“You’re blushing. You remember.” To anyone observing, his expression would have looked professional, collegial, maybe even engaging, like we were discussing my research or his recent golf outing. A flash of heat glinted in his eyes when he referenced my humiliation, though; a glee that jumped from his dark irises. “Good,” he said in a hushed, cold voice filled with malice.
I shook my head, shifting away from his touch while a chorus of react and you’re stronger than this rang in my head.
To do: . . .
I had nothing. I didn’t know what to do.
Forty
We arrived at the site and crowded into a meeting room. All around us were large windows that looked out over a path leading through the forest to the lake beyond. With fifteen of us squished around a table designed for twelve, elbow room was at a premium, and the smell of coffee and a variety of colognes and perfumes filled the small space.
My breath caught when I spotted Jake at the head of the table with Carlton. All my thoughts scattered, and my body responded to him on instinct. He looks good. Does he miss me? He needs a haircut. My fingers itched to stroke the curls at the nape of his neck. What did he think when he saw Davis touching me? Did he sleep with Gretchen? Be professional! He looks good. His eyes met mine for a millisecond and then darted away. Does he hate me?
I sought Jill in the crowd, to explain what she might have thought she’d seen between Davis and me, but she stood near him, eyes down, and didn’t meet my gaze.
Two things about the weekend became clear as we introduced ourselves around the table: It would be difficult being around Jake and insufferable being around Davis. I struggled to remember what I’d ever seen in him, and the fear and disgust I’d felt in the van extended, for a bit, into sheer annoyance.
Davis’s chest puffed out, and he somehow took up more room at the table than anyone else during his rambling introduction. When I spoke, Carlton nodded and smiled, as he had with everyone else. Jake gave a curt nod without glancing up from the sheet of paper in front of him, where critical notes required his full attention. Well, what did I expect?
Jake and Carlton and their two staff members were there to listen to our opinions and experiences and ask questions, to help them interpret all the data they’d collected. After an hour, the dull ache in my stomach was joined by a low throb in my temple. The headache wasn’t about Jake.
For the fourth time, Davis had repeated something I’d just said and claimed it as his own idea. For years, I’d let him convince me he was smarter and more capable, but it was evident here that he wasn’t.
My gaze shifted to Jake every time he did it. I hoped to see a reaction, amusement at Davis’s ridiculous behavior or outrage on my behalf, an eye roll or a sympathetic glance. He didn’t react at all, short of a few shared looks with Carlton.
Stop expecting anything.
When I disagreed with two colleagues, saying that promotion policies disproportionately favored people in science and business, Davis chuckled.
That asshole just laughed at me?
He addressed his comments to the head of the table, where President Lewis, Jake, and Carlton sat. “Unlike Drs. Smith, Bradley, and Carmichael, Naya doesn’t really have much experience with those policies, having not yet earned tenure herself.”
I clenched my hands in my lap and swallowed the sharp retort building. It wasn’t fear of Davis building this time, though. I didn’t want to make a scene. Don’t react to him. It’s not worth it.
“It’s a complex process, and not everyone understands the fine nuances of it, especially those with so little experience.”
Don’t give him the satisfaction of reacting.
“It’s just your opinion, and of course, Naya, you’re allowed to have it,” Davis said, turning to me, his face drawn into something resembling pity. “It’s great you’re jumping in!” He might as well have been reaching across the table to pat me on the head.
I seethed at his condescension and cut my gaze to Jake again. You see this, don’t you?
He didn’t look at me, his eyes remaining on his notes.
I didn’t want him to say anything. I didn’t need him to fight for me, I just wanted him to recognize what was happening, to meet my eye and see that my fears were justified.
Davis kept speaking. “But in my experience, the policies are heavily skewed in favor of faculty working in science and business. Those in English, philosophy, political science, and other liberal arts are left behind. In my extensive experience, it holds true at TU. Now, I—”