Martin Extends an Offer

“We haven’t been,” He assured her, digging deeper into his bag before producing a printed copy of an email thread, “It’s just this one. Don’t worry about the legal ramifications, there are other people dealing with that.”

That wasn’t a reassuring answer, a fact that Sarah made known by shifting uncomfortably in her seat, absent mindedly adjusting and readjusting a bra strap underneath the shoulder of her collared shirt. If Martin noticed it, he did nothing to acknowledge it. She looked deep inside of herself, trying to piece together whatever disparate pieces of information were being granted to her, though any swell towards an answer was buffeted against the rocks of more questions. None of this was in her purview as a professor and the mere existence of these notes in her mind’s eye jeopardized everything, she’d done in the past five years.

“The topic I’m about to discuss with you is… sensitive,” Martin said abruptly, dragging her back to reality, “And I mean that in the sense that if any of what occurs here leaves your mouth after you leave this room, there will be consequences. For you, me, and the whole school.” His voice was bereft of the usual spontaneous warmth, instead replaced with a careful, weighted measure that dripped with ominous intent. His eyes narrowed as he rested his elbows on his knees, bringing his fingers together in a steeple in front of his eyes. He rested his forehead on the crux, closing his eyes as though in a penitent state. There was another bout of silence before he continued, “There is a student here named Sam Doyle. You’re familiar with him, no?”

Sarah nodded in acknowledgement. An image of the fair-skinned young man with the trendy, skin-tight fade haircut and thousand-yard stare in her classics course crossed her mind. He was an attentive student who did satisfactory work. Nowhere near the top of his class, but he kept pace with the rest of a pack well enough. They’d met once or twice to discuss essays but for the most part he remained a faceless enigma, with nothing standing out as particularly off-putting about him though he wasn’t the picture of gregarious mirth either.

“And I take it you are also aware of his extended sabbatical, shall we say, in the wilds if Ireland?” Martin said.

“I was aware of it insofar as I had to accommodate him missing an entire academic year, yes.” Sarah responded.

“I was approached by the dean, who is concerned for Mr. Doyle’s continued wellbeing both academically and personally. A third party, unaffiliated with the school, requests that one or more of us prepare a report on his behavior both in and out of class.” Martin rattled on. Though he tried his best to hide it, the tremble in his voice was growing more audible. It was clear that neither of them wanted to be have this discussion.

“His family?” Sarah asked, hoping to further elucidate the situation. Martin shook his head. There was an air of surrender about him, some unseen weight bearing down on him and folding his shoulders at a strenuous and unnatural bow.

“I’m not at liberty to say. The exact nature of the report is simple. If we notice anything abnormal, we note it and at the end of the month we’ll meet and send our collective findings to admin.” He concluded.

“I can’t do this. You can’t do this. Hell, even this,” Sarah exclaimed, picking up the folder and letting it flop out of her hands and onto the table for emphasis, “Violates so many school policies let alone the off-campus legal ramifications, and now you’re asking me to spy on a student? Martin, what have you gotten yourself into?” She reached out a hand and placed it on his forearm in a gesture of reassurance. The whites of his eyes shimmered with the discomfort of a man burdened with knowledge of things best kept unknown. They invited her to communicate in the spontaneous, insidious, and all around fucked conspiracy they were both being immersed in. Perhaps it was a gesture of true camaraderie and concern for this Sam Doyle, or maybe in some last-ditch effort to ensure that his suffering would not be a solitary affair. She did not know, nor did she want to.

“I’m not asking you,” Martin grumbled, “and I didn’t get myself into anything. If you want answers, I don’t have them.”

“What’s the under-over on the school letting us go after this?” Sarah entreated.

“No idea. If we do our jobs right, high. If we fuck up, very high.” Martin chuckled quietly.

“If this is so important, why didn’t the dean come to me? How come you got a tap on the shoulder from mission control and I didn’t?” Sarah continued pressing her fellow professor for more information. Martin snorted as though the inquiry offended him in some manner.

“The dean initially thought you were unfit for the task. I personally recommended you. Though it took some convincing, he conceded that you be let in on this so long as I was the one to recruit you.” Martin relayed the information with a smile, though it was one that held not mirth. She eyed him for a few moments, letting the snow and silence reach a deafening crescendo as she tried to eek out any inkling of deceit in his words. It was jarring, seeing the usually spritely man so crestfallen. It inspired a mix of gut-wrenching pity and shame within Sarah, as though she was witnessing an emotional display, carefully cultivated and built over the course of decades, slowly being dismantled. Mannerisms that once seemed like the innocuous tics of an eccentric man were now cast in a baleful glow as manifestations of discomfort and unease.

“Well, thank you for the vote of confidence, but I need to know what I’m working with here, even if I agree to do this.” Sarah cautioned.

“I hate to give you the runaround like this, but I’m just as in the dark as you are. I got told to watch him and this showed up in the campus mail a day later.” Martin said in a resigned tone. Sarah let her indignance show in a snort of frustration as she again thumbed through the controversial material laid out before her.

“You have to understand the position this puts me in.” Sarah said, resting her hands on one another atop her now crossed legs. There was a lull in the conversation and just as Sarah thought their meeting was coming to an end, a spark of inspiration seemed to catch within her colleague.

“If it helps you at all, I have a place for you to start that doesn’t involve directly violating a student’s privacy."