Page 23 of Love, Theoretically
“—and won’t even bother calling Greg to ask for an explanation, because he’s a sadistic, egotistical, ignorant black hole of sh—”
“Elsie, babe, do you need us here for this, or should we go to our room to mourn Stephen?”
I stop pacing. Cece and Hedgie are staring, heads tilted at the same angle. “Sorry,” I say sheepishly.
“Not gonna lie, it’s kinda fun to see you soapbox it all out, geyser-style. I’m sure there are some serious health benefits to this. But before you pull a machete out of your butt crack and begin the rampage, let me point out, this Smith-Turner dude? He cannot touch you.”
“He may not be able to knee me in the groin or poison my tea with a vial of measles, but—”
“He also cannot interfere with your interview.”
“If Jack tells Volkov or Monica, I—”
“Pff.” She waves her hand. “He won’t.”
“He won’t?” I squint at Cece. Is she placating me? I wouldn’t know—I never need placating.
“First, admitting that he knows you from a nonacademic setting would create a sizable conflict of interest. They’d force him to recuse himself from the search committee. He’d lose the ability to influence the other members.”
“Oh.” I nod. First slowly, then not. “You’re right.”
“Plus, you’re not contrabanding cigars or organizing illegal cockfights. You told a small, irrelevant lie about your personal life to a passing acquaintance. For all Jack knows, you’re in the witness protection program. Or you misspoke when you were first introduced. Or you and Greg have a role-play kink you expand out of the bedroom: you pretend to be a librarian at his grandma’s birthday, hespanks you with Billy the IKEA bookcase, orgasms are had. Consensual, Swedish, and above all: private.”
“That’s... intense.”
“I’ve been watching HBO with Mrs. Tuttle’s password. Point is, Jack’s not telling anyone shit. Can you imagine if he went to Monica and brought up random details of your romantic relationships that he thinks should be disqualifying? HR would have a field day. Don’t you watch the harassment-prevention webinars?”
“I—they’re mandatory.”
Cece’s eyes narrow. “Yes, but do you watch them, or do you let them play while you do integral calculus and browse cheese porn on Pinterest?” I flush and look away, and she sighs. “Here’s a recap: Jack can’t ask you about your personal life.”
“He already has.”
“But he can’t tellothers. It would be, as the kids say, a bad look. And, as the lawyers say, illegal. Plus, Monica the badass chair would kick him in the nuts. She seems nicely predisposed to nut kicking.”
I exhale. “You’re right.” I celebrate my relief by rolling down my thigh highs. Small miracle: no holes yet. “So he’s bluffing. Posturing. Just like I am.”
“Yup.” Cece bites into her lip, suddenly pained. “With one minor difference.”
“Which is?”
“If his posturing doesn’t work, he’s still an MIT professor. If yours doesn’t...”
I groan and drop onto the lazy chair. “Ifminedoesn’t, it’s one more year in the adjunct pit.” No research time. Students calling me Mom and insisting their dogs ate their computers. Rationed insulin. And, of course, the longer I spend without a tenure-track job,the less appealing a candidate I’ll be. I hate vicious cycles, and academic ones are the most vicious of all.
“Hey!” Cece comes to kneel next to me, setting Hedgie on top of my chest. “Clearly Jack knows you have a shot at the job, or he wouldn’t try to intimidate you. And Kirk said that scientists—”
I sit up. “Kirk? The new Faux guy?”
“Yeah.” Is she blushing, or is it just the poor lighting? We need new bulbs. Also needed: money for new bulbs. “He said that scientists get mean when they feel threatened.”
“Hmm.” What if Jack really does think I have a better shot than George? I ponder the possibilities until Hedgie rolls on her back, quills stabbing my right boob. “I’m going to boil you and eat your soup with udon noodles,” I murmur.
Cece frowns. “What did you say?”
“Nothing! Just... You’re right. Thank you for talking me down.”
She smiles, and I feel a surge of affection for her. “See, that’s the reason scientists need the humanities. You guys lack big picture.”