The whisky burned going down. He took an imaginary drag off a camel, unfiltered, feeling the acute sensation of loss of neurons, bringing an immediate placebo high. Holding his breath, he looked around his office, his sanctuary. Degrees, certificates, honors, awards, photos of productions, graduations, all the hallmarks of a successful career. And inside, he felt like an imposter. Exhaling, he took another sip, savoring the burn, the feeling of calm that came with it. It wasn’t his fault, he thought. It never was. Old memories surged up, like spring bulbs, underground through the winter and, with heat and warmth, pushing through to the open.
He had been a magnet for women of all ages. Since his earliest memory, his mother’s female friends had fawned over him, saying how handsome he was, even as a young boy. They would go out of their way to smooth his hair, brush his cheek. When he had reached adolescence, they would do more. At thirteen he looked eighteen. At fifteen he looked twenty-one. The first time he had sex was at thirteen. He had gone to visit his girlfriend. They had just begun dating, as much as teens too young to drive or be away from home for any length of time, could date. Within their small circle of friends, it was known that Adam and Carolyn were a pair. When he would visit, her mom, already intoxicated and slightly manic after school, would sit in his lap, pull him out onto the living room rug to dance with her. Wearing clothes that were too tight, too bright, her full body overflowing the seams, smelling of cigarettes and gin, Patty fed him lust in small bites, but enough that he knew he wanted more. The girlfriend, hurt and embarrassed, would go to her room, waiting for Adam to free himself from her mother’s hold on him. On a sunny Sunday afternoon, he had gone to visit Carolyn, forgetting she had a swim meet out of town. Patty invited him in. That was his initiation into sex.
His first serious romantic relationship was with his ninth-grade literature teacher, Miss Corrigan. He had just turned fifteen. Tall and rangy, his hair yellow gold, Adam vibrated with poetic potential. His father had left, stranding Adam in a house without joy or hope. His mother, emotionally isolated, depressed and angry, blamed Adam for his father’s absence. He wrote beautiful, sorrowful verses, full of longing for love, connection, and Lisa Corrigan, an almost young woman in her early thirties, was drawn to his beauty and pain. It began innocently enough. Talks after class. Walks on weekends, in parks and along beaches where they weren’t seen by anyone who might recognize her, or him. But if they did, so what? She was being a teacher, providing counsel to a troubled youth.
Then it did become more, a relationship. It was not wrong, they had believed, because it was love. Simple, pure, and theirs alone. Until it wasn’t. Discovered, shamed, and separated, he had felt adrift. He had known the one thing in life that brought him comfort was love, or sex, he wasn’t sure of the difference. And to him, it didn’t matter. He had found a niche. A place where he could rise, achieve, and not be himself. He had found the stage.
The teacher had also been the drama coach and theater director. She had chosen him to play the part of Macbeth, and he had done well. It felt natural to him, to assume a separate reality, become someone else. It was as though he had been waiting for this moment all his life.
Thinking back to all of this, after Claudia left, he wondered, for the thousandth time, what might his life have been like if he hadn’t followed this path, caught up in the dream of himself. What had he missed? Looking around, at his room, his space, this one place in the world that he felt at home, so much more than in any house he had lived in, even the house where he had lived with Clair and Devon, he burrowed deeper into his chair. Easing back, allowing the soft, buttery leather to enfold him, he remembered the first time he had come here. Newly hired, still finishing up his master’s degree, he immediately felt a sense of belonging, like no other time or place.
This room with its high windows, all new and modern, in such contrast to the rest of the college. His building was filled with music, dance, song. Walking in, at any time of day or evening, sounds of rehearsals, practice, and students’ voices, excited about their lives and changes to come. Opera, theater, jazz, hip hop, ballet, all were alive and vibrant in these halls. Here he belonged. A knock on the door startled him out of his reverie. He was afraid it was Claudia, returning.
‘Come in,’ he called, steeling himself for another round of argument. Walking to the door, he grabbed the handle just as the door swung open towards him.
