An Excerpt From Aloysius the Great

It’s only been a week since Elena stroked my forehead, but it feels like it happened in a different lifetime. I’ve had to call Irwin’s office several times, but when Elena answers the phone, she sounds distant and businesslike. I ran into her in the faculty dining room, but she excused herself, saying she had to rush back to the office. Well, there’s no way she can avoid me now.

“Good morning, Elena. May I collect those student applications for the English program? I’m leaving for England tonight, and I know next to nothing about our students.”

Why is Irwin holding on to them? Maybe he’s afraid of scaring me off. What am I getting myself into, here? Worse yet, it looks like I’ll never get to know Elena.

“They’re right here, Professor Gogarty. All set to go. Dean Irwin apologises for the delay. Have a safe flight and a wonderful year abroad.”

The routine politeness of her voice sends a chill up my spine. My face gets hot, and I reach for the corner of her desk to steady myself. I can’t leave like this.

“Are you all right, Professor Gogarty?”

“Well no, not really. I’m upset, and I hate going overseas in this state of mind. You’ve been avoiding me, and I need to know something before I leave.”

Elena pulls her head back, tilts it to the side, and looks puzzled.

I breathe deeply, hoping to inhale enough courage to be able to say what’s been on my mind since we first met: “Are you interested in me?”

She leans forward, “How can you ask such a question? Of course, I am. Who wouldn’t be? You’re a very impressive man.”

“Not in a general sense, in a . . . uh . . . well, personal sense.”

“Personal? Professor Gogarty. We’re colleagues!”

“Look, Elena, I’m supposed to leave in a few hours, but I can’t do that until I know exactly how you feel about me. In fact,” I take an even deeper breath, “I’m not leaving here until I get a straight answer from you. The Dean  can scrape up somebody else for the job, or hire a cardiologist to accompany that Berkeley man, or, for that matter, go himself.”

My voice is rising, and Elena looks over her shoulder toward the Dean’s chambers. She raises a finger to her mouth, and her lower lip begins to quiver. “Are you loco?” she whispers. “Don’t you realize you’re jeopardizing both our jobs by behaving like this?”

“I’m sorry, but I refuse to go in such a state. If you want to get rid of me, I need an answer, an honest answer.”

She looks back toward the Dean’s office again. “If I am as honest as I can be, will you take these folders and leave this office immediately?”

That doesn’t sound good.

Brace yourself for rejection.

It takes a moment or two, but I’m finally able to say, “Yes.”

Elena looks down, then, slowly, raises her head and begins to speak, but so quietly I need to lean over to hear her. This draws me into the ambit of her delicate perfume.

“I do find myself in some way attracted to you. Still, there’s no point in even thinking about it now. Time will tell. We may both be in a totally different set of circumstances when you return from England.”

My heart stutters. I slip out of my jacket, adopt the stance of a toreador, execute a perfect veronica, and issue an “Olé” while prostrating myself at her desk. Unfortunately, my performance raises such a clamour that Irwin comes waddling out of his inner sanctum. I scramble to my feet and quickly drape the jacket over my arm. Elena, visibly shaken, drops the folders on her desk.

Irwin surveys the scene like the lord of the manor. “Is something amiss here?”

I smile widely, replying, “Dear sir, what could be amiss when ‘the lark’s on the wing; The snail’s on the thorn; God’s in his heaven, and all’s right with the world’?”

“Oh,” says Irwin appreciatively, “brushing up on our Tennyson, are we?”

It’s Browning, you ignoranus.

“Yes indeed, sir, I’m preparing for England.”

“Well,” he says, “that’s a good sign. I wish all my resident directors would embark with such unbridled enthusiasm. I take it you’re pleased with your new assignment?”

“Pleased? At the moment sir, I’m ecstatic.”

Elena busies herself scooping up the folders and passing them on to me.

“Remember at all times,” Irwin cautions me, “who and what you represent.”

Juggling the dossiers as I grasp the doorknob, I let one of them slip but retrieve it before any damage is done.

“No need to concern yourself, sir. I’m fully aware of who and what I represent.”

Aloysius The Great is a Novel by John Maxwell O’Brien which is published by the Propertius Press.