It took me twice as long to return home as it had to make the drive out. Once inside, my clothing went straight into the trash. It took a long hot shower and several Sudafeds that probably did nothing good for my blood pressure before my angry erection subsided and I felt at least physically clean again. I didn’t think I’d ever feel mentally clean, and not just because of what I’d done to one scumbag who’d deserved it.
February 1962
I made it to Dr. Reynolds’ office just as he was beginning to stare at his desk clock and look annoyed. It would have been even worse if I hadn’t gotten lucky with parking. Predictably, the entire meeting was a waste of time; he told Alex her research was commendable, without showing any sign of having looked at the draft notes she’d submitted the previous week, and reminded her — unnecessarily — the final draft of her dissertation needed to be in his hands by the end of the month in order to stay on track for spring commencement. My presence added absolutely nothing.
“Did you oversleep?” Alex asked me on the way out, evidently having noticed my rumpled appearance and discreet yawns.
“Not exactly,” I demurred, and then stopped in my tracks after a few steps. “I, um, left my briefcase at home this morning. Can I catch up with you later?”
Alex frowned. “I really wanted to talk to you about the sequencing of the middle sections. I was up early thinking about it, and it’s bothering me. Would you mind if I tagged along and we discussed it while we walked?” She looked hopefully at me.
There was no way I would ever refuse a request like that from Alex, although I supposed she didn’t know that. “My pleasure,” I answered, and it was. The sun seemed brighter, and the air warmer, as we walked side by side, retracing the route I’d taken a scant 30 minutes earlier. Alex didn’t stray from the topic of her thesis when we reached the car, although she knew I usually walked. By the time we reached home, I’d reassured her that her plans for swapping some of the material made a great deal of sense and she was feeling a bit more at ease.
I pulled into my usual spot in the driveway and, with only a little reluctance, invited Alex in to wait while I grabbed my stuff. My emotional high aside, it wasn’t that warm outside. Luckily, the Wagners were out, probably grocery shopping or something, so I could avoid any awkward conversation. She waited quietly in the front room while I dashed upstairs, threw things in my case, and scurried down again.
Alex remained silent until we turned onto the sidewalk. “You weren’t here at all last night, were you?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, wearing my best look of ignorant innocence.
“Oh, come on, I’m not stupid,” she laughed. “You didn’t forget your briefcase; you weren’t here this morning to pick it up. The car was too warm for such a short drive, and you park it outside, but there was no trace of frost on any of the windows. Obviously you parked under cover somewhere further from campus, and drove straight to school this morning.” Alex looked at me sidelong. “You have on the same shirt you wore yesterday, too.”
I couldn’t help laughing too. “Guilty! Remind me not to play poker with you.” I didn’t know what to make of it; I watched Alex all the time and couldn’t always remember what she wore from day to day. I couldn’t remember anything distinctive about my shirt, but apparently she’d been able to recognize it.
“Lloyd, were you with Susan?” I thought perhaps Alex sounded a touch jealous, but it was more likely I was just reading my hopes into something that wasn’t there.
Getting caught in a lie would have been bad, but I didn’t want to give Alex the impression Susan and I were an item or something. “It was a party. Susan was there, but so were a bunch of other people. It got later than I thought, and I just didn’t want to chance driving last night.”
Alex’s face fell. “Was anybody else I know there? If you and Susan got invited, why didn’t I?”
“Well, I’m sorry, Alex; I really didn’t think about it. I mean, you’re always working on your research and the wedding — it didn’t occur to me you’d be interested.”
To my surprise, she burst into tears. “That’s all I do!” Alex cried. “I want to have fun, too! I’m killing myself on this research and Dr. Reynolds has totally lost interest in it and I know Jonathan thinks it’s stupid, and I’m stuck planning the entire wedding practically by myself, and then there’s classes and grading. I can’t keep doing it all!”
Hesitantly, I set down my briefcase and embraced her, not knowing what else to do. Alex clutched at me and buried her face against my collarbone, still sobbing. I was paralyzed; half my brain was thinking that heavy coats and all, her body pressed against mine was the best thing I’d felt in my life, and the other half was trying desperately to avoid getting an erection.
“Hey,” I finally said, holding her just far enough away from me that we could look at each other comfortably, “I know it’s tough, Alex. And I’d be the first to admit I wasn’t a big fan of your work at the beginning” — that got a small smile from her — “but I know you and I know you’ll get through this. Susan and I will help; you know Connie can help with the wedding, right?” I squeezed her arms gently. “And I’ll see about putting some events on your social calendar, okay?”
