Love in the Age of Chemicals Ch. 05

I described the way my office was set up and where I had been sitting, then described the frustrating position Katerina took on my desk - blocking the door and disturbing the files I had been organizing.

"You were worried about files?" Dr. Callow clarified.

"Yes," I explained with complete candor. "I had spent some time organizing their contents that day and Miss Knowles nearly knocked them onto the floor without even noticing. She was quite inconsiderate."

Several of the committee members made eye contact with one another, passing questioning glances around the table. Only Dr. DiNardo smiled and shook his head, and Dean Pelton's stare had turned curious.

"And did you touch her at all?" Dr. Cavell asked.

"Well... yes. There was physical contact," I said with hesitation. "She expressed concern over her heart rate, and then she took my hand and placed it near her heart, though a little too low and too wide of the mark, I think," I described, using my own chest to illustrate. "She held it there much longer than necessary. I could quickly tell her heart rate was within a normal range. I removed my hand as soon as she gave me liberty to do so."

Ray was leaning back, his hand over his mouth, trying to contain his laughter.

"Is this a joke?" Miss Quinn, the attorney, asked angrily, looking around the room. "Are we really buying this act?"

"Rachel,.." Dean Pelton said calmly but firmly, holding up her hand.

"No. This is serious! Dr. Kirsch, Miss Knowles claims you invited her to your office and requested sexual favors in return for a passing grade, and that when she objected, you attempted to force yourself on her. This isn't a game you can-"

"Miss Quinn!" snapped the Dean, silencing the young lady. "That's enough. Trust me," she looked sideways at me then back to Miss Quinn, "he's not playacting. I don't believe he's capable of that. And I think you should reserve judgment until we've heard all the testimonies scheduled for today. You might be surprised by what you hear."

The young woman gave me a dirty look but said nothing further. Dr. Callow, the bald man, just squinted his eyes at me in confusion. Dr. Cavell and Ray had relaxed and were whispering to one another, seemingly unconcerned. After a few more clarifying questions about the sequence of events that evening, Dean Pelton turned to me and asked, "Is there anything else you think we should know about this incident, Dr. Kirsch? If not, you're free to go."

I thought for a moment, then asked, "May I ask a question about the plausibility of these charges?"

"You may ask. We may decline to answer, but you may ask," she said with a hint of a smile.

I decided to ask the one question that confused me the most about why anyone considered Katerina's story even remotely believable: "Why would anyone think I would need to solicit sexual activity from Miss Knowles when I have a much less complicated option living under my own roof? My wife is more than eager to-"

I was cut off by a roar of laughter from Ray, who actually slipped out of his chair from laughing so hard. Dr. Cavell shook her head in disbelief and Dr. Callow looked around flabbergasted. Miss Quinn was shouting, "He is mocking us!" to Dean Pelton, who was slowly shaking her head and covering her face.

"Enough!" shouted the Dean, calming things down enough that she could say, "I'll see you out, Dr. Kirsch."

As I stood up to leave, Ray gave me a thumbs-up sign as he struggled to contain his laughter. Dean Pelton walked me to the door and called back to the group, "Let's take a ten-minute break." She continued walking me down the hall in silence, then escorted me out into the parking lot.

Once on the sidewalk she said, "I'm breaking protocol a bit, but... well... I have a teenage son who... is a lot like you. And seeing those signs in you just now, I think I understand things a little better. I just want to reassure you that you are probably not in any trouble. You may get a slap on the wrist... I mean... a very minor reprimand... for leaving your door closed and for touching a student, even if both were at her instigation. But we'll be hearing testimony from someone who heard Miss Knowles discuss her plans before meeting with you and who heard her threaten to fabricate these accusations once her first attempt failed. We mostly needed to make sure your account doesn't conflict with that version. Which it doesn't."

I closed my eyes in relief. Dean Pelton concluded by assuring me, "If everything goes the way I expect, this will all be over today and you won't be hearing about this again. However, it's probably best if you stayed away from your office, your lab, and campus in general until you hear from me, OK? Just go home and enjoy an early weekend."

