Chapter 20
TWENTY
Alis
Amelia must be out to lunch because when I arrive for my meeting with Dr. Matthews, she’s nowhere to be found. The light is off in Dr. Matthews’ office, so I take a seat and enjoy the quiet while I can.
Brody revealed his cards today, and so did I.
The look on his face made me feel terrible for hurting his feelings.
Did I lead him on? Wait. No. I did not lead him on.
I have no reason to feel guilty or negative at all about establishing my boundaries.
I’d like to maintain a friendship with Brody, but that’s all.
He can accept that or reject it; that’s his prerogative.
Would I consider him more than a friend if I didn’t know Dexter? No, I don’t believe I would. I don’t make my relationship decisions based on other people. However, I would be lying to myself if I said I didn’t wish Dexter was the one with his lips on my cheek a few minutes ago.
Lifting my hand to my face, I close my eyes and think back to the other day in my apartment corridor when he tucked the loose hair behind my ear. In my daydream he doesn’t pull back, but instead leans in close and is just about to brush his lips across my cheek …
“Alis, I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.
” I’m pulled from my daydream by a flustered Dr. Matthews.
I stand and brush my hands down my blouse and skirt, smoothing out any wrinkles that popped up while I waited for her to arrive.
The cat print on this skirt is just fun enough to convey “nerdy but flirty” instead of “I’m a crazy cat lady! ”
“No worries. I haven’t been here long.” I give her a reassuring smile as she nods, pauses for a second to give my outfit a curious once-over, and then leads the way into her office.
“That view gets me every time,” I breathe, stopping for a moment to stare through her glass panel wall that boasts a perfect view of the nearby mountains, before heading to a chair in her seating area. “How do you get any work done with a view like that in your periphery each day?”
Dr. Matthews chuckles. “It never gets any less beautiful, but in time it serves as a de-stressor rather than a distraction.”
“I could see that,” I nod. “Hopefully one day I’ll have an office with a view like this.”
“I’m sure you will,” Dr. Matthews smiles at me. “With the academic prowess I’ve observed from you these past few months, I hold no doubt that with the right connections and direction schools across the country will fight to snatch you up when your dissertation is complete.”
I blush. I don’t take compliments well. “Thank you, Dr. Matthews. It means a lot to hear you say that.” I toy with the hem of my skirt and offer a moment of vulnerability.
“I had been away from academia for so long, I feared finding my footing would take longer than it has. Not only that, but I left so suddenly and I’ve often wondered how that could negatively affect my future career prospects. ”
“In a lot of ways, reentering the academy is like riding a bike,” she says.
I nod, “Like riding a bike.”
“And as for how leaving has affected your future, I wouldn’t worry about it. The only way leaving could have negatively affected your future was if you didn’t come back. Which you did.”
Again, I nod, still staring down at my lap to hide the blush on my face.
“Ok, let’s get to it,” Dr. Matthews says, tapping a stack of papers on her lap. I pull a notebook and pen from my messenger bag and open it to the next blank page.
Now that we’re past the compliments, I’m able to resume a professional demeanor and look at her. “The intensive I spoke with you about at the beginning of the semester is in two weeks. I assume you remember that I’ll need you with me the entire week?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply. “I’ve got my schedule situated and I’m yours all week.”
She continues. “Excellent. I have an overlap with a few meetings I cannot reschedule, but I’ve talked with Belanger and he’s going to teach those segments.”
I pause in my note-taking when she says his name and look up at her. “Dr. Belanger? Are those segments not something I could teach?” Way to be subtle, Alis.
Dr. Matthews looks up from her planner, removing her glasses. I try to put on my best “nothing going on here” face, but she probably senses something’s off with my tone.
Placing the foot of her glasses in her mouth, Dr. Matthews ponders for a few seconds before responding.
“You know what, you make a great point. You could teach most of them yourself.” Oh, thank you, Jesus.
I let out the breath I was holding and hope she didn’t hear my obvious sigh of relief. Wait, did she say ‘most’?
“Not all of them, though,” she continues.
