12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Iknew it was irrational, but part of me was afraid Mason would come to my session and pick up where we’d left off with that last big fight. By the time the session started, I had braced myself and was mentally prepared with various responses if anything came up that felt like an old fight.
The room had been set up with a bunch of white post-it pages stuck to the wall at my height. There was a stack of markers on the table and a whiteboard against a wall with the dry-erase markers resting on the metal rack.
“Lizbeth thought you could use some help taking notes while you led the discussion,” a volunteer said before the session began.
I smiled, pleased that I could take notes if I wanted, but that someone else could manage that for me. Sometimes I only wanted to know that something was made accessible for me, even if I didn’t need or want it. “If you want to move the sticky sheets up to your height, feel free.”
As people came in, many shook my hand and congratulated me on the new job.
I knew a few people from previous conferences and EncycloWiki events.
There were usernames on the conference badges and I was pleased to recognize a few of them from past projects I’d worked on.
I may have never met them in person, but I knew so many of them.
Cooper came in and sat in the back corner, ready to ask a question if needed.
I wondered why he was sitting so far, but I didn’t have a chance to ask before it was time to start.
I started by giving everyone an opportunity to introduce themselves and talk about what they liked to work on.
This allowed me the chance to think about what topics or questions might come up.
Mason sat with a few of his students who had gotten involved because of his class assignments.
I felt anxious that they were here to gang up on me.
I remembered his students as being very loyal and with good reason.
He often made them feel like equals. Them being here with him, engaging in these conversations by his side, was a sign that this was important to him.
“I’d like to talk about public engagement for academics,” Mason said as he raised his hand during a lull in the conversation.
I braced myself for what he might use this topic to bring up from our past. My mind wheeled through all the ways I had been rehearsing to shut him down.
“You started the conversation during your session, let’s keep it going!
” I said, hoping my excitement for his original topic could keep him focused.
“We need to make academics feel welcome again,” Mason said.
“As long as they play by the rules, they are,” someone else said.
I saw Mason’s face get red as he looked at the other speaker.
“What I’m hearing is that we need to find middle ground so academics feel valued, but know how to best contribute,” I said, trying to keep everyone focused.
“I believe EncycloWiki is a unique place to communicate that has its own style. It’s more than an encyclopedia now.
How can we show academics how to navigate this better?
” I asked, extending a hand to Mason to let him respond.
“We need to train them like we train our students,” he said, locking eyes with me. “Making big, complicated topics something the general public can understand is important work today. This is an accessibility issue.”
I raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. I waited to see if anyone else wanted to insert themselves while my mind went back to the day I met Mason and what we had done after purchasing our books.
That was the moment I decided I wanted to sleep with him, but looking back, I was pretty sure I fell in love with him.
“What are you going to focus your research on?” Mason asked on our first coffee date as he followed me to a table with both our drinks in his hands.
I had put our shopping bags behind my chair in a large pocket where I could store all my things. I glared at someone sitting at the accessible table, guilting them into getting up and leaving with muttered apologies.
“I do a lot of accessibility advocacy work to increase the legal requirements and help companies do more in both physical and virtual spaces,” I said as we got comfortable.
“Like universal design?” he asked and took a sip of coffee, wincing as the hot beverage burned his lips.
I nodded. “Sort of, but it’s hard to gain the respect of old white men when I speak to their companies or testify in court. My mentor thought the PhD in sociology was my best bet. What about you?”
Mason smiled. “I think my research is sort of like intellectual accessibility. I’m researching how people learn new things with the internet. I’ve been increasingly focused on EncycloWiki and how it’s growing beyond being an encyclopedia.”
My eyes got wide. “I love EncycloWiki. I think they can do a lot for accessibility. Do you edit or just research it?”
Mason smiled and leaned closer to the table. “I edit while I sit and watch television. Do you?”
I nodded and gestured to my chair. “I started when I was in physical therapy to learn how to use this.”
Mason looked at my chair and nodded. I braced myself for him to ask me the probing questions that everyone seemed to ask, but he didn’t.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to know. I would later learn that he wanted me to tell him when I was comfortable.
Instead, we sat in the cafe for hours talking about EncycloWiki and planned to get together the next day to edit.
I already wanted to sleep with him, but his care made me wonder how I could make it happen instead of keeping it a fantasy.
“Do you have any sources talking about intellectual accessibility?” I asked Mason when nobody else filled the silence.
Mason raised his eyebrow as he opened his messenger bag, one that he had been carrying around since I had met him in the bookstore over a decade before. He pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to me. “I always cite my sources.”
I took it from him, wondering if I should bring up the one time he hadn’t been able to cite a source.
I decided against it since he didn’t seem to be here to restart that battle and looked over the list of sources.
He had been keeping up with my research.
Three of my recent articles about accessibility and EncycloWiki were on his list. I looked up and Mason’s eyes were still locked on mine.
This was how we had often flirted in class.
We would push others out of the conversation and focus on passing the conversation back and forth between each other.
It was even how we flirted at home, each in love with the other’s mind as much as their bodies.
We didn’t fight; we had academic discussions.
We would end up at home, continuing the conversation until he lifted me out of the chair and we ended up in bed.
His passion for what he valued was one of the things I had loved about him.
That’s why it hurt so much that our relationship wasn’t something he fought for.
I had thought we were on the same page, but when he let me go so easily, I realized that he was more important to me than I was to him.
If he had shown me more of a desire to find a compromise, maybe I would have been willing to change my plans.
Instead, we ended up digging our trenches and forgetting that we loved each other.
This academic conversation couldn’t end with him lifting me out of my chair and carrying me off to bed even if I wanted it.
This sheet of citations was an invitation to resume a pattern it would be easy to fall into, but I wasn’t the same woman I had been when we were together.
He wouldn’t be allowed to chip away at the walls I’d so carefully erected over the years.
He should have found someone else to challenge him intellectually, then maybe he wouldn’t be on the brink of losing tenure and, eventually, his job.
“I’ll consider this as we start brainstorming our new strategic plan,” I said and folded the paper before placing it in my planner. “Does anyone else have something they want to discuss?”