I went back to my o๏ฌce and changed from my Gregory Peck costume into my new pants and jacket.ย ๎en I made a phone call.ย ๎e receptionist was not prepared to make an appointment for a personal matter, so I booked a ๏ฌtness evaluation with Phil Jarman, Rosieโs father in air quotes, for 4:00 p.m.
As I got up to leave, the Dean knocked and walked in. She signaled for me to follow her. It was not part of my plan, but today was an appropriate day to close this phase of my professional life.
We went down in the lift and then across the campus to her o๏ฌce, not speaking. It seemed that our conversation needed to take place in a formal setting. I felt uncomfortable, which was a rational response to the almost-certain prospect of being dismissed for professional misconduct from a tenured position at a prestigious university. But I had expected this and my feelings came from a di๏ฌerent source.ย ๎e scenario triggered a memory from my ๏ฌrst week at a new school, of being sent to the principalโs o๏ฌce as a result of allegedly inappropriate behavior.ย ๎e purported misconduct involved a rigorous questioning of our religious education teacher. In retrospect, I understood that she was a well-meaning person, but she used her position of power over an eleven-year-old to cause me considerable distress.
๎e principal was, in fact, reasonably sympathetic but warned me that I needed to show โrespect.โ But he was too late: as I walked to his o๏ฌce, I had made the decision that it was pointless to try to ๏ฌt in. I would be the class clown for the next six years.
I have thought about this event often. At the time my decision felt like a rational response based on my assessment of the new environment, but in
retrospect I understood that I had been driven by anger at the power structure that suppressed my arguments.
Now as I walked to the Deanโs o๏ฌce, another thought occurred to me. What if my teacher had been a brilliant theologian, equipped with two thousand years of well-articulated Christian thinking? She would have had more compelling arguments than an eleven-year-old. Would I have then been satis๏ฌed? I suspect not. As a scientist, with an allegiance to scienti๏ฌc thinking, I would have had a deep-seated feeling that I was being, as Rosie would say, bullshitted. Was that how Faith Healer had felt?
Had the ๏ฌounder demonstration been an instance of bullying as heinous as the one committed by my religious education teacher,ย even though I was right?
As we entered the Deanโs o๏ฌce for what I expected to be the last time, I
took notice of her full name on the door, and a minor confusion was resolved. Professor Charlotte Lawrence. I had never thought of her as โCharlie,โ but presumably Simon Lefebvre did.
We entered her o๏ฌce and sat down. โI see weโre in our job interview clothes,โ she said. โIโm sorry you didnโt see ๏ฌt to grace us with them during your time here.โ
I did not respond.
โSo. No report. No explanation?โ
Again, I could not think of anything appropriate to say.
Simon Lefebvre appeared at the door. Obviously this had been planned.
๎e DeanโCharlieโwaved him in.
โYou can save time by explaining to Simon and me together.โ Lefebvre was carrying the documents that I had given him.
At that point, the Deanโs personal assistant, Regina, who is not objecti๏ฌed by having the words โ๎e Beautifulโ included in her name, entered the room.
โSorry to bother you, Professor,โ she said, ambiguously, as we were all professors, for the next few minutes at least, but the context made it clear she was addressing the Dean. โIโve got a problem with your booking at Le Gavroche.ย ๎ey seem to have taken you o๏ฌย the VIP list.โ
๎e Deanโs face registered annoyance, but she waved Regina away. Simon Lefebvre smiled at me. โYou couldโve just sent me this,โ he said,
referring to the documents. โNo need for the theatrical performance. Which I have to concede was beautifully done. As is the proposal. Weโll
need to run it by the ethics guys, but itโs exactly what weโre looking for. Genetics and medicine, topicโs current, weโll both get publicity.โ
I attempted to analyze the Deanโs expression. It was beyond my current skill set.
โSo congratulations, Charlie,โ said Simon. โYouโve got your joint research project.ย ๎e Medical Research Institute is prepared to put in four mil, which is more than the budget actually speci๏ฌes, so youโre set to go.โ
I presumed he meant four million dollars.
He pointed to me. โHang on to this one, Charlie. Heโs a dark horse. And I need him to be part of the project.โ
I got my ๏ฌrst real return on my investment in improved social skills. I had worked out what was going on. I did not ask a silly question. I did not put the Dean in a position of untenable embarrassment where she might work against her own interests. I just nodded and walked back to my o๏ฌce.
โข โข โข
Phil Jarman had blue eyes. I knew this but it was the ๏ฌrst thing I noticed. He was in his mid๏ฌfties, about ten centimeters taller than me, powerfully built, and extremely ๏ฌt-looking. We were standing in front of the reception desk at Jarmanโs Gym. On the wall were newspaper cuttings and photos of a younger Phil playing football. If I had been a medical student without advanced martial arts skills, I would have thought carefully before having sex with this manโs girlfriend. Perhaps this was the simple reason that Phil had never been informed of the identity of Rosieโs father.
