by Charish Reid
“Could you make a connection between Ellison’s and Melville’s writing styles?” she asked.
He was afraid to venture into this rabbit hole with Abby. She was a smart girl, but she was often scatterbrained with her thoughts, forcing ideas to fit where they couldn’t. Aiden saw poorly connected thoughts in her papers, but he appreciated the creativity that came with those thoughts. Right now, however, he simply didn’t have time. “Which Melville text are you referring to?”
“Moby Dick, of course.”
Aiden drew a deep breath. “Sure, both texts are dealing with an unreliable narrator’s epic journey grappling with forces beyond his control...” He found himself distracted by the boy next to Abby. Despite being in the front row, the young man was in a deep slumber and close to falling out of his chair. “The secondary characters are basically controlling the fate of Ishmael and our invisible narrator. And yes, you could say that the reader reaction to these two texts was wildly inconsistent...”
Abby was in midscribble by the time Aiden trailed off. She looked up with questioning eyes, waiting for him to continue. “Yes?”
Aiden blinked. “Huh?”
“You said ‘wildly inconsistent’ and then you stopped,” the girl said, reading from her paper.
“Billy, wake up,” Aiden said in a sharp voice.
The boy jumped in his seat as his eyes sprang open. “What?”
Without thought, Aiden marched over to the door and flipped the lights on. “Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph, everyone wake up,” he shouted. Students sat up in their seats with confused expressions. “I’ve paid my dues and gotten my degrees, so I don’t need a review for a take-home exam. What’s your excuse?”
He was met with silence as his students didn’t know how to react to his sudden outburst. His perfect child, Abby, had long stopped taking notes and stared down at her desktop. Upon seeing her flushed face, Aiden suddenly felt embarrassed. He’d broken his own teaching rule that dictated he never punish an entire class for a few bad apples. He heard the cadence of his own voice and was reminded of his father. It was a brusque tone that told him and his brothers to hop to it. Another rule broken: Never sound like Liam Byrnes, hard-ass sailor who couldn’t hack it at being a father.
“Look,” he said in a softer tone. “I know it’s the end of the semester. We’re all a little knackered, yeah? I need you to last for just ten more minutes so I can get you prepared for the final exam.”
Abby met his gaze. All was forgiven.
“I’ll hand out the study guide and if you have questions, just let me know in an email.”
In the awkwardly quiet classroom, Aiden moved around the rows of students, handing out the carefully crafted study guide he’d created when he should have slept. Students stuffed the papers into their folders or backpacks and waited for him to dismiss them. This was not how he wanted the last class to end. He was hoping he’d get to do his traditional ‘it was wonderful to be a part of your lives for the semester’ speech before releasing them into the world, but today, the moment was ruined. He wanted to be done with them as much as they were done with him. Aiden regretted having an enthusiastic student like Abby think he was an ogre who didn’t care about her ideas. But he was even ready to let her go if it meant getting a break.
* * *
“What exactly happened there?” Robert asked after the students left. He closed his portfolio and sat back in his chair with a ghostly smile on his face.
Aiden stood at his lectern, barely making eye contact with his mentor. “Have you ever caught yourself sounding like your father?”
Robert chuckled. “It usually doesn’t happen until you’ve had your own children, but yes.”
“I saw that jack-arse sleeping in the front row and I snapped,” he admitted. “Any other day, I would have ignored it, made a joke about it, but today I just snapped.”
Robert pulled himself from his seat and slowly ambled up to the front of the room. He was getting up in age, close to retirement, but Robert Lewison carried out the duties of a department chair with the mental agility of a young professor. As he adjusted his rumpled corduroy jacket, he cleared his throat. “I’ll say this, your PowerPoint was a tad long for my taste,” he said. “And with the lights off for that long, you can’t expect the whole class to stay awake.”
“But it was the last class,” Aiden objected.
“That’s true, but your little outburst wasn’t really about the sleeping boy, was it?”
