by S. P. Perone
Deliberately, she reached back to unsnap her bra, and dropped it on the floor. Unzipping her jeans, she slid them down to the floor and stepped out. Clad only in her cotton bikini briefs…the ones with the pink butterflies that Tony had once kidded her about…she turned to examine herself in the full length mirror behind the door. Starting at the top, she scolded herself for the teary interlude that had produced the image before her. Normally, her green eyes and long auburn hair were her most striking qualities. Now, the matted hair and streaks of mascara that surrounded the bloodshot eyes staring back at her were a grim reminder of what had transpired these past few hours.
She had made the mistake of going to Tony’s office after his late afternoon lecture. She knew that there would be few if any of the group in the labs over the supper hour, even though most would return to work later that evening. It would be, she had thought, a good time to clear the air with Tony. They had hardly spoken over the past month. And she knew there were hard feelings. Many things had been left unresolved when they had decided to end their affair. His office would be as close to neutral turf as she could get. Neither his house nor her apartment would be a good place; nor could they meet for a “date” somewhere. She wanted the option to walk away if she detected any of the condescension that he was capable of.
Putting it out of her mind, she continued her self-examination in the mirror. Her five-foot-nine frame was well sculpted, she thought. Her breasts were firm, and not too large. Would she want to get an enhancement some day…when she was employed and making lots of money? She turned sideways and carefully examined the line of her chest. There was no sign of sagging, probably because she was on the small side. “No,” she thought, “no boob-job for me. No one’s ever complained that I was too flat.” What she really meant was that Tony had remarked that he loved the size and shape of her breasts. He was a “leg man, anyway,” she remembered him saying, recalling also how he had casually stroked her thigh, dragging his fingers lightly under the curve of her knee and over her calf…then brushing slowly up the back of her leg…until his hand came to rest below her buttock, with the tips of his fingers wrapping around, applying gentle, urgent pressure.
“Stop it!” she said to herself, momentarily astonished to hear the sound of her own voice. Why was she thinking this way? She chastised herself for letting her mind wander to things that could never be again. She reached down and slid off her panties, lifting first one leg then the other. As she kicked them over into the pile with her jeans and bra, she admired her long smooth legs. At least she still felt good about herself physically. Well, maybe she wished she had the kind of skin that tanned easily. As she turned to examine first one side and then the other, standing on her toes with hands on hips to emphasize the firm full calves, she imagined how it would be to have the glorious deep tan that she would never achieve without some major breakthrough in skin treatments.
Before she let herself be reminded again of Tony’s comment that he much preferred her milky white soft skin to the leathery golden brown that so many women considered “attractive,” she quickly stepped over to the tub, tested the water, and turned off the faucet. When she got in, the water would be up to her neck. It would be glorious.
She got the matches out of the medicine cabinet; lit the dozen candles of various sizes, shapes and scents that filled the ledge on the side of the tub; turned off the bathroom light; and finally stepped in to enjoy her hot soothing bath. She really needed this pampering tonight. She refused to let herself think anymore about Tony Shane, and especially would not let herself re-hash the devastating conversation they had had that evening.
As the warmth of the water penetrated into her body, she did relax. She let her head fall back, closed her eyes, and felt herself gently drifting into some remote space and time. Nothing could hurt her. All was right with the world.
But, she couldn’t shut out the vision of the evening’s encounter with Shane. It kept flashing back across her mental vision. And so, finally, she gave in to the need to revisit their conversation. But, at least now, in this relaxed state, she would do it dispassionately and objectively, she thought.
It was about 6 o’clock when she had knocked on Shane’s door. He had opened it slightly, and she could see the look of surprise on his face, as he haltingly greeted her.
“Hi, Sarah. What’s up?”
Judging from the sheet of paper in his hand with a phone number printed in Sandy’s distinctive large print, it appeared that he had been just about to make a phone call.
“Am I interrupting anything?” she said. “I needed to talk to you, and it may take a little bit of your time.”
“Perhaps I could come back later?” she offered…a plea she obviously hoped he would refuse.
Shane had paused for a moment, perhaps deciding how important the phone call might be. Abruptly, he backed up, and said, “No. Of course not.” Come on in. Let’s talk.” Probably thinking she needed to see him about a research issue, he had deliberately left the office door open after she walked in.
With a calm she hadn’t expected, she had said softly, “Tony. You may want to shut the door.”
He had understood, and reached for the door. As he shut it, Sarah had taken a seat in the chair in front of the bookcase, where his students usually sat for their one-on-one research conferences with Shane. Against the opposite wall, on the other side of his desk, was a large whiteboard used to embellish practically every discussion. On the wall opposite his desk was a window that looked out over the large quadrangle in front of the Comp. Sci. building. The opposite side of the quadrangle was the location for the student union, explaining why there was so much student traffic at all times of the day and night, weaving along the myriad pathways laid out on the quadrangle.
“Tony,” she began, “we really haven’t had a chance to talk since we broke up last month.” Taking a deep breath, she continued, “I think you should know that I’m seeing someone else.” Without giving Shane a chance to respond, she hurried on. “I’m not telling you this because it should make any difference between us, but…” she paused, “I just didn’t want you to hear it from someone else…and…” she paused again, “you’re probably going to see us atthe House this weekend.”
