8. Ned
NED
Ned wakes to the blare of his alarm and the long, warm stretch of Abbot’s body pressed to his.
It’s too cold and too dark and far too early to peel himself out of bed, so he smacks at his phone and then cuddles beneath the blankets, hauling a sleepy Abbot to him.
He wakes again to the weak filter of morning light, sits up, and curses.
“Ned?” Abbot mumbles, and they really kept each other up too late last night if Abbot’s still in bed.
“Fuck.”
“What time is it?”
“I have no idea.” Their watches are in a pile next to the open bottle of lube. Ned scrambles for them and Abbot’s thumps to the ground, all heavy metal with its thick band.
6:54, Ned’s reads, and he shoves back the covers. He has a meeting at nine thirty, in person, at his office, which is two hours away without morning traffic.
He has to go. He has to shower, sex and sweat ripe on his skin.
The water takes as long as always to heat up, and Ned finally forces himself under the spray, dancing in and out of the stream as he shivers through a quick scrub.
Rinsing his hair is the worst part, and he gasps, the frigid pour of cold water over his head only easing to a tepid, tentative warmth as he’s finally finished.
His phone is buzzing as he towels off. It’s somewhere. Not here in the bathroom, and he shivers, searching for it.
Abbot finds it first, retrieving it from the nightstand, and Ned fumbles to answer it, sure with his luck it’s Jen and he was supposed to bring Peggy to school this morning.
Steve’s name sits on his screen instead.
He’s calling Ned now? Steve ought to be getting his kids fed and on the bus. “Yeah?” Ned asks, hopping on one foot to pull on his sock over still-damp skin.
Coffee, Abbot mouths and Ned nods and grabs his second sock.
“I talked to Jess,” Steve says. “And she says I’m an idiot for saying anything at all, but she also loves you and Henry, so can you keep this quiet?”
“Keep what?” Sure enough, there’s a squeal of a child’s voice in the background and a dog barks.
Not just any dog. Luna, Steve’s dog, because Steve is calling at this early hour to tell Ned that Jess is mad?
“It’s about Adams,” Steve says.
Oh. Right. Ned tucks the phone under his chin and drags on a pair of boxers. “Hit me.”
“You sitting down?”
No, Ned is yanking clean pants out of his backpack and wishing he had time to run an iron over them. “I’m trying to make it back to Boston in not enough time. Unless you want to cover for me in that meeting with the professors from Education.”
“Those guys? No way. I’ll keep this quick, but listen, you and Henry can’t breathe a word, okay? I’m going to tell you this because I know you have Peggy to think about, and Jess and I are both going to feel like shit if you get screwed over.”
“I’ll bring you coffee for a week if you go,” Ned wheedles. Belt. He needs his belt. It’s still on yesterday’s pants and he pulls at it, trying to free it from the belt loops.
“And you absolutely have to talk to Henry about Newbury, okay?”
“I don’t think he’s interested.”
“He has to be,” Steve says. “Ned, I don’t officially know anything, but there’s going to be a lot of professors on the market, and soon. If Henry gets an offer, he needs to take it, if Boston is where he wants to be. And Ned, like I told you: You do, too.”
“I love Adams. I’m not leaving.” Abbot could still apply, even if Steve’s job isn’t available, if he’s really serious about being ready to leave Callahan and Portland.
Which was a later sort of thing, Ned had figured, but apparently Abbot’s decided that now is as good as ever.
What university would turn him down? It’s Ned they took a chance on, and who has years of work ahead of him before making tenure.
Yeah, probably better if he doesn’t show up late to a meeting at the beginning of his second semester, out of breath from having to run from the parking lot.
Shirt. Did he bring a shirt? Yes, he did, and oh hell does it need to be ironed too.
“Ned,” Steve says. “Ah, fuck. This sucks to have to say, but listen. Next year, Adams won’t be here.”
Ned stops with his shirt raised, ready to shake out the wrinkles as best he can. “What?”
“Which you did not hear, let alone from me,” Steve says. “But like I said, tell Henry to clinch that job, because the market’s about to be swamped, and there’s going to be one fewer university around.”
“Is this a joke?”
“I wish. I don’t want to move, and neither does Jess.”
“Adams isn’t closing. It’s been around forever, and they’re taking applicants for students next year.”
