Lorraine

She loved it when the air began to cool and the leaves began to redden and yellow. The empty campus would flood with life: students milling about the green quad, overwhelming cafe baristas with their demands for coffee, populating the tiny chairs and even tinier desks of the lecture halls. It was the start of a new academic year. The cycle began anew. 

It isn’t anything prestigious, she thought as she entered the empty classroom. She picked up a piece of chalk and wrote “Freshman Biology” on the blackboard in long, looping letters. The course had long been established and passed to the new lecturers. She didn’t get to create her own syllabus or choose her own textbook, but still - it was her name on the top of the syllabus, her lecture slides projected in front of dozens of students. She would have names to learn and exams to grade. She was flying solo. 

She stepped back and tilted her head. She erased the board and wrote it bigger, adding her name underneath: Dr. Anderson. 

***

Sophomore year. The final grade for Cell Biology wasn’t an exam, but a research paper on a topic of the students’ choosing. Students were required to meet with Professor Rick Anderson to make sure that he approved their topic and that their writing was on track. 

She was in his office, sitting across from him in a skirt borrowed from her roommate. She had been at his office hours before, but those were full of students fighting for his time; this was the first time she was getting his full attention. He sat in a leather chair, flanked on two sides by bookshelves loaded with thick volumes bound in leather and linen. The picture on his left showed him with his arm around a woman mostly comprised of curly hair and a floral scarf. On the wall behind him were framed articles from popular magazines - Time, National Geographic - mentioning him and his research. Among them was a photo from his TED Talk with him in mid sentence, finger raised to punctuate a point. She had made her friends watch it. She almost memorized it. 

He smirked at her as he studied her outline. “Mitochondrial DNA? You do know that my lab studies mitochondrial DNA, right?” 

She nodded. “I think it’s fascinating. The theories that the mitochondria was a separate organism that incorporated into our cells, that it has its own DNA...it was an easy choice for my paper.” She smoothed down the front of her skirt, which had inched up more than she expected.

He leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow. “You do know the way to a man’s heart.” He looked over the outline again. “This is meticulous. You’re citing some fine researchers here.”

“Like yourself?” She felt her heartbeat flutter and her cheeks flush with warmth, but she tried to keep her breathing steady. 

He laughed. “You’re a firecracker. I haven’t seen you in this building before this class. Are you doing research in anyone’s lab?”

She shook her head. She hadn’t cared enough about her biology major to pursue a lab position. It was a means to an end - major in what her parents wanted, graduate with a STEM degree, pursue any and all other options after fulfilling her end of the bargain. Well, that was the plan before she took Cell Biology.

He locked eyes with her and smiled. “Are you interested?” 

***

Around noon, she took the stairs up to Rick’s office. She shared her office with the other lecturers in a cubicle farm, but the tenured professors got their own space. His office had hardly changed over the years. She knew which books on the shelves were signed by their authors, which drawers had the past years’ exams, and which cabinet held a secret bottle of twelve year old scotch. They toasted with it when she was accepted into graduate school and officially assigned to his laboratory. The smokiness of it stung her nose and made her cough.

His door was slightly ajar. Inside, she saw a blonde student sitting across from Rick, leaning forward and holding onto his every word. She knocked and startled the student, who practically leaped out of her chair. Rick motioned for her to come in.

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” she said, opening the door.  

“Not at all,” he said with a forced smile. “April is my new teaching assistant. We were just going over the syllabus.”

April was already grabbing her things. “Thanks for meeting with me, Dr. Anderson,” she said with an awkward wave. She avoided eye contact with the other Dr. Anderson and ducked out of the room. 

“April?” She looked back out the door at the retreating student. “She was supposed to be my TA.” April hadn’t shown up to the lecture; instead, another senior introduced herself and explained that there was a last minute switch. 

“Sorry about that, but I needed her.”

“I thought Allen was going to be your TA this semester?”

“Allen needs to focus on writing his dissertation. Besides, Cell Biology is something that a senior undergraduate can teach.”

She crossed her arms. “You always had me teach it.” 

Rick’s smile softened as he got up from his desk. “That’s because I didn’t want you teaching for anyone else.” He ran a finger down her shoulder to her elbow, and her arms practically melted as they uncrossed. She looked over at his desk, at the picture from their honeymoon - dinner on the beach, her in a red sundress, both of them beaming. 

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get lunch.” 

***

She had been working in his lab for almost a year when he had suggested it. “I think you would be a fantastic candidate for graduate school,” he purred. “Have you thought about it?” 

She gulped. He was leaning across the desk and looking at her with such intensity. She reveled when he noticed her work - and as much as he praised her, she was never satisfied - but to suddenly have all of his focus was blinding. All the stage lights were pointed at her, and she had all the attention that she could have asked for. 

