‘I heard her say that she didn’t. And I had a definite sense that she wasn’t comfortable being kissed. I saw her pull away from him at one point.’
‘What was the outcome of all this?’ Roger asked.
‘I don’t know. My train came.’
‘Ah.’
‘How did you come to be observing them?’ Zena said, ‘if I can ask.’
I explained how I had been in the waiting room, and had had no choice but to witness the scene.
‘Obviously I felt very awkward about the whole thing,’ I added, ‘and to be honest, I’d made up my mind not to speak about it. One doesn’t like being in the position of a tattle-tale. But I think that on balance not to say anything would have been the cowardly thing to do. Either we take our responsibility here seriously, or else we might as well pack up and go home.’
Roger nodded vigorously. ‘I agree with you a hundred per cent. This is courageous of you, Lawrence. The question is, what happens now? Elaine, suggestion?’
I hadn’t known whether I would come out with all this until I actually began speaking, but I had certainly formed the opinion that it was the right thing to do. Despite the superficial associations with spying and informing, it seemed to me that to tell what I knew would be consistent with the straightforward, ‘plaindealing’ approach to life I aspired to. And in fact I had found it pleasantly liberating to speak so openly. It gave me a feeling of robustness and courage – so much so that I felt bold enough to begin implementing, right there and then, my other big decision of the day; the one concerning Elaine.
As she paused for thought before answering Roger, I placed my hand on her thigh, under the table. This had an electrifying effect. She sat up with a jolt as if she’d been bitten, but then immediately disguised the action as a violent coughing spasm.
‘Excuse me,’ she managed after a moment, patting her chest.
‘Can I get you a drink of water?’ Roger asked.
‘No, no, I’m fine. Sorry.’
Far from trying to remove my hand, Elaine placed her own hand surreptitiously over it as soon as she had recovered herself sufficiently to do so.
‘To answer your question, Roger,’ she said, ‘I think it would be appropriate to add what Lawrence has told us to the documentation concerning Bruno. As far as termination of contract, it probably would need to be supported by a complaint from the student in question. But in the meantime it adds to the pressure on this instructor to leave these kids alone.’
‘You think we should tell him we know about this involvement?’
Elaine looked at me. She spoke neutrally, but her tired eyes were shining again.
‘That would be up to Lawrence I guess.’
I squeezed her thigh tenderly. Her lip gave a discreet quiver.
‘He knows I saw him,’ I said.
‘So then he may as well know you’ve told us,’ Roger put in, ‘unless you strongly object, Lawrence?’
‘It’s not something I relish. But if there’s no other way around it…’
Roger looked pensive for a moment.
‘Perhaps on second thoughts we’ll keep this to ourselves’, he said, ‘until the student herself complains. You don’t happen to know who she was?’
‘Candida something?’
Zena Sayeed raised a dark eyebrow at this: ‘Candy Johanssen? Skinny girl? Sort of a Pre-Raphaelite starveling?’
‘That sounds like her.’
‘She’s my advisee.’
Roger turned to her. ‘Then perhaps you might want to have a word with her, Zena.’
Zena made a non-committal sound.
‘Do you have a problem with that?’ Roger asked; not aggressively, but with a surprising forcefulness that impressed me again with the strength of his passion in this cause. Apparently he was prepared to ruffle a few feathers to get the results he wanted.
Zena eyed him a moment – debating, I sensed, whether it was worth getting into a discussion.
‘Not at all,’ she said pleasantly. ‘I’ll speak to her.’
Roger pressed his advantage: ‘It sounds to me as though there may be a psychological endangerment issue here. You say she’s thin?’
‘As a rail.’
‘I think you should speak to her, Zena.’
‘I said I would, and I will.’
A few minutes later Bruno was brought into the room by the Dean’s assistant.
One would have thought that, with the threat of the ultimate stigma of his profession hanging over his head, he might have appeared nervous, but it was evident at once that he had decided to adopt a posture of casual indifference toward the proceedings.
He gave us an affable sort of a grin and sat sideways in his chair, sprawling an arm over the back.
He looked at me. ‘Hello Lawrence,’ he said quietly.
I felt again the pressure of his peculiar and unrequited urge to make an accomplice of me. I nodded at him, glad that I had made my feelings about him clear to my colleagues, though uncomfortable at the appearance of duplicitousness that his friendly attitude seemed calculated to promote.
‘So. What atrocity have I committed?’
Refusing to rise to the bait of Bruno’s scorn, Roger proceeded to explain the charge of unfair grading, and how, under the circumstances, this had opened Bruno to the graver charge of sexual harassment.
‘I’ve never harassed anyone in my life,’ Bruno interrupted in his rasping voice. ‘Personally, I’ve never needed to.’
‘And we’re anxious’, Roger put in gently, ‘that you don’t find yourself accused of it. Which is why we asked you to come and meet with us.’
‘Who’s threatening to accuse me of it?’
‘Bruno, if I may, two things…’ Roger spoke in his calm, dispassionate way. ‘Number one, since we don’t, unlike some other colleges, have a rule saying you absolutely can’t get involved with students, the onus is on us to keep the barrier of protection especially high. You can make the choice to have an affair with a student, but at your own risk. The first whisper of a complaint from the student, you’re presumed guilty of harassment and you’re out of here, period.’
‘Has there been a whisper?
‘No. Not yet. Not from a student. But my second point, Bruno, is that you have a rich and rewarding career ahead of you. You’re on tenure track here, you’re clearly a gifted teacher, why blow it?’
‘No whisper of harassment from a student, but a whisper from someone else?’
‘That – that’s not something you have to trouble yourself with for the moment.’
‘Then what are you driving at, Roger?’
‘At this point I think if you would give us an undertaking not to go any further along this road than you may have already gone, that ought to be sufficient. Yes?’ Roger looked at each of us. We nodded, and he turned back to Bruno.
Bruno merely gave a disdainful grin. ‘I’ll take my chances with the whisperers,’ he replied swaggeringly. I felt that his eyes were upon me, though I had my own firmly down on the page of minutes before me.
‘Am I free to go now?’ he asked.
Roger sighed. ‘Yes. But please keep in mind that we’re charged with certain responsibilities here, and that we do take them seriously.’
Bruno stood up. ‘I’ll keep it in mind.’
There was a silence after the door closed.
‘So much for that,’ Roger said quietly. ‘Zena, you’ll have a word with your student?’
‘I’ll do what I can, Roger,’ Zena replied wearily. Even she seemed to have been disturbed by Bruno’s attitude.
A few minutes later I was walking across campus with Elaine by my side. The afternoon had turned soft and sunny. Over the distant roar of traffic, you could hear the trickle of melted snow running into the storm drains. For a while we moved together in silence – a silence that I sensed was highly charged for her.
‘I’d almost given up on you,’ she said at last, her voice thick.
‘I’m sorry.’ I didn’t attempt to explain why I hadn’t been in touch.