“The endowment is gone. There’s going to be an investigation into the financial management.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means my wife got cc’d on an email because of a typo this past fall, and there have been unauthorized withdrawals from already struggling funds.
That’s the whole story, as much as we know, at least. The board has been scrambling, and the administration is trying to save face, but a lot of money went somewhere, and nobody knows where it is. ”
“That can’t have happened. Isn’t there oversight? And how does Jess really know?”
“Look, we have little kids too, right? We had to make a decision, and I’m sorry I couldn’t tell everyone in the department, but I’m telling you now.
This is all going to come out in the open at some point, probably soon.
And like I said: Tell Henry to take that job.
Ideally before this news breaks and the hiring market goes to hell. ”
“Steve—”
“So go with him to Newbury, if you can swing it.”
“Me? I can’t, no way.”
“Then get on the job hunt yourself,” Steve says. “Listen, I gotta go. Sorry to dump this on you first thing this morning.”
“Wait—”
“Sorry. I’m sorry. Bye.”
Ned slowly lowers the phone, staring down at Call Ended glaring across the screen.
This has to be some sort of prank. Not that he’s ever known Steve to have that sort of sense of humor. And it’s a hell of a commitment to a bit, to drive up to Portland to meet with the faculty at Callahan last night.
But still. Steve can’t be serious. Right?
Ned remembers his hurry only when his screen darkens, rousing himself out of his confusion to yank on his shirt.
He didn’t shave, he realizes too late, and there’s no time to do it now. Hopefully the stubble will look intentional, and if not, then at least less like the mess he feels he is, finger-combing his damp hair and making his way downstairs.
Adams? Closing? There’s no way that’s going to happen.
Is there?
“I took Baxter out,” Abbot says when Ned comes into the kitchen. “And I made you toast, which you can eat in the car. The water’s just about to boil for coffee, so if you have just a minute, I’ll—”
“Steve says Adams is closing.”
“What?”
Ned sinks into a chair. It’s not closing. Of course it’s not.
But worry has climbed high in his throat, the anxiety of leaving on time thickening into a different, sicker sort of dread.
Steve and Jess wouldn’t just move away from Boston. They have family there. Their kids’ schools and friends. It’d have to be something big to wrench them from their life. Something enormous.
Like a university very quietly, very suddenly falling apart.
“Steve can’t be right,” Ned says quickly. “It’s nothing, I’m sure. So I’m just not going to worry about it.”
“You look worried,” Abbot says.
“I’m not.” He was just hired at Adams. Why would they have had his position open last year if the university was in trouble?
And he’s been assigned classes for fall semester already, and advisees he’s been talking to about next year, and he has a syllabus nearly complete for a class he wants to teach someday, and new research projects he’s just beginning to dream up.
So Adams has to be here, because any alternative just doesn’t make sense.
“Ned,” Abbot says and sits across from him, reaching for his hands.
Ned stares at Abbot’s long, slim fingers holding his. What if? rattles through him. Ned will be without a paycheck. All the money he’s put into his bank account will be wiped out in a matter of months while he scrambles to find another job.
And scramble he will. It took him long enough to land at Adams, and he’d needed Abbot’s connections to do it. Starting all over again, and this time with a bevy of more qualified professors on the hunt too?
“Steve is just exaggerating,” Ned says quickly.
“He must be. Or he’s mistaken.”
“Yeah, absolutely.” Ned tries to relax the tension in his shoulders and finds he can’t. “If he isn’t, though?”
Because that’s the kicker. Ned trusts Steve.
He wouldn’t make this up, and he wouldn’t lead him astray.
If Steve told Ned Adams won’t be there next year, it’s because he believes it.
And he and Jess wouldn’t light out to Portland over their life in Boston without being sure they’re making the right choice, so…
Ned closes his eyes against the path this reasoning is leading him along.
When he opens them again, he says, “Steve thinks you should pursue Newbury.”
Abbot pulls his hands back and stands. “The kettle.” It’s steaming, but not whistling. Still, Abbot bustles over to the counter, fussing with the pour-over.
“Abbot.”
This same man who Ned laid bare last night, standing now with his back locked, his movements abrupt. It’s not the university, Ned is pretty sure. They’ve driven past it a dozen times, and Abbot’s never clammed up like this, wrapped himself in his careful, hard silence.
