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When I don’t see her, I turn toward my sister and muster a small smile. “Okay, okay, I’ll go congratulate him.” I swallow but the lump remains. What if I choke? That at least would get me out of here. She nods her encouragement. I start down the steps toward Dwight, but at least twenty professors surround him. Because I prefer to shake his hand without half the faculty watching so closely, I hang back and look around the room. Dean Dody and Dwight’s mother, Ruth Hurley, talk a few feet away. Dwight’s mother looks pleased in a tight-lipped sort of way. I approach her, figuring if I can’t get to Dwight, his mother is an acceptable stand-in. The Dean looks up, sees me, and cringes. I try to read in his face the truth about why I wasn’t chosen for the Chair he’d promised was mine. Before I have a chance to demand an explanation, something that surely would have made my embarrassing situation even worse, he walks away. I smile at Dwight’s mother and extend my hand. “Ms. Hurley. It’s been a long time. I wanted to offer my congratulations to you and Dwight.” She recoils slightly at the sight of me but offers her limp hand. Hopefully she’s not reliving in her mind, as I now am, one of the last times she saw me, over ten year years ago. Dwight and I had broken up the week before (something we did every few months during our six year, high–drama romance) and that day had made up. We were on the basement couch, our clothes strewn across the floor, ready to consummate our reconciliation when Ruth walked in on us. “I’ll actually be working with Dwight in the Clinic,” I say. “You must be very proud of him.” “I am, thank you,” she replies primly. “So, when did Dwight get back?” I ask. And where’s Lana, I wonder. “Just yesterday. Oh, if you’ll excuse me.” She walks away toward Sam Bailey Jr., even though I can see he’s busy talking with a pack of reporters. First the Dean, now Ruth Hurley. Why is everyone avoiding me?
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