The Weird Sisters - Eleanor Brown [77]
“I thought we’d talked about looking for somewhere else after next year,” Jonathan said. His voice was cautious, probing.
“We did. But this is Barnwell, Jonathan. I’ve always wanted to teach there, ever since I was a little girl. Isn’t it exciting? I know it sounds stupid, but it’s like a dream come true.”
“Yes, I guess it is.”
“You don’t sound happy.”
“I’m not unhappy. I just . . . You’ve taken me a bit by surprise here. This isn’t the direction I thought we were heading in.”
“No, it’s not like we’d talked about it. But it’s so perfect. I could be near my parents, and you’d be so close to home, too, and I know Columbus would take you back—the provost said as much, even though you broke your contract. And it’s so much more affordable here than in the city. You could commute, and, well, it would just be perfect!” Rose could hear the hesitation in his voice, and she pushed through, forcing cheer into her own, as though she could inflate him with her excitement from miles away. She bit her lip and waited for his reply.
“It’s funny that you’re telling me this now, because the thing is . . .” He stopped, cleared his throat, laughed awkwardly. “It’s kind of ironic, really. I’ve been offered a visiting professorship.”
“Where?” Rose said, but her stomach was already souring. He was going to leave her. He was going to leave her alone.
“Here! It’s amazing. Two years. I’d be able to finish my research. I’ve got these amazing doctoral candidates to work with; I know we could finish and publish in that time. It’s incredible, really, Rosie. You wouldn’t believe the competition.”
“I didn’t even know you were applying,” Rose said, and she could hear how weak she sounded, and she hated herself for it. She sat up and leaned forward on the edge of the bed, her stomach pressing into her thighs.
Jonathan’s voice softened. “I didn’t want to upset you. You’re upset, aren’t you?”
Rose swallowed. “No, I’m happy. Happy for you.” It was a lie and he knew it.
“But I haven’t even told you, Rosie. They’re moving me into an apartment, so there will be room for you, too. You can come over and we’ll be Brits for two whole years.”
“In England.”
“That is the primary location,” Jonathan said. Tension thrummed behind his voice. “Think of it, Rose. It’s like a sign.”
“But we’re getting married,” Rose said, and it was more of a cry, her voice cracking in the last syllable.
“And we still are,” Jonathan said. “But it means you could come here, take a sabbatical.”
“I can’t. There won’t be a position open when we come back. Do you know how long I’ve waited for something to open up here?”
“Does it have to be Barnwell?”
“Does it have to be England?” she asked. She sounded ridiculous, whiny, childish, but she couldn’t stop herself.
“Rosie,” he said, and he sounded stern. “This is the chance of a lifetime.”
And it was. For him.
“For both of us,” he said. How well he knew her.
“You want me to come to England,” she said.
“No, you’re coming to England anyway. I want us to live in England. For a little while. Rose, you know what a coup this is for my career. And you know the odds of a position opening mid-year are so small. It’s perfect for me, and it’s perfect for you. You can write and get some articles published, and then we’ll find positions somewhere else. Somewhere that sees you for the incredible researcher and teacher you are.”
Rose said nothing.
“Rose, I’ve got to have you with me. I miss you so much. Every day I look at those stupid dreaming spires and I wish you were here to see them, too.”
“Jonathan, I don’t know,” she said. “I mean, my mother, and the wedding, and we were going to buy a house, and I . . .” She trailed off. It was so unfair. He knew how much she’d always wanted a job at Barnwell. And a tenure-track job at that. Security. No pulling up roots every two or three years to head somewhere else only to have to do it again.