So Beverly’s the problem, whoever she is. Not the school itself.
“Kind of something you know the dean there,” Ned says.
“I’d like to believe Adams is still a possibility,” Abbot says to the travel mug he pulls out of the cupboard.
“Do you want to talk about her?”
“No.”
Of course not. Ned stifles a sigh. “Friend of the family?” Ned pushes. “That’s what Chris said. She seemed happy to see you.”
“It’s been a long time, that’s all.”
“She’s known you since you were little?”
Abbot doesn’t answer.
Ned could try to fish for more, but he doesn’t have time. Abbot moves glacially slow when it comes to sharing anything important, and Ned won’t be able to uncover any gems before he has to go. “It’d be cool to have you closer,” he says instead.
“You think so?” Abbot asks, finally turning back around.
“Of course. This drive is a pain in the ass.”
“We could see each other much more often.”
“Exactly.” Ned warms to the idea. Meet for lunch on a workday. Head out to drinks after their last meetings and classes.
Though he’s picturing the restaurants by Adams, that wine bar he drives past and hasn’t been to yet, since there’s nobody except Abbot he wants to go with.
“We haven’t talked about it yet,” Abbot says. “Not concretely, at least. I don’t want to presume.”
“What’s there to presume? Yes, of course move closer. Pat will kick and scream, but he’ll get over it.”
Abbot’s mouth quirks. “Is that the greatest change you foresee?”
“Saving on gas money too. But you have tenure here at Callahan. You’re in no rush.”
“There’s no reason to stay here.”
“No, I guess not. Would you even consider Newbury?”
“I meant to ask you, do you and Peggy want to go up to the mountains one weekend soon?”
“The mountains?”
“Skiing.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“Would you?”
Ned might as well dump his wallet into a snowbank. “Maybe.” No, he means, but instead of saying that he watches Abbot pour hot water into the travel cup to warm it up, so Ned’s coffee will hold its heat longer on his drive. It’s so small, and so thoughtful.
Ned comes up behind him, circling his waist and kissing the back of his neck. “You’re the best. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Abbot says. “Think about a weekend that might work.”
“Think about Newbury,” Ned says, even though Abbot stiffens.
“You’d do so great there.” Of course he would.
He’s made for that university. First thing in the morning and he looks put together somehow, despite also just waking up after not enough sleep.
But standing in this house that he owns, in his neat kitchen, of course a university like Newbury is handing him a job.
It’s Ned who’s the mess, trying to pay off debt, living at his parents’, late for work, and hopefully not once again staring down the barrel of a job hunt.
No. It’ll be fine. Ned tries to shove away his rising embarrassment. Steve is overreacting. Ned’s shared the most perfect year with Abbot, and he’s not letting a rumor about Adams shatter that. “Have a great day, okay?” he says and takes the coffee Abbot holds out to him.
Abbot folds a paper towel around two pieces of toast, and hands him another one to use as a napkin. Of course he does. His car doesn’t have a layer of crumbs already in it, crayons mashed into the back seat, dog hair in every nook and crevice.
“Drive safe,” Abbot says and meets him in a quick kiss.
“I love you,” Ned says. “And all this shit aside, it’d be amazing to have you in Boston.”
At that, Abbot relaxes, kissing Ned a second time and lingering on it. “I would really like that,” Abbot whispers.
Ned smiles against his mouth and gives him one last peck. “Me too. I might even be on time for meetings. Bax, let’s go, bud.”
Ned’s car is cold, the steering wheel frigid, and he shuts off the air blowing from the vents until the engine warms up. Baxter whines a little, settling into the backseat.
“I know, but we’ll see him soon,” Ned says.
Baxter huffs and lays down as Ned puts the car into gear.
“I think you got enough treats,” Ned says. “Not that apparently you need to eat any more, with your belly.”
No response. Of course there isn’t, because Ned is talking to his dog. It’s Abbot he wants to keep chatting to, to dawdle together over breakfast, stretch out their time together and enjoy these rare mornings they get to share.
If Abbot ends up in Boston, and soon, this two-hour drive between them will be over with at last, so Ned focuses on that instead of any worry about Adams.