Son of a bitch! Celebrated too soon. “Two of the segments are in Belanger’s wheelhouse and I believe the students would benefit from his teaching in those areas.
Not to mention the students will want a reprieve from my blunt nature and could use some eye candy with a fun uncle demeanor.
” She laughs to herself and I try not to react to the fact that she just referred to Dexter Belanger as eye candy.
Apparently, I’m trying too hard not to react, thus painting an awkward expression on my face. “Do you not agree?” she inquires, teasingly.
I don’t want to answer that. “Um, sure. Yeah.” Smooth. Real smooth.
Dr. Matthews laughs, “You don’t have to play coy. Any woman with eyes can see that man is gorgeous.”
I blush and shrug. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“Anyway, moving on,” she chuckles as she returns her glasses to her face. Thank God.
An hour later I leave her office armed with an updated schedule for the intensive, which includes two celebrity appearances by one Dexter Belanger. At least I have a heads-up.
As I walk back through campus after the meeting, I reflect on the last few weeks’ grader meetings with Dexter.
I’ve grown more comfortable in his presence, and I can confidently say Dexter Belanger has become more than just a professor I grade for — he’s a friend.
We don’t talk about anything truly deep in our meetings, but the fact that we share lunch together at each meeting encourages conversation topics outside his upcoming assignments and my responsibilities toward his students.
I expected Dexter to ambush me with questions about Sunny after he met her, but thankfully he’s kept questions light — focusing mainly on favorite authors and books, my career aspirations, and the like.
I haven’t had anyone to fawn over French literature with in nearly a decade, so it’s nice to lose myself for half an hour in conversation about Duras’s The Lover, Zola’s Thérèse Raquin, and even modern French novelists such as Gilles Legardinier and Guillaume Musso.
My life the past nine years may have seemed boring to some, but I never stopped reading. Physically, I was in Moraine, but for at least an hour a day I lost myself in worlds created by some of the world’s best authors — not just French.
I’ve loved learning about Dexter’s varying tastes in books and I respect his opinions concerning French literature, both new and old. We don’t like all the same books or writers, but we love literature as a whole.
I imagine what it will be like to sit in the lecture hall while he teaches. I hadn’t expected this opportunity since I never plan to take any of his courses, and honestly, I’m looking forward to it.
I briefly close my eyes and revel in visions of him at the front of the room, hair knotted back away from his face, his button-down shirt neatly tucked into his trousers with the sleeves rolled up his forearms.
I’m just getting to the good part of my daydream — the part where he looks at me in the back row, smiles, and winks — when I trip for the second time today. Dammit! Brody is not here to catch me this time, so I hit the brick walkway, hard, and tear a hole in the knee of my favorite red tights.
To make matters worse, my glasses fall off my face when I trip and land face down on the brick.
Fuck. My. Life. I retrieve my glasses and inspect them for scratches.
A damp yellow leaf clings to one lens, but other than that I don’t see any irreparable damage.
I’ll find out for sure once I’m home and have better lighting.
Did anyone see that? Of course, they did, Alis. You’re walking across campus in the middle of a weekday afternoon.
Thankfully none of the passersby are close enough to lend aid and draw more attention to my blunder. I stand, brush the bit of dirt and leaves off my skirt, knees, and shins, readjust my messenger bag across my front, and carry on. Nothing to see here, folks.
Scuffed palms, ruined tights, a scraped and slightly bloody knee, shattered confidence in my ability to walk and do anything else simultaneously — the consequences of fantasizing about Dexter Belanger.
As if I need any more reasons to keep him at arms’ length. Sorry, Sexy Dexy, but you’re a hazard to my person.
Dexter
I’m walking toward my car at the end of the day when I hear my name being called by a familiar voice.
I turn and see Dr. Matthews walking toward me, briefcase in hand and her long peacoat buttoned and knotted at her waist with a popped collar in an attempt to keep out more of the chilly autumn air.
Add a deerstalker and she’d be a right Sherlock Holmes.
“Dr. Matthews,” I give her a nod, acknowledging her as she approaches me.
“Dexter, I’m so glad I caught you. Do you have a minute?” She’s winded from her power walk.
