Page 35 of Unfaithful

There’s a rap at my door. It’s June.

“Right, thank you, you’ve been very helpful.” I hang up. “Yes? What is it?”

She taps her watch. “They’re waiting for you. In 16B. Your class?”

“Oh, shit. I’ll be right there.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you. Actually, June…”

“Yes?”

“Maybe you could help me with something?”

“Of course, what can I do?”

“I need to track down someone called Ryan, who was working in IT but he’s left.”

She waits for more, one hand on the door handle. I’m busy gathering my things for the class so I don’t have to look at her.

“I don’t understand,” she says. “Do you need someone from IT to fix something?”

“No, I need to find this Ryan person.” I look at her now, gnawing at my fingernail. “I don’t have a last name. I called HR but they can’t help me. I was thinking, maybe…”

“I’m sorry, Anna. I don’t know anyone called Ryan who was in IT, if that’s your question.”

“I was hopingyoucould talk to HR. There can’t be thousands of Ryans who worked in IT and were assigned to do a job at the law faculty recently, right?”

“But you said you already asked them.”

“Yes, but if you ask they might tell you because you’re admin too—maybe admin people help other admin people, I don’t know. Look, you know what? Don’t worry about it. It’s fine. I’ll figure it out. I was just thinking out loud.”

I slip past her and out the door.

“I’m happy to help if—”

I raise a hand. “No, it’s fine. Thank you!” Then I stop, turn around and say, “Forget I said anything, okay. I’d be grateful if you didn’t mention it to anyone.”

“Mention what?”

I sigh. “The Ryan thing. Just forget it, okay?”

I don’t track down Ryan in the end, but I am on the alert, and it’s only after a few days during which nothing happens that I begin to relax. He would have contacted me if he wanted to speak to me. He knows where I am. The ball is in his court, and there’s not much I can do.

Tonight, the university hosts a dinner in my honor. And I mean, a real dinner. Not the cheese plate and dips version; this is a linen and flowers and crystal glasses and silverware affair, all hired for the occasion and set up on long tables in the main hall. The dean, who is retiring at the end of term, gives a warm speech where he thanks me for making the last year of his career the proudest and most memorable.

Luis is looking very handsome in his tuxedo. He’s chatting to Rohan about art and mathematics, I think. I’m chatting to Bernie, one of my post-doctoral students. He’s telling me about a robot who can make an omelet.

“Shouldn’t that be a robotthatcan make an omelet?” I say.

Bernie pulls his hair back and ties it into a ponytail with a rubber band that was around his wrist. “People are more likely to trust robots that exhibit human traits, like gazing and nodding and shrugging. I like to think about robots as people. It makes me care more.”

Then June walks up to us, holding a flower arrangement in both hands, like an offering. She’s smiling. “These just came for you,” she says.

She puts the arrangement down on the table and Bernie stands up, brandishing an empty bottle of wine. “I’ll get us a refill.”

“I’m sure the waiters will fix you up,” I say, but he’s already gone and June sits down in his place.