Unlovely (27 page)

A few days after Vanessa had vacated her rooms, Claudia
showed up in Peter's classroom, two Styrofoam cups of coffee from the faculty
room in hand. She was wearing a new dress and by her own estimation looked
especially fetching. The dress had a scooped neckline that showed her clavicles
to their advantage.

Peter was at his desk as usual and was
alone, which was a gratifying sight.

"Hello! Do you have a moment?"
Claudia trilled, entering the room before Peter even had a chance to raise his
eyes from a paper he was correcting.

Peter looked up, sighed and dropped his
pen. Claudia was scurrying over so expectantly he felt a tug of sympathy. He'd
dreaded this conversation for a week, but it was inevitable.

"Hello, Claudia. I'm glad you
dropped by. I think we need to talk."

Claudia struggled to keep her facial
expression neutral, although she could make an educated guess as to the topic
he had in mind. She'd suspected Vanessa would pull a number on her before
leaving, and it appeared she had. Lord only knew what kind of a story she'd
told Peter.

"I saw Vanessa before she left,
Claudia, and she told me some things I found surprising," he began,
meeting her eyes swiftly before averting his gaze again.

Surprising? Claudia thought, Surprising
was okay. You could be pleased and surprised. Surprises could be exciting and
delightful. This might not be too bad
.

"Yes? What things?" she asked
brightly.

Peter glanced at Claudia, taken aback by
the levity of her tone. "Well, she told me that you two had a
confrontation – an ugly one. You exchanged words, you accused her of acting
inappropriately with me."

"That's true, Peter. We did have
words with one another and it was awful. I've never heard language like that
coming out of an educated woman's mouth in my life."

"Really? That's not the way I heard
it."

Claudia sat down in her usual seat next
to Peter's desk, and smoothed her skirt, picking off an imaginary bit of lint.
"Vanessa has problems, Peter. Serious problems. You didn't live in
residence with her. I don't know if you've ever been to her rooms – had you
ever been there, Peter?"

"No, of course not."

"No, I didn't think so. Well, if
you'd been there you would have seen evidence of a woman with some major
psychological issues. The place was a mess – not clutter, but filth, real
filth." Claudia shook her head at the sad recollection.

"Hmm," Peter processed this
bit of news before he continued, marking the concern on Claudia's brow.
"Well, I saw no evidence of any psychological problems in my few
interactions with her, but it's possible she may have had some issues. We all
have problems, don't we, Claudia? But that's beside the real point. I need to
speak to you about something else."

"Sure, Peter. What is it?"
Claudia smiled expectantly but her stomach convulsed. The incident with Vanessa
had been a risk. Spun the wrong way, it could serve to alienate Peter, spun the
right way, it could be a catalyst that would finally lead Peter to define his
feelings for her. She sensed the moment of truth was approaching.

"Vanessa told me that you were
concerned about our relationship – hers and mine – because you believed that
you and I have some sort of romantic understanding with one another."

That didn't sound good.

"Those were not my words,
Peter," she murmured, trying to keep the expression on her beige face
impassive.

"Well, those may not have been your
exact words, but was the nature of the conversation, as she recalled it,
essentially correct?"

Claudia lowered her eyes and pushed her
coffee cup an inch to the left on Peter's desk. "Yes. I told her that you
and I were friends."

"Really, that's all you told
her?"

"You don't believe me?"

Peter shifted uncomfortably.
"Claudia, for several months now you've been dropping by with coffee on
some pretext to sit with me and chat. Maybe I'm mistaken – and please tell me
if I am – but for some time I've suspected that you were dropping by not really
to seek help but to seek company."

Claudia smiled warmly. So she was right!
He had known all this time that she had not really been looking for an exchange
of teaching strategies, and he had gone along with it. He had been
participating in this mating dance with her.

"Yes, I suppose that's so, Peter.
Am I so transparent?" she purred. "I'll readily admit that I've enjoyed
getting to know you better over these months. I've grown fond of you."

Peter's smile was tight-lipped.
"Thank you. You're a very interesting person, yourself."

Interesting person
? Claudia's
smile became questioning as she wondered about Peter's choice of words.

"But I'm afraid we may have crossed
signals somewhere along the line," he continued. "Long before Vanessa
came to me with her story, which may or may not be true, I had the feeling that
perhaps you perceived something more between us than a warm, collegial
relationship."

Claudia's smile was gone now. She felt
the color rise in her cheeks.

"A man knows when he's being
pursued, Claudia, and I don't think I'm mistaken with regard to what's been
going on here. I should have brought this up long ago, but I didn't. Part of me
was flattered, of course; it's always nice when a woman shows interest in you,
and maybe that's what prevented me from addressing the issue head on."

Claudia was beginning to feel sick. She
longed to rush out of the room and escape the sound of Peter's voice, but her
dignity wouldn't permit it.

"I know you're a bit of an
introvert. I thought perhaps I filled a need you had for companionship. It was
wrong of me to let it go so far."

Claudia bristled, "Let me assure
you, I have no idea what you're talking about, Peter."

Peter interrupted her before she could
go on, "Please, allow me to finish. I may be wrong about all of this. You
may have no romantic inclinations toward me at all, in which case, please
accept my apology for making such an assumption. But the fact is that relations
are going to be strained between us from now on. I don't see how we can
continue these afternoon conversations with things being as they are, can you?
I'm sorry, but from now on I think you and I should have only a polite, civil,
professional relationship. Friendly, but not really friends, not really sharing
anything but an interest in our students and in Jameson Academy. Can you agree
to this?"

