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I should have known better than to trust him. Jaxon broke my heart four years ago and he’d done so again. This time he had no excuse.

-*-

There were only two places I could go and Jaxon would likely figure both of them out. If I went to the penthouse, Jaxon would be able to call the reception desk at the hotel and ask them if anyone had entered his room. At least by going to Aaron’s house he wouldn’t be able to find me. He’d know I was at Aaron’s, but as far as I knew he didn’t have Aaron’s address.

I asked Aaron to pick me up and told him I needed a place to stay. I refused to say any more than that until we were in his house, because it didn’t seem like a good idea to tell him I was nearly raped by my boyfriend’s father while he was driving.

Aaron’s girlfriend knew something was wrong immediately and told Aaron to make me a cup of tea.  

“Do you want me to give you two some privacy?” Millie asked. Like Jaxon, Millie was completely fine with Aaron and I being so close. All of Aaron’s previous girlfriends had harbored varying degrees of resentment towards my relationship with him, so I hoped he managed to cling on to this one.

“No, it’s fine,” I replied. Aaron would probably tell Millie the story anyway, and I was staying in her house—she owned it and Aaron had moved in with her—so she deserved to know.

“I take it you’ve had a fight with Jaxon?” Aaron asked. “Seems a bit drastic to leave your own home because of it though.”

“Things are complicated at home right now,” I said. When the kettle had boiled and Aaron returned with a cup of tea, I told them both what had happened at college three years ago and then the events of tonight. All things considered, I managed to stay remarkably calm and neutral throughout, and even found the shocked faces of Aaron and Millie somewhat amusing. I couldn’t deny that the set of events was somewhat extraordinary.

“I don’t know what to say,” Aaron said. He’d sat down on the arm of the chair next to Millie and looked completely stunned although I didn’t know whether that was because of the event in college, Jaxon’s reaction to it, or both.

After an awkward silence, Millie came and sat next to me and put her arm around me. I still had a cup of hot tea in my hand, so she didn’t bring me in for a full hug, but it was nice to have some physical support nonetheless.  

“Why didn’t you press charges?” Aaron asked. “Back when it first happened. He sounds like a real creep.”

“That’s such a typical male response,” Millie snapped. “You do realize that most colleges have an awful record at dealing with sexual assault cases? It’s bad enough when it’s between two students, but when there is a professor involved then the chances of it going anywhere are slim to none.”

“I also felt partly to blame,” I said. “How would it sound when I told people that I went to a professor’s house alone on a weekend? At best, I would look hopelessly naive, and at worst people would just flat out assume I was lying or had tried to entrap the professor. I also thought his threats were empty; I didn’t believe for a second that he would follow through on them.”  

“Jaxon will come round,” Aaron said. “You just took him by surprise, that’s all. Put yourself in his shoes right now. He’s already battling a life-threatening illness and then the one person in his family that he trusts and admires shows up and you call him a rapist.”

“He is a rapist,” Millie said. “Look, I feel awful for what Jaxon is going through right now, but that’s no excuse for the way he is acting. He has a heck of a lot of explaining to do.”

Millie’s support was reassuring, but even after everything he had said and done tonight, I still didn’t like hearing people talk bad about him. Only I was allowed to do that.

“Just give him some time to think this through,” Aaron said. “Who hasn’t said stupid shit in the spur of the moment. I’m always saying things I regret later on.”

“Why are you sticking up for him?” Millie asked. “Or is this just some of the stupid shit you are saying now and will regret later?”

“Say what you want about Jaxon,” Aaron said, “but he did a pretty brave thing four years ago. He wasn’t a bad person then and he isn’t now.”

“Maybe not, but he’s still hurt Jennifer.” Millie turned to me. “You can stay here for as long as you like. I’ll go make up the spare room.”

“Sorry about her,” Aaron said, after making sure Millie was upstairs and out of earshot. “She doesn’t hold back with her opinions. Usually I like that, but it can be a little abrasive sometimes.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I don’t disagree with her. I know Jaxon had his reasons for what he did four years ago, but those reasons don’t apply here. He doesn’t trust me and I’m not sure I can forgive that.”

“Okay, but just take your time and think this through. Don’t do anything you might regret later.”

I knew what Aaron was getting at. I might only have a limited amount of time with Jaxon. If I split up with him now and something bad happened, I would never forgive myself.  

But I also wasn’t sure I could be with someone who had such little trust in me. I desperately wanted to spend as much time with Jaxon as possible, but unless he accepted what his father had done to me, I couldn’t bear to be in the same room as him, let alone anything more intimate.

I checked my phone and didn’t see a single missed call or message from Jaxon. He’d made his decision and apparently that didn’t involve me.

I stayed in Jenny’s room after she stormed off. I didn’t want to go back downstairs and face Dad just yet. Why would she say those things about my father? I knew I sounded like a complete pig when I accused her of making the whole thing up, but there had to be some explanation for what happened. The thought of my dad propositioning Jenny was ludicrous; she was about thirty years younger than him for one thing.

I pulled out my phone and found Dad’s LinkedIn profile. He listed a summer position at Harvard, and the short summary mentioned that he had taught classes related to the current business climate in the Middle East. Jenny hadn’t mistaken Dad for someone else, so that explanation was off the table.

