― Robert Jordan
Between Friends
My plan for the day was simple. Teach my freshman class, deal with inevitable questions and catch up with Paige Daly for lunch in the Hart House Dining Room.
But my best laid plans did not anticipate Sylvie Lavigne.
Sylvie's a brilliant first year student from Montreal whose perceptive questions and penetrating observations make most instructors feel uneasy. Personally, I enjoy being challenged, especially by gifted students. Sometimes they even teach me something.
"Tell me Professor Ferguson," she begins, "why is that big Pharma keeps making vast sums of money promising miracle memory drugs when the truth is there is no magic pill?"
I winced at her honesty but deflected away from the implications.
"Are we talking pharmacotherapy for memory impairments such as Alzheimer's disease, Sylvie, or are you just bemoaning the fact there's no short cut to memorizing information to prepare you for the upcoming examinations?"
The class laughed and Bart Reynolds, a Varsity hockey player, called out, "if there's a magic pill for exams I'm all ears."
"No magic pill," I smiled, not in the sense most people envision it, but I am involved in research assessing the efficacy of a drug synthesized from certain medicinal plants that looks promising."
The class clamoured for more information but again, I wisely steered away from giving details.
But after the lecture, Sylvie was waiting.
"Can't you be a little more specific Professor Ferguson―you have to admit your allusion to a 'promising therapy' was a bit of a tease."
Sylvie was more mature than her peers and the way she pretended to pout while gazing wide-eyed at me made me feel it was she more than I who was the tease.
I smiled. "You know I can't divulge research details and you know the reason why―Big Pharma."
She gave me a wry grin and slowly shook her head. "Men! Why am I always always dismissed as silly woman who can't keep a secret?"
It was plain to see where she was going and I certainly wasn't playing along.
"Any man who would dismiss you as silly must suffer from a cognitive impairment. You're very intelligent."
"Why, thank you, Professor, but you're still not going to tell me details are you?"
"Unfortunately, no," I chuckled, closing the snaps on my briefcase and starting to leave.
"I'm very persuasive," she called after.
"Don't doubt it for a moment," I called back and headed for the exit.
All the way to Hart House dining hall I kept thinking about Sylvie and wondering why she was so persistent about my memory research. Mind you, the girl was incredibly beautiful as well and perhaps that's why her image persisted, haunting my thoughts.
But the moment I saw Paige, all other thoughts evaporated. Paige Daly was a girl I knew since high school and although we never dated, there was always a remarkable chemistry between us.
Paige was more than just a friend―she was a mentor and confidante, and in addition to the above, she was also Claire's best friend and that had made the rift between us almost unbearable.
I had to credit Paige though―she never once interfered when Claire and I were estranged, but was always available to listen. For both of us she was a supportive, but silent partner.
"How go the wars?" Paige teased.
"Ah, lectures are friendly fire but the results can sometimes be deadly."
"Who was the beautiful redhead that seemed so enthralled with you?"
"Really―were you spying on me, Ms. Daly?"
"Not spying, but I swung past your room to walk over with you, but the girl was definitely intense."
She paused for me to reply and when I didn't take the bait asked, "Isn't she one of your Hart House cheerleaders?"
"She is. Her name's Sylvia Lavigne and she can ask persistent questions."
"I see, but is it just academic curiosity or the Professor himself that inspires such earnestness?"
"Probably the former―she's brilliant, but who knows what lurks in the female heart?"
Paige frowned, "All of which leads to an overwhelming question, but I won't ask what it is."
I nodded. "Yes, some things are best left unsaid."
By this point, our food arrived, Paige having already ordered.
"Speaking of things unsaid," she began.
I quickly interrupted. "Are we talking about the other night at the party?"
"No, at least not directly, " she hedged. "I wanted to tell you something that's been on my mind for some time, for what it's worth."
"Sounds mysterious," I said, munching on a bagel.
"This whole business of what you called the 'unfortunate incidents' might have a more mundane explanation."
"Oh puhlease, you're not going to try to rationalize my impulsivity, are you? I'm responsible for my current state."
She shook her head. "I know you blame yourself for what happened with department headship and your conflict with Claire, but there's something about both events that has been bugging me and I want you to listen with an open mind."
"Do I have a choice?"
She gave me a look.
"Okay then, proceed," I intoned, duly chastened by her sobriety.
"Before both incidents occurred, did you know Sloane Kettering was experimenting with a drug code-named SP-17 that had been developed for use by the KGB? It has all the properties of scopolamine and no scent or taste when added to a beverage."
"I've never heard of such a drug."
"Well, it not only loosens the tongue but erases all the subject's memories during the duration of its half-life."
"What's the point of telling me this?" I asked.
"Simple. I think Sloane slipped it into your drinks on both occasions when you said things that were inappropriate."
I stared at her to see if she were joking but her expression was deadly serious.
"Why didn't you tell me this before?"
"I was reluctant because it was only a suspicion―that is, until this past week when a colleague mentioned he overheard Sloane bragging to a friend that he ought to slip it into a colleague's drink. He even referred to the CIA doing this with LSD back in the fifties―carrying out experiments on unsuspecting citizens."
Paige's words roared through my brain like a fiery explosion.
I had never been able to explain how I could be so inappropriate on both occasions with so little to drink. And on both occasions, I had been baited by Sloane who set me up, knowing my inevitable reaction.
The whole room suddenly seemed brighter. My entire life for the past year which had been so chaotic, suddenly sharpened and came into focus.