned says.
“Adams? Down in Boston?” Claire asks.
“Ned works there,” Pat says. “Don’t ask him about his papers. Abbot here is at Callahan, which is where Ned used to be, before he left me forever.”
“My daughter lives in Boston,” Ned explains.
“Left me all alone,” Pat continues.
“So I moved back to be with her when I graduated,” Ned says.
“Replacing me with the likes of that Steve guy.”
“Steve’s coming up to Callahan, apparently,” Ned says.
It shakes Pat out of his lament. “He is? Awesome.”
“Not awesome. What about our baseball team?”
“Me and Steve and Abbot all here in Portland? Ned, you won’t be able to stay away.”
“I don’t stay away as it is, and the amount I spend on gas will tell you that.”
“Do you think maybe Steve is coming up here because we’re actually cooler than you?” Pat asks.
“Impossible.”
“Or maybe he just really doesn’t like baseball?”
“Don’t even say that,” Ned says in a mock hurt voice. “That’s my star pitcher.”
Abbot rubs his hand across Ned’s. He could join the team at Adams. Not as a pitcher, of course. Or a batter, since Peggy’s T-ball set has been enough of a challenge. Or an outfielder, because catching a ball she actually connects on is really rather difficult.
But he could analyze their stats. Record box scores and provide Ned a level of detail no other recreational team could boast.
Again, that urge to go now to Boston rises through him. To talk to Ned about it at least, to plan, scheme, and dream together. “Ned,” he says, drawing a finger down the back of his hand.
Ned looks down at their hands, and then up to Abbot.
Abbot meant only to get his attention, but when Ned’s focus sharpens, Abbot’s piques too. Ned is here, in Portland, and they’re sitting in Pat’s bar, and surely neither of them wants to stay a moment longer.
Abbot stands as Ned does.
“Pat, good to see you,” Ned says quickly. “Claire, I’m so sorry to bail, but you’re in great hands here. We have to be on our way. Now. See ya.”
Yes. They will talk. Later, though, and Abbot lets Ned lead him to the door.