Alex sniffed and nodded, and then wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry to unload on you like I’m some ditzy… well, blonde.”
“You’re the most beautiful blonde I know,” I smiled, “but I’d never make the mistake of thinking that’s all you are.” I bit my tongue to avoid saying any more.
“Hmm,” Alex said, looking more cheerful, “I guess it’s too bad for you I’m already taken.”
“Tell me something I don’t know!” We both laughed, and the remainder of the walk to school was upbeat.
That day marked a turn in several relationships. As winter started to give way to early spring, Alex and I grew increasingly close. She spent almost all of her free time polishing “Unconscious influences in demographic-neutral peer preferences,” largely reviewed by myself, and then preparing for her oral defense. We started taking long walks, heedless of the weather, discussing either her research or frivolous topics while we wandered the neighborhoods near the campus. When we weren’t tied down by office hours, we started spending more time working from “our” booth at Nino’s, where the atmosphere was a little more calming.
There was a price to be paid for my “Mister Nice Guy” facade. I spent each day working with Alex, laughing with her, sharing frustrations, and even touching her occasionally in the way friends will, and ruthlessly refusing to yield to the temptation to convince her to be my lover. More often than not, I left Alex and made my way to Susan’s apartment, painfully erect and with, I’m sure, unhealthily high blood pressure.
Once there, I’d sneak in the side door and head up to her room. All my accumulated lust and frustration would be poured out into Susan’s more than willing body as I imagined the things I’d do with and to Alex. Sometimes, if she was there, Yelena would join us; occasionally I’d rut in her if she was agreeable and Susan was gone.
That happened more frequently as time passed. Susan had become increasingly unreliable. She started showing up late in the mornings, sometimes missing classes, and often appeared unprepared. I knew she was seeing other people, which didn’t bother me, and Yelena told me Danny was a frequent caller, which worried me a bit. The thing that really unnerved me was the way Susan gazed at Alex when she thought nobody was looking; it reminded me too much of my own feelings.
March was hellish enough without that added to the mix. In addition to the work Alex knew about, I was pushing my tenuous control of my ability to the limit. I was at my wit’s end with Dr. Reynolds; having encouraged his disinterest in Alex’s paper earlier, I had realized it was in danger of being overlooked entirely, which would threaten her chances of graduation.
A few well-placed entreaties to his secretary had finessed that roadblock, as well as given me the names of the other members of the review board. I was going through a bottle of aspirin a week while I tracked them down and invented reasons to talk to each of them. Alex’s paper was a good one, arguably better than my Master’s thesis, and she wouldn’t have liked it if she’d known what I was doing, but I needed those professors to have a favorable opinion of her thesis without thinking too much about what it said. Somehow I managed to stay on top of my own coursework, although I don’t think I looked at my own thesis more than twice during the month.
To top it all off, Alex’s birthday was at the beginning of April, and she was really looking forward to a special evening out Jonathan had promised for preceding weekend. Her excitement and increasing anticipation were driving a stake through my heart; I’d gotten used to hearing about how he’d disappointed or aggravated her, and listening to Alex’s enthusiasm for his plans was not what I needed.
“You look tired, Lloyd,” she finally told me one evening, after responding to a question I’d lobbed at her in preparation for her thesis defense. It was Friday and Nino’s was pretty crowded, but our booth was on the quiet side of the room and the waitress knew our routine so well we never had to ask for coffee refills.
“I feel tired,” I admitted. The headache from my last “unexpected” hallway conversation with Dr. Flynn was still wearing off, I felt I could recite Alex’s paper backwards in my sleep, and guilt over Susan was weighing on me. We’d just heard that afternoon she was flunking her classes. “How do I live with this?”
Alex didn’t pretend to misunderstand what I meant. “Susan’s a big girl. Maybe you helped bring her out of her shell, but she’s responsible for her own actions. I’m sorry she’s chosen this path for herself too, but don’t blame yourself for it.”
“She’s a nymphomaniac, Alex,” I told her bluntly. “I was thinking with my dick, I didn’t — still don’t — understand really how this all works, and I ruined her life. Of course I blame myself! If this keeps up, she’ll never get her advanced degree; she’ll never use a thing she’s learned.”
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