Chapter Eleven
Clarity
I took items at random from the cafeteria line. It didn't matter as long as I wasn't having breakfast across from my father. He was acting as if nothing was wrong, but not in a normal way. My father's school spirit seemed strained for the first time ever. At least I knew he wasn't comfortable with what he'd done.
I stared blankly at the dry cereal choices. Had my father really ignored an applicant's test results? Michael Tailor Junior's scores were not only poor; they were deliberately bad. How could my father doctor an entrance essay in order to justify letting such a determinedly defiant student in to Landsman College?
The most logical explanation made me sick. Despite the sweet smell of the buttermilk pancakes, I knew I wasn't going to be able to eat a thing on my tray. I had only come to the cafeteria to avoid my father.
At least my misery did not stand out. Everywhere, students were struggling to adjust to classes as usual. The first day back after break and most students shuffled through in pajama pants and collegiate sweatshirts. Messy hair and blurry eyes were everywhere.
I just wanted to be alone.
"Student ID?" the cafeteria worker asked.
I winced, but handed him the card. The last time someone had asked me that I had lied. It had been so easy to tell the security guard a false name. I had been thinking about saving my father the embarrassment. And I had been thinking of Ford.
Looking back over the Thanksgiving holiday, Ford had been my only bright spot. Now all the happy moments with my father were tarnished by the major infraction he had committed, probably while the turkey was baking in the oven. I squeezed my eyes shut for just a moment and conjured up Ford's stormy gaze again. He had stood in front of me, steadied me as I reeled in disbelief, and Ford had promised he saw nothing.
"If that's what you want." His words echoed in my head.
"What?" I asked.
The cafeteria worker sighed and repeated, "There’s fresh orange juice near the end counter if that's what you want."
"Thanks." I scooped up my tray and searched for a quiet table.
I sat down in the far corner by the window and faced Thompson Hall. I wondered if I would see Ford hurrying to his first class. I wondered if he was going to break the story about my father accepting bribes.
Ford had to know the only reason my father did it was to secure me the internship at Wire Communications. It was all I had talked about all summer and all I had focused on since the beginning of the year. The career-making internship that I was going to turn down.
I slumped back in my chair. "What's the point of even going to class?"
The answer bolted me upright in my chair. Ford. Somehow he was the only person I wanted to see.
"Clarity, hi! I don't normally see you in the cafeteria. It's so great to run into you after break and before class," Thomas said.
I bit my cheek but smiled as he sat down. "Yeah, speaking of class, I need to get there a little early."
Thomas checked his watch. "No problem, we've got time for a little coffee and then I'll walk with you." He smiled. "How was your break? Who did your father end up inviting to Thanksgiving dinner?"
I summoned the good section of memories, memories from before I entered my father's office. "It was really nice. Professor Rumsfeld and his wife were there, and Ford. I mean, Professor Bauer."
"You're on a first name basis now?" Thomas put down his coffee cup and studied the paper rim.
"Well, yeah, I guess. Actually, all the professors wanted to be normal people so I called them all by their first names. Professor Rumsfeld's first name is Jackson," I said.
Thomas picked at his scrambled eggs. "So, what was Ford like? Did he pull a restaurant critic at dinner?"
I laughed. "No, he actually relaxed. My father cracked me up a few times. The Professor's got an infectious laugh."
"So you've been infected?" Thomas scowled and swigged his coffee.
"What? No. I'm just saying that Professor Bauer—"
"Ford."
"Yes, Ford, is actually very nice. He even stayed and helped was the dishes," I said.
Thomas sat back and crossed his arms. "I can't believe your father invited him, much less let him stay late."
I narrowed my eyes and searched Thomas' surly face. "What's wrong with that?"
"You know that he's no good, right? You're not totally oblivious to the fact that Ford Bauer is not a good man."
I gripped the edge of the cafeteria table. "Ford is a better man than you'll ever know."
"God, Clarity." Thomas shoved his tray away, and it bumped mine, sloshing my coffee. "I didn't think you'd be one of those girls."
"What exactly are you trying to say, Thomas?"
His whole demeanor changed. A sweaty, hopeful look sprung into Thomas' eyes, and he sat forward. "Maybe once you know the truth about him, you'll forget all about how handsome he is or whatever it is that attracts girls like flies."
I crossed my arms and laid my elbows along the edge of the table. "Did you just call me a fly?"
Thomas reached out and gripped my hand but I refused to untuck it from my crossed arms. "Clarity, I'm sorry, but Ford's done this before."
"Done what exactly?"
"He's seduced students before. You can ask Libby Blackwell. They had an affair her freshman year and then he just dumped her flat. A professor, which should matter to you. A professor seduced a student and then tossed her away like she was nothing," Thomas said.