Dad and I didn’t speak about work that often, but it did seem a little odd that he had never mentioned getting a teaching position at Harvard. If anything, it would have been something for me to drop into conversation with Mom to remind her how well Dad was doing. She always hated hearing that.

The muffled sound of conversation from downstairs seemed to have died down, so I headed downstairs in case Sheridan and Dad had run out of things to talk about.

“Sorry about that,” I said, sitting back down at the table. “Jenny’s had a tough few weeks.” I looked at Dad, but he had his eyes on his food. He didn’t look quite as cheerful as he had ten minutes ago, but the whole situation had been rather awkward for a guest to endure.

“That wasn’t like Jenny at all,” Sheridan remarked. “She’s never usually rude to guests.”

My dad slowly chewed his food, and then put his fork down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I think I know what’s wrong,” Dad said. “I must confess I’ve been a touch dishonest with you both here this evening.”  

“What is it Dad?” I asked.  

“I’ve met Jennifer before,” Dad said. “I taught some classes at Harvard a few years ago and she was one of my students.”

My heart rate increased slightly as Dad’s story started getting worryingly close to Jenny’s. Surely he wasn’t about to admit he had a crush on Jenny. That would be much more than a “touch dishonest.”

“Oh,” Sheridan said, looking puzzled. “Why didn’t you say anything? She acted like she’d never seen you before.”

“I figured it was best to pretend we were strangers,” Dad admitted. “And evidently Jennifer thought the same thing. You see… this is tough to say,” Dad said, trailing off.  

Dad looked uncomfortable. He fidgeted in his seat and I caught a bead of sweat trickling down his neck. I’d never seen him like this. Dad regularly spoke in front of large crowds of executives; he wasn’t the type to get nervous easily.

“It’s okay, Dad, you can tell us.”
Please
have an explanation for all this. I need to know what the hell is going on here.

“I had to fail Jennifer in the classes I taught,” Dad said.  

“Ah,” Sheridan said, stretching out the sound. “Yes, I knew she failed a few classes.”  

“Why?” I asked. “Jenny’s a good student. I’m surprised she failed.” I tried to keep my voice relaxed, but I started to feel as nervous as Dad looked. There was no good answer. If my dad had a good explanation then that meant Jenny was lying and if not… well, I didn’t want to consider that possibility.

“She just never took to the subject matter,” Dad said. “It’s quite common unfortunately. A lot of students want to learn about the Middle East these days, but not everyone is cut out for it. Jenny was probably a great student, but she struggled with the terminology in class. I insist on using a lot of Arabic terms in class because many of the words don’t have a good translation into English. If you can’t follow the terminology, then you quickly get behind and there’s no way to catch up.”

Dad didn’t speak any Arabic, but I believed that he would use the original terms. He’d told me there were similar issues with Mandarin translations. Apparently in China they have a term called
guan xi
, but it doesn’t translate into English without sounding a lot like a bribe, which is not quite what it is. Arabic would likely be full of similar terms.

But Jenny couldn’t have struggled with the language. She’d been studying it for years and her grades were excellent in high school. She would have had a huge advantage over the other students in the class.  

Sheridan obviously had a similar thought. “Jennifer studied Arabic for years,” he said to Dad.  

Dad had picked up his fork again and when Sheridan mentioned Jenny studying Arabic in school his fingers gripped the fork harder and shook slightly.

“Oh yes, that’s right,” Dad said, then quickly put some food into his mouth. He followed it down with a sip of the wine and then grabbed his glass of water and took a long sip of that as well. “She learned
Egyptian
Arabic. That’s similar, but different to the Modern Standard Arabic I use in class. It’d be like knowing Cantonese and then having to use Mandarin terms. In fact, the differences in the dialect were probably what caused the confusion she faced.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Sheridan said. Dad looked visibly relieved and loosened his grip on the fork. “Don’t worry about it. Jennifer got good grades overall and it’s not your fault if she messed up in a couple of classes. I’m still annoyed she was so rude to you tonight.”

“No harm done,” Dad said.  

I felt sick and this time the nausea was nothing to do with my therapy. Jenny knew the modern Arabic dialect, not Egyptian. He was lying. I was sure of it. I’d seen Dad like this before, back when him and Mom were having problems. They had both lied to me about it for a while, but whereas Mom remained cool and collected, Dad’s body language often gave him away.  

“She must have been pretty bad to fail though,” I said. “Couldn’t you have just given her a bad grade?”

“It doesn’t matter, Jaxon,” Sheridan said. “Let’s just draw a line under it.”  

“It does matter,” I said. “What was so bad about her paper?”

“She turned it in late,” Dad said. “I had no choice but to give her a failing grade; university policy.”

I would bet all my money that Jenny had never turned in an assignment late in her life.  

“I’m surprised she never came to you for help during office hours,” I said.

“Me too,” Dad replied. “But many students are nervous around professors.”  

Silence fell over the table. Sheridan went back to eating dinner, which must have been getting cold now, but Dad and I stared at each other. Just a few hours ago I’d been telling him about my illness over dinner, and he’d been the same strong man who’d supported me all my life. Now he was like a stranger in front of my eyes.

“She told me,” I said. “Jenny told me what you did.”

“Son, I’m sure whatever she told you—”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I saw the email you sent her inviting her to your house.” I hadn’t seen it, but he wouldn’t know that. “You told me she never came to office hours, but I know you’re lying.”