‘Clair, what are you doing here? How did you get here?’ he asked, surprise causing his voice to rise, a note of panic ringing through. He knew she wasn’t supposed to drive, because of the effects of the chemotherapy and drugs. ‘And, wow, your hair!’
She stood in the filtered light coming from the high cut glass window, her skin pale and translucent. She had taken scissors to her hair, then a clipper, so that only stubbles ringed her perfectly shaped crown. Wearing a long, bulky knit pullover sweater, she looked like a waif, needing a hand out.
‘I couldn’t stay in the house,’ she replied, looking around his office as though seeing it for the first time. ‘I called a cab.’
‘Here, sit down,’ Adam said, walking to her, gently taking her arm, guiding her to a leather armchair pulled to the side of his desk.
He marveled at the lightness of her. She had no heft, no substance, as though already having passed over the horizon to beyond. He questioned his own reality. Who is she and if not Clair, then who am I? He shook this off, a mid-morning post-drunken delusion. Good God, man, get a grip, he told himself.
‘Can I get you some tea? Coffee? Whisky?’ he asked, pointing to the bottle on the desk.
‘No, I’m fine. I just had to get out of the house. I want to get into my office, you know, sort things out, and talk with Raj about coming back to work. She ran her hand across her scalp, feeling the sharp stubbles.
‘Oh, and yeah, the women in the support group advised me to go ahead and take it off, rather than wait for it to fall out in clumps. So, I used your clippers. Punk, huh?’
Shaking his head, ‘Punk it is. You have a great looking skull though.’
He felt taken aback. The thought of Clair returning to work so soon, ever, surprised him.
‘Are you sure, Clair?’ Adam asked, concern coloring his words. ‘What about your treatments? And I don’t know, just being here, after everything.’
Clair stood, walked over to the floor to ceiling bookshelf.
‘I don’t know how much everyone knows about what happened,’ she said, ‘but, I need – want – to try. I’m sure the gossip mill is on fire, but I don’t care. You know I’ve never paid attention to what anyone else thought about me. Or us, for that matter. Except for the few that matter to me, Raj, Emil, my students.’
Suddenly starving, he looked around for anything to eat. A package of saltine crackers sat on the edge of his desk, left over from a salad, who knew how long ago. Tearing the plastic off, he ate, greedily. Too late, he thought to ask Clair if she wanted one.
‘No, I’m fine. You must be hungry, though?’ she asked, eyes questioning, wondering.
‘Yeah, I don’t know why. Midday. Hard time of day for me.’
‘I’m OK. The treatments hit me hard the first few days then I start feeling better. I need to work. I need to not be in the house,’ she said, as she walked back over to the chair by his desk. Sitting, she folded her arms around herself.
‘And Ellerby, he thinks I should work too. Engage, you know, in my life. Keep busy, as much as I feel like. He said the chemo, it comes in waves. When you’re down, you’re really down, but in between, you have to get going again.’
The sound of heels clacking on linoleum broke through the silence between them.
‘Oh, sorry Adam, I didn’t know you had a student,’ Claudia said, standing in the half-opened door.
Clair turned in her chair, looking across her shoulder at Claudia.
‘Clair, oh my God, I didn’t know
you were here. Are you OK?’ Claudia asked, staring at Clair’s shorn head.
Clair stood and walked over to the door, taking the handle and opening it wide enough to slip through, past Claudia.
‘I’m fine, really.’ Looking back at Adam, she said, ‘I’ll be over in my office, if you want to come find me when you’re ready to leave. I’ll ride home with you.’
Adam nodded, his eyes on Claudia. ‘I’ll do that,’ he said, a quick smile, glancing at her. Then back to Claudia as though waiting for a snake to strike. His heart was hammering in his chest. His feelings of protection for Clair, his dread of old habits finding a way through his new-found honor, and the whisky all swirling around, like a water spout. He feared what might be brought up to the surface.
