Chapter Text
‘Why are board meetings always at lunch time?’ Joe fell back into the chair, pulled the plate with nibbles and snacks closer to himself to secure some biscuits and stuffed them into the pockets of his jacket before biting down on a chocolate one, ‘I’m starving.’
‘Because we’re teaching the rest of the day,’ Andy sat down at the head of the table and thumbed through the stack of papers she had carried under her arms, ‘and you are the one who needs to get back to class earlier than others so stop whining.’
‘Thanks for reminding me, boss,’ he grinned and crossed his arms behind his head, ‘what is on the agenda today?’
‘Not too much, don’t worry, only the new colleague in the English department and the annual grants for the faculty and department projects. Did you hand in your application for the redesigned Renaissance architecture project this year?’
‘You know well enough I did, Ms chairperson-of-the-finance-committee,’ Joe greeted a group of other colleagues coming into the assembly room with a wave and a grin, ‘come on, Andy, please tell me I can do it this time. It’s the third time I’ve applied for the grant, the art faculty really needs the boost this year, we have enough enrolments to compete with the classics and history for once, there is no reason why I shouldn’t be allowed to get my project funded for the art department.’
‘Joe,’ Andy filled a mug to the brim with coffee, ‘you know full well that I can’t tell you. I couldn’t do that three years ago and I still can’t.’
‘Worth a try,’ he leaned back and grinned broadly, giving her a wink, ‘is Quynh coming?’
‘Not sure, there was a modern languages meeting, out of band,’ Andy pulled the nearly depleted biscuit plate towards the table edge, shooting him an admonishing look but pocketed a few pieces of shortbread herself, ‘she might show up, might not, why would I know?’
‘Oh come on, boss, we all know you’re together. You were looking at rent advertisements,’ the door closed behind Booker as he scuffled along the table to take his usual seat in the back where he got out his laptop and opened it, ‘am I on minutes again?’
‘If you insist,’ Andy slid a copy of the agenda down the table, ‘there you go. Did you come over from the languages meeting?’
‘Yeah, the others were following behind. Giving him the tour, basically,’ Booker inspected the biscuit plate, ‘again, Joe? There are no chocolate ones left already, you can’t hog them like that, other people need to eat, too.’
‘Let them eat cake. Or be on time then,’ Joe tossed him a single chocolate biscuit that Booker caught with a huff.
The door opened again and loud laughter and chatter filled the room as Quynh and the rest of the modern languages came in, accompanied by the sun from outside falling into the room behind her back, ‘I bring fresh meat everybody!’
She pulled another man into the room who stumbled a little, eyes darting between the different faces looking up at them as the remaining heads of the modern language departments filed into the room, ‘Everybody, this is Nicky, Nicky, these are the others.’
Joe looked up from his notebook and gave her a little wave. Quynh responded in kind before returning her attention to the lanky, nondescript man who seemed to try and disappear into the wall behind him. He carried a shoulder bag that seemed to have seen better days already, his knuckles white where they curled around it.
‘Thank you, Quynh,’ Andy sighed and pointed at the last free seats, ‘take a seat please, we want to start?’
‘Of course! Joe, give the biscuits back!’
‘Why is everybody on my case today?’ He grumbled but passed Quynh a couple of biscuits from his pocket, ‘I’d like to think I just saved them for you.’
‘Are you quite done being childish? Alright, Booker, that’s everybody for the attendance sheet, want to pass it around?’
‘Of course, boss. Just the usual signature and your e-mail address, if you want the minutes, everyone,’ Booker slid a sheet of paper along the table.
‘Alright,’ Andy looked around the room, ‘now that we can officially start our HOD meeting, I would like to begin with a very special welcome. You should all be aware that we had to refill a position in the English department after Lykon got called away for a research professorship. As fruitful as he was for this institution, we are glad to announce that the selection process is complete and we found an adequate replacement in Doctor Nicolò di Genova.’
Joe followed Andy’s motion and really looked at the young man who had followed Quynh for the first time. He still seemed to be looking for a corner to hide in, his blazer was a little too big for him to fill and he played with the hems of his sleeves, now that he had set down his bag. As worn as his clothes looked, his hair was impeccable with not a single strand out of place. Joe noticed the bright eyes that stood in stark contrast with the dark circles around them, reminiscent of what he remembered to be a distinctive look coming with research deadlines and publications. Despite these obvious signs of tiredness, the newcomer smiled at everybody and bowed his head in a sharp nod.
‘Thank you for allowing me to join the faculty of this distinguished university,’ Joe noticed the accent that tinted his words and was reminded of a couple of students complaining about English lecturers hardly being able to speak the language as the newcomer continued, ‘I hope I can be an addition to this institution and further inter-departmental relationships.’
‘Nicky is interested in many things,’ Quynh interrupted, eyes shining with glee, ‘maybe we can continue all the projects Lykon started.’