I was glad no one else was near my quiet table. "What is wrong with you, Thomas?" I jumped to my feet. "I get you're jealous, it makes sense, but I didn't think you were the type of guy to spread false rumors in the hopes of making yourself look better in comparison."
"Clarity, please, wait," Thomas called.
I went back and whipped my untouched breakfast from the table. "You should be ashamed of yourself."
As I marched away, I heard Thomas mutter, "And you should do your research."
#
I stormed out of the cafeteria, only having enough control to stop before throwing out my coffee. The coffee gave me something to grip in between my angry hands and something to sip at so I didn't have to smile. It didn't matter that it was lukewarm and bitter.
Thomas' words sent me off-course, and I wandered down the hallway without a destination. At the student mailboxes, I changed course, then stopped abruptly.
Libby flounced around the corner and giggled at some love note that had been left in her mailbox. I followed her past the registrar's office and out onto the main lawn.
The back of her tight, velour jogging pants flashed the rhinestoned word 'fresh.' Above it was a long-sleeved tee-shirt at least two sizes too small that squeezed her tiny waist. Her shock of dyed blonde hair flipped back and forth in a long ponytail, and I stared at it as if hypnotized.
Is that what had happened to Ford? He was taken in by her pretty fake-ness and all-together too easy attitude?
At the corner near the limestone chapel, Libby slowed and then spun on her heeled sandals. "Clarity. Thank god, for a second there I thought some creep was following me."
I could have nodded and cut across the grass, but Libby already knew why I was trying to bump into her. Her brown eyes blinked at me with a calculating glance.
"Nice to see you, Libby. How was your break?" I asked.
"It was alright," Libby shrugged, "though I didn't get any good, send-off kisses like you. I've been craving a little roll in the fallen leaves ever since I ran into you and your, um, man."
"What? No," I swallowed hard. "That is not what you saw."
Libby sidled closer and kept pace with me as I tried to flee. "I wonder what I would have seen if I had been a few minutes behind on my mile. If only I was a little slower, I bet I would have seen your skinny legs up in the air."
"Libby! How can you say that? He's a professor."
"We both know the rules weren't made for him. He's not old or lecherous. He's virile and irresistible. Who wouldn't bend the rules for a taste of those lips? Maybe a taste of something a little farther down..."
I slammed to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. "You are filthy. And I think it's about time you take your dirty mind and go bother someone else."
"Why would I do that?" Libby batted her spiky, mascara-laden eyelashes. "You're the one locking illegal lips with fantastic Mr. Ford."
"Illegal? You just said the rules weren't made for him," I snapped.
"A little touchy, huh, Clarity?" Libby asked. "I get it. You want him to touch you so bad you're willing to stumble around in the leaves just to brush up against him. We've all been there."
"That's it," I said. "You better come straight out and say what you mean, Libby. I'm done with all your trash talk." I crossed my arms and stood up as tall as I could.
"I'm saying that you're not the first one to get the hots for Professor Bauer. The first time he and I kissed, it was behind the cafeteria."
"Gross," I said and spun away.
Libby caught my arm. "No, it wasn't gross at all. I had lost my ID, and Ford came to help me. I could feel his eyes on me as I bent over and checked the lost and found basket. Then all I had to do was get close enough, and he couldn't resist."
I threw my hands in front of me and backed up two steps. "You are making all of that up. You just want the attention, so you tell these stories that no one can prove are true."
"Oh, it's true," Libby laughed. "I once took a selfie of us in one of our favorite dark corners. You know the little alcove near the campus radio station? No one goes back there, and there's a decent sofa there."
"Please, you've probably been there with half a dozen guys. According to the stories you tell about yourself, half the campus is drooling over you and just waiting for their chance to come again," I said, though the words made me feel sick.
Libby tossed her blonde ponytail. "I'm not going to deny I enjoy the reputation I've got. Why not? It's the modern era, and women are allowed to have sex too, you know."
"That doesn't mean that every girl wants to or should," I said. I took a deep, calming breath. "Some women want more. More intimacy, more connection, more satisfactions than a series of one-night stands."
"Oh, who says it was just one night with the fantastic Mr. Ford?" Libby asked. "He wanted me so badly he kept running into me. Before class, after class, in the cafeteria, all over campus."
"Yeah, it sounds like you had a really deep connection." I stepped around Libby again.
Now Libby looked disgusted. "We dated. It was much more than just a silly kiss under a tree."
"Then why are you so jealous of one kiss?" I countered.
"Who says I'm jealous?" Libby narrowed her eyes. "I got everything I wanted from Ford."
"Obviously not," I said. "He just used you and now you walk around mad that you didn't come out on top."
