“Hey, look on the bright side. You’re officially a celebrity. Meanwhile, I can’t give myself away without getting rejected.”
“They didn’t reject you.”
“No, but they did make it clear that you were the member of the Powell family they want to see listed in next year’s brochure.”
We finally settled on a lunch, not dinner, with two guests, not three, at a restaurant—period, no mention of its social consciousness. And I agreed to persuade one of the other moms to buy the item when the time came, using our money if necessary. Jason was willing to pay a lot to avoid a meal with strangers.
Once our terms were negotiated, he reminded me that he would be leaving the following afternoon to meet with a green energy company based in Philadelphia. He’d be gone for two nights.
Of course, I didn’t need the reminder. I had entered the dates in my calendar—aka the Family Bible—when he first mentioned it.
“Would you like to come with me?” Did he actually want me to join him, or had my expression given me away? “We could get a sitter for Spencer. Or he could tag along.”
The thought of ever returning to the state of Pennsylvania made my stomach turn. “The chess tournament tomorrow, remember?”
I could tell that he did not, in fact, remember. Spencer had little in the way of organized hobbies. He wasn’t a natural athlete and seemed to share Jason’s aversion to group activities. But so far, he was sticking with the chess club.
The subject of his intern, Rachel, did not arise until the waiter brought our pasta: an order of cacio e pepe split between two bowls.
Jason let it slip like it was nothing: “Oh, something a little odd happened to me today at work.”
“In class?” Jason still taught at NYU during the spring semester, but also had his own corporate consulting company and was a frequent talking head on cable television. In addition, he hosted a popular podcast. My husband had a lot of jobs.
“No, at the office. I told you about the interns?” With the university increasingly upset (jealous, Jason thought) about his outside activities, Jason had agreed to start an internship program, where he and his consulting firm would oversee a handful of students each semester. “One of them apparently thinks I’m a sexist pig.”
He was grinning as if it were funny, but we were different that way. Jason found conflict amusing, or at least curious. I avoided it at all costs. I immediately rested my fork against the edge of my bowl.
“Please,” he said, waving a flippant hand. “It’s ridiculous, proof that interns create more work than they’re worth.”
He smiled the entire time he described the incident. Rachel was in either the first or second year of her master’s study. He wasn’t sure. She was one of the weaker students. He suspected, but wasn’t certain, that Zack—the associate he’d tapped with the job of selecting candidates—had included her for purposes of gender diversity. She entered Jason’s office to deliver a memo she had written about a chain of grocery stores. She blurted out that her boyfriend had proposed over the weekend, and held up her left hand to show off a giant diamond.
“What am I,” Jason asked, “her sorority sister?”
“Please tell me you didn’t say that.”
Another eye roll, this time slightly less exaggerated. “Of course not. I honestly don’t remember what I said.”
“And yet . . . ?”
“She says I was sexist.”
“She said this to whom?” I was pretty sure the correct usage was whom. “Why would she say that?”
“She went to Zack. These are the kinds of students we’re accepting these days—a graduate student who doesn’t understand the hierarchy at the firm where she works. She assumes Zack has some kind of power, because he was the one who hired her.”
“But why was she complaining?” I noticed a woman at the next table looking in our direction and lowered my voice. “What is she saying happened?”
“I don’t know. She started running on about getting engaged. She told Zack I said she was too young to get married. That she needed to live a little first.”
Was there something wrong with that? I’d never had a job in a formal office setting. It sounded rude, but not offensive. I told Jason that there had to be more to it if she was complaining.
Another dismissive wave. “That’s how ridiculous these millennials are. It’s considered sexual harassment even to ask someone about their personal life. But if she barges in my office and starts telling me about her engagement, I can’t say anything without melting the special snowflake.”
“So is that what you said? That she was too young and should live a little, or did you call her a special snowflake?” I knew Jason’s harshest opinions about his students.
“Of course not. I don’t know. Honestly, I was annoyed by the whole conversation. I think I said something as a joke. Like, ‘Are you sure you’re ready to get locked down?’ Probably that.”
It was a phrase I’d heard him use before, about not only marriage but anything that was so good that you wanted to hold on to it forever. “Lock that down.”
We put in an early offer on our house. “It’s priced to sell. We need to lock that down.”
A waiter telling us that there were only two more orders of branzino in the kitchen. “We’re good for one. Lock that down.”
I could picture him in his office, interrupted by an intern he’d prefer not to supervise. She’s babbling about her engagement. He couldn’t care less. You’re still in school. You sure you’re ready to lock that down? Jason had a habit of making teasing comments.
I asked him again if that was all that happened, if he was sure there wasn’t something else that could have been misconstrued.
“You don’t know how sensitive these college students are.” The words burned, even though he didn’t mean them to. I had never attended college. “If Spencer turns out like these micro-aggression asshole whiners, I’ll ground him until he’s forty.”
Seeing the expression on my face, he reached for my hand. Spencer actually is special, not a special snowflake. He’s not like these kids who were raised to think they’re extraordinary even though they’re extraordinary. Jason said he was kidding, and I knew he was. And I felt guilty because I realized I—like Rachel the girl intern—was being too sensitive, was feeling too special.
“So now what happens?” I asked.
Jason shrugged, as if I’d asked what he’d like to donate to the auction. “Zack will deal with it. Thank god the semester’s almost over. But screw her if she thinks she’s getting a recommendation.”
As I poured a little more wine into my glass, I really thought that was the only thing at stake in Jason’s interaction with Rachel—whether a graduate student would get a recommendation.
It would be four days until I realized how naive I had been.
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New York City Police Department Omniform System—Complaints May 14
Occurrence Location: 1057 Avenue of the Americas
Name of Premises: FSS Consulting
Narrative: Victim states that suspect “encouraged” sexual contact during business appointment.
Victim: Rachel Sutton
Age: 24
Gender: Female
Race: White
Victim walked into precinct at 17:32 and asked to file a complaint. She proceeded to report that a coworker, Jason Powell, “encouraged” sexual contact between them. Victim presented calmly and did not appear distraught. When I asked her what type of sexual contact, she said, “He suggested that I should be sexual with him.”
When I asked her to explain what she meant by “encouraged” and “suggested,” she did not respond. I asked if there had been any physical contact between them or if he had threatened her or forced her to do anything she did not want to do. She abruptly accused me of not believing her and left the station over my repeated requests that she continue her complaint.
Conclusion: Forward report to SVU for consideration of further action.
Signed: L. Kendall
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