Sylvan Courtyard 10: Going Away

This is the last tale of Ken at the Sylvan Courtyard, and probably the last tale of Ken. We will see. For the moment, sit back and enjoy the end of his idyls as a grad student.

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Sylvan Courtyard -- Ten: A Going Away Surprise

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The defense of my dissertation was exhausting. Actually, the week before was the truly exhausting part, as I drilled and rehearsed and spent hours with my mentor fielding sample questions. When the morning of my defense came, I was ready and I knew it. I wasn't cocky, I was ready. I was also worn out before it began.

The board that was formed to hear my Viva Voce was almost flattering, and definitely intimidating. Our university's lone Nobel laureate, a retired professor emeritus I had not seen on campus in a year, was on the panel. Amanda, let's call her Doctor Thames in the context of this event, was of course not among the examiners, but she did attend, which was gratifying. Her presence was also impressive in that it required her to be in the same room with my mentor for more than two hours.

Several other professors who did not need to be there also made time to attend my defense. I had invited all my current students (and one or two others from prior classes). A gratifying number of those among them who had doctoral ambitions of their own actually showed up to experience my ordeal, and learn.

It was a risk, inviting current students to watch me take the most important oral exam of my life. If I crapped the bed, it might be hard to maintain discipline going forward.

My father attended via Zoom. That was real pressure.

I did not invite anyone from Sylvan Courtyard. I wanted my defense to be a professional, not a social thing. And also... a successful defense would mean big changes, and I did not want that to color my experience on the day. My defense was about my career, and I did not want to think right then about how a success would change my personal life.

Fortunately, my university is one that does not cruelly make a candidate wait for a decision. The board adjourned to an adjacent room for a shockingly short period of time, then returned. They all looked grim-faced as they sat. Finally, Dr. Fetterman came back in, approached me, shook my hand, and for the first time I was addressed as, Doctor Hawthorne!

My father was shockingly close to emotional about it all, but refused to stay online to talk to me for long, insisting that I go celebrate with my friends. He made it sound like I was ten again, and I had just won that chess club trophy I still kept. Trust Dad to give me some perspective.

I then was congratulated by a gaggle of my students. I knew that many of them wanted to razz me, but they knew if they did, I'd quiz them about my defense. If a quarter of them had understood a single damn thing about my research, I was a better teacher than I thought.

I found myself really hoping that I might get an 'invitation to a celebratory tea' from Amanda. What I got instead was the chance to be stuck between her and my mentor for a ten-minute edition of one of their vicious, utterly civilized catfights. Worse, the unspoken subtext of their contretemps was my having fucked Mandy... Amanda... Doctor Thames... whoever. Both of them seemed to feel that they had put something over on the other by way of that sexual escapade.

Do not fall in love with a professional rival. Noted.

In my younger life, I had learned many valuable lessons about Love. I was glad not to have had to learn this one the painful way.

Still, no invitation to tea for me!

A week later, in a moment of weakness, my mentor confessed that he was the one who got the invitation to tea, followed by six fucking hours of... fucking. He further confessed that that sort of thing happens a little more than once a year. The two really can't stand each other, but neither can quite give up the sex either.

I escaped their bickering, or foreplay, or whatever the fuck it ended up being, and made a phone call to Colorado to let the department chair know that his bet on me had been a good one.

I went out drinking afterward with four of my fellow candidates who still had the ordeal in front of them someday. We went late into the night, solving the world's problems, and I needed to Uber back home.

I awoke the next morning badly hungover. I rarely get drunk enough to be hungover, and I do not enjoy the sensation, nor do I handle it well. I emailed my one class of the day that Doctor Hawthorne was granting them a day off from class in Celebration of His Ascension, then went back to sleep. I spent the afternoon talking on the phone and via Facetime to people at my new job in Colorado, mostly about housing options. Everyone out there to whom I spoke was gratifyingly enthusiastic that I had cleared the last hurdle before becoming one of them.

About six o'clock, I realized that I still needed to retrieve my truck. I also needed to eat and maybe buy some wine. Or maybe not, when it came to the wine... My head no longer hurt, but it actively remembered hurting.

