MISFORTUNE IN THE 1980s
9048 Short Story - Farewell to…
Why did it have to be so sudden? Why did it have to be at all? “Bastard”, Peter’s thoughts couldn’t be contained and spilled over into almost a snarl.
Sitting on the other side of his desk, Val was shocked from her own morose thoughts. She had worked with Peter, as his academic assistant, for the best part of a decade. She thought they made a good team. No. She knew they were the best team in the faculty. The sudden explosion of ‘bastard’ had startled her and brought her back to the reality of the unwelcome task facing them. “Pardon” she said. It wouldn’t do to lose control at this critical time.
“Sorry” Peter said, rather shamefacedly. It wasn’t the fault of the slim, dark-haired girl who was sitting opposite him. He had long since come to rely on her, working in such a close partnership that they could almost read each other’s thoughts. She was fifteen years younger than his sixty two years, but he now realized that somehow he had come to see her almost as his alter ego. But the truth had to be said. “The Dean really is a bastard. He is getting rid of me just because I won’t support his ridiculous schemes.” That was indeed the nub of the matter. Peter was the most loyal and productive academic in the faculty. The rate at which he could turn out new material was legendary. The previous Dean, like him dedicated to the values of the university, had seen him as being indispensable, and that was the premise on which Peter had confidently based his career. But the new Dean cared little for the old values and was bent only on pursuing his personal gain – and Peter had stood in his way. From being indispensable to being instantly dispensable, his career had been in a rapid decline. Val had warned him often enough, but he had never accepted that she could be right. Now he had to face the consequences of his past arrogance. “Let’s get on with the handover.”
Val in turn was beset by a mixture of powerful emotions. On the one hand she had to protect her own position. She still had a good few years before she reached the safety of retirement. As a divorcee she had nowhere else to go. Fortunately her daughters were both safely married, so she no longer had to worry about them. But, equally, they were no longer there to provide moral support at difficult times, such as now faced her. The university had become a very large, too large, a part of her life. But she knew her future there was safe, unless she did something silly; and she had fought too long as a single mother to even consider taking such a risk. She had never stood in anyone’s way, let alone that of the Dean, and she didn’t intend to start now. She had even tried to persuade Peter to accept some of the political realities, and had – as far as she had dared – for a while even managed to protect him from the hurricane of change which was blowing within the faculty. But he was one of the last of the old-style academics who believed in integrity in all things and had not believed that the values he held so dear could be so easily overturned; and all was now lost.
The other side of her, however, could not deny that the past decade had been good to her; and that Peter was personally responsible for most of the good things that had happened. He was the sort of a boss who went out of his way to involve all his staff in the work of the group; bringing them into the decision-making at one extreme and willingly joining in the most routine admin jobs when help was needed at the other extreme. Most of the other academics stood on their dignity, and were nowhere to be found when there was a problem. But few of his peers knew how much he was respected by the members of his team, and – viewing him only as a competitor in their no-holds-barred climb up the career ladder - cared even less. At best they viewed him as one of the old school, a fuddy-duddy who was out of place in the new market-driven environment. She realised, with a start, that she too had come to view him in much the same light. “I’m sorry” she blurted out.
This caught Peter even more off-guard. What on earth could she be sorry for? She was the best assistant he had ever had. She had never complained, even when they had to work long hours together to get new courses out of the door. He was certain she was intensely loyal to him, just as he was to her. After so many years there was almost a symbiotic relationship between them.
He looked across at her. There was no doubt that she was attractive, and he had occasionally fantasized about having an affair with her. His marriage, after more than four decades, was very much a matter of routine rather than romance, but he had never strayed from it. Indeed, Val had been the only serious temptation, and he had resisted even that. Partly that was because he knew that the fantasy was just that. Fifteen years older, and already decaying round the edges, he could offer her nothing. More important, he wouldn’t do anything that might jeopardize their friendship, which he now realised – too late – had been so important to him. He grasped, for perhaps the first time, that this unspoken relationship was more profound than anything else in his life; more intense than he had ever allowed himself to admit. But now it was too late. There would soon, far too soon, be no excuse to justify the pleasure of their meetings. Society had no mechanism within which a mature married man could socialize with an attractive divorcee.
He was about to make a suitable reply to her baffling ‘sorry’ comment, when he was astounded to see a tear trickle down her cheek. Almost by reflex action he put his had on her arm. It was the first time he had ever touched her. The university’s commitment to political correctness had meant that any such contact, no matter how innocent, was potentially grounds for a charge of sexual harassment.
At the touch of his hand she burst into a veritable flood of tears, though she didn’t quite understand why this had happened. It was the first time such contact had happened, and she didn’t know how to deal with it. She had never considered him anything more than a good friend, but she suddenly recognized that she had gradually come to rely on him to fill at least part of the gap created by her divorce. Theirs had been a very comfortable relationship; a very close one, but without the stresses caused by any romantic complications let alone any sexual nuances. But now she saw that it could have been, perhaps should have been, more – much more. She saw how much she would miss him; miss his comforting presence when she felt depressed and his encouragement when she was fighting for her own career. What if there could have been more?
But there had been no such possibilities. He was happily married and she had never seen herself as the other woman. She had been on the receiving end of that in her own divorce and had vowed never to get so involved again. And she had been successful, so successful that she now only had women as her close friends. She found her handkerchief and, forcing a smile, said “I am so sorry our friendship has to break up in this way. But life has to go on.”
Peter was conscious of the velvet of her skin under his hand, and he quickly withdrew it. He too wondered what he might have missed. But, even if something more might have been possible, it was too late now. There was no other way forward. It was farewell to their very special relationship. “So let’s see what needs to be done to ensure a smooth handover.”
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