David parked the Caddy in its usual spot. He took the key from the ignition, grabbed the briefcase off the passenger seat, hopped out of the car and closed the door. Regardless of how the morning had started, and in spite of the fact that it was so damn cold and it felt like it was going to snow, this was going to be a good day. For the next few hours David could let slide the nagging thoughts of Connie and the problems they’d been having recently and stop second-guessing his treatment of Josh in the kitchen. He could leave all that behind and do what he did best—teach the concrete logic of mathematics.
The academic building of Wachusett State College was a sprawling, three-story structure constructed of glass, concrete, and steel. Located on the northern boundary of Old Wachusett and nestled among the elms and maples and oaks, situated at the western edge of two hundred and fifty acres of gently rolling hills, the main academic building and its adjacent gymnasium provided exceptionally modern facilities of higher learning while not compromising the aesthetics of the environment. At least, that was according to the brochure.
David joined the faculty in 1970, five years after the college had been established, the same year he turned thirty-five. Prior to that, he enjoyed teaching high school math, but when the opportunity to teach at a higher level presented itself, he couldn’t pass it up. His current position was challenging at times (as challenging as teaching linear algebra and calculus could be), but he’d learned over the years to adapt to the various scenarios he faced in the classroom—sleeping students, off-the-wall questions, and the occasional dope-head who thought it was acceptable to get high while solving matrices and integrals.
One of the better parts of the job was the office hours. He had plenty of time scheduled into his days to work on grant proposals, write papers for math journals, and work on his first book which still didn’t have a working title. The subject was Archimedes and his unknowing use of the concept of calculus more than fifteen hundred years before it had been simultaneously discovered by Newton and Leibnitz. David hoped to finish the first draft next month so he could start shopping it around to various publishers, perhaps using Connie’s old contacts in New York.
Assuming the two of them were still talking to each other by next month.
David stepped onto the cement walkway that ran the perimeter of the main building. A herd of students carrying textbooks and notebooks, leaving vapor trails of breath behind them, hurried through the entrance. One of the young men held the door for David. David smiled, the young man nodded. Inside, David passed the two elevators in the lobby and opened the door to the stairwell. He preferred climbing the stairs rather than riding the elevator. It gave him a chance to think for a bit longer before heading into the workday, a chance to clear his head of anything that would get in the way of his teaching.
His shoes scuffing and scratching on the concrete steps, David thought about this morning’s argument with Connie. If only he could be as adaptable at home as he was in the classroom. For more than a year he’d grown more irritable and inflexible toward both Connie and Josh. It had started with Josh, arguing with him for no apparent reason other than to exert his fatherly authority over his son. Josh needed authority, though. David knew that to be true, regardless of what Connie seemed to think. Children, no matter how old, needed to know who was in control.
Over the past few months, David’s knack for instigating an argument with his son over the minutiae of life had spread to his wife. What had it been this morning? Something that carried over from last night, something Connie had said, the way she had said it in that accusatory tone she’d adopted lately. He reached the second floor and continued up to the third.
David was a man of logic. If A then B, and B then C, then what followed was A then C. Simple. Logical. But his life during the past few years had been anything but simple and logical. Things had happened that didn’t have a clear cause and effect explanation. How many times had A happened, then B, only to have E, F, and goddamned G pop out of nowhere with no causal relationship between any of them. His unpredictable attitude toward Connie was a prime example. It couldn’t be graphed in any kind of logical, linear, from point A to point B to point C fashion. It was utterly illogical. And frustrating.
At the third floor David opened the door, turned right, and headed down the narrow corridor. The concrete walls on each side were broken up by classrooms and modern artwork and faculty offices. His office was located at the far end, the mathematics department office at the midpoint of the corridor. Two secretaries occupied two desks in the front of the office, each responsible for four of the eight math professors. David waved at one of them, Claire Perkins, through the glass wall. She waved back, cradling a phone receiver between ear and neck. Students hung out in the hallway, some of them more than likely late for—or skipping—their first period class (David was thankful his first class didn’t start until second period). Professors in their offices, students in the classrooms, it was business as usual for a Monday morning.
Teri Glazer, one of the youngest faculty members, as well as the only female math professor at WSC, stepped out of her office and turned in David’s direction. When Teri had joined the faculty a year ago, David had wasted no time in appropriating the responsibility of showing her how things were done at WSC, things like how to enlist the secretaries’ help when they were busy in the office and how to work the front office bureaucracy to her advantage. They had become close-working colleagues. They had become friends.
Lately, David felt that friendship getting pulled in a new direction. The most perplexing facet of the whole thing was that he wasn’t at all sure which of them was doing the pulling. Another set of illogical circumstances that he couldn’t explain, the difference being he wasn’t sure he wanted an explanation.