“Uh, no. I never thought about graduate school.” A lie. She saw the way he joked with his students and took his teaching assistants out to lunch. She wanted to be in his inner circle. 

“Well, I think you’ve more than demonstrated your intellectual curiosity and knack for independent research. Frankly, it’d be a shame if you only stopped with your Bachelor’s.” 

She lowered her eyes. “Well, where would I apply?”

Rick’s gentle smile split into a deep grin. “I wouldn’t let you get away. If you apply here, I’ll fight for you. You’ll always have a spot in my lab.” 

***

The air chilled and the days grew shorter. It rained almost every day, and she was perpetually holding an umbrella as she scurried to and from the biology building. Rick’s schedule filled up with early morning advising sessions and late evening laboratory meetings, so she would brace herself against the wind and the rain, there and back, always alone. 

She was waiting for him to come home on one such evening. She poured herself a glass of wine and listened to the rain patter on the roof. Wandering over to the record player, she flipped through Rick’s collection. It was understood that his taste had more time to develop and refine, so it naturally dominated their household. She liked some of the music he put on and most of the films he played, but her contributions were carefully curated to what she thought he might enjoy and what she thought might impress him. A suggestion that was too frivolous would earn her a derisive laugh. “Your youth is showing,” he would say.

The sound of the rain, the glass of wine in her hand - she wanted something cozy, something that she couldn’t find in the living room. It’s probably in his office. Swirling her wine and humming, she opened his office door. 

It certainly wasn’t as curated as his work office. The bookshelves held paperback pop biology books next to well worn John Grisham novels. Legal pads with the outlines of lectures were strewn across his desk, next to his record player. A calendar on the wall still announced his July appointments. 

She spotted the record she wanted, but just as she was about to grab it, something caught her eye. A name scribbled on a legal pad: April.   

She pulled the pad closer to her. It is my utmost recommendation that April Jung be admitted for graduate study...she has proven to be intellectually curious and meticulous during her time as my student in Cellular Biology, as well as her time as my teaching assistant...due to her interest in mitochondrial DNA, I would be interested in serving as her advisor…. 

She gently placed the legal pad back where she found it. She paused, listening for any sounds of Rick’s arrival. None. 

She sat down in his worn office chair, yanked open his bottom desk cabinet, and began to paw through his papers. He wasn’t particularly well organized, but he usually kept things in somewhat chronological order. She kept digging through the years, her fingers flipping through pages after pages of notes and speech drafts and paper critiques, until she found what she was looking for: her own recommendation letter. It is my utmost recommendation...has proven to be intellectually curious and meticulous...due to her interest in mitochondrial DNA…. 

She held her breath and felt her heart pound in her chest. This doesn’t mean anything. 

The rain smacked against the window as her frigid shock slowly sank in. She looked down at the two letters. You unoriginal bastard, she sneered, her exhale turning into a laugh. Nothing is sacred to you. 

***

Her acceptance came the day of her undergraduate research symposium. She was restrained in a pencil skirt, trying to balance in heels as she stood next to her poster. Uninterested students and faculty floated from poster to poster, their eyes glazing over the tables and figures, the data that took months to gather and weeks to analyze. Nodding along to her research summary, they moved on to the next student, equally unimpressed with their work.

She caught a glimpse of Rick, and the room instantly brightened. She beamed as he came over and complemented her poster, his eyes soft and admiring. He hesitated before leaning in. “I have good news,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. 

He motioned for her to follow him, and she gladly abandoned her post. They slipped up the stairs and into his office. She felt electric - to be alone with him in his office while the rest of the department was at the stupid symposium…

She looked around, taking in the new books and papers on his desk, when something caught her eye - or rather, the lack of something. She was positive that there was a picture of him with a woman on his desk - she had stared at it before - but the photo was gone. 

Rick didn’t notice her snooping. He reached into a cabinet and produced a bottle of scotch and two glasses. “Congratulations...to the future doctor.”

She gasped and pressed her hands to her mouth. Rick laughed at the sight. “Come now, you didn’t believe me when I said that I would fight for you?”

“Of course I did,” she said, accepting her first glass of scotch. “I’m just happy that it’s finally happening.” 

*** 

She could try checking his email, but he wouldn’t be so careless as to leave a trail on the university’s servers. She could go through his phone, but she didn’t know his passcode. There could be some plausible reason that she might need his phone, and she could turn it into an opportunity to investigate, but the further she plotted, the more her head spun. 

There was no lipstick on the collars of his shirts. There was no suspicious spending on their credit cards. He never came home smelling of perfume.