"Oh, I came on top," Libby snarled. "Besides, princess, hasn't it ever occurred to you that Ford is using you?"
"The difference is I'm not going to let him."
She shook her head with a mean smile. "He already has used you. Do you think he took you under his wing because he loves you? He wanted to befriend your father and gain the influence of the dean."
I faltered. "Why would he need my father's influence?"
"To save his job." Libby sauntered away with a dainty wave over her shoulder.
The conversation rattled around in my head until I was sure the unnecessary jabs and jealousies were gone. It came down to two claims: that Ford had slept with a student two years ago, and that he was only interested in me to ingratiate himself to my father.
I dragged my feet on the way to his class. How could I stand to verify either claim? Libby's bragging wasn't evidence, but she had planted a seed of doubt in my head.
"Hello, class," Ford said.
My stomach buzzed with the same happy excitement, despite the turmoil in my head. Just being near him ignited me like a handful of fireworks, and my body wouldn't listen to reason.
I stamped down my feelings. Now it didn't matter if he was innocent or exactly what Libby described. The fact was that Ford Bauer was not for me, and the sooner I let it go, the better. As painful as it was, I had to admit that everything else had been silly fantasy on my part. I could never pursue anything real with Ford, and I had to let him go.
The first half of class, it was easy to keep my head down. Ford lectured on writing to a specific audience, and I took diligent notes. Then he opened it up to questions and discussions, and I was forced to look up from my notebook.
"How do we research our audience?" Michelle asked. The third-year brunette blushed as Ford complimented her question. As he started into the answer, Michelle watched him with a rapt smile.
So I wasn't the only one that was affected by Professor Bauer. My stomach boiled. When Ford smiled at the next female student, my anger spilled over, and I slammed my binder closed.
"Everything alright, Clarity?" Ford asked.
The rest of the lecture hall turned to me with curious glances, and my cheeks flared bright red. "Sorry, I'm fine."
I will be, I promised myself. I will get over my disappointment.
That was all it was: disappointment. I wanted Ford to be my knight in shining armor. I wanted a man with as sharp a moral compass as myself and the drive to bring the truth to light. Now it felt as if neither of those things could be possibly true of Ford.
I waited until the end of class, then leapt from my seat. I climbed over students still packing up and was almost to the end of the row when my classmate, Dan, spilled a soda. The frothing bottle whirled around on the floor and sprayed everyone within a two-foot radius. I turned around and edged back the way I came.
This time I had to wait for all the students I had trampled to exit the row in front of me. I considered climbing down to the next row, but it was no better. When I wanted to rush out of class, everyone decided to take their time.
Finally I saw a clear path to the door. If I could just get outside, then Ford would not catch me, and I would not have to confront any of it for another few days. Or ever.
Then I saw Thomas. He was frowning at me from underneath his fringe of shaggy hair. After my run-in with Libby, I did not need to hear him try to convince me of the truth any more. Avoiding him meant I had to double back and go to the far steps. Then I had to cross the lecture hall floor right in front of Ford's desk.
"Clarity, I was hoping I could catch you," Ford said. He stepped out from behind his desk and stood between me and the doorway.
The last students filtered out. Thomas took a long look at us then shook his head in disgust and left.
"I've got another class to get to, Professor Bauer," I said.
"Yes, that's fine," Ford came closer and reached out to touch my arm. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. About that story you were thinking of pursuing..."
I stiffened and backed up. "I don't want to talk about that. Not with you, of all people."
Ford glanced over his shoulder to make sure we were alone. "Me? Please, Clarity, I told you that it's between you and your father. I don't intend to do any digging unless you want me to."
I clutched my backpack.
"If it were me, the first thing I would want to know is the truth," Ford said. This time he caught my arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
"Why? You don't suspect he did it? You don't think everyone has as flexible a morality as you?"
"What? Why are you talking about my morality?" His dark brows furrowed together.
"You know." I stopped before the hitch in my voice was heard.
Ford's grip on my arm tightened, and he pulled me out of the lecture hall and into the prep room. "Why are you suddenly worried about my morality? Does this have anything to do with that student, ah, seeing us?"
I yanked my arm back. "That student? You mean the one you slept with when she was a freshman?"
Ford's eyes turned a flat gray. "What do you think I was trying to tell you at Thanksgiving?"
"Are you kidding me?" I screeched. "Now it's my fault because I didn't want to discuss the most irresponsible mistake I've ever made while we helped my father wash the dishes?"
He flexed his jaw muscle. "I wanted you to hear the truth from me."
"Well, now I've heard it, so I don't need to hear anything else from you."
"Clarity," Ford hissed. "Why don't we go upstairs where we can talk in my office? It's more private there."
