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The fund-raiser was a black-tie affair the Taus were putting on for the American Cancer Society. It was held in Carnegie Hall, Winchester’s administrative building and the most historic structure on campus. Usually De
But then he saw Elizabeth across the room. She was looking at him the way she had so many times across the table in the library: passively, almost quizzically, as if there was something about him she couldn’t figure out. She walked onto the dance floor. She smiled and he smiled back, the only gesture that he could think to use. It was a forced smile, almost crooked. Then they were dancing to something, some sort of slow waltz, and Elizabeth was saying, “De
“Yes,” he said stupidly. Like a boy.
“I’m sorry for what happened. I should have told you. But I thought you would get-scared.”
“Scared?”
“Of Ed. Of getting caught with me. Of what would happen if we were discovered.”
“Elizabeth, we were just talking. It was nothing. It was Alfred Adler and the eye.”
“Stop it, De
“Know?” he choked. His heart was beating fast, thrumming in his chest. His face was hot, and he felt cold sweat on his chest.
“You know you want to fuck me.”
“No,” he lied. “Absolutely not.”
She was sulking now. He had felt her body stiffen, lilt away from him.
“Why haven’t you been there? In the library the last two weeks.”
“I’ve been busy, De
Over her shoulder, he saw the man staring at him. The inimitable Dean Orman: thirtysome years older than his wife, professor emeritus at Winchester. Orman was one of the most esteemed members of the psychology faculty, best known for his riveting lectures, even though he fumbled for words now and then and forgot his threads and themes. He had studied with Stanley Milgram at Yale in the 1960s, and word was that he had begun a book about Milgram that would redefine the man’s legacy.
The waltz finally ended, and De
De
“Here’s what you do,” Price said. He got close to De
“De
Dean Orman. He was standing just behind Price, over the boy’s shoulder. De
“It’s about time for us to be going.”
“Of course,” De
“No,” the dean began. It was as if he wanted to say something more but could not. Price had slunk back into a dark corner somewhere, leaving De
The dean had been at Winchester since the begi
But his legend was cemented with the marriage to the wife who was nearly half his age, a graduate student at Winchester he had met on a trip to Morocco. De
Tonight, that line had been crossed.
“What classes are you taking this quarter?” the dean asked. It was just something to say, just filler. Another waltz had begun, and De
“Economics and Finance. Philosophy and the Western World with Douglas. And Logic and Reasoning.”
“Logic and Reasoning,” said the dean. “Under whom?”
“Williams.”
Something changed in the dean’s eyes, then. He focused on De
“How’s that going?” he asked. His voice had changed timbre, become more bearing. De
“It’s…interesting,” he offered.
“Williams,” the dean mused, sounding as if he were thinking to himself now. “Williams is a fu
De
Elizabeth was suddenly there, touching her husband’s shoulder. “Let’s go, Ed,” she said curtly, glancing at De
“De
It wasn’t until much later, back in the Tau house with dawn spreading out across the sky and falling sharply on Up Campus, that De