Aiden sucked in his cheeks and gripped his lectern. “I guess not.” Leave it to Robert to dig at the heart of most issues concerning his young ingénue. Ever since Aiden had accepted the Assistant Professor position at the NUI Galway, Robert was there to take him under his wing and show him the ropes. It was his first grown-up job after getting his PhD at University College Cork and most of what he learned about teaching was impractical and too rigid for his personality. Lewison, an old veteran, had a different approach to pedagogy that he appreciated; he made historical literature come alive in his lectures. Aiden desperately wanted to be like him.
Robert’s wife, Penelope, also took to Aiden. She would stop by his tiny flat with a lamp or a rug in an effort to spruce things up. Sometimes she’d bring over a stew or a pie to feed him. After some time, Aiden realized their affection may have stemmed from the two being a childless couple. Their son had died in a tragic car accident, leaving them bereft and empty. Aiden was a delightful distraction for the both of them. Which was fine for him as he had to grow up making most of his important decisions without a father. With Liam Byrnes nowhere to be found, Aiden clung to the elderly man with all his might. And now, while his head was swimming with worries, Aiden needed Robert to be his anchor.
“I’m guessing you saw Professor Brennan?” Robert said as he leaned against the front row desk. “You haven’t spoken since...”
Aiden ran his hand over his eyes. Robert was the only faculty member who knew about his relationship with Lisa. It was one of the demands that she’d made when they started sleeping together. In hindsight, he could see why she wanted secrecy. As a young woman in academia, her reputation could have taken a downward turn. And of course, if their relationship soured, there was no need for the whole department to know about it. But as the months slid away, Aiden found himself resentful that he couldn’t express his affection for her in public. Their quiet relationship at work eventually became their quiet relationship in his home, until it felt like they were only roommates. “No, this was the first time in a year,” Aiden finished. “It was an amicable conversation though.”
“Was it?” Robert’s owlish brows furrowed in confusion. Behind his round spectacles, his expression was one of skepticism.
“Aye, it was,” Aiden said. “But she reminded me that I have so much to do before tenure review. I don’t want to hit forty and still be an assistant professor, Robert.”
The old man scoffed. “You’re in your thirties and not on anyone else’s timeline, my boy.”
As much as he wanted to believe that, Aiden was thirty-eight and working without proper job security. Trying to get tenure was like being on a four-year probation. Sure, he signed the teaching contract and made good with administration, but the work was far from over. If he didn’t pass this one test, he would be out on his ass and forced to look for another job. “I can get it done, right?”
“Of course you can, Aiden. I’ll write a glowing recommendation letter, but you’ll have to gather the materials,” he laughed. “Aside from today’s lesson, you’re a fine teacher. You challenge your students and they seem to like it. I’ve looked at all your evaluations and the kids sing your praises. Now why don’t you believe it?”
Aiden pursed his lips before answering. “Entertaining students is the easy part. I blow into class telling a few jokes and stories, but I never know if they’re learning anything.”
“But they are,” Robert said
with insistence. “And you know as well as I, entertaining is not the easy part. It takes a certain kind of charm to light up a room. I didn’t see it today, but that’s usually what you’re known for.”
“Charm?” Aiden frowned. The word struck him as vain and hollow. Charming is what his father tried to be when he came home with a half a paycheck after trawling at sea. “That’s not going to keep my job.”
“You’re thinking about this too hard,” Lewison decided. “There’s a healthy balance you’re unable to strike and it’s making you doubt yourself. Yes, Professor Brennan is right, you must take this next step seriously. But in the process of proving yourself, you cannot lose yourself.”
Aiden walked around the lectern and shut down his computer station. “You’re right,” he said in a tired voice.
“Perhaps you need rest,” Lewison said, peering at him. “A young lad should have a bit of merriment every once in a while.”
“Rest and merriment will come when I’ve completed a conference paper and book proposal.”