I shook my head. "No way. You probably had sex with her up there."
My voice was angry and loud. Ford glanced around and then checked his watch. The next professor would be coming through at any moment, and we were lucky to have been alone so long. His eyes darted around the small prep space and then seized on the supply closet.
"No," I snapped. "I'm not going to let you turn me into another one of your student conquests."
Ford snarled. "I'm not trying to seduce you, for god's sake, Clarity. Give me more credit than that."
I dodged around him and headed for the door to the lecture hall. "You don't deserve any credit. You have to earn it."
"You're right. More right than you know," Ford said. "Fine. I'll tell you the truth here, no matter who comes in."
"Like this?" I swiped a hand over my eyes. "We look like we're having a lovers' spat."
Ford's eyes turned a stormy blue. "Who cares what other people think? Just for a moment, Clarity, let me talk to you as if Landsman College doesn't exist. Let me tell you my side of the story before you condemn me."
I crossed my arms and refused to sit in the desk chair he offered. The prep space had four desks in two pairs, and he perched on the corner of the farthest one. I hovered near the door and fought the urge to bolt before he could say a word.
"You were right about having to earn credit," Ford said. He scrubbed his cheek hard and sighed. "When I was discharged from the Army, I was excited to write any story. The idea that I was free of the strict parameters and editing of the Army was like a shot of pure adrenaline. I chased any story I could."
"Way to bury the lead and try to make me empathize with you," I snapped, "but remember, I'm taking your class, and I know all your journalist tricks. Just tell me what I need to know."
Ford slapped an open hand against the top of the desk. "It is important, Clarity. I haven't told more than a few people what I'm trying to tell you."
I squeezed my arms tighter together and wished his words hadn't sparked a flame of hope. "Why you're here?" I guessed.
"Yes." Ford got up and paced to me and then back to the far wall. "I chased a really big story despite everyone's warnings. I went after the wrong people, and it cost me everything. My story wasn't enough, the truth wasn't enough, and not only did I lose my job, but I lost my reputation and my credit. No one else would hire me after the subjects of my exposé were through with me."
Out of the hundreds of questions overflowing in my thoughts, I asked, "So you found a job here at Landsman College?"
"I didn't want a professorship, but I needed a job. I needed the paycheck, and it was the only way I could feel like I hadn't completely turned my back on my career," Ford said.
I brushed my hair out of my eyes. "So you celebrated your good fortune by breaking all the rules you could?"
Ford's eyes were a painful storm. "I was angry. Despite the truth of what I had uncovered, people with influence had chased me out and left me with nothing. Then I came here and was surrounded by the same style of power, money, and influence. I was bitter, self-destructive, and I drank too much. All the time. I even had a flask I poured into my coffee."
"Your reputation was ruined, so you decided to ruin the image of professors everywhere?"
His shoulders slumped. "I dropped my flask in the cafeteria. When I went out back to look for it, there was Libby. I was drunk. She threw herself at me. I wanted the consequences more than her."
My voice wavered, but I said, "Libby brags about it being a full-blown affair. There's a big difference between one drunken mistake and having a relationship."
Ford's eyes slid to his shoes and stayed there. "I repeated the mistake. I tried to fool myself into thinking it was more, into making it more than just a stupid, ridiculous mistake."
"Libby calls you her ex-boyfriend. How long did it go on?" I hated myself for asking, and it hurt that I cared.
"It didn't. Not more than a week, and I never gave her any indication that it was anything more than a bad idea."
My heart ached. I was torn between believing the pain I saw in his eyes and the heavy waves of disappointment that pushed me back.
"It doesn't matter," I decided. "I don't care what happened between you and Libby. That was your mistake, and I don't think I should have to pay the price for it."
Ford grabbed both my hands. "Clarity, I promise you, I won't let it affect you. You're right, you're totally innocent. What we have—"
"We don't have anything." My voice was hollow.
He shook his head and tried again. "What I meant was what we shared—"
"Nothing happened," I said.
"Clarity, please. You have to believe a person can change in two years. Don't you believe people can redeem themselves?"
The anguished question pierced me to the core. I wanted to believe that people could redeem themselves more than anything in the world. Then I could believe my father could someday be the man I had loved and trusted.
My father, the dean. I took a deep breath and kept my voice steady. "It doesn't matter what I believe. All I know is that it seems like you got close to me, complimented me, and mentored me, just so you could get closer to my father."
"What? Why would I be more interested in your father than you?" Ford asked.
"You're hoping he'll save your job, but now he can't even save himself."
The look of shock and dismay on Ford's face was the final push I needed to walk away. The glimmer of hope his horrified expression gave me was more than I could take.