I wandered down to the complex's entrance, puzzling over my phone. Uber was quoting a goddamned 25 minute wait for a car. Lyft was saying only 8 minutes, but I knew the Lyft driver who lived out our way. It had to be him to be available so nearby, and the guy was a total douche. Also, his car smelt like patchouli. But 25 minutes...

Josie was in the lobby when I got there, taking down expired notices on the bulletin board and putting up something about a birthday party for Manny Dinkins the next month.

"Heyo, Ken! You look worn out for this time of day," she observed drily at my still-recovering demeanor. "Bad day today?"

"Not the best," I admitted. "The real problem is that last night was great... and very, very late. Now I have to take a rideshare to retrieve my truck from McMurtry's where I left it last night."

"Wait! The Great Ken Hawthorne let himself get too drunk to drive?" Josie mocked with a smile. "Jesse would be so disappointed!"

I curled my lip but thought better of telling her what Jesse could do with his disapproval.

"Well, as it happens," Josie went on, gleefully ignoring my sneer and stabbing a last staple into the board. "I am now officially done with my workday. How about I drive you over instead?"

"Would you?" I asked, perking up considerably. No 25 minute wait. No patchouli...

I had never actually seen Josie's vehicle before, and I had a brief moment of male angst when I grasped by how much her F-350 pickup dwarfed my only slightly newer F-150. "Listen," I said as we settled into that beast and she pulled out expertly from the narrow space, "I am also starving. I cannot face the grocery store tonight, yet have nothing but soup in my apartment. How about I buy you dinner to pay for the ride?"

Josie laughed. "You are not buying me dinner, Ken. Sounds too much like a date. You know I don't date tenants." Before I could object, she went on quickly. "But as it happens, I too have nothing but soup in my apartment, so I'll be happy to split the check."

"Fine, but I am still buying the first round," I acquiesced. "And no tequila!" I vowed fervently, shaking a finger at my driver. She laughed.

We got my truck and decided on a little seafood place nearby. We drove over there and got a table. Josie immediately betrayed me by ordering us both Paloma's before I could open my mouth. She looked so gleefully smug at putting one over on me that I did not override her. Instead, I overrode my lurching stomach.

When the drinks came, I raised my glass to Josie and said, "Here's to me!"

She dutifully raised her own, but pulled it away before they clinked together. "What did you do that rates my approval?"

"Allow me to introduce myself," I said, taking a happy sip. "I am Doctor Ken Hawthorne."

"No Shit!" Josie exclaimed with a brilliant smile. "This calls for shots!"

"Please, God, no," I whimpered.

She just giggled. "Seriously, dude. That is so wonderful. Congratulations," she added warmly. Then our usual attitude toward each other reasserted itself, and she leaned in with a grin. "So, which of your lady friends back at the Courtyard is going to celebrate with you first?"

Excuse me?

"Who says I have any of that sort of lady friend at the apartments?" I asked cautiously.

Josie laughed. "Dude. I own the place. I am always around, talking to everyone." She took a shit-eating sip of her cocktail. "You are discrete, I'll give you that. Way more than certain other guys and girls who pay me rent," she went on merrily. "But if nothing else, I'm in Pole Dance Club, remember? No one in the club will admit to any direct knowledge, but you get discussed. And before you say anything else, I am betting that whatever they admit, one or more members themselves have acquired some direct carnal knowledge of your ass."

"Um..."

"Don't you worry your pretty little male head," she said patronizingly. "All the scuttlebutt is positive. Now, what would you think about some of the potato skins?" she shifted gears, looking at the menu.

I could not leave this verbal assault unanswered. But I also had no intention of going into detail about my butt, scuttled or otherwise. Similarly, I was not talking about my little male head with Josie! Time to deflect.

"Honestly, I am just far more curious about how you get along, Josie," I drawled. "I know you don't actually date tenants, but you have to find entertainment for yourself somehow... Are you entertaining someone outside the courtyard...?"

She just looked at me sidelong. She seemed to swallow, then narrowed her eyes at me. "All right then, Mr... I mean, Doctor Nosey. I am utterly pure as regards tenants, thank you. The female ones too, before you get your allegedly pervy mind going," she added tartly. "But how much vacation do you think Jesse and I give each other each year?"