‘It certainly would be desired,’ Andy sighed, ‘for now, Doctor di Genova will take over as deputy head of department in English with a few more responsibilities than normal until Professor Burton returns from her maternity leave; it’s no secret that we need to restructure and change the department after the sudden absence of new students, the numbers speak for themselves, after all. Maybe with Doctor di Genova, we can implement a new order in the English department – even without the professorship we put out to tender. Which of course, doesn’t help an already struggling department, we know that. I am still confident Doctor di Genova will be a welcome breath of fresh air for all of us.’
‘Hear, hear,’ someone mumbled, just audible over Booker’s fingers tapping away on the keyboard.
‘You’ll have enough opportunity to pester him about his research, habilitation dissertation and what his plans are for the English department, in case you weren’t part of the appointment committee. We have a few more things on the agenda and Joe here needs to get a move on,’ Andy nodded towards him.
He noticed the new one leaning forward slightly, as if to get a good look at him. Joe acknowledged Andy with a tip of his imaginary hat and sat straight up for what was to come.
‘As you all know, we as the humanities will never have all the funding we would like to get, not with the sciences as strong as they are at this university,’ Andy sighed with the resignation of a woman who had been too often been told she would have to interest potential students with elaborate, sophisticated projects but was only given enough money for two or three per year across ten departments, ‘the finance committee couldn’t decide for the longest time because there is never a project that wouldn’t deserve to be funded. Thank you for once again for applying in these numbers, some even handing in two projects – even though we can only consider one per department, of course.’
A warning look went out to Booker who grinned and unscrewed his thermos flask in response. Joe shook his head at his friend, the man who was most likely to hand in two project applications the following term again. Before he went back to taking minutes, Booker winked at him without Andy noticing. She did not scold him for it but would send him a strongly worded e-mail later, recalling the numerous favours he owed her and telling him not to test her patience.
‘So please, a reminder, what is not approved today might be the one project making a difference next year,’ Andy turned the page of her binder and exhaled deeply, ‘the committee has given permission and funding to Professor le Livre for the Francophonie anniversary event and Doctor di Genova for the Grand Tour in English and Italian Literature summer school.’
‘What?’ Joe bolted forward, ‘Oh no, Andy, don’t do this to me, not again. Three times, okay, I’ve applied three times!’
‘Well then,’ Booker grinned, ‘maybe it’s time to re-think and modify your project submission for once. Can’t be the same stuff over and over again. I might hand in two projects every year but they’re original and new every time.’
‘Shut up,’ Joe slapped the table, ‘I applied three times with a good project and he waltzes in here with a PhD and grand ideas but why would a project like that get your backing? I told you, Andy, the art department needs a project, you know that as well as I do!’
‘Yes, and were it my sole decision, I would still have to decide this way,’ Andy crossed her arms, ‘I’m sorry, Joe, we simply can’t fund your project this year.’
‘Yeah, haven’t I heard that before?’ Joe gathered his papers and pushed his chair back, ‘I’ve got a class to get to, we’ll talk about this. Booker. Andy. Quynh. New guy.’
He rushed out of his room, heart beating in his throat as he thought of the course of dedicated students who had begged him to move the world and get them an opportunity to see the masters of the Renaissance in person. The implication of the meeting sat heavy in his stomach, a pit filled with fury and disappointment that wrung him dry from the inside.
The day went by in a daze, he taught his remaining class, did what paperwork was left over and returned to his flat to stew over the events of the afternoon. As relieved as he had been when Andy told them they had found a replacement for Lykon, he had to admit to himself that Doctor Nicolò di Genova had been far from what he had been able to imagine. It was one thing to replace a research professor with someone who had not yet finished his habilitation; sure, the young man deserved a chance to rise in the academic hierarchy, without doubt, but it was more to give him the funding for a new project before he had taught a single class.
He had been too busy to listen to Andy, goof off with Booker behind her back and, in the end, get enraged about the injustice that had occurred right under his nose to pay real attention to the man who had stolen what he had considered his grant. Joe held onto the feeling for the entire evening, long enough to burn his dinner, run a gouge into the carpet in his study and call Booker fifteen times between starting on the gouge and realising he had forgotten the leftovers in the oven. In the end, it was Quynh who called him first.
‘You don’t like it,’ she said in lieu of a greeting, ‘and I get it, you wanted the grant for the art department.’
‘Are you okay with it?’
‘What do you mean, Joe?’
‘You wanted that money as much as I did. Research resources for Vietnamese poetry and cultural dialogue, Quynh, are you ready to just let that go?’
‘Oh come on, what is this really about, you don’t sound like yourself,’ she sighed deep enough to tell him she had sat down on the sofa that occupied a third of her living room, ‘the English depart needs whatever support they can get right now, Andy was right about that, you know? A project will help them return to the academic stage of the university.’
‘They appointed a habilitation candidate to a position requiring a professorship, Quynh, that’s bullshit! What has he done, can you tell me? What are his achievements, how could he come in without facing any resistances? And even more importantly, why does he get that grant without having worked a single day at this university? I spent ages coming up with the project, all those scientists with the big budgets could never plan in that way.’
