“Someone should benefit from my, um, temporary insanity.”
“And to give them the freezer, too—but, then, I guess you won’t need it once the meat is gone.” A tiny pause. “I should show you this chart, about how various meats affect the environment. I don’t expect everyone to follow a vegetarian diet, but different proteins have different impacts on the planet. Some of us are playing for larger stakes than others.”
He does not appreciate Victoria’s tone, or her dig at his age. He considers chiding her for her cheekiness, but he is suddenly anxious to go online via his phone and check his credit card bill. This is one area of his life where Gerry has embraced technology. He does not pay his bills online, but he likes being able to monitor his credit card accounts and his various balances.
He had given Aileen his Amex, the “business” card, and the transactions from last week have already posted. A cordless reciprocating saw from Home Depot. Multiple items from a kitchen supply shop. The inn in Princeton—right, Victoria has her own card linked to the account. How did a vegetarian spend that much on room service? She must have ordered an entire bottle of wine. Here is the invoice for a side of beef from a farm in New Windsor, Maryland, delivered to—he doesn’t recognize the street. Is it Aileen’s home? He’s not sure he approves of this. Why would Gerry enter Aileen’s address in an Ambien haze, when he doesn’t even know it?
Ah well. It’s her story. Let her sweat the details.
Aileen arrives that evening with a large insulated bag from Whole Foods, which appears to be empty, given the way it dangles from her wrist. When she says goodbye in the morning, it is slung over her shoulder, bulging with whatever has been stored inside.
Gerry takes his Ambien and asks no questions.
1986
“GERRY, THERE’S BEEN A COMPLAINT.”
The head of the Writing Sems looked sheepish, yet jolly. Still, his words hit Gerry hard. He was not used to being in trouble. He never got in trouble. He led an exemplary life. Just this week, he bought a case of wine at Eddie’s, for a party he and Lucy were planning, and when he got home, he realized he had been charged for one bottle, not twelve. He had called the store and made sure they charged his credit card for what was owed. It wasn’t expensive wine, not even eight dollars a bottle, but it was the principle of the thing.
“Gerry?”
“I don’t know what to say. From a student?” He had flunked a student last semester, which was rare. But the student had failed to do her work and received multiple warnings, even an extension into this semester. After assuring him she would submit her outstanding assignments, she called and said the registrar had said it was fine to grant her another extension. He had refused and given her an F, a rarity at Hopkins these days.
“Your colleague, Shannon Little.”
“Oh.”
“She says you, um, approached her and that you commenced a relationship.”
God, there are so many things wrong with that sentence. She “approached” him. It was not a relationship, which was the true source of her complaint, Gerry was sure. Also, how disappointing that Harry would use the word commenced in this context. Embarrassment must have rendered him less articulate than usual.
He took a deep breath. “Shannon made it quite clear that she wanted to have sex with me. It was not something that interested me, not really. But she was adamant. Determined. One night we were alone, going over applicants for next year’s Writing Sems. We had sex. Once. I was disappointed in myself, but it’s not a mistake I wish to repeat. And, no, I haven’t told my wife. Lucy has always been very clear that if I am unfaithful, our marriage is over.”
Lucy’s attitudes about sexual fidelity were more nuanced than this, but his boss didn’t need to know that. She would, in fact, divorce him if she learned about Shannon.
“Shannon’s version of the story is somewhat different.”
“I’m sure it is. I’m trying to be a gentleman here, Harry, but, I’m sorry, she’s a woman scorned. Well, not scorned—I like to think I’ve been cordial—but she didn’t get what she wanted. I’m not excusing my own behavior. I have regretted what I did every day since then. I’ve been waiting for the shoe to drop. I guess this is it. Humiliating as it is, I’m almost relieved that she decided to make it a professional issue, rather than call Lucy and make it a personal vendetta. Although I suppose she thought filing a complaint against me here might have a ripple effect.”