"Thank you, Dean," I nodded. Just then her attention went to the parking lot, where Miranda was approaching us on foot. She seemed anxious and hesitant to come near, and I remembered her unfounded concerns regarding the purpose of my meeting that day. Waving her over, I smiled and greeted her. "I've been so worried," she whispered, "I couldn't just sit at home."

"Your eager wife?" Dean Pelton asked.

"Yes. And a much better option than Miss Knowles presents," I tried to joke. Miranda was horrified and blushed deeply while Dean Pelton smiled knowingly. Before she turned to leave, Dean Pelton looked back and forth between Miranda and me. At first I wondered why, and Miranda gripped my arm, still nervous. But then I stated, "You have a son with Asperger's."

"Yes," she smiled. "And he's quite a whiz with computers and robotics. He's sixteen and aiming for M.I.T. next year."

"Well... I, uh... I hope he succeeds," I offered awkwardly.

"He will," she nodded. Then, as if awaking from a spell, she looked around and said, "I'm sorry. It's just... I often wonder what his life will be like, where he'll be in twenty years. It's encouraging to see a success story. I mean... call me old-fashioned, but I still dream of having grandkids someday."

Miranda, picking up on what was happening, held onto my arm and leaned affectionately towards me. "If my advice is worth anything," she said calmly, "I'd suggest that for now you just need to give him the support and freedom to be himself and to find someone in his own time and his own way."

Dean Pelton closed her eyes, smiled, and breathed in deep. She nodded and whispered a quick "Thank you" before heading back to the building. Once she was out of sight, Miranda pulled me towards my car and said excitedly, "Talk!"

*******

During the drive home, I explained the situation to Miranda, who struggled to rein in her invective against my accuser. Once we returned to the house, I was faced with a whole afternoon of unscheduled time. As I sat down on the couch to read, Miranda said she would be running errands that afternoon. With classes starting the following week, she needed to purchase books and other supplies. Pausing at the door on her way out, she turned to me and said, "I just realized my car is on campus. I drove out there to find you and didn't even think about driving back."

"I can take you to get it," I offered.

"Can I just... drive your car?" she asked, shrinking down a little, perhaps unsure of my reaction.

I was at first ready to refuse. But I could find no grounds other than the novelty of someone else driving my car. Then an odd thought occurred to me: this wasn't just somebody else; this was Miranda. In my thoughts there had always been two categories of people - myself, and other people. But at some point in the past few months, a new category had been forming. Now, when I considered the world, there was myself, there was Miranda, and then there were other people. I think I smiled. It was something new, something that had happened subconsciously and so effectively that, when presented to my conscious mind, it was immediately accepted as self-evident.

I noticed Miranda was still at the door, no longer tensed and waiting for an answer but instead smiling patiently. "Where did you go just now?" she asked.

"Somewhere nice," I assured her, fetching my car keys from my room.

"I could tell," she laughed. Then shaking the keys in the air as she left, she called back, "Thanks!"

I sat down again and opened my book, feeling strangely warm inside my chest.

Me... Miranda... Other people. It made sense.

*******

A few hours later, Miranda walked in the door, talking on the phone and carrying several bags of books. She paused and looked at me, and I realized she was waiting for me to help her, which I did. I only heard her say a few words during the phone conversation, though she seemed to say more as she walked around and started busying herself in the kitchen. It was nothing of consequence, just catching up with a friend, I suspected.

A few minutes later, she came over to the couch. I heard her say into the phone, "Yeah, I'm about to get dinner started. I'll see if he wants to talk right now, OK? He's reading, so he might want to just call back later."

Looking up when she mentioned me, I gave a curious look.

Pulling the phone away from her head, she said, "It's your mom. Wanna say hi?"

"Just hi?" I asked.

"More than just hi, Puppy," she rolled her eyes. "But, you know, polite conversation, like we have sometimes. Mostly listen. Ask something about her week."

