Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Dexter
The next morning I head into my weekly catch-up with Abigail. I have the proposed syllabus for the Ryan intensive ready to go, and I’m hoping for an update on whether or not he’ll be joining us.
“Good morning, Amelia,” I greet Dr. Matthews’ administrative assistant on my way to her office.
“Good morning, Dr. Belanger,” she greets. “You can head on in.”
I nod my thanks and continue to Abigail’s office door, rapping my knuckles twice as I enter.
Abigail Matthews is a powerhouse, a woman to be respected. She’s sitting at her desk, glasses on, as she types away on her computer. “Just one moment, Dexter. I’ll be with you as soon as I finish this email.”
I make my way to the chairs across from her and take a seat, crossing my ankle over my knee as I take in the killer view to my left.
I know better than to speak and interrupt her while she’s in the middle of something.
Let’s just say I’ve been on the receiving end of her death glare a time or twelve.
While I emailed a copy of the syllabus to her this morning before making my way up here, I retrieve the printed copy from my bag while I wait.
Glancing over it one last time, I feel confident in what I’ve put together.
I’m open to any tweaks Dr. Matthews recommends, but it would feel fucking fantastic to get her stamp of approval as-is.
I’ve never worked directly with Jonathan Ryan, and for this class to happen would be a dream come true.
“Right. Good morning,” Abigail says as she looks up from her computer screen and removes her glasses.
“Good morning,” I respond. “I emailed you the proposed syllabus for the Ryan class, and have a printed copy for you here.” Dr. Matthews grins in approval as I hand her the printed copy — after all, what English professor doesn’t love any opportunity to bust out their trusty red pen.
Sure enough, she snags the red sitting on top of her keyboard and removes the cap, using it as a cursor as she reads through the syllabus content.
She makes a few notes in the margins but doesn’t cross out entire sections, so I’m feeling optimistic about my proposal.
“You reached out to Ryan’s assistant for the lecture series structure, yes?” she asks, not looking up from the papers in front of her.
“I did, yes.” I know better than to call her ma’am.
I struggled when I first moved here to drop the formality, considering my upbringing required monsieur and madame when responding to any person of authority.
The first time I ever called Abigail madame, she gave me the first of many cutting glares and said, “I don’t run a brothel.
Dr. Matthews is fine.” Considering we were in Montreal at the time, I didn’t anticipate her pushing back on a French custom.
However, as I said before, Abigail Matthews is a powerhouse and stands her ground, cultural niceties be damned.
Upon successful completion of my dissertation defense, she asked me to call her Abigail.
I was no longer a student, after all. I was now Dexter Belanger, PhD. I was her peer.
“I like it,” she nods and hands the syllabus back to me. “I noted a few changes, but nothing major. What do you think?” Another reason I respect her so very much — she values others’ opinions and welcomes push-back.
I read through her notes, nodding along as I silently agree with each one. “I’ll make the changes as soon as we’re finished here. Do you think he’s actually going to say yes?” I ask.
Abigail smiles, the excitement in her eyes a confirmation of her scheming being successful. “I do. I’ve been emailing with him for the last few weeks, and he wants this, I can tell. If we can send him the finalized syllabus today, we should hear back by the end of the week.”
I can’t hide the excitement in my response. “This is going to be amazing for our lit program. Are we opening the course to auditors? Prospects?”
“Oh, definitely,” she affirms. “We’ve grown over the last few years, but not enough for the board to take notice.
I’m still pissed we didn’t get the extra funding this year.
” I’d say I’m angry, but if we had that funding, Alis wouldn’t be my grader and she wouldn’t spend an hour lunch meeting with me each week.
“The way I see it,” she continues, “if we can draw enough attention to this class to bring in prospects and also get enough undergrads to use an elective spot for the course, we can kill three birds with one stone.”
“Three?” I question.
“Three. I know Ryan won’t leave Grant anytime soon — the pay is too good and he’s got their trustees eating out of his palm.
However, if this is successful enough, I bet we could secure him as an adjunct.
If nothing more, we can offer this class annually and embed it in the catalog for both English and French Lit tracks.
Simply having his name in the course catalog will draw students who couldn’t get into his program at Grant. ”
“Good thinking. I didn’t even consider that as a possibility.”
