Chapter 16 Nate
When we enter the room, he is seated at the head of the dining room table that doubles as a conference space. We are holding hands, even though she’s mad at me. She didn’t speak a single word to me on the way here—not that it’s a long walk—but I tried to apologize, and she just looked straight ahead. I grabbed her hand on the way into the room and was happy she didn’t pull away from me. It’s like we represent a unified front, even if CJ is quite possibly not speaking to me at this particular moment.
“Sit down,” Dillon says. It’s not his usual welcoming, almost soft voice. This is a command.
We sit. She takes her hand away from me and places it in her lap, bracing herself for a stern talking-to, like a child about to be grounded.
“Before you start, Dillon—”
“No,” he cuts me off. “Not this time. I talk first.”
I stop. I feel the admonishment in my chest, its growing presence a bubble of unwanted pressure atop my rib cage.
“I don’t know what kind of ridiculous little stunt you thought you were pulling, but the charade is over now. You’re lying to everyone evidently, to Cecily’s parents, to the faculty and students here at Matthias, but I will be damned if you’re going to lie to me for even one more second. Now, Nate, you’re going to remain silent, and, Cecily, you are going to tell me exactly what is going on here.”
She looks at her lap, takes a shaky breath, and I do everything in my power to do as I’m told.
“First of all,” CJ begins, “I—we—are sorry. Like, more than you can possibly imagine. The truth is that back in November, after I finished my manuscript, you told me to get out there and experience the literary scene, and I found a reading that Nate was doing in the city and decided to go to it. I was nervous because I was by myself, so I drank some wine, and I really don’t drink, you know? As a result, I got a little buzzed or whatever. Maybe more than just a little bit. Anyway, Nate tried to sober me up, and I dragged him to the karaoke bar and made him sing with me, and we didn’t know that Questlove was there or that he was going to kazoo bomb our song, and I was stupid and got all caught up in the moment, and I kissed Nate. Me. Rewatch the footage. You’ll see it’s very obvious that I threw myself at him. Only then, when you found out, he thought he was going to lose his job, so he read through the HR manual and showed me the rules about student-teacher relations, and it basically said that he would be able to keep his job if we were married. So we got married. It was all my idea. I had to beg him to do it, because I didn’t want to lose the only friend I had here.”
She power breathes. The room becomes so still that I can feel the weight of the silence like concrete blocks tied to my shoes as I go for a leisurely dive off the edge of a cruise ship.
Dillon taps his fingers together and then cracks the knuckles on his right hand. “So all that business about having met before the pandemic and not wanting to miss out on the chance to be together a second time—all of that was a lie?”
She nods. Her face reminds me of how a puppy might look if it just got caught taking a shit in its owner’s shoe. “I’m sorry.”
“You both just worked out a story and figured I would be dumb enough to buy it.”
“Nobody thinks that. I think the world of you, just for the record. But yes, we lied to you. It was the only way for him to have a fighting chance at keeping his job. The whole thing was just a misunderstanding that was all my fault.”
“Cecily,” Dillon says, tenting his fingertips and placing them in the crease between his eyes while he takes a deep breath. “What is it about me that appears so unreasonable? What makes you think I wouldn’t have understood if you just told me the truth?”
“I, um…”
“I have a daughter, you know. She’s about your age in fact. We all make mistakes, and I am not some kind of monster who can’t understand that sometimes we don’t think things through in the moment.”
“I don’t know what to say,” CJ murmurs.
“You’d worked with me for months to that point. I could see how much it pained you to write the manuscript you submitted, and you told me that it was based on true events. I believed you, and I felt for you, and because of that, I was willing to go the extra mile for you as your mentor, because I believed that you were special—that your writing was special, and that you were telling a story that you needed to tell in order to seek out your own catharsis. That’s why it came as such a shock to me when all of a sudden, you and Nate were kissing on TV, and I was hearing about it from Alice.”
She nods, and I follow suit.
“But you lied to me, Cecily. I gave you a safe space to take your truth and turn it into something beautiful, and you took advantage of me. You lied right to my face.” He shakes his head in a slow, somber rhythm.
She begins to cry.
“Don’t,” Dillon says, his voice firmer now. “I will not have you manipulate me twice. You’ve both done a fine job of convincing me, and I would guess almost everyone else here, that you two are, in fact, a couple. I’ve seen you holding hands, canoodling. I can’t believe the lengths you would go to in order to play me like a fiddle. I’m very disappointed in you, but I’m also unbearably angry. What you did was wrong, and you made me look like a fool. I run this program, and I went to bat for you both. I had to present your case to the dean. You two were so selfish and juvenile that you thought you could just trick us all. Well, game over.”
I can’t not say something. “It wasn’t CJ’s idea,” I say.
“More lies?” he snaps at me. “She just said it was all her idea; now you’re saying it wasn’t? Would you like me to leave the room so that you two can conspire before you make up your next statement?”
