Gabriel's Rapture gi-2

by Sylvain Reynard

  “What?” He pulled back so he could see her face.

  “Christa accused me of exchanging sexual favors with you for

  academic benefits.”

  “What?”

  While Julia hurriedly described the nature of the complaint and

  David and Soraya’s exchanges, Gabriel’s expression grew darker and more dangerous. When she quoted David’s final words, he took a

  large step away from her.

  He reared back and thrust his fist through the wall. Then, for

  good measure, he withdrew, dragging fragments of plaster and dust

  with him, before punching through the wall twice more in rapid

  succession.

  Julia stood, open-mouthed, as Gabriel trembled before her, eyes

  closed and chest heaving. Part of her wanted to run, but she found herself rooted to the spot.

  No matter how much she wanted to run at that moment, the

  sight of a few drops of blood dripping from his knuckles and onto

  the hardwood floor captured her attention.

  “What have you done to yourself?” She looked up into his blazing

  eyes and pulled him toward the guest washroom. “Sit down.” Once

  he was situated, she examined his knuckles and found the skin had

  split in more than one place.

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  “You might need stitches,” she said. “I’m worried you’ve broken

  something.”

  Gabriel opened and closed his hand several times, wordlessly

  demonstrating that his hand wasn’t broken.

  “I think you should have an x-ray, just in case.”

  His only response was to rub at his eyes with his uninjured hand

  and heave a deep, shuddering sigh.

  She opened the medicine cabinet and removed a few first aid

  items. “I’ll try to clean this, but you should go to the hospital.”

  “I’ll be fine.” His voice was tight.

  Using tweezers, she removed the bits of plaster from his wounds

  and cleaned them with iodine. Gabriel barely flinched as she bathed his knuckles, and she noticed that he was shaking, possibly from

  residual anger.

  “I’m sorry I upset you,” Julia whispered.

  “I nearly brought a wall down, and you’re apologizing to me?”

  “I should have told you when you were sitting down. Or after

  you’d had a drink.”

  He shook his head. “Then I really would have knocked the wall

  down. I’m too angry to drink.”

  Julia continued her first aid until the wound was completely

  clean. When she was finished, she ghosted her lips over his bandaged knuckles. “I’m so sorry.”

  Gabriel caught her hand in his. “Stop it. I seem to remember

  another time in this washroom when I was the one playing doctor.”

  “I was mortified. I wanted to make a good impression and then

  I smashed your crystal and sprayed your nice shirt with Chianti.”

  “It was an accident. I had to work up the courage to put iodine

  on your cuts. I was afraid of hurting you. And that was before I…”

  He closed his eyes and rubbed at them again. “What happened

  to you today is my fault. I should have protected you.”

  “Gabriel,” Julia said, her voice a warning. She leaned over and

  took his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. “Don’t.

  We knew the risks when we got involved. I don’t care what they do

  to me.” Her voice broke on the words, but she spoke them anyway.

  “I don’t care about Harvard or my PhD. I don’t want to lose you.”

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  A strange fire illuminated Gabriel’s eyes. “Not even Hell could

  keep me from you,” he whispered.

  The lovers embraced desperately, drawing comfort from each

  other’s very skin.

  “Are you going to tel me what happened with Professor Martin?”

  Gabriel took Julia’s hand and led her into the master bathroom

  where he began drawing a bath. “You relax, I’ll talk.”

  “I’m not in the mood for a bubble bath. I kind of feel like taking a crow bar to something.”

  (Something appalling and poorly made. Like domestic beer.)

  “That’s why you need a bubble bath. I have to preserve the walls

  of my apartment.”

  Julia undressed and settled herself amongst the suds. He regarded

  her intensely — the way her long hair was pinned up haphazardly on top of her head, the gentle contours of her breasts floating amidst the water like two white, pink tipped lilies, the way she bit at her lip until she realized he was staring at it.

  “Do you remember the first time we bathed together?” she asked

  as she watched him settle his tall form on a low stool.

  “I’m not likely to forget it.”

  “You were worried I was hurting, and you carried me to the tub.”

  She smiled shyly. “That was one of the kindest things you’ve ever

  done for me.”

  “Thank you.” He gave her a peck on a cheek. “But I can’t reminisce about happy things with you. I’m far too angry for that. I’d like to rip out David Aras’s tongue and strangle him with it.”

  “What about Professor Martin?”

  Gabriel paused, clearing his throat. “If Christa’s complaint had

  stood alone, he would have interviewed me, perhaps spoken to a few others around the department, and concluded that her charge was

  fabricated. Her complaint against you, however, complicates things.”

  “What did your lawyer say?”

  “I decided to meet with Jeremy alone.”

  Julia sat bolt upright, the water sloshing around her. “What?

  I thought you told your lawyer about the complaint so he would

  accompany you.”

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  Gabriel leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

  “Jeremy hired me. I consider him a friend. I thought it was more

  likely that we could cut through the bullshit and deal with the issue if I didn’t bring my lawyer.”

