Chapter Ten
Bernie
Two months Later
“Knock, knock.” Gail’s standing in my office doorway with a bag of pastry and what looks like some kind of iced milky goodness. I give her my full attention as she walks in. “Brought some treats. I know you’ve been swamped with the year-end reports.”
I shimmy in my seat, and she laughs, tossing whatever pastry she’s picked up onto my desk. It looks like Danish. I don’t care, I want carbs, all the carbs.
“Thank you,” I say around a mouthful of frosted dough. It’s melting on my tongue--butter, sharp fruit, and sweet frosting.
“You’re welcome. I saw you submitted the reports last night and I’m eager to look them over. I actually stopped by to ask if you’ve been getting any of Ashish Mishra’s emails?”
I freeze mid-chew at the mention of his name. “Uhh…excuse me?”
“The team emails with Ashish Mishra, that engineer coming from MIT for the Department of Ed grant. You’re cc’d on all the emails, but you haven’t been active in the email chain and I was worried you haven’t been getting them. It’s not like you to not respond to team emails.”
I appreciate Gail giving me the benefit of the doubt but I can barely hear her. What the ever-loving fuck is she talking about? “I’m sorry, the engineering ed one?”
Gail nods.
“Isn’t Pam lead? What does Ashish Mishra have to do with our Department of Ed grant?”
Gail gives me a confused look. “Okay, that answers my question. You haven’t been getting the emails. Mishra is the PI for the grant. He selected West Lafayette as one of the sites and is working here with us for an academic year. We finalized the MOU before you joined our team. I took Pam off last week because she’s going to go on maternity leave in a few months and I don’t want to transition someone mid-way through the grant. So, I’ve decided I want you to be point.”
That explains this pastry. It’s a bribe.
“You want me to lead it? And he’s going to be working with us…” I’m going to black out. Or hyperventilate. Or die? Can I just die? I’m definitely not going to tell Gail anything more about the disaster that is my failed attempts at dating. For weeks after the conference, Gail tried to talk to me about Stephen.
Hard no.
“Yeah. He starts next week. I want you to work with him throughout this year. That’s why I was concerned you haven’t engaged in the email chain. Can you check your junk box and get back to me? I want to make sure you’re up to date before he comes to the office on Monday.”
I nod and drop the sticky dough on top of the takeout bag. Ashish Mishra has put me off both sex and sweets.
“Okay, I can do that.”
She hovers at the threshold of my door like she has something else to say but ultimately nods and shifts towards the door like she’s going to leave. “Sounds good. Send me an email by the end of the day to let me know if you find them. If they’re in your junk box, please respond to the latest so you can set up a time with Mishra on Monday to review the accepted proposal. I don’t think I need to stress to you that this is a huge coup for West Lafayette. We’re in the top ten for engineering schools but not in a metro area like Mishra has with his firm and MIT. You’re going to have to travel to Indianapolis and Chicago to find a good partner. He’s really going to need your help to navigate our politics so we’re not wasting time. You and Pam work with all of the engineering faculty, so you have the most connections and expertise at this point on the team.”
I nod, and push to my feet, hoping it makes me look more confident and less like I feel like a bomb just dropped in my lab—or I guess inbox.
“Of course, Gail. You can count on me.”
She gives me a small smile and leaves me with my empty calories. I make myself walk to the door slowly and gently press it closed. With the snick of the latch engaging, I rush back to my computer. I know exactly where Ashish Mishra’s emails are, because I’ve had them automatically sorted into a private folder labeled ‘Ash-hole, do not open’ for the last two months.
Fuck .
I click and scan the folder. There are thirty-two emails. Thirty-two emails in two months that I have definitely not read. I scroll to the first email in the inbox.
June 23rd, 2023
From: Ashish Mishra
To: Bernadette Murphy
Bernie,
I’m sorry we haven’t been able to connect. I have called you several times and haven’t heard from you. This isn’t the ideal way to tell you but I wanted you to get some kind of communication from me before I email the team at West Lafayette.
Almost two years ago, I approached some faculty at MIT to respond to an RFP from the Department of Education to reimagine engineering workforce education. Our proposal requires a partnership between an engineering firm and a school of engineering, testing the impacts of a small sample of engineering freshmen who spend half of their coursework at the university and half of their coursework with engineers at a firm in an applied project.
Long story short, we were selected and have been testing the idea at MIT for the last academic year. Obviously, things are a little limited with COVID but over the next two years we are scaling the project at two other universities, West Lafayette is the first.
Because of your work in research development, this partnership will likely impact you this academic year. I’m moving to West Lafayette at the beginning of August and will be there to help build the initial partnership and curriculum for an academic year.
I don’t know if we will have to work with each other but I wanted you to know in advance before emails with your team started to come in. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you’re hurt. I’m not sorry we got together but I regret how this all has played out.
I hope we can talk in August when I get there. Maybe have dinner. Both numbers are the same. Call me.
Yours,
Ash
Yours, Ash? What the ever-loving fuck? I close the email and slowly scan up. He waited a week before emailing Gail. I scan through email after email, seeing Gail assign me to the project last week. Ash’s sharing of Google folders with project details and curriculum. Holy shit. I can’t believe I missed this.