Robert laughed. “A conference paper can be finished in a day. Go somewhere and get some rest, Aiden. Hell, go to the country like you used to. What’s that place you like?”
“Tully Cross?” Aiden said as he stuffed books in his bag. “I haven’t been there in a year, not since Lisa...”
“Go there and get some fresh air. Go to the water where you belong.”
He straightened up and looked at his mentor. “I don’t know, Robert. I don’t think I have time.”
“You have the entire summer to get your head on straight. The end of the spring semester is the hardest. If you don’t take time to cut loose now, you’re not going to be any use to the students in the fall.” Robert was fully invested in this plan now. “That’s right, escape before grades are due and the conference starts.”
Go to the water where you belong. Try as he might, he couldn’t deny the powerful lure of the water, the peace he felt when he was near it. It was why he bought his Claddagh house right on the River Corrib. He awoke, each morning, with a natural source of pleasure and serenity that the middle of Galway couldn’t give him. The small village of Tully Cross, out on Renvyle Peninsula, afforded him the same peace. He’d made the trip annually since his years in the PhD program. “Maybe I could go for a week...”
Robert sprang on his sentiment. “That’s right! Get out there and take your mind off the bustle of Galway.”
Aiden nodded. “Yeah, maybe that will help.”
“And while you’re out there,” Robert said as he stood. “Trim those whiskers down. I’ve noticed that you tend to forget shaving when you’re depressed.”
Aiden laughed and absently scratched the side of his bearded face. “Fine, I’ll shave.”
“And you’ll get rest?” Robert said. “As your superior, I must insist on it.”
“If it’s an order from my boss, then I suppose I must.”
As they exited the classroom, Robert clapped Aiden’s back. “You’ll see. When you get to the water, you’ll find what you’re looking for.”
Aiden looked down at the old man and managed a smile. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but he trusted Robert’s judgement. If Tully Cross had the answers, he’d make the pilgrimage.
Chapter Five
Antonia woke up with cottonmouth.
As she cracked her swollen eyes against the harsh light of her living room window, she groaned from the shooting pain in her head. She shifted her stiff body against sunken couch cushions and hissed from the pain in her neck. On her coffee table sat an empty bottle of red blend wine and no wineglass. “Of course.”
Most of last night’s memories came back in a miserable flood: the long painful train ride back to her apartment on Devon Avenue, fleeing Derek’s apartment, Derek’s text messages... Reality slammed into her all over again. Today was just a new, worse day for her to handle. Antonia lifted her wristwatch close to her face to check the time. “Shit.”
It was already noon.
She darted up from the couch and instantly wove from a wash of dizziness. She sat back down and searched the living room for her bag. It was lying on the floor near the kitchen. Afraid to test her legs, Antonia slid off the couch onto the carpeted floor. Her head was pounding, an awful reminder of her indulgence. She didn’t quite indulge, that would suggest that she enjoyed drinking an entire bottle of wine on her own. It wasn’t even good wine. It was the cheap stuff she purchased from Mr. Spivak at the corner mart. On an unsteady crawl, she finally reached her bag and found her phone.
11 Missed Calls.
23 New Messages.
Some of them were from Derek, but as she scrolled Antonia grew worried. Her mother, her sister, and Eddie had all called this morning. Derek called five times last night. Did Derek have the guts to call her family after she’d left him? What had he told them? She checked the text messages from Eddie first.
OMG WHERE ARE YOU?? Richard called a meeting. People are losing it
SHIT. Are you ok? Octavia just called me. What happened with Derek?
Shit shit shit. We’re fucked.
Are you awake? Can you call?? Richard has lost his FUCKING MIND!
The more Antonia read, the more confused she became. She had hoped to get her shit together and tell her loved ones herself. She checked the messages from her sister and found just as much alarm from her.
Are you okay?
Derek just called me. He sounds terrible.
Can you call me back?