  Julia’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What did he say?”

  “Christa claims that I tried to initiate a sexual relationship with her on a number of different occasions, including meetings that we had on and off campus. She mentioned our interactions at Starbucks and at Lobby.” His eyes shifted to Julia’s.

  “She’s also accusing me of punishing her by rejecting her thesis

  proposal and threatening to have her dismissed from the PhD pro-

  gram. She claims that after she spurned me, I made her life hell.”

  “But it’s all lies. She was the one harassing you.”

  “Exactly, and I said as much. Jeremy was quite cross. He told me

  that I should have come to him immediately and filed a complaint.

  Obviously, my claim is not very credible at this point, but there are a couple of things that Christa did not take into consideration.”

  “Such as?”

  “Her academic file. Jeremy and I had at least two discussions

  about her poor progress over the course of last semester. He was well aware of the fact that she was struggling. Notes from those discussions, along with copies of her work, are in her file. Also, Paul was present during some of my interactions with Christa. I suggested

  that Jeremy speak with him, along with Mrs. Jenkins.”

  “Paul was with me in Starbucks the day you met with Chris-

  ta. She told us she was planning on persuading you to take her to

  Lobby — that she was going to be exchanging more than names with


  you that evening.”

  Gabriel’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

  “I forgot about that conversation, or I would have mentioned it

  earlier. Paul and I were having coffee and Christa came in before you arrived. She was bragging about how she was going to seduce you.”

  Gabriel stroked his chin, deep in thought. “And Paul heard her

  say this?”

  “Yes,” said Julia, fighting a smile. “I guess the Angelfucker might turn out to be a guardian angel.”

  Gabriel scowled. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. What else

  did she say?”

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  Gabriel’s Rapture

  “Not much. We saw you meet with Christa, but we were too

  far away to hear what you were saying. Her body language seemed

  pretty obvious. She was trying to flirt with you, and you scolded her.

  I could tell Professor Martin that.”

  “Absolutely not. You’re too involved as it is.” He scratched at

  his chin once again. “Jeremy asked that I not speak to Paul about

  Christa. The situation is a bit touchy because Paul is working for me, but Jeremy agreed to talk to him. It would be best if you didn’t speak to Paul about this, either. The less said on the topic the better.”

  “He doesn’t like Christa. One of the first things he ever said to

  me was that she wanted to become Mrs. Emerson. He knows she

  was after you.”

  Gabriel grimaced. “I reminded Jeremy that I approved Christa’s

  dissertation proposal back in December, after giving her numerous

  chances to fix it. Let’s hope that when he talks to Paul, he’s able to grasp a clear picture of what actually happened.”

  Julia closed her eyes, resting her head back in the bathtub. She

  knew that they could rely on Paul to tell the truth. Despite his an-tipathy to Professor Emerson, he wouldn’t give credence to Christa’s false allegations.

  Gabriel stood up. “There’s one other thing I need to tell you.”

  “What’s that?” Julia asked, eyes still closed.

  “Jeremy asked if we were involved. And I said — yes.”

  She opened her eyes, staring up at him. “What?”

  “I told him that we didn’t get involved until the Christmas break.”

  Gabriel’s expression grew tense.

  “Did he believe you?”

  “He seemed to, but he was angry. He told me I should have come

  to him immediately. He said that he was obligated to report me to

  the Dean for failing to follow university policy.”

  “Oh, no.” Julia reached for Gabriel’s hand. “What are we going

  to do?”

  “He said that because of our other troubles, he isn’t going to

  muddy the waters — for now. But he was adamant in telling me that

  he wasn’t going to cover things up.”

  Gabriel leaned over to kiss her forehead. “Don’t worry about Jer-

  emy. I’ll handle him. While you’re finishing your bath, I’ll update my lawyer so we can plan our next move.” He smiled and turned to leave.

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  “Gabriel, there is one more thing. Well, two more things, actually.

  “Soraya is filing a complaint against Christa, on my behalf, argu-

  ing that she targeted me maliciously.”

  “Good. Maybe that will cause her to rethink her actions.”

  “And in my meeting with Nicole yesterday she mentioned that

  you weren’t in therapy anymore.”

  Gabriel saw Julia’s expression, one of irritation mixed with sad-

  ness, and his shoulders slumped.

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  Chapter 22

  In the grand scheme of things, Gabriel’s failure to mention the

  fact that he’d stopped going to therapy was unimportant. Or so

  Julia believed. They argued about it briefly, but both of them were too worried about their troubles with the university to do more than that.

  Gabriel received a terse note from Jeremy the following week,

  indicating that he’d interviewed both Mrs. Jenkins and Paul. Other than that, he and Julia didn’t receive any communication from the

  university.

  David Aras spent his Friday night alone in the office of his house with a bottle of Jameson whiskey. It was not unusual for him to do so. In his position as Dean of Graduate Studies he often brought

  work home. On this particular evening he found himself mired in a

  very tricky, very sensitive situation.