August 2, 2023
From: Gail Locke
To: Ashish Mishra
CC: Bernadette Murphy
Ashish - Dr. Murphy will be getting back to you this week about scheduling a welcome/orientation meeting. Not sure why she’s been MIA on this thread and will check with her, worried your emails are going to her junk folder. Be in touch soon.
GL
I stare dumbly at the pastry on my desk. Gail has given me way too much grace in this situation. This is a multi-million dollar grant, and I’ve just been “out of the loop.” I hit reply.
August 2nd, 2023
From: Bernadette Murphy
To: Ashish Mishra, Gail Locke
Team -
Deepest apologies for my absence on this thread. Dr. Mishra’s emails were in fact going to a different folder and I was unaware of this chain of emails. I will review all of the project materials prior to Dr. Mishra’s arrival so we can hit the ground running next week.
I’m a poor substitute for Pam but I will do my best.
Dr. Mishra, I have time on Monday and Tuesday. Please let me know what works for you and I will make that time available on my calendar.
Again, my deepest apologies for the lack of response.
Sincerely,
Bernadette
Gail sends a thumbs up through our Slack channel and I let out a shaky breath. Even though I hate him, feeling like I’m not doing a good job is worse. At this point, work is really all I have. I can’t seem to shake that rollercoaster gut reaction when I mess up, a stomach-dropping, pulse-racing fear that will no doubt haunt me at three in the morning.
I want to do a good job, a great job. I want my boss to trust me, and it makes me sick to think I may have shaken that trust by not responding. Yet another reason why academic dick is off-limits.
My inbox dings with a new message.
August 2nd, 2023
From: Ashish Mishra
To: Bernadette Murphy, Gail Locke
Dr. Murphy -
Great to hear from you. Look forward to connecting. Let’s meet bright and early on Monday. Does 9 work for you? I can come to your offices, just send me the directions. Feel free to text me if that’s easier to communicate.
Here are my numbers: 617-495-3087 or 617-495-3094.
Ash
Here are my numbers. Ash-hole, I have your freaking numbers. I hate him, I hate his easy breezy, reasonable professional tone. I hate that I’m a little excited to see his face on Monday. What will it be like to be in the same room? To talk to him? How am I going to manage this?
August 2nd, 2023
From: Bernadette Murphy
To: Ashish Mishra
CC: Gail Locke
Dr. Mishra, Thank you for your understanding. It is appreciated. No need to exchange numbers, email is fine, I have fixed my inbox settings. 9 works, we’re in the Woodlands Hall. Please find the campus map and legend attached. I have highlighted the parking garage you should park in.
See you Monday,
Bernadette
August 2nd, 2023
From: Ashish Mishra
To: Bernadette Murphy
Dr. Murphy,
Please feel free to call me Ash. I would love to take you to breakfast before our meeting.
Ash
August 2nd, 2023
From: Bernadette Murphy
To: Ashish Mishra
No.
My phone buzzes, and I dig it out of my bag. A new text from Ash-hole is on the screen. He’s been texting me every day. He calls once a week but hasn’t left a message in a month. Part of me wants him to shut down the communication and just give up so I can feel more reasonable for continuing to hold on to my hurt. Part of me wants to believe that he’s as nice and thoughtful as he seems. Truthfully, I’ve worked hard over the summer to kill that piece of me. Yet, there’s still a little piece of me who reads his texts and listens to his voicemail, dreading the day he stops. Because he’ll give up; it’s inevitable.
Ash-hole: Bernie, let me take you to breakfast before work. I don’t want this to be hard for you. I think it will be easier if we see each other before.
Will it be easier? Maybe, probably, but I’m worried about my resolve. Even Pru, snooping through my texts, pointed out that it wasn’t the same as the situation with Stephen and Ash seemed like a good guy. That maybe I should listen to what he has to say and believe him. Prudence Landry. The woman who was the queen of overreacting and almost had a freaking restraining order served against her from my ex, despite living in an entirely different state.
Biting my lip, I type my reply.
Bernie: I think it’s better if we just keep it professional, yeah? We have a whole year to get through.
Ash-hole: I miss you.
What the ever-loving hell? I can feel my face flush. Rage has returned.
Bernie: You don’t even know me.
Ash-hole: I’m trying to be respectful Bernie, but this isn’t over for me. I’m going to keep trying.
My heart pounds. I’m going to keep trying. Why? Two fucking days isn’t a life-changing event, I tell myself. Feeling spiteful, I leave him on read and put my phone away. I stuff Gail’s bribe pastry into my mouth and chew sullenly, turning back to my computer.
As much as I try to shut it down, my stupid, love-hungry brain whispers to me, if it wasn’t a big deal, why were you so upset? If it wasn’t a big deal, why won’t you go out with anyone else? Why do you have butterflies at the idea that he hasn’t given up? I imagine that soft, love-hungry part of me in my mind, and then I stuff her into a little box, lock it up, and throw it off a cliff.