He sounds like a babbling mess. What did he do?
Toni, call me.
Toni, Eddie sounds frantic.
Why aren’t you at work right now?
I’m coming over.
Antonia sank to the floor and lay still. She didn’t want to worry everyone with her antics. She just wanted to curl up and die alone and in peace. Her phone buzzed, interrupting her thoughts. Eddie.
“Yes.”
“Jesus-fucking-Christ, Toni, I thought you were dead. Hold on, I’m texting Octavia. I’m pretty sure she’s on her way to your apartment.”
She sighed. “I’m sorry, Ed. I had a very shitty night.”
“I heard,” he said. His voice sounded distant, like he was talking to her on speaker. “I don’t know the details, but I heard.”
“Derek is cheating on me.”
There was silence on the other end. She waited.
“You still there, Ed?”
“I’m here too, honey,” said a woman’s voice, Eddie’s girlfriend, Megan. “Eddie told me what happened.”
Antonia cringed. She loved Megan and her bubbly spirit, but she didn’t want to talk to her at the moment. “Hey, Meg.”
“Shit...” Eddie trailed off.
A sharp knock at Antonia’s door announced her sister. “Give me a second, my sister is here to yell at me.” She climbed from the floor and carried her conversation to the front door. Octavia stood on the other side, arms crossed and mouth fixed for a tongue-lashing. Antonia stepped aside and let her in.
“... Toni, I hate to give you more bad news,” Eddie said. “But Richard sent us all home today.”
“Why did he do that?” she asked, closing the door and following her sister. Octavia stood in the living room and cast a judgmental eye on the mess. Without being asked, she started the annoying spot-cleaning Antonia hated so much. She even made a show of picking up the empty bottle and swirling the remaining liquid around. Octavia, who was forty, glided around her apartment with a grace that came from her past dance training. She wore black leggings that showed off her toned calves and a long gray tunic that hung elegantly off one shoulder. Octavia’s recently braided hair sat atop her head in a large bun, giving her the appearance of being almost as tall as Antonia.
“Wild Hare is closing shop, Toni,” Eddie said, bringing her back to the present. “H
e laid everyone off.”
She stumbled. “We’ve lost our jobs?”
Octavia paused in midwipe of the coffee table. “Can you believe that?” Megan cried in the background.
“No,” Antonia said in a dazed voice. Only yesterday, did she and Eddie vocalize their suspicions and now they were jobless. Why were there so many things that she failed to spot in time?
“I’m sorry,” Eddie said. “I wish there was a better way to tell you, but I tried to call. God, we’re going to have to contact all of our published authors. I’ve never handled a shutdown before.”
“Right.”
“Are you okay?”
“Can I call you back?”
He paused before asking, “Octavia’s there?”
“Yes, I’ll get back to you later.”
“Hang in there, Toni!” Megan called out.
She hung up and stared into space.
“Go ahead and sit down,” said Octavia, from the kitchen. The hollow thump of an empty bottle hit her trash can. Antonia obeyed her sister and returned to the couch. “Now lie down.”
She lay back. “I’m not your patient.”
Octavia returned to the living room and flung open the curtains. “No, you’re not. I had to cancel an appointment with an OCD mama’s boy to come over here.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re like Mom, still believing black folks don’t need therapy.”
She rolled her eyes. “Go ahead and fix me then, Dr. Freud.”
“No, that’s your job. I’m just here to listen.” Octavia sat down in Antonia’s favorite reading chair and crossed her legs. She put on her therapist hat, her face becoming a blank mask that Antonia struggled to interpret. Octavia looked more like their father. Her skin was deep cocoa and virtually unflawed despite her years. Her dark almond-shaped eyes were inscrutable as they were mysterious. When they were children, Antonia remembered her older sister as the one who observed more than she spoke. Octavia’s quiet strength was a deep well which carefully tended to Antonia’s constant anxiety.