  Miss Peterson’s harassment complaint had been challenged by the

  testimony of more than one witness. However, the academic fraud

  complaint against Miss Mitchell had alerted him to a possible case of fraternization between Julia and Professor Emerson. The problem was that the evidence was contradictory.

  According to the information passed on by Professor Martin,

  Paul Norris had painted a glowing picture of Miss Mitchell and her character. As the whiskey burned his throat, David wondered if all women Mr. Norris came in contact with had mysteriously sprouted

  wings or if he simply had a weakness for young women from Selin-

  sgrove, Pennsylvania.

  (Wherever the hell that was.)

  According to Mr. Norris and Mrs. Jenkins, Miss Mitchell was

  a timid young woman who was disliked by Professor Emerson. Mr.

  Sylvain Reynard

  Norris went further to claim that the professor had fought openly

  with her in his seminar.

  Subsequent to the confrontation in class, Emerson had ap-

  proached Professor Picton to supervise Miss Mitchell’s thesis, citing the fact that she was a friend of his family as the reason why he could no longer continue to supervise her. Here is where David was puzzled.

  Professor Emerson hadn’t objected to Miss Mitchell’s admission

  to the program, knowing that he was the only professor who directed theses on Dante. If there was such an obvious conflict of interest, why hadn’t he objected? Or declared the conflict of interest to Professor Martin at the beginning of the semester?

  The files on Professor Emerson and Miss Mitchell did not make

  sense. And David did not like it when things did not make sense.

  (For his universe was nothing if not sensical.)

  As he pondered the evidence, he inserted a flash drive into his

  computer. He opened the single folder on the drive and began scan-

  ning through the emails that had been culled obligingly from Professor Emerson’s account by someone in the Information Technology

  office. He adjusted the parameters to include only those messages

  that had been sent to or received from Miss Mitchell, Miss Peterson, Mr. Norris, and Professor Picton.

  In a few minutes, David found something that surprised him.

  On his screen, were emails that had been sent before the end of October 2009. The first email had been written by Professor Emerson

  to Miss Mitchell:

  Dear Miss Mitchell,

  I need to speak to you concerning a matter of some urgency.

  Please contact me as soon as possible. You may telephone

  me at the following number: 416-555-0739 (cell).

  Regards,

  Prof. Gabriel O. Emerson,

  Associate Professor

  Department of Italian Studies/

  Centre for Medieval Studies

  University of Toronto

  The second email was sent by Miss Mitchell to Professor Emerson

  in response to his message:

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  Gabriel’s Rapture

  Dr. Emerson,

  Stop harassing me.

  I don’t want you anymore. I don’t even want to know you. If


  you don’t leave me alone, I will be forced to file a harassment

  complaint against you. And if you call my father, I will do just

  that. Immediately.

  If you think I’m going to let an insignificant thing like this drive me from the program, then you are very much mistaken. I

  need a new thesis director, not a bus ticket home.

  Regards,

  Miss J. H. Mitchell,

  Lowly Graduate Student,

  On-Knees-More-Than-The-Average-Whore.

  P.S. I will be returning the M. P. Emerson bursary next week.

  Congratulations, Professor Abelard. No one has ever made me

  feel as cheap as you did Sunday morning.

  The Dean straightened in his chair. He read the two emails once

  again, examining every word.

  Although he had a vague memory of who Peter Abelard was, he

  indulged his curiosity and Googled him. He clicked on a reputable

  biography and began reading.

  Quod erat demonstrandum, he thought.

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  Chapter 23

  Downtown, Jeremy Martin was reclining on his leather sofa, eyes

  closed, listening to Beethoven while his wife got ready for bed.

  As the Chair of Italian Studies, he was responsible for a number of people, including faculty and students. Gabriel’s revelation that he was dating a former student troubled him.

  He knew that Christa Peterson’s complaint was malicious, but

  like any other complainant, she should be taken seriously. Given

  the fact that she was correct in surmising that Gabriel and Julianne were involved, it was quite possible that her allegation that Julianne had received special favors was also correct. Gabriel, his friend and colleague, had tried to keep the relationship secret. Now the Dean was asking questions, placing Jeremy in a hell of a bind.

  Over the course of his career in the United States and now in

  Toronto, he’d seen too many bright and promising graduate students become the playthings of their professors. His wife, for example,

  had been a graduate student in linguistics at Columbia University, only to have her career ruined by her professor/lover after she tired of his alcoholism. It had taken years for Danielle’s wounds to heal, and even now she would have nothing to do with academia. Jeremy

  didn’t want to see Julianne’s career come to a similar end.

  On the other hand, he would not allow the rising star of his

  faculty to be slandered and vilified for an infraction he hadn’t committed. If the Dean investigated Professor Emerson and Miss Mitchell further, Jeremy would do his damnedest to ensure that justice was