“Sure thing. Everything alright?” I ask while she calms her breaths, now only the cool temps are affecting her.
“Yes. It’s about my intensive and the lectures you’re presenting that week.” Ah, she must be adding to my workload, yet again. Not that I mind. More time filling in for Abigail means more time with Alis.
“Need to add on another? No problem. It’s fall break that week so I don’t have any other classes to attend.”
“Actually, quite the opposite. I met with Alis earlier today and she reminded me that she’s already teaching a handful of these topics in my Wednesday class.
I’ve been so scatterbrained lately with the overlaps and extra workload with fewer staff, it completely slipped my mind that my TA is just that — my teaching assistant.
” Dr. Matthews gives a self-deprecating laugh and shakes her head.
“So, you’re off the hook. Well, except for two.
At the moment I can’t remember which two, but I do remember that you only have to present two lectures and Alis will take the rest while I have overlap. ”
That’s not what I wanted to hear. Less time with Alis? That’s the opposite of what I want.
“Are you sure?” I press. “It’s really no burden for me to cover the lectures we discussed. I’m sure Alis has a lot on her plate.” Do I sound desperate? Not yet? No, not yet.
Dr. Matthews waves me off. “Nonsense. As I said, she brought it up. I’m sure she wouldn’t have if she didn’t want more teaching opportunities.
When we talked at the beginning of the semester she marked off the dates for this class so she could dedicate her entire workweek to it.
And you could use the time for planning, especially with Jonathan Ryan looking to teach a J-term intensive next year. ”
My eyes go wide. This is news to me. “What?! Since when?” Dr. Matthews smirks; she knew I wouldn’t know and she no doubt anticipated my reaction.
“Keep it hush, but I caught wind of a lecture series he’s presenting during his upcoming year-long sabbatical and figured I’d capitalize on the opportunity to boost the program with a class taught by him as a guest lecturer.”
I can barely contain my excitement. “So it’s for sure happening?” I ask, chomping at the bit for an opportunity to finagle my way into co-teaching with him.
“Nothing is set in stone, but I’ve opened dialogue with him about it.
” Her eagerness to solidify her plan is evident.
“He’ll be teaching in the US and Canada during the spring semester, then heading to Europe for the fall.
The plan is to have him teach the entire lecture series as a two-week intensive as a sort of scrimmage presentation before he leaves Colorado for the start of the official series. ”
“That’s genius. Think he’ll go for it?”
“I hope so.” She shrugs, “We’ll have to wait and see. In the meantime, I want you to get your hands on his series outline and start building a syllabus for the class. If we have everything pre-organized, he’s more likely to sign on.”
I smile like a kid on Christmas morning. Me. Dexter Belanger. Build a class from Dr. Ryan’s lecture series for him to teach at Middle Peak. I’m not thinking clearly when I nod my head enthusiastically and reply, “Yes. Yes of course I can do that. Anything I can do to help just let me know.”
“I want the syllabus completed in three weeks.” She cocks an eyebrow in question — or is that challenge? Does she think building a syllabus in three weeks when the content is provided for me will be an issue?
“Not a problem,” I nod.
“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
I start to walk back toward my car when Dr. Matthews calls after me, saying, “And Dexter …” I stop and look her way, letting her know I’m listening. “Keep this between us for now. I’d hate to get anyone’s hopes up and have it fall through.”
“Sure thing, boss,” I say, saluting her with two fingers before unlocking my car with my fob.
Dr. Ryan teaching at Middle Peak. This is going to be incredible. And I get to build the syllabus for the class.
Me. Dexter Bellanger. Thirty-six-year-old, bottom-of-the-totem-pole French lit professor building a syllabus for the most celebrated scholar in our field. This is amazing.
Just as I close my driver-side door and slide my keys into the ignition I’m hit with a sudden rush of imposter syndrome.
Me. Dexter Bellanger. Thirty-six-year-old, bottom-of-the-totem-pole French lit professor building a syllabus for the most celebrated scholar in our field. What the hell is Abigail Matthews thinking trusting me with this?!