โGet the prof some gear and get his signature on a waiver form.โ
๎e woman behind the counter seemed puzzled. โItโs just an assessment.โ
โNew procedure starts today,โ said Phil.
โI donโt require an assessment,โ I began, but Phil seemed to have ๏ฌxed ideas.
โYou booked one,โ he said. โSixty-๏ฌve bucks. Letโs get you some boxing gloves.โ
I wondered if he realized that he had called me โprof.โ Presumably Rosie had been right, and he had seen the dancing picture. I had not bothered to disguise my name. But at least I knew that he knew who I was. Did he know that I knew that he knew who I was? I was getting quite good at social subtleties.
I changed into a T-shirt and shorts, which smelled freshly laundered, and we put on boxing gloves. I had only done the occasional boxing workout, but I was not afraid of getting hurt. I had good defensive techniques if necessary. I was more interested in talking.
โLetโs see you hit me,โ said Phil.
I threw some gentle punches, which Phil blocked. โCome on,โ he said. โTry to hurt me.โ
He asked for it.
โYour stepdaughter is trying to locate her real father because sheโs dissatis๏ฌed with you.โ
Phil dropped his guard. Very poor form. I could have landed a punch unimpeded if we were in a real bout.
โStepdaughter?โ he said. โ๎atโs what sheโs calling herself?ย ๎atโs why youโre here?โ
He threw a hard punch and I had to use a proper block to avoid being hit. He recognized it and tried a hook. I blocked that too and counterpunched. He avoided it nicely.
โSince itโs unlikely sheโll succeed, we need to ๏ฌx the problem with you.โ Phil threw a straight hard one at my head. I blocked and stepped away. โWith me?โ he said. โWith Phil Jarman? Who built his own business
from nothing, who bench-presses a hundred and forty-๏ฌve kilos, who plenty of women still think is a better deal than some doctor or lawyer. Or egghead.โ
He threw a combination and I attacked back. I thought there was a high probability that I could take him down, but I needed to continue the conversation.
โItโs none of your business, but I was on the school council, coached the senior football teamโโ
โObviously these achievements were insu๏ฌcient,โ I said. โPerhaps Rosie requires something in addition to personal excellence.โ In a moment of clarity, I realized what that something might be in my own case. Was all my work in self-improvement in vain? Was I going to end up like Phil, trying to win Rosieโs love but regarded with contempt?
Fighting and contemplation are not compatible. Philโs punch took me in the solar plexus. I managed to step back and reduce the force but went down. Phil stood over me, angry.
โMaybe one day sheโll know everything. Maybe thatโll help, maybe it wonโt.โ He shook his head hard, as though he were the one who had taken a punch. โDid I ever call myself her stepfather? Ask her that. Iโve got no other children, noย wife. I did all the thingsโI read to her, got up in the night, took her horse riding. After her mother was gone, I couldnโt do a thing right.โ
I sat up and shouted. I was angry too. โYou failed to take her to Disneyland. You lied to her.โ
I scissored his legs, bringing him down. As a result of falling incompetently, he hit the ๏ฌoor hard. We struggled and I pinned him. His nose was bleeding badly and there was blood all over my shirt.
โDisneyland!โ said Phil. โShe was ten!โ
โShe told everyone at school. Itโs still a major problem.โ
He tried to break free, but I managed to hold him, despite the impediment of the boxing gloves.
โYou want to know when I told her Iโd take her to Disneyland? One time. Once. You know when? At her motherโs funeral. I was in a wheelchair. I was in rehab for eight months.โ
It was a very reasonable explanation. I wished Rosie had provided this background information prior to my holding her stepfatherโs head on the ๏ฌoor with blood pouring from his nose. I explained to Phil that at my sisterโs funeral I made an irrational promise to donate to a hospice when the money would have been better applied to research. He seemed to understand.
โI bought her a jewelry box. Sheโd been on her motherโs case forever to buy it. I thought sheโd forgotten about Disneyland when I came out of rehab.โ
โPredicting the impact of actions on other people is di๏ฌcult.โ โAmen to that,โ said Phil. โCan we get up?โ
His nose was still bleeding and was probably broken, so it was a reasonable request. But I was not prepared to let him go yet.
โNot until we solve the problem.โ
โข โข โข
It had been a very full day but the most critical task was still ahead. I examined myself in the mirror.ย ๎e new glasses, vastly lighter, and the revised hair shape made a bigger di๏ฌerence than the clothes.
I put the important envelope in my jacket pocket and the small box in my pants pocket. As I phoned for a taxi, I looked at my whiteboard.ย ๎e schedule, now written in erasable marker, was a sea of red writingโmy code for the Rosie Project. I told myself that the changes it had produced were worthwhile, even if tonight I failed to achieve the ๏ฌnal objective.