‘Are you quite finished?’ Her voice had an edge to it that Joe knew to be a warning but his thoughts were still spiralling, too busy to pay attention to her slipping patience, ‘Nicky was a researcher under Burton and Lykon, alright? He was Lykon’s assistant on that historical fighters in English poetry project, and Burton handpicked him as her deputy herself. He comes equipped with intimate knowledge of her methods and the passion to pick up the pieces and assemble them into something new where she had to take a step back. I know you’re disappointed right now but please, Joe, can’t you see the chance here?’
‘No, I really can’t,’ he shook his head, ‘why would I? A new guy with one of the worst accents I’ve ever heard comes in, takes the money that would have been fair to give to the art department and what, is supposed to teach English?’
‘He has a doctoral degree in both English and Italian, he’s versatile and incredibly nice to talk to. I met him during the job interview and got to see his CV, he’s done some impressive stuff throughout the last years, the students will love him. Oh, that might actually be the reason why he hasn’t got his habilitation, yet, he seems to work on everybody else’s project first but he’s so close to finishing it,’ Quynh skirted the question, ‘Joe, Andy is giving me the evil eye from the sofa, I really –‘
‘I know she’s not the only one on that committee but there is no way I won’t take offence at this treatment of a longstanding member of the faculty,’ Joe poked at the charcoaled remains of his dinner and threw his fork onto the plate a moment later, ‘it’s not fair, she knows it and that supercilious oaf can fuck off back to wherever he comes from, for all I care!’
He hung up on her, knowing that she would be angry with him for a few days but he could take no more praises of the young supposed high-flyer, no matter who had recommended him. For a moment, he let his head sink against the wall and breathed the tension in his stomach away.
On the sixteenth try, Booker answered his phone, ‘Hey Joe, are you still moping?’
‘I am not moping.’
‘You so are,’ Booker laughed at him and Joe grumbled a little, not willing to admit just how close to the mark he hit, ‘come on, do you want to scream about him or is it something else?’
‘What else should it be, I’m just at a loss here,’ Joe sighed and massaged his temples, ‘please, Booker, can you tell me what I did to be overlooked again and again?’
‘I’m sorry, mate, I really am and I know me getting the grant can’t sit well with you either,’ Booker sounded apologetic but Joe waved it off.
‘No, but I can live with that, I know you and I know you worked your ass off for this. I don’t get why this Doctor di Genova immediately gets the job, projects and money I have spent years pursuing in one lunch meeting, either. And maybe that’s too harsh of me, maybe it’s all not justified? He might be a genius who’s secretly running three different research projects under a pseudonym.’
‘I don’t believe that.’
‘I know. He is young, though, maybe he’ll come around and surprise all of us,’ Booker sighed into his ear, ‘give him a chance, yes? You’re going to have to work together at some point, we’re all part of the same faculty!’
‘Thanks for the reminder,’ Joe dug the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, ‘I don’t think I’ll have a lot to do with him. By choice. The art department preparation rooms will see more of me again, I guess.’
‘Are you still up for lunch tomorrow, though?’
‘As long as it doesn’t come with surprises,’ Joe kicked up his feet onto the arm rest of the sofa, ‘by which I mean, no Spanish habilitation candidates showing up because you think I need to talk to him about my issues.’
‘Joe,’ Booker huffed out, ‘I’m pretty sure he’s Italian, anyway.’
‘Whatever, I don’t plan on doing a lot of talking to him. He should prove himself before we can talk, at least do some work before he comes in claiming money!’
‘Alright, just don’t tell Andy as much, return to being a hermit and see what develops out of the situation without poking the bear, she was sad enough to see Lykon leave as it is.’
Joe had to agree with him on that note. Andy and Quynh had both worked closely with Lykon before he left, instigating some of the best received projects that the faculty supported, and making a change around the university. He had come into the faculty only months after getting his own habilitation, not at all prepared to take over responsibility for a whole department but was pressured into it nonetheless after his predecessor had leave for health reasons. It had taken the trio some time to warm up to Joe once he arrived, but eventually, he had become a feature in their lives and began to hang out with them after hours, too.
‘Give him a chance, will you?’ Booker jolted him out of his thoughts but his undertone told Joe that he had been talking for a bit before he reappeared out of the memories he had shared with Andy, Quynh and Lykon, ‘Even if he’s no Lykon, he will be a part of the faculty for a bit. Come on, it’s not like Lykon died, he just left to embrace a tremendous opportunity.’
Booker made his farewell soon after and hung up after they had agreed on a place to grab lunch at the following day. Joe felt a little calmer after the chats he had had but still decided to squeeze in a workout in his bedroom, an angry set of exercises between his bed and the photography equipment leaning against the wall, before showering and falling into the pillows and blankets he kept around to cuddle into, some of them bunched up to fill his arms at night. It was something he had realised helped him sleep and relieve his spine whenever he fell asleep on his side, even though Booker had called him an old man for it when he helped him move his new bed into the flat.
Joe put the events of the day behind himself for the night and stretched out under the blanket. With his hair sticking up in all directions and a chill clinging to his cooled off skin, he could not imagine a more comfortable place than his bed. He grabbed the monograph on Claude Monet and his techniques that he had borrowed from the library and started to read, intent to finish another chapter.
He dropped off after a couple of pages, the lamp on the bedside table still on.