After reading Julian\u2019s blog, she understood that he was struggling with his decision. She pondered, though only after hitting send, that she had gone way, way too far. Not only was she not being coy, she was being brazen in public. There was a word for this, but she couldn\u2019t quite think of it at the moment. Was she a femme fatale? He\u2019d sort of started it with that \u2018muse\u2019 notion. As far as her readership was concerned, she had forgotten about it except for the two readers she directly addressed. One, her husband, was not a known reader. The other, Julian, was used to having his mettle tested. Lana didn\u2019t think you could teach literature in a college and not be somewhat heroic. Julian, after reading the latest on \u201cAmy Tells All,\u201d understood that she was forgetting how mainstream that blog had become. He could read that she appreciated some of the risk factor, but she clearly didn\u2019t understand that she was live coast to coast. She had to be warned about that. He also understood that she was auditioning him for an affair. That she would propose this in public was terrifying. His students were all over that blog. His role as \u201cadmirer\u201d would surely be guessed. This would get back to Dana via the gossip express. His behavior had to be exemplary. Lana had to be nurtured, but she also had to be stopped for her own sake, if not for Julian\u2019s. Perhaps, as a supplement to his shaky will power, he\u2019d totally fail to inspire her desire.<\/p>\n
With his hands literally shaking, Julian dialed Lana\u2019s number.
\n\t\u201cHello, Lana Andrews speaking.\u201d
\nThe voice was a bit more like an oboe than a violin. No trace of any sort of accent.
\n\t\u201cLana. This is Julian Gray.\u201d
\nHis voice reminded her of her father\u2019s. He was warm, and spoke clearly. Just what she expected of a professor. He had only said his name. Let\u2019s see how the rest of it would go.
\n\t\u201cProfessor! It is so good to finally hear your voice.\u201d
\n\t\u201cLikewise Lana.\u201d
\nA pause.
\n\t\u201cLana.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYes, Julian. May I call you that?\u201d
\n\t\u201cOf course. I would insist. Unless you prefer Jonathan.\u201d
\n\t\u201cBut that\u2019s not your name, is it?\u201d
\n\t\u201cMy first name is John.\u201d
\n\t\u201cRight. \u2018JJ.\u2019\u201d
\n\t\u201cLana, about that blog\u2026\u201d
\n\t\u201cOh, right, I went a bit too far today. My super ego collapsed.\u201d
\nAt this he laughed. Everything he liked (maybe even loved) about this woman was right there, ready for instant deployment.
\n\t\u201cOh, Julian. I love it when I make you laugh.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYou can\u2019t seem to help it. But the blog\u2026 I think you forget that all my students, my wife\u2019s students, and everybody\u2019s students, many people\u2019s mothers, quite a few fathers, in short, half the bloody nation are reading that blog, hanging on to your every word. Where is that husband of yours that he won\u2019t find out about this? You all but invited me out on a coffee date!\u201d
\n\t\u201cI know. I did. Will you please, please meet with me?\u201d
\n\t\u201cLet\u2019s talk on the phone first.\u201d
\n\t\u201cOK. Talk to me.\u201d
\nHis careful arguments were cut to ribbons by her brilliant pirouettes.
\n\t\u201cHow are you?\u201d
\n\t\u201cSee. That\u2019s what I never hear at home when I walk in the door.\u201d
\n\t\u201cThat\u2019s not a good reason to commit adultery.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI agree, it\u2019s not. Give me a better one.\u201d
\nShe gave a sultry giggle at her own riposte.
\n\t\u201cNo. I am not going to go there.\u201d
\n\t\u201cOK, but at least we\u2019re talking.\u201d
\n\t\u201cHave you heard of the \u2018rules?\u2019
\n\t\u201cEllen and Sherrie? Of course. They\u2019re idiots.\u201d
\n\t\u201cSo you don\u2019t think demure is a good strategy?\u201d
\n\t\u201cStrategy for what? How to catch a man that\u2019s going to find out he hates you?\u201d
\n\t\u201cBut you seem to be crowding out any hope of developing a friendship first.\u201d
\n\t\u201cWhoa, Julian. Did you read my text?\u201d
\n\t\u201cI did. More than twice. What did I miss?\u201d
\n\t\u201cThat I need to see you.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI think I got that.\u201d
\n\t\u201cNo, I mean, what you look like is important to me.\u201d
\n\t\u201cOh. I\u2019m almost sixty, Lana. Youth, for me, is gone.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI understand that, but that is not the whole of attraction, that youthful lack of wrinkles. That whole idea is cultural but that culture does not extend to me. I am talking about what, specifically, I think of you, all of you. So we need to meet.\u201d
\n\t\u201cThat makes the first meeting almost impossibly fraught.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYes, there is the possibility that we\u2019ll be\u2026 \u201c
\n\t\u201c\u2026 underwhelmed.\u201d
\n\t\u201cSo. If you don\u2019t like the way I look, you won\u2019t let our friendship develop?\u201d
\n\t\u201cThat\u2019s not it at all. Of course I\u2019m not that shallow. If you refuse to meet me, I\u2019ll still read you. I\u2019d love to talk to you from time to time. It\u2019s more like a timing thing. My husband is going to be away the whole week. I have this time. I already know I like you, that you\u2019re just exactly as I imagined. I know it sounds crazy. Even I think it\u2019s crazy. I am doing my damndest to practice what I preach, to be honest with you. The truth is, I want to know if I can\u2026\u201d
\nShe wanted to say \u2018fall in love,\u2019 but stopped herself.