"Huh?" I asked, thrown by the non-sequitor. "Two weeks at least, I guess. You do own the place. When do you take it?"

"Seven weeks," Josie said smugly. Seven? Wow. "And did you not notice I took eight whole days in a row, back in July?"

"I noticed you weren't at Beer Club," I said, wracking my brain. "A whole week? Where'd you go?"

Josie still seemed stung at my taunt. "I always go someplace fun--someplace I know there will be lots of good-looking guys," she added significantly.

"Right on," I said with an approving grin.

"In July, I spent a week at an all-inclusive in Costa Rica," she added. "A clothing-optional all-inclusive."

My approving grin got a little weaker, but I held it.

"I may not have the regular 'exercise' you get, Ken, but I know how to play too," she said firmly.

I sensed that was supposed to shut down the discussion, and I was on board with that, but I was still curious about the overall vacation thing. "I am sure I've never seen Jesse be gone for a week. It is hard to go a day without seeing him!"

"My brother always goes to one, usually two World Series games each year. And he always goes somewhere for a first-round, four-day weekend of the NCAA tournament," Josie said. "He always splurges for the best seats he can get to both." Her face soured. "Aside from that, he just takes two- or three-day staycations, forwards his phone to me, and reads. I understand Patty has put a stop to that, so yet another reason to thank you for her presence." The sudden smile on her face was genuine and gratifying.

We smoothly moved on to subjects less fraught than our respective biological adventures, or even Jesse's, but I found myself edgy. I was going to have to break my lease early, leaving right after Christmas time. I realized that I should go ahead and give notice as soon as possible, to help Jesse and Josie out. I owed both of them that, and more.

I decided this seemed like an auspicious chance to tell Josie, but before I could say anything, she got a squirrely expression on her face. "Ken... This isn't for general dissemination yet, but I do want to start telling a few people at least, including you," she said slowly.

I wanted to make a quip, but she actually seemed... nervous? Sad? Worried? Afraid? Ambivalent? I shut up and waited.

"I am leaving," Josie said flatly, after summoning whatever she needed to break her pause.

"Leaving?" I said, dodging a stab of unexplained panic. "Where? Why? How?"

"Jesse is buying me out at the end of the year," Josie said softly. "With Patty in his life pretty much permanently, I don't feel like I have to stick around long-term to keep my bro sane, you know? And Jesse is planning to ask her to marry him, though he hasn't manned up and done it yet. Before you ask, I also know she is going to say yes," she added with a grin.

Nice. I flashed a very brief smile at that news. Very brief.

"But, I thought you loved it here," I said, actually feeling a little hurt somehow.

"Dude! I do!" Josie said quickly. "But think about it. It is totally idyllic right now, running an apartment full of people my age. But every year, the tenants will get younger, if you know what I mean. And you guys are my total social life, you know? My brother is my fucking work husband. I mean, I have to fly to Costa Rica to get..." she cut herself off for a moment. "I am going to stay in real estate and property management, but I am avoiding another closed ecosystem like the Courtyard."

"Jesse can afford to buy you out?" I asked dubiously.

Turns out both Josie's parents and her uncle had been pretty well off to begin with. All had also had excellent life insurance. Josie and Jesse had been able to make a fair deal all around.

"Wow," I said again, processing this. I would be gone anyway, but I had in just the space of months come to view the Courtyard as some idyllic, timeless place, always there in my mind as a place of refuge if I needed it, presided over by Jesse... and Josie. "So have you given much thought to where you will go next? Nearby?" I asked, trying to process the sudden holes in my imaginary security blanket.

"I would not have sold out to Jesse if I didn't already have both a plan and a business plan, dingbat," Josie snorted. "I have one small building already in contract. It has eight units and a live-in superintendent apartment I intend to keep for myself. I close on that property in late November. And there is a three-building mini-complex near to it that I hope to sign the deal for next Tuesday, if the bank finally gets its shit together on preliminary approval."

"You can buy two properties with the sale of half this place?" I asked in surprise.

"The Courtyard is pristine and a profit machine. Jesse is paying me a lot," Josie said matter-of-factly. "These new properties are both in worn-out, shit condition, but in somewhat desirable locations," Josie said, leaning in with a brilliant smile and an avaricious glint in her eye. "For the area, they are both steals. Once I finish doing the renovations myself, I'll be able to double the rent for new residents." She shrugged. "That, and/or sell the places for a hearty profit and do it again."