“What I’m trying to say is yes, we lied, and yes, of course we’re sorry, but somewhere along the way, I want you to know that we fell in love—”
“Save it, Nate,” he says, slamming his hand down on the table, startling CJ. “That is quite enough.”
CJ begins to cry harder.
“You’ve made the rest of this very easy for me. Effective immediately, you’re both terminated from the program.”
“What?” she squeals.
“You can’t be serious, Dillon,” I say.
“You heard me. We’re done here. Now, please go.”
CJ covers her face with her hands, sobs shaking her whole body.
“Dillon, please don’t do this,” I beg.
“My mind is made up. Now go, before I have to call security to get you out of my sight. I want you both on the first ferry out of here tomorrow morning. Nate, HR will be in touch with you regarding your final paycheck. Cecily, I’ll have the bursar contact you about whatever payments you’ve made for the semester.”
She sniffles through her weeping and manages to say, “I have a scholarship.”
“Not to Matthias. Not anymore, you don’t.”
“Dillon!” I yell. “This isn’t her fault. You want to get rid of someone? Get rid of me. But leave Cecily out of this. She worships you, Dillon. She thinks the fucking world of you. Please don’t do this.”
“I’m sorry,” CJ says. The makeup is smearing down her face, and she takes off her glasses so that she can swipe at it with the back of her hand. She looks like she’s melting, dissolving right in front of me, and it breaks me to know that I am powerless to stop it.
“So am I,” Dillon says. “This conversation is over.” He pushes back his chair, stands up, and makes for the door. He stops before exiting the room and says, “You’ve got what it takes, Cecily. I meant every word of what I said in my introduction of you tonight. But I can’t let you make an ass of me. You made your bed. And now, the two of you can lie in it.”
He turns away from us before I can think of anything else to say.
Once he’s gone, I look at CJ, searching her face for something, although I’m not sure what. Poor girl. She’s a total fucking mess. She won’t look at me though.
“Hey,” I whisper.
Nothing.
“Sweetheart. Please look at me.”
Still nothing. She stares up at the spot where the wall meets the ceiling, far away from my line of sight. Tears continue to stream down her face.
“Come on. Let’s get upstairs,” I suggest.
She doesn’t speak to me. Her jaw is set, eyes glassy. I stand, and she follows. I don’t know what she’s feeling, but here in the library, while a grad party begins to roar just feet away from us, it’s not the proper time or place for the conversation—that much I do know. The nerves in my digestive system grip me, threatening to take me hostage. I did this. This is my fault.
I fucked everything up.
Once we’re upstairs, she heads straight for the bathroom and shuts the door behind her. I sit on the edge of our bed and replay the last hour of events over in my head.
I should never have talked to her parents.
She should never have picked up the phone.
My blood pressure rises.
Fuck.
My job.
I lost my job. After all we went through to save it, I lost my fucking job.
“Hey, CJ?” I call out.
And CJ—the smartest, most hardworking girl I’ve ever met—just got kicked out of grad school.
What the actual fuck?
I hear the water running. I stand and go over to the bathroom door. I try the knob. It’s locked.
“CJ?” I say, louder this time.
She’s mad at me.
Not mad—furious.
I just didn’t want her parents and her sister to be upset with her.
But no—I was wrong. I shouldn’t have touched her phone. I should have let her handle it.
“CJ?” I try once more, just a little louder, in case she couldn’t hear me the last two times.
Silence.
“Please leave me alone,” she says. Her voice is steady but quiet. She’s not yelling. She’s just stating her request, matter-of-factly, as if she just asked me to get her a sandwich.
I’m not sure why, but the words sting me worse than everything Dillon said to us downstairs.
My stomach bottoms out, and I fear I might be sick. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” I ask through the door. My heart is pounding. Pounding.
“If you care about me at all, please, Nate, just give me some space.”
The weight of her words crushes my lungs. Suddenly, my body begins moving on autopilot.
I should pack,my brain decides, pulling my luggage out of the closet.
My ears hear her slide open the bathtub curtain and then pull it closed again.
I can’t believe this is really happening.I toss the clothes out of my three drawers and into the bag.
I can’t stay here,I tell myself. She said she needs space.
I look down at my hands. I’m shaking. I rub them on my thighs to get them to stop.
What is this feeling?
Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed by a fury that rolls over me like a snowball down a hill, picking up speed and momentum and gaining in size and strength with each passing second.
I want to put my fist through the bathroom door.
Nothing feels real or right or rational, and the room begins to spin.
I need to go.
Now.
I punch at my phone screen with my thumbs. The nearest Uber is seven minutes away. It takes me less than three minutes to put all my shit in my bag. I don’t even bother with the stuff in the bathroom. I’ll just buy new stuff when I get home. I put on my coat and take one last look at the room before I go.
I guess not all fairy tales end with a happily-ever-after.
I toss my key on the bed and shut the door quietly behind me.
I don’t even say goodbye.
Four minutes later, I’m in a car in the darkness.
Giving her space.