\n\t\u201c\u2026Stand to look at me,\u201d Julian supplied.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\t\u201cAnd there is the risk that\u2026 \u201c
\n\t\u201cYour husband, and my wife, will catch on. You went too far on that web site. You really need to get a stat counter. You\u2019re within an inch of famous. Arguments break out on Facebook as to why you won\u2019t monetize of allow comments.\u201d
\nA pause.
\n\t\u201cI haven\u2019t been doing it for the notoriety. You\u2019re right, I\u2019m sort of oblivious, unaware about that. My friends have mentioned that, as have now, you.\u201d
\n\t\u201cIt is a problem. You need to behave as if you are in the public eye, because you are.\u201d
\n\t\u201cSo how should I behave?\u201d
\n\t\u201cI can think of a few things that you might do. First, consider doing away with the recipe posts. The vitriol is not going to help your marriage. An alternative approach would be to take the blog down altogether. That might improve your marriage\u2019s chances. Then you need to forget I exist.\u201d
\nNow there was a serious silence from Lana\u2019s end, in which she seriously considered hanging up. At length, having fought for composure and won, she said:
\n\t\u201cProfessor, you\u2019re disappointing me.\u201d
\nHe did not say anything to this. He let the line be silent.
\n\t\u201cAre these your conditions for meeting me?\u201d
\n\t\u201cMy conditions? I don\u2019t want you to be hurt.\u201d
\n\t\u201cMy marriage is a shambles. I don\u2019t think it can be saved. My husband has gradually become, maybe even always was, someone I can\u2019t relate to or deal with.\u201d
\n\t\u201cThat is not true of my wife. My wife is the love of my life.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI am not your wife.\u201d
\n\t\u201cNo, you\u2019re not.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI am not really in competition with her.\u201d
\nThis takes Julian aback. This is not the usual, or easily followed gambit. Is it even a gambit?
\n\t\u201cNo, I have to agree. You are not competing.\u201d
\n\t\u201cThen let\u2019s have a friendship. Let\u2019s meet in Salem, like I pictured it in Amy.\u201d
\nShe was wearing him out.
\n\t\u201cYou do realize, Lana, that I\u2019m terrified about this.\u201d
\n\t\u201cAh. There\u2019s a slice of the truth cake.\u201d
\n\t\u201c\u2018Have mercy, Baby. Have mercy on me.\u2019\u201d
\n\t\u201cSay yes to me. Julian, I am worth a meeting, don\u2019t you think?\u201d
\nHe let this question sound, allowing himself time to think of a response. He thought of the damage such a meeting might do to not just the two of them, but to their respective marriages and their lives. The counterargument was lame. Suppose they merely met and had a chat over coffee? What would be the harm in that? He\u2019d get to see his muse face to face, and she\u2019d get to meet her admirer, the professor. They had an affinity he had to admit. He thought of Caitlin Thomas, the wild wife of Dylan the poet. Flown to New York to see her husband before he expired in a hospital, her remark upon setting foot upon American soil was, \u201cwell, is he dead yet?\u201d That was the sort of affinity he and Lana had. It was going to be fatal somehow; he could feel it. They had not met in a pub, but they were contemplating it. They had been having a relationship by correspondence. They had learned each others minds via language. Did they need to get within smelling distance, really? Perhaps. Perhaps this affinity was significant. If they never met, he well knew, the feelings would never die. True love could last forever if you never did the nasty. If you never even met, it might exceed forever. To head off the infinite longing, perhaps a little drive and a coffee date would be worthwhile. Let him find out that she was a clever woman, but not loveable in person. Perhaps, he thought, she might pick her nose. Would that sort of thing slow his affection down? Maybe. Suppose she ate with her mouth open? Anything in the reality would put a dent in the perfection of her in imagination. All of this thinking raced along at the speed of thought. He decided to give the crazy thing a shot.
\n\t\u201cYou are worth a meeting. You may be worth everything. It is, as you say, not a competition. Every unique being offers something up, something not received by all. I admire you, I have read you and been moved. The stakes are high. I\u2019ll accept. What do you suggest?\u201d
\n\t\u201cI suggest that we meet tomorrow in Salem. There\u2019s a bar there called the Fireplace Lounge. It\u2019s on Main Street. You can Google it. I would aim for about four in the afternoon. You\u2019ve got my number. Give me a holler if you hit a snag.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI\u2019ll do my best. I have to say that you are one of the most intense women I\u2019ve ever met.\u201d
\nShe laughed out loud at this.
\n\t\u201cThanks, dude. You\u2019re pretty ferocious yourself. See ya tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked at the twilight gloom that had accumulated in his office. He had to come up with an excuse to get away in the afternoon. He was already cursing this stupid idea. See the trouble you can get into with a couple of blogs?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
After reading Julian\u2019s blog, she understood that he was struggling with his decision. She pondered, though only after hitting send, that she had gone way, way too far. Not only was she not being coy, she was being brazen in public. There was a word for this, but she couldn\u2019t quite think of it at the moment. Was she a femme fatale? He\u2019d sort of started it with that \u2018muse\u2019 notion. As far as her readership was concerned, she had forgotten about it except for the two readers she directly addressed. One, her husband, was not a known reader. The other, Julian, was used to having his mettle tested. Lana didn\u2019t think you could teach literature in a college and not be somewhat heroic. Julian, after reading the latest on \u201cAmy Tells All,\u201d understood that she was forgetting how mainstream that blog had become. He could read that she appreciated some of the risk factor, but she clearly didn\u2019t understand that she was live coast to coast. She had to be warned about that. He also understood that she was auditioning him for an affair. That she would propose this in public was terrifying. His students were all over that…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-122","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-chapters","comments-off"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/122","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=122"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/122\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=122"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=122"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=122"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}