Clem, Laurel, and I looked at each other, totally surprised. We’d been talking about the exact same thing in our suite a week or so back, how it felt like the rules for who we could be, and what we could enjoy as feminist women, were so rigid and fiercely monitored. Laurel had this theater professor who kept telling her she had to speak up in class, even though she was the costume person and shy. One day the professor told Laurel that she was setting women back a hundred years by being so meek. Clem’s soccer coach made fun of her for reading a romance novel she saw in her duffel bag and said something like, “What’s that fluff? I thought Whitney was for smart girls.” And I’d always known, since the day I showed up on campus, that I couldn’t tell anyone at Whitney I’d been in pageants. There were so many things you weren’t allowed to do if you wanted to be the right kind of girl. Being a woman at Whitney came with as many rules as being a woman in East Texas.
But it was surreal to hear Don say these things. No man had ever talked like that to me.
So I said, “I completely agree with you.” And I could tell that made him happy.
He said, “Well, I wanted to meet you to see Rachel’s influences. And to check up on you, of course. I’ve come to care about you, you know, vicariously through Rachel. I can tell you’re good girls.”
That made Laurel blush.
Don said, “At the risk of sounding like a pretentious asshole—or worse, like one of your professors—I’ve done a lot of research on self-actualization. I’ve been trying to figure out why people in the past seemed so much more connected to the world and at peace with themselves, unlike all this modern angst and alienation. And I’ll tell you something: Aristotle was every bit the genius they say he was. He wrote extensively about men and women—what they needed to be happy, how they were alike and different. And he celebrated those differences. It’s a shame how far adrift we’ve come from all that wealth of knowledge, under the guise of progress.”
Our professors had taught us about false progress, so the concept was familiar. We all nodded, and Don could tell we were on the same page, because he started pouring more wine and changed the subject to how Greeks in Aristotle’s time used to make it.
But for the rest of the night, every so often when someone was talking, he’d catch my eye across the table and smile. It was like we were sharing a secret. Like we were the adults in the room, on the same level, and Clem and Laurel and Rachel were the kids. It was thrilling. I started to think I’d done something right, to get his attention. When it was time to go home, he helped me put my coat on, slipping it over my shoulders. We got close, and I…
（Silence.）
JAMIE: What?
SHAY: Well… I could smell him. Spices and wood. It hit me like lightning. The feeling was intense. I was attracted to him, even though he was my roommate’s father. It’s embarrassing to say out loud.
JAMIE: It’s just you and me.
SHAY: On the ride home, even Clem said how insightful he was, how rare that was for a man. We realized Don had talked about everything under the sun except himself, not once. Laurel said he reminded her of her dad, who was always more interested in other people, a real selfless man. That was the highest compliment Laurel could give anyone. I remember sitting there in the car and feeling…jealous, I guess. I could tell how much she liked Don, but I didn’t want her to bond with him.
We talked about him a lot after that night. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was this strange obsession. He pulled at me like a magnet. I… Jamie…
JAMIE: Yes?
SHAY: I’m going to tell you something that might make you uncomfortable. But I want to tell the truth about the impression Don made on me. So you understand everything else.
JAMIE: Right now, don’t think of me as your friend. Think of me as a journalist. I want to hear the truth.
SHAY: Okay. After that night at the restaurant, I started…fantasizing about him. I daydreamed about seeing him again, and what would happen. I’d never touched myself before, then all of a sudden, I couldn’t stop. I was addicted. He was handsome, and smart, and so confident, of course, but I think the biggest part was that he was Rachel’s dad and completely off-limits. I’ve always been that way. Wanted only the people I couldn’t have. I don’t know why.