“I need to expand this program. I know we aren’t ever going to be upper echelon when it comes to lit programs, but we are solid and worth pursuing.
If I can get Ryan on as a committed adjunct and have his name officially on our program documents, I’m certain we could expand both our English and French Lit programs by at least fifty percent over the next three years.
” She’s buzzing with excitement now, and watching her is intoxicating.
“That’s huge. How did you come about those numbers?” Not trying to rain on her parade, but is she spewing facts or fancies?
“This is how I know Ryan wants to say yes to coming this January. We’ve talked numbers and future possibilities.
He provided me with the stats for his applicants and acceptance rates from Grant.
Did you know they turn away more than three thousand lit applicants each year?
And that’s just undergrad. Their acceptance rate for graduate lit studies is nine percent.
NINE percent!” She emphasizes that last bit, and my eyes almost bulge out of their sockets.
“When did Grant become Harvard?” I jest. But, damn, that’s lower than I realized.
Abigail laughs. “Nine percent is not four percent, but I agree. Ryan is a goddamn celebrity in academia. I’ll gladly take his castoffs, assuming they meet our entry requirements. The board can’t ignore us if we’re growing.”
“It’s true. Everybody loves Jonathan Ryan. Good thinking, boss,” I commend her.
“Thank you, Dexter,” she says. “This program means so very much to me, and while we aren’t in danger of losing anyone, I want to ensure we reach our full potential and continue to grow.”
“You’re doing excellent work. I’m proud to be here at Middle Peak, especially under your leadership,” I say.
Abigail gives me a wry look and says, “Stop kissing my ass, Belanger. I already gave you the class with him. I don’t have anything more to offer at present.”
I laugh at her calling me out on my brown-nosing. “So besides finalizing this syllabus and getting it back to you today, what else do you need from me?”
Dr. Matthews taps her pen against her desk a few times before saying, “I need you to continue to keep this quiet for the time being. Assuming everything goes to plan, we’ll have Jonathan come for a visit in the next three weeks.
Nothing fancy, just two or three days. He’s been to the campus before, but it’s been years and it’ll be good to refamiliarize him with the area.
We’ll have a dinner party, of course. Bring your charm, and your French. You know he’ll love that.”
“Can do. I’ll wear a suit and even trim my beard, just for you,” I offer her my most alluring smile and she rolls her eyes.
“Not for me, boy. For him,” she says, playfully. “You already won me over. Now you need to use your skills to convince him to stay beyond the one-time January class. You built the syllabus for this class, now sell him on why it needs continual repeat performances.”
“Not a problem at all, Abigail,” I assure her.
“Excellent. I don’t have anything else to discuss at present; do you?” she asks, not rushing me out of her office as I expect.
I pause for a few seconds, considering whether or not I should heed Leo’s advice about talking to Abigail about Alis before saying to hell with it. I’m going for it.
“Actually, yes.” I clear my throat and continue, “I’d like to talk with you about the fraternization policy.”
This gets her attention. “Go on,” she gestures. Fuck me. I don’t know if this is the best or worst idea I’ve ever had.
“I’m considering pursuing a relationship outside work with a woman who is also an employee at Middle Peak, and while I know it’s not strictly off limits, I want to ensure this relationship won’t be frowned upon by my colleagues.”
“I see,” Abigail nods. “And is this woman one to cause drama that would result in negative comments from your colleagues or the administration?” Her quirked eyebrow confuses me. She knows I’m never one for drama, so I don’t understand why she’d even ask.
“Um, no?” I say. “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t think that, but I’ve also never had a conversation about fraternization with you, Dexter Belanger.
I’ve never known of any romantic relationship in your life — I assume if you are or have been with any woman it’s always been separate from the university.
” I nod, and she continues. “Considering Middle Peak doesn’t have a fraternization policy concerning our employees, I don’t know why we’re having this discussion in the first place. ”
Of course, she wouldn’t. Because she thinks I’m asking about another faculty member.
I rub the back of my neck, not wanting to be cryptic but also not wanting to go into detail out of fear that Alis will hate me for bringing this up to Abigail in the first place.
