― C. JoyBell C.
Fay Collins
After our night at the Palais Royale, I was ready, so I thought, to accept myself for who I am and more importantly, who I was―that is, until Nat phoned the following morning.
What is it about Saturdays that always seem to upset the natural order of things?
I was expecting to hear Nat's usual happy yelp, but his manner was definitely subdued.
" I found out more info on James Wesley, Prof, but I'm not sure you'll like it."
My heart sunk. Couldn't things ever be simple and straight-forward?
"Well, give it to me, Nat. I'm ready. Although I've got a feeling what you'll tell me will send me back to square one."
His tone was solemn. "Yeah, well this isn't The Game of Life―it's really serious, Laird."
I steeled myself for the worst. I had no illusions about my past failings.
"Keep in mind, Prof, some of these details are still sketchy, but I'll give you what I managed to piece together. It seems you left Cambridge because of some controversy. Your departure was abrupt and unexpected. Truth told, there were rumours around the college about a possible inappropriate relationship with a student."
"Are you serious?" I groaned.
"From details I gleaned, it was quite the campus scandal, especially since you were in line to become department Chairperson."
"Wonderful―just what I needed to hear today. A bloody, glaring skeleton in my closet."
"I know it sounds bad, Prof, but on the plus side, you had your defenders―your students supported you and a number of influential staff members."
"But, if that were the case, why did I leave and come back to Canada? Bloody hell, it's tantamount to an admission of guilt."
"I hate to say it, but you're right―and then there's the matter of a letter found many years later after your death which more or less confirms the allegations."
"Who wrote this letter?"
Nat's voice dropped, "Your lover."
If you've ever had your whole life laid out before you, complete with an enticing future, only to have it unceremoniously snatched from your grasp, then you'll know exactly how I felt hearing Nat recount my scandalous past.
The despair I felt at that moment was overwhelming. Apparently my character flaws were not mere failings but a devastating indictment of a complete moral failure.
At that moment I felt not only unqualified to teach but honestly, unfit to live.
It made no difference if this scandal occurred in another life, I was still the same person, just living now under changed circumstances.
Nat was anxious―I could hear it in the high-pitched tone of his voice. "Are you okay, Prof? Your silence is scaring me."
"Really, Nat! I laughed cynically. Am I okay? What do you think―is this kind of revelation something I can just accept―dismiss it as part of the past?"
"I know, I was afraid of this, Prof―I shouldn't have told you until I had more facts. You know there still could be a legitimate explanation. Before you go condemning yourself, we should carry out a complete investigation―get as much information as we can before leaping to conclusions."
I felt sorry for the position Nat was in and sighed resignedly, “You’re probably right, Nat. I don’t even know who this girl was. Do you have her name at least?”
“I do. It was Fay Collins and she was in your graduate seminar. I have the letter she sent you and even a photo of her. I’ll email it to you, but remember, there’s more here to be uncovered.”
I laughed bleakly. “Yep, that’s exactly what I’m afraid of Nat.”
I paced back and forth in my study waiting for Nat’s email to arrive and when it did, I took the printed sheets into the den and sat before the fire studying them.
The photo of the girl with the jaunty pose and blonde hair reminded me of Marilyn. I was almost afraid to read what she wrote, but forced myself.
Dear Laird,
Running away isn’t going to solve anything. You’re right—we are high tension wires and grasping each other, can’t let go until we’re both consumed. I know I remind you of Marilyn and maybe, like her, I am a Siren, but this isn’t just a moment of weakness. We're meant for each other. Why do you have to let guilt rob us of what we deserve? I’m not like you—I have no high ideals, but no illusions either.
You’re deceiving yourself if you think I’m going to meekly surrender. I won’t give up that easily. Is your precious reputation worth more to you than me? Think about that before you go any further. I’m alive. Marilyn’s dead. She’s your past and I’m your future.
I let the letter slide through my fingers. It was even worse than I figured. I was too desolate and inconsolable to study it further.
Why did I always fall prey to Sirens―what did that say about my character, or lack of it?
Bloody hell! I continued to carry a torch for Marilyn even after she left me for Joey. And when she died, I couldn't accept it―I had to seek someone who reminded me of her even to the point of destroying my career.
It was exactly what my mentor told me in my freshman year―I had vast discrepancies in my character. But even then I didn't realize how those fault lines could ultimately destroy me.