Chapter Nine
Ethan
N o matter which way you look at it, I’m screwed. I can’t think of a plausible excuse to not supervise Sadie. Because Jennifer is right. Her thesis sits right in my area of expertise.
And if I argue too strongly, Jen will smell a rat. She’s not dense. And I made a promise to Sadie.
I also don’t feel like I want to risk her ending up under Martin Collins.
There’s a good reason for the bad blood between Martin and me.
He was a new lecturer when I was an undergrad and after he gave me a shitty mark on an assessment, I went to the unit convenor—who happened to be Jennifer at the time—and made a complaint. When my essay was re-marked, I ended up with a high distinction and a lifelong enemy in Martin. Because instead of letting it go, he took it to the department head and complained. He was hauled over the coals for both the crappy mark and complaining about my request for a re-mark. All that is to say, I don’t trust his ability to judge her work fairly. Because I can already see she thinks outside the accepted norms. Martin most certainly does not.
Then there’s his general creepiness with women. None of the girls in my classes ever wanted to be alone in a room with him. Over ten years later, he hasn’t improved. I’ve only been here a couple of days, and I’ve noticed how his eyes follow the young women in the department. Including Sadie. And I don’t trust him.
I also know he’s a good friend of the vice-chancellor, so, as Jennifer put it when we discussed him yesterday, we’re stuck with him. Unless I can come up with a good reason Jennifer should supervise Sadie, I’m cornered. The whole ‘you’re a woman too’ thing didn’t fly. Neither should it have, to be honest. It was a desperate grab for an excuse.
The sad thing is, in other circumstances—for instance, if I hadn’t slept with her, or she was a he, or she was gay—I’d be thrilled to be supervising her. I’ve had a look at her submission, and it’s fresh and interesting. Well written. Well argued. Clever.
Bottom line? I’m well and truly screwed. Again. Or is it still?
Jennifer insists I join her and Martin for their conversation about who will be supervising whom. Which he’s clearly not happy about. Especially when I hand him the colour-coded chronology of Ancient Egyptian rulers I give my first-year students.
“Yes, thank you, Ethan. I’ve been lecturing at this university for ten years. I know the chronology of the Pharaohs,” he says.
“Well that’s a development because I seem to remember—” I start, leaning back in my chair and crossing my ankles.
“I don’t have to allow him to speak to me like—” Martin tries to talk over me.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Jennifer interrupts, her gaze travelling from one to the other. “Surely, after all these years we can let this go?”
I hold up my hands in surrender.
“I shouldn’t have to put up with this. I’m a respected …” Martin pauses and gives me a glare when I snort. “I’m a respected member of the faculty.”
Jennifer, who I know for a fact would love to get rid of Martin and is waiting for him to make a big enough gaff to justify it, metaphorically pats him on the shoulder.
“Of course you are, Martin. Nobody is suggesting otherwise. Now, can we get down to discussing the PhD students? I have another meeting to get to this afternoon.”
Half an hour of bickering later, I somehow find myself lobbying hard to supervise Sadie. Because I can’t, in good conscience, allow an incompetent, small-minded dick like Martin to get hold of such a sparkling mind. He won’t get the best out of her, and her thesis will suffer as a result. And that would be a tragedy. I’m going to have to suck it up. And get used to cold showers.
“If you think I can’t see what’s going on here, you’re mistaken,” Martin hisses at me as we leave Jennifer’s office.
That gets my attention. Surely he hasn't picked up on the tension between Sadie and me? Because that would be bad. I stop mid-stride and turn to give him one of my father’s death glares. “And what is it you think is going on, Martin?”
“I know you and Jennifer are tight. It’s obvious she brought you in here to try and slide you over my head into her job when she retires. Which is why she’s giving you the best PhD candidate. But it won’t work. Anthony will be hearing about this.”
Sigh.
Anthony Chalmers is the vice-chancellor. He went to the same school as Martin, or some such bullshit. He’s the only reason Martin still has a job.
However, he’s not wrong about Jennifer’s plans. She was very clear about how she saw things playing out over the next five years. Lucky for me, growing up with a father and an older brother as lawyers, I can do inscrutable like a professional.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m here to strengthen the New Kingdom curriculum we offer and to include the university in my Cambridge concession at Amarna, thereby saving the university a large amount of money while still publishing new work. If you have a problem with any of that, though, please feel free to take it up with Anthony. Because going over everyone’s heads worked so well for you last time.”
And he’s left spluttering in my dust like the ignoramus he is, still clutching the chronology I gave him, as I stride back to my office and close the door.
“No, seriously, have another. You’ve only had, what is it? Three? Four? Make it an even five.” I don’t point out that five is an odd number as Ben slides the plate of sfogliatelle towards me. His mother-in-law is the best cook. Which is just as well because neither Ben nor his wife Rosanna can cook for shit. Lucky for them, she lives to bring them their favourite Italian treats. And they can afford to hire a housekeeper, who comes in three times a week to fill in the gaps.
Despite his sarcastic offering, I help myself to another pastry. My sweet tooth is the stuff of legend. I’ve never met a sweet I didn’t love. And there’s always room for one more. Right now, these pastries are vying for first place with my perennial favourite, baklava. Or maybe it’s knafeh. Okay, they all have a place in the top three.
“Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind, or do I have to hold you upside down and shake it out of you?” Ben’s emotional intelligence is off the charts. Which is why I invited myself to dinner. I need a clear-eyed perspective on the Sadie situation.
