Page 52 of The New Place

13

NED

Ned doesn’t belong at Newbury. He knows it, the students walking past on the sidewalk know it, and surely Beverly knows it too, as she waits somewhere inside this enormous, impressive building for Ned to make a fool of himself.

Ned takes a breath. He has to walk in there. He’s going to walk in there.

He absolutely doesn’t want to walk in there. He wants to rush back across the city to his office and his job and have it be there for him next year and the year after and all the years after that.

Abbot parks down the street from where Ned found a spot and walks over, all long legs and perfectly tailored suit. Salt crunches under Ned’s dress shoes, and he tries to avoid the muck of slush. The last thing he needs today is added nerves about wet, stained pant cuffs.

Abbot, of course, is impeccable, his coat tightly buttoned against the cold, his scarf tucked high around his neck, his shoes shiny like he doesn’t have to pick his way down this same sidewalk. Polished and professional in a way Ned certainly doesn’t feel, sweating in his coat.

“You made it.” Ned indulges in a quick kiss. He wants more, but they can spend tonight together at least, before Abbot has to drive back tomorrow.

How the hell do you two manage Portland to Boston??? Pat has texted him more than once these last few weeks. Like this, Ned has tried to explain to him. Miserably and eking out time together when they can get it, even if it means Peggy across the hall and his parents down it, moving quietly beneath the blankets with a carefulness to their reaching hands that drives Ned a little wild, and not in a good way.

He straightens his jacket. “Do I look alright?”

“Of course you do.”

“I’m nervous.”

“You’ll do great. It’s not even a formal interview, just a conversation.”

I don’t want to do this, Ned nearly says. He’ll work as an adjunct lecturer somewhere. Bounce between campuses, teaching a course here and another one there, patching together an income.

And languish like that, with no health insurance or retirement or job security, knocked off tenure track and never managing to climb back on again.

Peggy, he thinks. He stood with Abbot once and thought of her, nausea clawing in his gut at what he was making himself do.

So, alright then. He’ll get through this meeting, whether he likes it or not, and at least he has Abbot here with him.

Abbot, who doesn’t want to be here either, Ned is sure.

Ned touches his hand, tangling their fingers together before letting go. “How’re you doing?”

“Fine.”

He definitely doesn’t want to be here either. Abbot’s been fine every time Ned has asked, and apparently continues to be, which will only make this meeting more fun.

The building feels oppressive as Ned starts up the stone steps. Inside is even more so, a towering entrance hall and a sweeping staircase that seems out of place in an academic building. Trust Newbury to have this sort of architecture, like its very prestige and scholarship are meant to rise up over them.

Beverly’s office is upstairs in the corner of the building of course, and as he knocks lightly on her door, Ned can guess it’ll have sprawling views of the quad.

Ah, no, the river, he sees as she opens it. Of course. Glittering in the winter sun, spreading out before her many windows like a damn postcard.

“Come in. So nice to see you again.”

“Thank you so much for having us,” Ned says, because Abbot’s gone stiff already. Why? Ned wants to have pushed more, so he at least has some context, but Abbot’s not talking and hopefully Ned won’t manage to put his foot in it today while he flies blind. “I’ve heard such wonderful things about you and the department.”

Laying it on too thick maybe, but all three of them know Ned is here to beg for a job, to grovel and scrape his way into any possibility he might be entertained as a candidate.

Oh, he so wants to just up and leave. Bring Abbot with him and run away from this place.

Instead, he unbuttons his coat and gives Beverly the warmest smile he can. “I read your paper on the burden of schools in areas seeing increased population growth through migration,” Ned says so that Abbot doesn’t have to deal with filling the quiet as they all sit. He takes the nearer chair, leaving Abbot the one against the wall he’ll certainly prefer. “It’s an interesting question for higher ed. I know you were looking at K-through-twelve schools, but it’s been on my mind in terms of issues of student retention at four-year institutions.”

“Has it?” Beverly asks as she settles behind her desk.