I’ve come this far, and I’m doing this to ease any worries Alis may have about us ‘crossing the line’ as she says, so I decide to go all in.
“It’s Alis Gilmore.” I’m sitting straight and looking directly at Abigail, trying to convey confidence. I expect to see a shocked expression on Abigail’s face, but all I see is relief. Relief?
She lets out a breath. “Oh thank God. I thought you were about to say Savannah Martin and then I was going to have to ask what the hell is wrong with you.”
That catches me by surprise. “Savannah Martin? Where did that come from?!”
“Oh, please, Dexter.” Abigail waves her hand as if to say, seriously?
“You think everyone hasn’t noticed her flirtatious behavior toward you since you arrived?
I’ve never seen a woman touch a man who is not her significant other more than she touches you.
She’s a smart girl, an incredible political science professor, but she’s not subtle about wanting you.
That woman couldn’t play coy if her life depended on it. ”
I laugh, “She is definitely forward.”
“I respect that,” Abigail says. “But I also think a woman should know when to accept defeat. Here I was thinking you had finally caved to her advances. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“That will never happen,” I affirm. “The only woman I’m interested in pursuing is Alis.”
Abigail smiles, “Alis. She’s such a lovely young woman. You two would be beautiful together. I assume the interest is reciprocated?”
“I believe so, yes,” I nod. “But she’s adamant about not crossing the professor/student line.
I’ve explained to her that it won’t be an issue because she isn’t my student, nor is she my employee.
Sure, she grades for me, but that’s it. She doesn’t report to me, nor will she ever, so this isn’t a problem.
Also, she’s thirty. I’m thirty-six. She acts like our relationship would be something taboo, and her fear is misplaced. ”
Abigail nods in agreement, then says, “I’m sure she has other reasons for being hesitant to get involved with anyone, not just you.”
“You mean Sunny?” I ask. Now Abigail dons the surprised face I expected when I first mentioned Alis’s name.
“You know about her daughter?” she asks.
“Yes, I’ve actually met her. She’s hilarious!” I say, thinking back to the day at her apartment.
Abigail’s eyes grow even wider. “You’ve met her? Well, that was unexpected. She rarely ever talks about her daughter. Am I assuming correctly that you know the history there?”
“I do,” I nod. “She’s been through a lot, and I respect the hell out of her for coming back to finish school almost a decade later. She’s inspiring. Makes me want to be with her even more, if I’m honest.”
Abigail places an elbow on her desk and leans forward, chin resting on her hand. “You’re serious about her? This isn’t casual?” she asks.
A smile spreads across my face. “Very serious. I’ve been captivated by her since the moment I met her, and that hasn’t happened with anyone else. I wouldn’t play games with a single mother. I want to be with her.”
“Have you told her this?”
“Not in so many words. Whenever I’ve tried to broach the subject of us as more than friends or colleagues, she shuts me down before the conversation even begins.”
“And you’re sure she wants this?”
“I think so. I really do. I wouldn’t be here talking to you if I didn’t.
I truly believe that the professor/student status is her only hangup, and it’s as if she refuses to hear me when I say it won’t be an issue.
I honestly don’t know if I’m ruining my chances by talking to you about her, but nothing else has worked so this is my Hail Mary, if you will. ”
Abigail smirks and sits back in her chair. “Could go either way. But I commend your effort, nonetheless.”
“Thanks?” I laugh. We’re silent for a moment, and then Dr. Matthews says, “Well?”
“Well, what?” I ask.
“Are you going to finalize the syllabus so we can get this ball rolling or are you going to sit on your ass and talk to me about your feelings all day?” I know she’s poking fun at me, but she’s also completely serious.
“Sorry, Abigail,” I say as I wipe my hands down my thighs and retrieve my bag from beside the chair before standing. “I’ll get right on that and have it to you by lunch.”
I turn to leave when Abigail says, “And Dexter?”
I look back at her, waiting to hear whatever pearls of wisdom she has for me.
“Good luck with Alis. She’s a great girl, and you both deserve to be happy.” The warm expression on her face is more than encouragement from my boss. She truly does care.
“I appreciate it,” I say. Then head to my own office to polish off this syllabus.