"I am keeping the contracts with the existing maintenance firms for both places in the meantime, so I can stay here through Christmas. I just kind of want to do that," she added, her voice making it clear she felt some emotional costs from leaving.

"You don't want to get going on renovations immediately?" I asked, starting to move past the idea of a Josie-less Sylvan Courtyard, and getting curious about her new life.

"Winter is not the time to begin exterior renovations on real estate along the Western Slope in Colorado," she said with a smile and a shrug, rediscovering her food for a moment.

What?

I swear I almost bolted from the table. My whole endocrine system just tripped off for some damned reason and my heart raced. It was like my fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, though I had no desire for either.

"Colorado?" I asked as calmly as I could. "Where?"

She told me.

Nope. That did nothing to calm my nerves.

"Well," I said slowly, keeping a tremor out of my voice that unaccountably wanted to be there, "all this should mean you won't be as mad at me as Jesse will be."

"Huh?" Josie asked, pausing over a bit of her trout.

"Getting my degree means that I also am leaving," I said firmly. "There is no path for tenure for me here. I have to go. And my successful defense yesterday means I have a confirmed new job--an associate professorship waiting for me in January."

"Holy shit! Congratulations even more, Ken," Josie said, a brilliant smile on her face. Then her more normal nature reasserted itself. "What university did you con into hiring your flighty, lease-breaking ass?"

I told her.

She stared at me, wide-eyed.

"My new employer is supposedly fifty-percent of the non-tourist economy in your new town," I added, somehow almost grimly. "I imagine that at least a few of my future students will be your tenants."

Her eyes stayed wide. Her blue eyes are big at normal times, but they seemed suddenly huge.

I held my breath, terrified and also hopeful about how she would react. That endocrine system kept pouring mind-altering chemicals into my bloodstream.

"You are telling me that we are both, independently, moving to the same fucking small town fifteen-hundred miles away, and in the same month?"

"At least we will each know someone there when we get there," I said weakly.

"That's... that's..."

"Yeah," I said.

Did not see this coming when I wanted to avoid soup tonight.

Josie was silent while she fidgeted in her chair for a few moments. I compulsively ate some of my bass, trying to dilute my chemical-flooded bloodstream with protein. (I know it doesn't work that way. Shut up.)

"So, the real takeaway here," Josie said at last, "is that neither of us discusses any of this with the others until we each do our own announcing, right?"

"Right," I said.

And we ate. We also excitedly talked about our new home, compared notes on what we knew already, and found that each of us had researched different things, so our combined knowledge was much expanded.

We also took comfort that we were each not the only one leaving after Christmas.

Mostly, all I could think of was how amazing it was that I had a friend who would be around when I got to what I had an hour ago expected to be a very lonely new town. How fantastic it was that that friend would be Josie.

We finished the meal. Thankfully, we avoided a second drink. I was in no mood for a muzzy mind or delicate tummy. In my own truck, I followed hers back into the woods and parked next to that behemoth in the darkening evening.

We both got out in the parking lot and stood there, talking about whatever we had each thought of during the drive. We were excited. This would be fun. We both had new, crazy professional challenges ahead of us, but we would know someone. We would have a good friend.

Our fresh material ran out, and we turned to walk from where we were parked toward the entrance.

I fought the sudden urge to say goodnight with a friendly kiss on Josie's soft, smooth cheek.

No. Nope. No. This had not been a date, and besides, when had I ever thought to do such a thing?

We took another few strides. I was not going to just up and kiss my friend. Making it weird now of all times would be beyond stupid. I dismissed the idea.

Then my feet stopped and my mouth asked, "Josie, can I kiss you?"

Josie stopped and looked at me, her eyes doing that wide-open thing again. Then she looked down.

Shit.

She looked back up into my eyes and said softly, "Please."

Autopilot still seemed engaged, and I leaned in toward her. My hands rose on their own and delicately clasped her jawline, my thumbs resting on her cheeks as softly as I could manage, and I put my lips to hers.

Endocrine system overload again, even more channels than earlier.