Chapter 18
Clair
Clair kicked through piles of dry, crackling autumn leaves as she walked across campus to the original buildings, housing the graduate math and science schools. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt a flicker of joy in the day, and in her own presence. As she passed huddles of students, the pond, spotted mallards and geese, her mood lifted so that she could almost imagine being happy again. Maybe there was hope, here in this life, for another simpler way of being together. And between the two of them, perhaps they could keep Devon alive, his spirit vital. She could teach again, play her cello in the orchestra and the string quartet. Maybe even teach cello. She was happy before Devon. She could be happy again. Now, she had Adam back. She believed him when he told her he had not been unfaithful. Didn’t she?
Classes were in session so the halls were mostly empty. Clair had always reverenced these moments, the quiet intensity of learning. All those young minds, soaking in knowledge, integrating it with their own experiences and aspirations. By the time they got to this building, graduate studies, they were motivated. There was no need to compel, only to provide the support and resources. They did the rest on their own. School had always been a haven of calm in the quiet chaos that had been her life. And today, she found deep solace sitting at her desk, watching the dust mites swirl around in the afternoon light filtering in through the southern window.
Outside, a murder of crows was cawing, announcing the end of day. A rush of sadness and longing so fierce it took her breath away coursed through her. Doubling over, she felt faint. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of movement but when she turned her head, nothing was there. This had happened to her many times since her walk into the ocean. She hadn’t told anyone. Spirit beings, she believed. Not quite ghosts. The wave of emotion passed. Dr Ellerby had warned her about hot hormone surges that would feel like being pulled along in a truck’s tailwind, being swept up in a volcanic eruption. Wait it out, he had advised. Run cold water over your wrists, Naomi had advised. Take drugs, Rosemary from the support group had advised. She waited it out. Beethoven’s ninth opening strings broke the silence in the room as her phone alerted her to a call.
‘Clair here,’ she said, sitting up straight and leaning back into the soft fabric of her desk chair. Surprised by the caller ID, a smile sounded through her voice. ‘Ben, or Jodie, which one of you is it, or both?’
‘Hey, it is both of us, using our one tiny, out of date phone. But we have service, for a few minutes anyway. We’re traveling across southern Africa now, going to the latest cholera outbreak.’
‘Why?’ Clair asked. ‘How is a trauma surgeon going to help a cholera patient?’
‘All hands on deck, and mainly it’s for Jodi, she was called to help with moms and babes and where she goes, I go.’
‘I think he doesn’t trust me not to run off with the fortune we get paid,’ Jodie said, laughingly.
‘Fortune indeed. We barely make enough to keep us in medical supplies much less enough for an adventure. But, that’s enough on us. How are you? We haven’t caught up since you left the hospital. Have you started treatment yet? How’s Adam? Tell us everything.’
Clair closed her eyes, imagining them at a train stop, colorful people moving about, the smells of life and energy pulsating across the miles. Their love, and authentic happiness proved the belief that this is what makes us human. The need to love and be loved. And their ability to share this with others, strangers as well as family.
‘The treatments are going well. I’m sick as shit the first few days then OK for a few days, until the next round. I’m in my office right now, getting ready to come back to work. Can you FaceTime? You should see my head. I look like an artichoke.’
‘No, ha, we can’t FaceTime but I can picture you without hair. I remember that time you bleached your hair with peroxide, you and that friend, Missy. It turned out orange and Mother Dearest made you have it clipped almost to the stubble. Hopefully you aren’t going to dye it purple or something.’
‘Now, that gives me ideas,’ she said. ‘Maybe I’ll stripe it.’
‘Seriously Clair,’ Jodie cut in. ‘What’s going on? What does Ellerby say.’
‘I find out tomorrow. He’ll review my latest blood work and scans. I’m going to a support group, and it’s great. The women, and one man, believe it, were so funny and supportive. Jodie, I think I can do this.’
‘I know you can do this,’ she said. A strong crackling sound broke into the conversation.
‘Damn, we got to go sis,’ Ben said. ‘Train’s pulling out. We’re losing connection. Love you.’
And they were gone. Clair sat for several moments, savoring their voices, their closeness, and adventure. Maybe once this was all over, she and Adam could go on a trip, just take off, travel, on a train, bus, boat, any way. Walk. Just to move and breathe.