Claudia sat as if petrified for a
moment, absorbing Peter's words, before collecting her wits and rising from her
seat.

"All right, Peter. I'm afraid
you're very much mistaken in your interpretation of events as they've
transpired. It makes me sad that the word of an unbalanced woman would be
believed before my own. I hope you'll reconsider in time and we can resume our
friendship."

Peter didn't respond. He just watched
her, then shrugged.

"Very well. I'll go now,"
Claudia picked up her cup of coffee and indicated Peter's with a nod.
"Shall I leave that for you, or would you like me to take it?"

"You can take it away, thank you
Claudia," he said. Claudia picked up his cup and carried it to the door,
where she paused to throw it into the waste bin.

"Good bye, Peter. I'll see you
around."

Claudia walked directly out of the building and back to
her rooms, certain that she was leaving a vapor trail of bright red humiliation
in her wake, certain that anyone who saw her progress across campus would know
the terrible scene she'd just fled. Before unlocking her door, she jotted a
note on the message board next to it, alerting the residents that she was
feeling ill and should not be disturbed except in an emergency.

Flinging herself into an armchair, she
put her head in her hands and closed her eyes to organize the thoughts flashing
pell
mell
through her
brain. Was it possible that she had misinterpreted Peter's feelings for her?

No. No, that was impossible. She wasn't
some lovesick teenager making mountains out of molehills. She was an educated
woman with life experience. She was able to see things rationally. She didn't
make up romances out of whole cloth.

Claudia took a deep breath and let it
out slowly. It was getting her nowhere to respond so emotionally to the
situation. She had to think this whole thing through calmly and reasonably,
take it to pieces and examine the parts. Then she would know how to proceed.

Okay, down to brass tacks: Peter was a
man. An exceptional man, to be sure, but still a simple creature, sharing the
same motivations as his peers. Like most men, he would want a woman.

Why would he? Why do men like women?
That was easy: it was a biological response, a natural desire to pass on DNA.
If that were the only criterion, Claudia, who was in full possession of a pair
of working ovaries, was evenly matched against any woman on the planet with
regard to Peter's attentions. But, of course, there was more to it than simple
biology. The field of contenders had to be winnowed.

Narrow the field by age-appropriateness,
and you've eliminated the vast majority of women with whom Peter interacted
regularly: all of the students and a number of the faculty. Narrow it again by
intelligence, social aptitude and common interests, and you have still fewer
candidates. Narrow it yet again to women who would be receptive to his
advances, and the number became very small indeed. Claudia was unquestionably
among the cream of the crop.

That left her even more perplexed. She
was an ideal match for him, yet he was willing to let her slip away. It didn't
make sense. Peter said that a man knew when he was being pursued – well, so
does a woman. She knew she felt some interest – some romantic, physical
interest – coming from him. Why would he scuttle a relationship that was so
clearly promising?

And it wasn't only the romance he put
the kibosh on. He wanted to end their friendship altogether. Why? Why throw the
baby out with the perfectly fine bath water?

After some rumination, the only
explanation that made any sense was that Vanessa told him something so horrible
and vile that he got spooked. What could she have said? Claudia went over her
conversation with Vanessa, trying to bring every word, every nuance to mind.
What nugget did Vanessa pull out and twist into something so grotesque that
Peter felt driven to end things?

Claudia had been harshly critical of
Vanessa, true, but words had been exchanged on both sides. Claudia hadn't been
the only one to use vulgar language. As a matter of fact, Vanessa was the one
who'd cursed; Claudia had just made observations. Yes, she had used strong
language, much stronger than usual for her, but she had only done that because
Vanessa was being so obtuse. (Isn't this always the way things go? The person
who goes out on a limb to speak the truth is the one who gets burned.)

After reviewing the scene with Vanessa
multiple times, the only thing Claudia could deduce was that Vanessa had lied.
She naturally wouldn't have told Peter Claudia's accusations against her – that
she was, in short, a slut. The truth hurt, and Vanessa wouldn't repeat it to a
man she'd meant to seduce. She must have come up with something awful, though.
What? What could it have been?

Whatever is was, it was something that
made Peter so uncomfortable that he was willing to fling away his chance at
happiness. There were all kinds of things it could have been, anything at all
just as long as it painted Claudia in an unflattering light. She could have
made up some horrible verbal exchange out of thin air. She may have even said
that Claudia had assaulted her. Unfortunately, there was no way to know unless
Vanessa or Peter told her the details of their conversation.

So, what to do under these
circumstances? Claudia was not one to cut her losses and move on. It had taken
not a little deliberation to conclude that she and Peter would pair nicely, and
it had taken subtlety and restraint on her part to lay the foundation. All
those months of groundwork! It was a shame to throw it away. She couldn't, she
just couldn't. It would be wrong – a grave error – to forsake their relationship
altogether and allow Vanessa Foster's vindictive lies to triumph.

So what now? How could Claudia salvage
this?

A cup of tea and a hot bath later,
Claudia came up with a plan. It was so simple.

Peter Tomlinson, as a carrier of the Y chromosome, had
not attended Jameson Academy in his youth. His mother, a double X, had. Claudia
had seen Helen Tomlinson on campus several times over the years; she was one of
those active, excessively sentimental alumnae, the kind who fund small academic
scholarships and lead committees for campus beautification. She was a familiar
presence in the dormitories; once or twice a semester she could be found
trotting through the hallways with her chums, poking her head into bedrooms to
chat with girls and remind them of the remarkable opportunity they'd been given
as students at such a marvelous school.