“Is it anyone I know?” he asked, feigning ignorance
Sarah looked at the floor for a second, then lifted her eyes to meet Shane’s gaze. “Yes, you do know him. It’s Janus Clarkson.” Involuntarily, her eyes returned to examining the floor in front of her. She expected an eruption from Shane. She knew about the bad blood between him and Clarkson.
Once again her eyes met his, and, amazingly, several moments passed with no response from Shane. “Are you upset?” she asked gently.
“I was,” he replied, “when I first learned about it.” Apparently he had seen the surprise on her face, because he continued, “I guess that jerk, Clarkson, couldn’t help spreading it around.” Then, abruptly he asked, “Does he know about us?”
“Of course not,” she replied quickly, suddenly hurt to think that Shane wouldn’t trust her discretion. “Why would I tellhim …oranyone ?”
“I don’t know,” Shane replied, now allowing some bitterness to color his speech. “It sounds like you’ve had a change of heart about keeping your affairs with the faculty a secret.”
Sarah had been crushed by the sarcasm in Shane’s statement. As much as she knew it was wrong to do, she became defensive. “There is noaffair ,” she said, “and I resent your implication. And besides, I don’t have to answer toyou for my actions. After all,you’re the one that broke up withme , remember?”
“Yes. And I also remember your saying that no one should ever know about us,” Shane replied. “In fact, I remember your refusing to show up anywhere that I was, unless it was a group event. So, now, here you are going out publicly with some other professor. Does that makesense toyou ?”
Sarah looked at him for a moment, knowing he would wait for her reply. She wished he could understand how she fe
lt about him. Why was it that men could not understand what women were saying. Were we that cryptic? She had not wanted other faculty to know about them, simply because Tony was so important to her. She knew that a conservative old university like Daniels did not accept liaisons between faculty and students…and postdocs were looked upon as students. Although he didn’t accept it, a public affair between them might seriously damage his career. But she couldn’t tell him that. Men suffered from their incessant faith in the “Three I’s”: Invulnerability, Infallibility, and Immortality. They thought they could dodge all the bullets. She knew it would be impossible to convince Tony that it was in his best interest to be discreet. So she hadn’t even tried. She had just let him think that she was the one who was afraid of the notoriety; and he had not fought her on it. She knew he thought he could change her mind if they would get serious about a future together. But Tony would never have understood that the reason she didn’t mind being seen with Clarkson was because shedidn’t care for him. At least, he would never understand unless she spelled it out for him. And she could not do that. Not now; not ever.
“Does it make sense thatyou should be concerned aboutmy behavior, since we don’t have any ‘future together’ anyway, as I recall you saying recently?” she said finally.
She could tell by the look on his face that she had turned the table and put him on the defensive now.
“Listen, Sarah,” he began slowly, “didn’t we go over this already? You want to get a faculty position at a major research university. You are certainly talented enough to do that. Where would that leave us? Daniels would not hire you if we were married. They’re still living in the 19thcentury when it comes to hiring practices. And is there another university that would be willing to hire both of us? Too many of them have gotten burned trying to accommodate husband and wife faculty teams. To hire one, you have to take the other. That leaves a bad taste in the department that gets someone rammed down their throats. These things fester and blow up eventually. I don’t want to do that to you, or to me either. I thought it was better for us to face up to it now rather than later.”
As he paused for breath, Sarah shot back at him, “Thanksfor making that decision forboth of us! I’ll be eternallygrateful .”
With that, Sarah uncrossed her legs, stood up, and headed for the door. As she reached out to open it, Shane jumped up from his chair, grabbed her hand, and placed himself between her and the door.
“I’m sorry, Sarah. Please…don’t leave yet.”
She pulled her hand away, and stood there, head down, shaking. Without looking up, she said simply, “Tony, we have nothing more to say to each other. It was a mistake for me to come here. Please, let me go.”
“Sarah, I’m sorry…” he began again.
“Please, Tony, don’t apologize. I’m just sorry you heard about Janus before I saw you,” she interrupted.
Hesitantly, he reached out and placed a finger under her chin, and, with gentle pressure, got her to lift her eyes and look at him.
“Sarah…honey…why did it have to be Clarkson?” he asked, reverting inadvertently to the familiar mode.
The question and its implied intimacy greatly agitated her. “Listen, here, Tony Shane. You don’t haveany right to question my choice for a date,” she shot back. “I only came here to tell you because I knew how you felt about Janus…and I’m sorry now that I did.”
“So, now, please get out of my way, so I can leave,” she added evenly, clearly more of a command than a request.
Astonished and silent, Shane had stepped back. And, without another word, Sarah had opened the door and walked out. She stopped by her small office, picked up her coat and scarf, and within 30 seconds she was gone.
Suddenly realizing that her bath water had gotten cold, Sarah broke away from her reverie and reached over to open the hot water spigot. As the water poured into the tub, she released the drain briefly so that some of the cooler water would drain out.