She looked around her office, at the books stacked on shelves, on the floor, hovering in piles on side tables. Manuscripts of her doctoral students waited for her review. She had passed them on to fellow faculty so her illness wouldn’t interfere with their progress, but she wanted to read them herself, comment and provide feedback. She had taught and shepherded them through their early years, learning how to apply evidence to questions, and more importantly, how to ask the right questions.
A knock sounded, then a soft ‘Hello’ as her office door opened a crack. A head showed around the edge of the door, red hair, beard first, then massive shoulders followed.
‘Emil, come in,’ she called, standing and walking around her desk. She was scooped up in a bear hug, causing her to grunt.
‘Oh God, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?’ he asked, setting her down gently.
‘No,’ she laughed, ‘I just felt like a balloon being gutted. Kidding, Emil.’
Stepping back, she looked at him. Long her best friend on campus, Dr Emil Marchand had been absent from her life since Devon died. She had banished him, like so many others who had tried to help her. Time to make amends, she thought. She motioned to a corner of the office where a small, round table held a stack of texts and manuscripts, circled by two hard-backed wooden chairs.
‘Here, let’s sit. I get dizzy if I stand too long.’
Looking at him, she felt a deep pang of remorse.
‘God, Emil, I am so sorry. I was out of my mind, you know,’ she said, leaning forward, pushing aside a stack of papers.
‘I just couldn’t face anyone. And then, after my crack up, well, I was embarrassed. I’ve been gone, but I feel like I can come back, different now, but here, doing my work, again. If Raj and the powers that be agree, that is. Hoping my tenure survives this.’
‘Clair, it’s OK. I understand. I didn’t take it personally, well not too much. As you can see, I did lose about twenty pounds grieving though. So that was helpful.’
Relieved that he was turning to his usual bantering, even though she could see tears glistening in his eyes, it began to feel like old times.
‘Seriously, Emil, I just didn’t have the heart for anyone or anything but my grief. I’m not going to say I’m a hundred per cent bette
r but I am working my way towards better. And Adam, he has forgiven me. We’re trying to be a couple again too.’
Frowning, Emil said, ‘Hmm, that was the one thing that disappointed me Clair, that you didn’t actually kill the bastard.’
‘I know how you feel, how you’ve always felt about him. But he confessed to me that he never actually had a relationship with any of those women. I believe him, Emil. At least, I do so want to.’
‘Clair, I knew Adam and you both before you got together. And I can tell you that he did. Before you, I mean. He was a total misogynistic womanizer. Especially with Claudia. After your marriage, it was more subtle but I am not convinced he didn’t mess around. I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to keep you from getting hurt.’
‘Emil, I know that was how it was in the past, but we’re trying, I’m trying to get past that. We must move forward now. Adam has promised me that he has been faithful since we married, and I choose to believe him. Let’s not do this now, please. I just want to get back to some form of normal.’
Emil began to say something, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. Waving his arm at her, nodding an OK, he opened the door and a group of students eased in, surrounding Clair.
‘Dr Mercer,’ a young woman in her early twenties exclaimed. ‘It’s so great to see you.’
‘Hi, Emma, Josh, Leslie. Come in, it’s good to see you all. How is your work going?’
Emil walked through the open door, turning back to say, ‘Clair, it’s so good to have you back. I’ll call and we’ll talk, soon. And, I wouldn’t worry about Raj. I’ll talk to him. He owes me after teaching his summer term last year so he could go sailing around the Galapagos.’
Clair smiled, nodded goodbye, and settled down to listen to her students, reveling in their stories of breakthroughs and frustrations.
Word spread quickly through the building. Soon other students, faculty and even maintenance staff dropped in to say hello and welcome back. Clair was moved and surprised. In her mind, she was a loner. A professional who did her work, engaged in social events as much as required but had not ever seen herself or thought others saw her as anyone special. That so many people seemed to genuinely care astounded her. She felt those waves of emotion course through her over and over throughout the afternoon until before she knew it, dusk was falling. Adam hadn’t come to collect her so she gathered her coat, looked around her office, now strewn with paper cups of coffee, soda cans, and chip packets, from their impromptu celebration.
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