1.
So one grim Monday I was sitting there staring vaguely into a dark corner of my office at work—staring not at the coat rack, but beyond it into a void of deeper gloomier shadows—staring and trying to come up with enough energy to do something academic. Grade a paper. Prep a class. Write an email. Anything. But—sadly, my brain would not respond, the energy would not come, and--
Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Sally Baldwin, the English Department’s administrative assistant, step busily by the half-open door, tight black jeans and bright red sweater. That might mean trouble. Sally might be trouble. I spun my chair around to face the computer and tried to remember if I had any paperwork due. Sally only usually came stomping down to the offices if some poor professor missed the filing deadline on something—Sally believed in direct forceful contact, not email, not phones. I heard Sally’s big ring of keys jangle, heard her knock on the office next door—the office of Devon Shepherd, my former girlfriend, who taught fiction in the creative writing program—heard the keys jangle some more when she opened Devon’s door, heard her call out to someone, “Nope—she’s not here!”
“Tom?”
I jolted and spun the chair around again. The department chair, Tee Wheeler, was standing in the doorway, leaning around the half-open door, looking flatly at me with her dull tired baggy eyes.
“Tom?” Tee asked. “Have you seen Devon today?”
“Uh—no.” I felt suddenly guilty. Devon? I sort of had been thinking about Devon, indirectly—mostly I’d been thinking about me. But I hadn’t seen her. Where was Devon? “I don’t think so—I haven’t seen her around.”
“Devon didn’t show up to teach her morning classes,” Tee said. “She didn’t call in or anything.”
“Wow,” I said. I thought—Something’s wrong. I said, “No, I haven’t seen her today. I guess I saw her—Friday….”
Out in the hall, Sally the admin assistant said, “I’m trying her phone again—no answer. Just voicemail.”
I sat back in my chair. Waited for something bad to happen. Something bad was happening, and I could tell that Tee was going to want me to do something about it.
I thought, I’m going to have to go find out what’s up with Devon.
After a moment, Tee ducked her head back into my office. She asked, “Tom? Are you busy right now?”
So one grim Monday I was sitting there staring vaguely into a dark corner of my office at work—staring not at the coat rack, but beyond it into a void of deeper gloomier shadows—staring and trying to come up with enough energy to do something academic. Grade a paper. Prep a class. Write an email. Anything. But—sadly, my brain would not respond, the energy would not come, and--
Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Sally Baldwin, the English Department’s administrative assistant, step busily by the half-open door, tight black jeans and bright red sweater. That might mean trouble. Sally might be trouble. I spun my chair around to face the computer and tried to remember if I had any paperwork due. Sally only usually came stomping down to the offices if some poor professor missed the filing deadline on something—Sally believed in direct forceful contact, not email, not phones. I heard Sally’s big ring of keys jangle, heard her knock on the office next door—the office of Devon Shepherd, my former girlfriend, who taught fiction in the creative writing program—heard the keys jangle some more when she opened Devon’s door, heard her call out to someone, “Nope—she’s not here!”
“Tom?”
I jolted and spun the chair around again. The department chair, Tee Wheeler, was standing in the doorway, leaning around the half-open door, looking flatly at me with her dull tired baggy eyes.
“Tom?” Tee asked. “Have you seen Devon today?”
“Uh—no.” I felt suddenly guilty. Devon? I sort of had been thinking about Devon, indirectly—mostly I’d been thinking about me. But I hadn’t seen her. Where was Devon? “I don’t think so—I haven’t seen her around.”
“Devon didn’t show up to teach her morning classes,” Tee said. “She didn’t call in or anything.”
“Wow,” I said. I thought—Something’s wrong. I said, “No, I haven’t seen her today. I guess I saw her—Friday….”
Out in the hall, Sally the admin assistant said, “I’m trying her phone again—no answer. Just voicemail.”
I sat back in my chair. Waited for something bad to happen. Something bad was happening, and I could tell that Tee was going to want me to do something about it.
I thought, I’m going to have to go find out what’s up with Devon.
After a moment, Tee ducked her head back into my office. She asked, “Tom? Are you busy right now?”