“Morning, Teri.” David tipped an invisible hat, the usual greeting to his colleagues. Teri hurried past without responding. David stopped and turned. “Teri?” She kept walking. “Teri.” David hustled to catch up to her. “Wait a second.”
Teri stopped and turned.
David hesitated before he spoke. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m sorry, David.” Teri sighed and slumped her shoulders. “I just…this morning has not been good.”
For a woman who had a morning that had not been good, Teri Glazer still managed to come off looking attractive. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was a bit tousled but glowed nonetheless under the fluorescent hall lights, her blue eyes less carefree but no less tempting, her smile tired yet still simultaneously innocent and enticing. More women should have mornings that weren’t as good to them as this one was to Teri.
“Come on.” David gently touched her elbow. “Take a few minutes to vent.” He started to guide her back toward his office.
Teri appeared to think about it before answering. “I appreciate the gesture, but I have to get textbooks from the bookstore for my first period class.” She smiled and pulled away from David. “Thanks anyway.”
“Hey.” David touched her elbow again. “It’s not just a polite gesture. If you need to vent to start your day in a better way…? Besides, the books will still be there even if you take a ten minute detour to David Schofield’s decompression chamber.” With his free hand, David motioned toward the end of the hall.
Teri smiled, the dimples on either side of the smile coming to life. “Really, David, I can’t. I have to—”
David raised a hand in a half-surrender, half are-you-sure gesture.
“Well….” Teri shrugged. She looked at the students milling about in the halls, none of them seemingly paying attention to Teri and David. “All right. But just for a few minutes.”
“Sure. Just a few minutes to unwind.” David smiled and nodded. “Get your thoughts together.”
“I’m serious, David.” Teri raised her eyebrows like a mother scolding her five-year-old for not taking her seriously about stealing cookies before dinner. She followed David down the hall toward his office. “A few minutes. That’s it. I need to get ready for class.”
David unlocked the door to his office and stepped into the dark room. The only thing David disliked about his job was he had an office with no windows. Teri waited in the hall for him to flick on the light. He put his briefcase on the floor next to the desk and hung his coat on the hook behind the door. He turned to Teri. She stepped into the room and sat in the chair next to his desk. Leaving the door half-way opened, David pulled his chair out from behind the desk and sat facing Teri. He was close enough to offer a comforting touch, but cognizant enough to restrain himself.
“Lay it on me.” David leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head, exercising all the will power he could muster to look Teri in the eyes and not let his gaze drift down to her well-apportioned curves that were not-too-well hidden under her tight, red silk blouse.
“First, my car wouldn’t start this morning. Luckily, my neighbor was still home and he was able to jump me.”
David did not possess anywhere near enough willpower to cancel out the grin that spread across his face.
Teri blushed. “I mean, he gave me a jump start. With his battery cables. You know what I mean.”
David nodded and crossed his legs in an attempt to hide his excitement at Teri’s blushing.
“Anyway,” she continued, smoothing out her navy-blue skirt by pulling at the hem, “halfway here I realized I had left all my class notes at home. I had to turn around and go back to get them which caused me to get here forty-five minutes later than I had planned. When I did get here I found out that all my handouts for two of my classes hadn’t been run off yet. Jill said I never gave them to her, even though I remember giving them to her last Thursday and specifically telling her I needed them for today’s classes. Now I have to make copies of them in between classes because they’re too busy in the office this morning to take care of it.”
Teri leaned back in the chair, the skirt shifting over her smooth, bare skin. “Ugh.” She tilted her head back and stretched her arms above her head, stretching her blouse well beyond the legal limits. She held the pose for a moment before leaning forward and looking directly at David, one eyebrow raised. “Satisfied?”
“Yes.” That came out much too quickly, David thought.
Teri started to say something, stopped, looked at her watch, and hesitated before standing. “I have to get the books for my classes and get a start on making those copies.” She turned toward the door.
Surprised and disappointed, David stood with her. “What were you going to say?”
She turned to David. “Hmm?”
“You looked like you were going to say something. What was it?”
Teri, hands by her sides, looked like a junior high school girl caught putting a note in a boy’s locker and then having second thoughts about it. “Oh...I don’t know. Must have lost my train of thought.” She gave David a sideways glance as she turned and walked out of his office.
David tried to sort out what, if anything, had just happened. He tapped the door shut with his foot, wondering if he had read correctly that last look from Teri, and if so, what he should do about it. He remembered that lunch period in sixth grade when Sarah Mitchell, the prettiest girl in school, had winked at him from across the cafeteria. He remembered the flips and somersaults his stomach had done, the way his heart had started racing, how he had to rub his sweaty palms on his jeans. All because a girl had winked at him.
David picked up his briefcase and set it on the desk. He opened it, took out the graded exams, and stood behind the desk. With the exams in one hand, David caught himself wiping the other against his pants.
For one of the few times in his life, David Jacob Schofield was unsure of his next course of action.