Returning to her relaxed reclining position in the tub, she realized that she was no longer angry with Shane. She almost regretted her last biting comments in his office. But she didn’t want to think about that any more. Instead, she let her thoughts return to the scene she had briefly witnessed earlier in the day. Having finished a 45-minute workout on one of the treadmills at the Rec. Center, she had been walking down the corridor to the girls’ locker room where she would shower and return to the Comp. Sci. building. Because the corridor passed over the handball courts, she looked down to see that Tony and Bill were playing a doubles match with two other students in the group. They had selected the court with transparent glass walls on three sides, so she was able to watch them briefly from behind the stands that were set up on the ground floor for observers. She marveled as she watched Tony move around and deftly return shots with pinpoint accuracy to selected spots on the front wall. His wavy jet-black hair was cut long, but was held in place with a bright red sweatband. His six-foot frame was lean and muscular, and he was blessed with a smooth, robust complexion that exhibited a year-round natural “tan.” For contrast, his face was graced with piercing blue eyes and handsome chiseled features that he had inherited from his Irish father.
With a smile she recalled Tony’s loving description of his parents, who had died tragically in an auto accident just five years ago. His mother had instilled in him a love for his heritage, and made sure that Tony always considered himself an “Italian.” Most of his acquaintances were Italian, and the relatives he saw most frequently were from his mother’s side and lived in the same neighborhood. His mother and father made sure he went to St. Francis parochial grade school, only three blocks away, and later to Bishop Mariano Catholic boys high school, which was just a mile away. On Sundays they all went to mass at St. Francis. It was one of those parishes that had continued to use Latin in some of its ceremonies, when all the other U.S. churches had converted to English. In fact, the parish still had one mass each Sunday where the sermon was given in both Italian and English. It sounded charming. She hoped she could visit there someday.
Tony’s dad had few of his Irish relatives living in the Chicago area, and so had conceded to his wife the development of Tony’s sense of family and heritage. But he did have a brother to whom Tony had become very close. Uncle “Paddy” was a few years older than Tony’s dad, and lived over in St. Patrick’s parish. Tony’s dad would take Tony over there at least once a week, so that Tony could play with his cousins, while his dad and Uncle Paddy had a drink or two, and got caught up on all the latest neighborhood gossip. From Uncle Paddy, Tony had learned that the original family name had been “McShane,” and they had emigrated from County Limerick back in the 1920’s.
Tony’s dad had performed a unique ritual every Sunday. After attending 8 o’clock mass with his wife and Tony, he would bring them home and leave to go over to St. Patrick’s so he could usher for the 10 o’clock mass there. He had been an usher at St. Pat’s since he was 19, and he would not give that up.
Tony’s dad had been an uneducated working man. Given the opportunity to apprentice as an airplane mechanic, he had worked his way up to foreman for TransNational Airlines, supervising crews servicing aircraft at Chicago’s O’Hare airport. Theirs was a comfortable life, but there was not enough income to pay for Tony’s college education. His mother had worked as a waitress for many years, with the goal of sending Tony to Notre Dame. But the money had all gone to pay for surgery she had required during Tony’s senior year in high school. Saddened by this financial misfortune, she had strongly encouraged Tony to continue his education in any way that he could. Fortunately for Tony, he had gotten a full tuition academic scholarship to Marquette University in Milwaukee, and he was able to make enough money by waiting tables at local bistros to pay for his lodging and expenses.
No one had been happier than his mom had, or prouder than his dad, when Tony had graduated from Marquette, with a research fellowship to pursue his Ph.D. at the University of Michigan. When Tony ultimately
ended up on the faculty at Daniels University, his dad could hardly contain himself. He always referred to Tony as “the Professor”; and was ecstatic when he was able to attend the occasional football game on campus, especially when they were playing Notre Dame. Of course, Tony could never convince his Dad that it wasn’t a good idea to cheer for Notre Dame from the middle of the Daniels’ faculty section!
Sarah smiled as she finished musing over the descriptions of his early life that Tony had shared with her. A very private person, Tony had been reluctant to say much. But Sarah had coaxed these and many other stories out of him. And, now, she experienced a warm glow of satisfaction that Tony had been able to share these with her. She wished she had been able to meet his mom and dad. Perhaps, one day, she would meet Uncle Paddy.
Suddenly, she regretted that she had withheld so much of herself from Tony. She had told him only that she had been born in Modesto, California, in the great Central Valley. Raised in a Southern Baptist family, she had been very sheltered until leaving home to attend Chico State University. In fact, she had not had a lover until attending graduate school at UCLA. There had been only two men in her life before Tony. She had been in love with each of them, she had told herself, but she knew now that she had only deluded herself to gain release from the enormous guilt trip that her heritage had assured she would experience.
Which brought her to how did she feel about Tony? Was she in love with him? Or had it been another case of self-delusion? Certainly, before he had broken off their relationship, she hadthought that she was falling in love with him. And, now, even after his incredibly arrogant decision-making regarding their future, she still could not look at him without feeling a little weak in the knees. But he wouldnever know that.