This is embarrassing, she thought as she carried two Styrofoam cups up the stairs. You’re making a fool out of yourself, dropping in on your husband like a chaperone. 

Maybe so. But if there’s nothing to find, then nobody loses.

The door was closed. She looked through the window and saw Rick and April going over a sheet of paper. She rapped on the door with a knuckle, still holding the steaming hot coffee. 

April, ever the fidgety one, jumped at the noise and froze at the sight of her. Rick begrudgingly got up from his desk and opened the door. “Yes?” 

Her stomach dropped as she felt his annoyance radiate off of him. “Hi honey. Coffee?” 

He shrugged and took a cup. “Well, thank you. Is that it?” 

She paused, her gaze stuck on a corner of his desk. The picture of them from their honeymoon - beach dinner, red sundress - used to be there. 

Used to. Now, it was gone. 

She swallowed hard. “Yeah, that’s it.” 

***

This was a nightmare. Her stomach was in knots, and she felt like she was on the verge of throwing up. Rick held a letter in his shaking hand. It was left in his mailbox that morning: Dear Dr. Anderson, The faculty and staff of this department are concerned with the nature of your relationship with one of your current graduate students…. 

“This is outrageous,” he hissed. 

She swallowed hard to fight against the rising bile in her throat. Oh my god, he’s going to get fired. She thought about the looks she got from other professors and students as she passed them in the hallway. You can’t prove anything, she would taunt them in her head. 

It looks like that didn’t stop them. “What are you going to do?” 

He wiped a hand down his face. “I have a sabbatical coming up. I’ve been putting it off until your defense, but that’s out the window now. I need time away. By the time I come back, this will have completely blown over.”

“You’re going to leave me?” she squeaked. She could see him grind his teeth at the sound. 

“You? You will be fine. They’re not looking to tear you down - they’re coming after me.” He waved the letter in the air. “If they really cared, they would have submitted a complaint to the dean. This? This is bullshit. This is political.” He slammed it onto his desk as if he were trying to swat a fly. “They’re petty, that’s what they are. Why are they concerned about what happens between two consenting adults?” 

She bit her cheek, remembering the looks on their faces. Scandalized. Disapproving. Confused. Horrified. “I think….” She hesitated. “I think it’s because they like Lorraine more than they like me.” 

It was silent. She could hear the hum of the fluorescent lights as Rick’s rage slowly deflated. She had broken their one unspoken rule. “You’re probably right,” he finally admitted. 

“Do you think anyone said something to her?” 

Rick snorted. “We’ve been separated for months. Why would it matter to her?” Still, he considered this, leaning forward and rubbing his chin. “She was always chummy with Marissa Blake. Marissa would go to her Romantic poetry seminars. I could never stand them.” He sighed. “Well, there’s the primary suspect. Bitch number one.” 

He stood and gestured towards the door. “In light of everything, it probably isn’t good for you to be seen alone with me in my office.”

“What’s going to happen to me?” He was her mentor. He was her world. He sparked her passion inside and outside of the lab. Everything - her degree, her research, her social life - revolved around him. 

“I’ll find someone to advise you on your research while I’m gone.”

“But I want to go with you!”

 For the first time that day, Rick smiled. “I’ll be back here. They can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

***

For the rest of the month, it felt like the rain never stopped. It merely became heavier and heavier until it turned into a torrential downpour. She sat at the island, home alone, all the lights off except one in the kitchen. A lightning bolt split the sky, briefly illuminating everything in white. She didn’t stir. 

She slowly ran her finger around the rim of her wine glass. Was this the same place Lorraine had sat years ago? She didn’t think about it often, but this was Lorraine’s place first. After Rick’s sabbatical, there was no extra Professor Anderson in Rick’s bed, and no extra Professor Anderson in the university’s directory. She never dwelled upon how neatly she was able to step into Lorraine’s place. 

She looked at the cabinets and the countertops, at the bottles of wine, at the records organized by artist. She had always thought of it as theirs - but it wasn’t theirs. It was Rick’s, and before it was Rick’s, it was Rick’s and Lorraine’s. 

She sighed and ran a shaking hand through her hair. She wanted to find this girl and say, Go, run, run far away while you still can, while you’re still so young, while you haven’t made the kind of mistakes that upend lives and follow you everywhere. 

On the other - Leave, this is my life, this is all I’ve worked for, this is all I have. Leave him alone. Leave me alone. Don’t do this to me. 

She looked out the window at the rain, wine glass in hand, and waited. Lorraine never did anything about her. Until now, she never understood why she didn’t fight, why she seemingly laid down and accepted things as they came. But there was nothing to fight. Lorraine had understood this. The cycle simply began anew.