Page 2 of The Secret
“No, we don’t.”
“We’re separated.”
“What?”
“Carrie and I, we’re separated.”
“So why did she come screaming into the café?”
He tosses his long fringe out of his eyes. “Sometimes she still thinks she still has a claim on me, but she doesn’t.”
Her “don’t come back tonight” echoes through my thoughts. I shake my head. What a load of bullshit. I raise my chin.
“What did HR want?”
“They said this”—he gestures between us and my stomach curdles—“is against university policy. Which is ridiculous! They said they need to start an internal misconduct investigation. I denied everything of course, but they’re still putting me on probation, which is terrible for me: I came here on an exchange visa as head of department, Liss! I don’t have a green card yet, and my kids …”
My eyes bug out. “You havekids?” I can’t even start on the rest of his lies.
He winces.
“You fucker!”
He presses his fingers to his lips. “Keep your voice down! We don’t want this investigation to get any worse. Let’s meet later and …”
Oh my God. I swear I am never getting married. “No fucking way, Stéphane. I’m not meeting you later or any other time in fact.”
I push past him, but his voice follows me as he tries to catch my arm. “Liss, you need to …”
Shaking him off, I head into the office behind him. He lied to the university about us? That seems really dumb.
The HR lady, Diane, is nice but firm, and somewhat sympathetic when I fill her in. But clearly the process is the process, and when she tells me I’m also being put on probation, I want to cry. I can’t afford this, I can’t.
I don’t have the money. It took me forever to structure my life this way. I volunteer in the poorest parts of Africa, come back, and make enough money to go back out again. I want to change the world, to do good, and this allows me to do it. A long sigh seeps through my teeth. The university tolerates me working in this ad hoc way when I’m back, filling in for classes. If this puts a stop to that, I’ll … Why oh why did I risk something so important to me? I should have known better than to get involved with someone so close to my working life.My working life. I almost laugh. The university doesn’t feel like work at all. I go to Africa, then come back and talk about it.
My parents loathe my life. My dad hates what he sees as my “wasted promise.” After I got good grades at school, my dad had a law career and two-point-four kids all mapped out for me, and every time I go home we have a shouting match about what I’m doing. I have to hold on to the fact that the good I’m doing outweighs the vision he had, although what good I’m able to do now …
When I ask Diane about my open-ended contract and intermittent volunteering, she purses her lips at me. “I’m sorry, Liss. Your contract is very unusual, as I’m sure you know. If you leave to volunteer, we won’t be able to re-employ you because of the red flag on your record, and until it’s resolved we’d be obliged to pass that on to other potential employers, too.” She pushes her glasses up her nose.
Jesus Christ.So I’m stuck here until this is all resolved.
2
LISS
Wednesday, January 19, 2022
Out of the window of my apartment, a cold blue sky scatters fingers of light down between the buildings. It’s three years since my two best friends from college met their other halves: Jo met Janus, and then Kate got together with one of his best friends, Fabian, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel left out of their cozy circle. I have watched my friends’ lives move on with a soul-burning envy I didn’t think was in me. And I’m not that person: My fire fixes the world’s problems, and I don’t waste time looking over my shoulder.You had it, Liss, and you lost it.I still don’t understand how it slipped away from me.
I don’t want children right now—I like my wanderlust life—but there’s something about seeing your closest friends’ lives move on … Jo’s kid is like a combination of Janus and her in miniature: all dark tousled hair and freckles. And I like being Auntie Liss, the babysitter who turns up with furry toy rabbits and coloring books but can step away to the peace and quiet of her own apartment. But I’m also still fighting the same battles for funding, persuading people that volunteering is worth their time. How disillusioned will I be in another three years?
A car’s brakes squeal, and the driver leans on the horn and shouts an obscenity out of his window. A different kind of chaos swirls into my head—hot African sun, cheerful morning calls, and children’s laughter—and warmth flows through my body like a hot vent, something sharp stabbing through my chest.
I glance at the clock and flinch. Jesus, I have to give a lecture in forty minutes. Throwing my coffee back, I bang on Matt’s door with a heavy fist. Matt is the PhD student who took over the lease for the apartment after Kate moved into Fabian’s place. I can’t pretend I don’t miss her, but Matt is a decent guy who amiably manages my absences in Africa by getting people in to cover the rent. He deserves all the credit because I’m a pain in the ass to share with.
“I’m taking a shower, Matt!”
I get a grunting reply and throw myself around the apartment, squashing down my gloomy thoughts, and rain hits my shoulders as I step out onto the street.Stop wallowing!I click open the lock on my bike and throw myself on it, pedaling furiously through the freezing rain, making it with moments to spare, my Keds stuck to my feet. The lecture hall is steaming with wet clothes and half full when I arrive, and as I mentally file through the pictures and stories I’m going to tell, my chest eases.I get to talk about my life for an hour – how cool is that?
