Yes Miss Murphy Ch. 01

My heart sank. Obviously, this was bad. This was very bad. If she intended to respect my privacy on this matter, and help me save face here, she would have re-sealed the envelope with tape and put it in Katherine's mailbox, and never breathed a word of what she had seen. Or at the very least, she'd have brought me the envelope and its contents and let me know of my blunder, but then reassured me that my secret was safe with her. Clearly, that was not her intention. Nevertheless, I hoped against hope to get a positive response to my question: "Well... um... can I have them back?"

She laughed. "Oh, no. Hahaha. No, I don't think so. But... I'm sure I can be persuaded to keep them safe, and make sure no one else sees them."

"Oh god. Oh god, Mandy, no. No one else can see those. Oh, please. Please, Mandy. Look, that was... what Katherine and I did... um... we... it was..."

"I don't think you have to explain, David. What you did was risky, and ... well, kinda stupid, don't you think? And I know you don't want anyone else to know. Liiiiike... you don't want your wife to know. You don't want her husband to know. Oh yeah. I get it. Now... let's see if YOU get it."

She stared at me for several seconds, looking smug and amused, until I finally said, "Ummm... get what? I mean, umm... what happens now?"

"Wellll... what happens now is, Your whole future is now in my little hands. You are ... COMPLETELY ... at my mercy. Aren't you?"

A wave of helplessness washed over me, as I had to admit, "Yes. Yes, I am. What do I have to do?"

"Mmm. Good question. What do you have to do? Well, basically... you have to do ANYTHING ... and EVERYTHING... I want. Basically, from now on, you work for me. You do whatever I say. For a start, you can hang on to that folder, and the stack of tests underneath, because you're going to grade those. And ..." She reached into her briefcase to pull out another file folder, and placed it in front of me. "In a few minutes, you're coming with me to my 10:40 class. I'm going to introduce you, and then excuse myself, and you're going to teach that class. I've already looked up your schedule, so I know you're free. Here's my lesson plan for today. Oh. And the students in the 10:40 class are turning in an assignment today, so you'll be collecting that, and grading it this weekend, too."

"Uhhhh... well... OK. So... I cover your class today... and grade some papers for you... and then... we forget all about this?"

"Hahaha. Don't be ridiculous, David. This is just the beginning. Like I said, You work for me from now on. You'll be doing a LOT of grading, and covering classes for me. I spent a couple hours last night dreaming up all the ways you're going to be making my life much easier. And if you complain, or balk at anything I tell you to do, or refuse to do anything I say, then that envelope will mysteriously appear on Dean Mullens's desk. And a copy will also show up on your wife's desk. Yeah. I looked her up. I know where she works, too. So. I think maybe you would be wise to not ask me very many questions, and just learn to say 'Yes, Miss Murphy.'"

I sat defeated behind my desk, and Mandy locked her stare on me as my eyes flitted around the room as though looking for an escape route. When I dared to look back at her, I saw her eyebrows raised expectantly. I sighed.

"Yes, Miss Murphy."

"Come on. Follow me. We have a class."

As you may know, Trentstown Community College has a very large enrollment. The math department has 26 full time instructors, and 30 to 40 part time instructors as well. So we offer many sections of each math course each semester, covering all times of the day and evening. With so many faculty and students, it's rare to have the same student in two different semesters.

Our class sizes are capped at 30, and they are all taught by faculty, since of course we have no graduate students as teaching assistants. I have 25 years of experience teaching math, 18 at TCC, and before that I was a high school teacher. So you can imagine my dismay when I followed Mandy into her 10:40 class and heard this rookie teacher announce, "Class, I have to attend to some business today, but I'd like you meet my teaching assistant, Davey. He's going to fill in for me today, and he'll be collecting your assignment later. You can call him Davey. Have a nice weekend. I'll see you Monday."

Before leaving, she turned to me, slipped me a piece of paper with a phone number on it, and quietly said, "Call me after your 1:30 class. If I don't answer, leave a message, I'll call back. Do not go home until you've talked to me." Then she walked out.

Her class ran from 10:40 to 11:50, and about halfway through, a student interrupted and said, "Excuse me? Davey?" I bristled at being addressed by a student not as Mr. Thompson, not even as David - my actual name - but as "Davey".

"Yes?"

"Are we gonna take a break? Miss Murphy usually gives us a 10 minute break at 11:10."

"Oh. Um... well... OK. I guess we could do that." At that point, half of the students bolted out of their seats to go into the hallway. I took advantage of the unexpected break to look over the rest of the lesson plan she'd written and try and make sense of it. The way she had the material organized was very confusing, and I made mental plans to reorder it a bit and change a couple of the examples.

After class, I went to get some lunch, and I couldn't even tell you now what I ate. I probably couldn't have told you ten minutes later, because all I could think about was the twisted turn of events whereby my foolish affair with the dean's wife had delivered me into the clutches of some upstart new co-worker my daughter's age, who decided to take advantage of my compromised position to ... well ... what WAS she doing exactly? Was this blackmail? What was I in store for here? The dread I'd been burdened with for the last month was nothing compared to what I was feeling now. I kept pulling the phone number from my pocket and looking at it, as though expecting the little slip of paper to speak to me and tell me it was OK to go ahead and call early. Wondering what was coming next was torturing me.

I went to teach my 1:30 class, and when it was over, I couldn't wait to dial the number. Mandy answered, and said, "Well, we have a LOT to talk about, David. Do you know where Mancini's is?"

"No. What is that? A restaurant?"

"It's a bar. It's on Bellewood Avenue. Look it up. Get there by 4:00 and wait for me. You better be on time. Order me a glass of Chardonnay, and a glass of water for yourself."

Meet her at a bar? On Friday afternoon? For a glass of wine? In the hour-and-a-half I had to kill before I was to be at Mancini's, all kinds of crazy thoughts raced through my head. Was this like some kind of bizarre date? Did she intend to seduce me into some kind of Fatal-Attraction affair? Was she some psychotic home-wrecking little nymph, with some kind of unresolved childhood baggage that made her want to destroy father-figure types? All sorts of horrific images ran though my mind when I imagined what would happen if she exposed me with that incriminating envelope. I would surely be fired, but that would be FAR from the worst of it. Becky would certainly find out and be absolutely appalled. And when our children discovered what I had done, how would they ever forgive me? I would lose their respect completely. Becky would surely divorce me. I would lose everything. Absolutely everything. It was true: Mandy held my entire future in her hands. I was trapped. I didn't know what she had planned for me, but it was clear I had no choice but to submit to whatever she demanded.