I leaned back into the couch.
Naya: Dear Dr. Strangelove: Good. Do you feel sick at all? Sincerely, Patient Zero Jake: Fit as a fiddle. I am glad you feel better.
Naya: I’m still horrified that I ruined your weekend.
Jake: You didn’t. When can I see you again?
Naya: You left my side like twelve hours ago.
Jake: So . . . soon?
My stomach flip-flopped as I read and reread his response with the smile of a woman whose fling wasn’t over yet. Do people still say booyah?
Jake: Do you own a formal gown?
Naya: Yes to seeing me soon. No to owning a formal gown. Why?
Jake: Are you willing to get one? I’m on the board of directors for a charity here, and they’re having their annual gala in a few weeks. Want to be my date?
Naya: Will you wear a tux again?
Jake: I will. If it sweetens the deal, I promise to do a little dance for you when I take it off.
I chewed on my lip, already opening a travel site on my laptop to search for flights. To do: Buy a dress.
Naya: You are a good dancer . . .
Jake: Is that a yes?
For some reason, visiting him on his home turf felt infinitely weightier than meeting in Cincinnati or him being in Chicago. I couldn’t deny the growing feelings for Jake that consumed more of my thoughts than I wanted. Going to North Carolina, to his house, for the sole purpose of being together . . . that meant this was real. That meant I was really risking my professional reputation.
Naya: I’d love to.
I had to come clean at work.
Twenty-eight
Joe’s anxiety over the president’s plans had brought us all into the office on a humid Wednesday morning a few weeks later. We scattered during the summers, so the fact that everyone was there hammered home how serious this was. Joe’s voice was his trademark gruff with some added exhaustion thrown in. “I guess the consultants have been examining data for months already.”
So, that one rumor was true. Jake hadn’t indicated anything.
Joe drummed his fingers on the table, color rising on his neck. “I was asked to join a committee that will advise the consultants as a sounding board. We meet next week, and that’s all I know.”
Anita, one of the senior professors and kind of a legend in our field, piped up. “So, what are we supposed to do?” Her voice was pinched and reedy. I remembered revering Anita as an academic superhero when I was new. She was one of the first women to make big strides in studying math learning and technology, and I’d hoped she’d be a guide and friend. I was out of luck. In addition to being brilliant, my colleague was competitive, self-involved, and uninterested in mentoring. At the height of rumors spreading about me on campus, she told me I was foolish to get involved with another faculty member, and that I deserved the flak I was receiving for being so reckless with my career. At the time, I wanted to lash out and tell her it wasn’t my fault, that he was a monster, and that her blaming me was not how women should support one another. Instead, I’d soaked up her admonitions like a sponge, absorbing her words and dismissing the idea we’d ever work together or that I’d ever be in her league.
Joe shrugged. “There’s nothing we can do right now except keep writing, publishing, teaching, and doing what we do.”
Anita harrumphed, and we all began packing away laptops and notes.
No more putting it off.
“Joe, you have a minute?”
He nodded, and I followed him down the stairs to his office. As we walked the short distance, I ran through what I’d planned to say in my head, worry prickling at the back of my neck.
“What a mess,” he grumbled, and I wasn’t sure if he was referring to his office filled with chaotic piles of debris or the situation with the potential cuts. He sat heavily in his chair and cleared a small space on his desk between us with a brush of his arm. “Oh, before I forget, Elaine wonders when you’re coming over for dinner again. She misses you hanging around.”
The thought of Joe’s wife, the most organized and orderly person I’d ever met, made me smile. Early in my career, I’d spent a lot of time at their house, joining the two of them for dinners. In a way, they’d been like a second family. “I’ll text her and figure out a night in the next couple weeks.”
He nodded. “So, what did you need?”
“I need to tell you something, Joe.” His face fell, and I cringed but continued. “One of the consultants. I know him.”
Relief seemed to wash over him. “Oh, did he tell you they were coming here ahead of time or something?”