I sighed and reached out my hand. "OK." She handed me the phone, then hurried back to the kitchen.

I talked briefly with my mother, hearing updates on my sisters and their families as well as other happenings at home. It was an easier conversation than I was used to with her, and I wondered what was different. When we finished, I hung up and took the phone back to Miranda.

"I also got a call from Jeanine DiNardo this afternoon," Miranda informed me as she put a tray in the oven. "Apparently she couldn't wait to make sure I heard what you said at the meeting today."

"I already told you what I said," I pointed out.

"But of course you left out the best part!" she said, straightening up and patting my cheek.

"What part was that?"

Grabbing the sides of my shirt, Miranda pulled me up against her and said, "The part where you basically told everyone that you didn't need whatever Katerina was offering because your eager wife loves to have sex with you anytime you want it."

"I don't think I used those words, exactly. I was just trying to explain why her story was so implausible. When a man is married and has opportunities for sexual activity with his wife, why would he pursue another woman?"

Miranda's face turned sad, and she said softly, "I hope you always feel that way, Deke. It's very sweet." Then letting go of my shirt and turning towards the food she was preparing, she asked, "Did you talk to your mom?"

"Yes," I answered, walking to the fridge to get a drink.

"So, you know how she worries about you and feels sad that you never call?" Miranda asked.

"I call when I have reason to call," I defended.

"Well, there are reasons you don't think of, but that's not my point. We were thinking..."

"We?"

"Your mom and I were thinking that maybe we'll just have a routine. She'll call me on Friday evenings, we'll chat a bit, and then you can say hi before we hang up. Would that be OK?"

"Just hi?" I asked, holding in a smile.

Miranda turned to me, frustrated. "More than just..." she began to chide me, but stopped when she saw the corner of my mouth curl up. She faked an angry scowl and flicked her wet fingers at me, spraying my face with drops of water. I wiped my face with my sleeve and took my drink back to the couch.

*******

Miranda brought our food to the living room, handed both plates to me, and set up two small folding tables that she had purchased that day in front of the couch. Taking the plates form my hands, she set them on the tray tables and turned on the TV. I sat forward and looked around in confusion. Scrolling through some options, she chose a new movie to purchase and started it. I had picked my book up again and looked dubiously at the tables and then at Miranda.

"Dinner and a movie," she shrugged. "If you don't want to join me, you take your food somewhere else."

I considered that option for a moment, until the movie began and I was drawn into it. The meal felt a little awkward, but I hardly noticed. Once we had eaten and pushed the tables aside, Miranda leaned against my arm for the remainder of the movie. As it ended, she asked some questions about my upcoming semester, my progress in planning classes, and my next steps in the lab.

When she was done asking questions, we sat in silence until Miranda cleared her throat and nudged my arm. Unsure what that signaled, I asked, "Are... you... asking to have sex now?"

She laughed softly and said, "Good guess, but no. Not with a full belly. Ugh, I ate too much."

"Then what..."

She leaned in and mumbled quietly, "So, Miranda, what is your semester going to be like?"

"Oh," I nodded. "So, Miranda, what is your semester schedule?"

"That's kind of you to ask!" she beamed, snuggling closer to me. "I'm taking a heavier load, trying to make up for lost time. I'll have two evening classes in addition to the usual full course load. It seems like you don't need me to be researching as much for you, so I figure I've got the time to do more."

"Based on your scores from last semester, I'm sure you can handle it, as long as you don't get distracted."

"Shouldn't be a problem," she said, squeezing my arm. Then letting go and standing up, she said, "Let's clean up this mess from our crazy Friday night!"

A few minutes later, the dishes were clean and we went off to our separate rooms for the night. As I washed up and changed into my night clothes, I stood across the room from my double bed, observing it. There was plenty of room for a bigger bed. And even after Miranda moved on, a larger bed would still be useful. And Miranda was planning to be around for at least another 17 months.

I made plans to buy a new bed the next day. One that would have sufficient room for both me and Miranda anytime she chose to join me.

*******