“Yeah, I, umm … I did a thing.” I can’t bring myself to call it a mistake. It wasn’t. Even if the subsequent fallout has complicated my life—and Sadie’s—more than I would like.
Ben waits patiently. I start again.
“I met this woman.”
“What?” Ben and Rosanna squawk in unison, causing the baby sleeping in Ben’s arms to jump and open sleepy brown eyes. Without a word, Rosanna gets up and takes Andrea from his father.
“That’s wonderful, Ethan.” She pats me on the shoulder as she passes, whispering to Ben, “I’ll go and put Andy to bed. Leave you two to talk.”
Ben kisses them both before turning back to me. I hope the light is low enough he can’t see the tears in my eyes. I couldn’t be happier for my brother. Both my brothers. But seeing him so happy with his wife and baby creates a cocktail of conflicting emotions I find difficult to deal with. It’s something I need to get a handle on. Because I don’t ever want them to feel they can’t express their happiness for fear of upsetting me, and I’m not sure I could adequately explain the complexity of my guilt and regret.
“Where were we? You met a woman. I’m guessing there’s more to the story; otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”
“What? I can’t have dinner with my brother without an ulterior motive?” Is a sixth pastry too many? No. It definitely isn’t. It’s the last one, after all. No point leaving it behind.
“Of course you can. Any time. You know that. But I can spot an emotional conundrum a mile away. Given what you’ve been through, it’s totally understandable if you’re feeling some kind of way about meeting someone new.” Ben puts on his earnest face. Which makes me wish we were still ten and twelve and I could give him a noogie.
“It’s complicated.”
“Ha. You wouldn’t be a Carter if it was simple. Go on.” He leans back in his chair and crosses an ankle over his knee, ready for a story.
“We met a couple of weeks ago and had a one-night stand.”
“So far, so good.” By now my other brother Will would probably be jumping to all kinds of conclusions like accidental pregnancy or, God forbid, disease, but Ben waits patiently.
“We went our separate ways. Then, on my first day at work, who should be there but Sadie. She’s a PhD student.” I take a mouthful of wine to buy myself some time. And wash down that last pastry. Six might’ve been too much. Even for me. Or maybe it’s this conversation that’s making me queasy. “And the department head, Jennifer Stone”—Ben nods as though he remembers the name—“has appointed me her supervisor.”
“Huh. What are the odds?” Ben shakes his head. “Have you told Jennifer about the previous, ahh, connection?”
I fill him in on my conversation with Sadie and why I reluctantly agreed to keep quiet. And about the situation with Martin, who he remembers hearing about when we tangled over marks.
“Fuck. That is complicated. For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you for not letting that Collins guy get his hooks into her. However, it seems like you’ve been snookered, as Dad would say. I get why you agreed to keep quiet. But it’s a risk. Unless there’s no residual … tension?”
For the first time in my adult life, my cheeks heat. I’m a grown-arse man and I’m blushing. Which Ben, of course, clocks immediately, despite the low lighting.
“I see. How deep in the weeds do you want me to go here, bro?”
I didn’t come here to fuck spiders, as they say. Even though I know this is going to be painful, I spread my hands, giving Ben permission to dig as much as he wants.
“As I see it, there are two issues. The first is how to handle things at the uni. The second, and more important to me, because you’re my brother, and I love you, and want you to be happy, is how you feel about this woman.”
“Did you not hear the part about her being a student? And not wanting to get involved with a professor because of her parents?”
“Yep. I heard. Heard all about how she feels. What I didn’t hear was how you feel about her. How you feel about getting involved.” Ben missed his calling as a counsellor. Although his current gig is far more lucrative.
Kind of wishing I hadn’t opened this door now. Sadly, it’s too late to take it all back. Eventually, I clear my throat with another gulp of Ben’s exceptionally good red wine.
“I’m not ready,” is all I can manage.
“E, are you going to make me say all the things?” His invocation of my childhood nickname tells me he’ll go there if he needs to.
I know the things he means. Things about how it’s been two years. How Jess would want me to be happy. How I deserve to be happy. I shake my head. I don’t need to hear it. Again.
“Right. It seems to me that if you’ve met someone, and you’re having feelings,”—I go to interrupt and he holds up a hand to stop me—“whatever those feelings might be, then maybe you are ready. For something at least. If this woman has brought you to that point, well, I’d like to thank her.”
“Sadly, your undying gratitude doesn’t solve my dilemma,” I snark.
“Maybe you just need to relax. Don’t press the panic button just yet. The sex is kind of the easy part, and you’ve already put that on the backburner. Focus on guiding her through her PhD. Get to know her while you work together. Be friends. Then, if you decide you like her, and she likes you, and maybe you want to have a relationship, figure out how to handle it.”
“Spoken like a man who went how many weeks being a ‘friend’ before jumping the love of his life?”
Ben’s eyebrows fly up to his hairline, and his mouth pops open, but no words come out.
Shit. That was some kind of Freudian slip. I’ve already had the love of my life. Jess. And now she’s gone. Maybe one day I’ll find love again, but I don’t see how it could compare. It will always be a lesser love. Whoever it is—and I’d be kidding myself if I thought it would be someone as special as I already know Sadie is—will need to be accepting of that. I’m painfully aware of the unfairness, the unreasonableness, of this. Which brings me to the conclusion that the likelihood of finding someone is infinitesimally small. And I’m okay with that.