Knowing Is Not Enough (9 page)

Saturday afternoon, long after my workout, I called Sanford and got his answering machine. I contemplated hanging up, but left a message. My goal was to catch up with him for a face-to-face. A game of phone-tag didn’t figure into the plans.

In the not so distant past, Sanford taught a class on Saturday mornings, and we’d meet up for brunch afterward. I hoped, all things being constant, he would be on campus. I drank the rest of my coffee, grabbed my purse, and drove to Sanford’s office.

The drive to campus gave me more time than necessary to replay our last talk. With it weighing heavy on my mind, I reviewed every scenario of how this visit could play out. Flashes of our heart-to-heart jumped out of my memory between traffic lights. I don’t remember us being mad. Just done. My only objective from the conservation I hoped to have with Sanford was getting my friend back into my life. That’s it, nothing more.

Just as I arrived on campus, the sun peeked through
the leaves overhead, an effervescent green umbrella sheltering those who sought knowledge and understanding from the rest of the world. My foot lifted from the accelerator. I drifted down the long narrow winding road, lost in the beauty of the surroundings. As angelic as the scenery on campus was, it’s the last place students wanted to be a Saturday. I parked the car and walked, navigating my way through the rich landscape to the School of Business, home to Public Policy and Administration . . . and Sanford. The building’s aroma was a mixture of coffee, books, disinfectant, and dry-erase markers.

Alongside his colleagues, down the long hall of faculty offices I got to his office door and smiled. DR. CONSTANTINE SANFORD. I opened the outer door and entered a small seating area. Immediately inside were two maple office doors, but both glass panels were dark. I sat down in the adjacent chairs and read my way through an entire article on welfare policy in the
Journal of Poverty
, authored by Sanford. I finished the piece and was flipping through the magazine, hoping to find entertainment news, when I heard voices in the hallway.

Sanford entered the main door and stepped into the seating area with keys in hand. His head bent down, seemingly deep in thought, iPod ear buds in both ears with his right hand clutching the shoulder strap of his overused book bag. He really looked good. He looked to have lost about seventy-five pounds.

I checked him out, carefully, head to toe. He slowly raised his head and recognized me seated in the lobby. I couldn’t tell by the expression on his face if he was happy or disappointed to see me.

He tugged on his earplug wire, removing both from his ears in one pull. His forehead tightened forcing his brows below the frame of his glasses. His expression made me uneasy.

“I tried to call you before I came, but I got your voicemail.” I stood up and placed the magazine back on the table. “Um, not this one–I mean, your home voicemail.”

Sanford released his backpack and fumbled with his keys, but his eyes were firmly affixed on mine. The walls in the tiny lobby felt as if they were starting to close in on me.

I said, “You look good.” I shifted my weight back and forth, left to right. “Did I surprise you?”

He finally said something. “No, you didn’t surprise me. I got your message. I figured you would catch up with me eventually. Just didn’t think it would be today.”

I picked up my purse from the office chair and took a step toward him. “I know showing up here may be a reach, but I really wanted to talk to you.” He singled out a key and used it to open his office. Then picked up papers slid under his door. I followed him into his office. He cleared a place for me on a chair across from his desk. Sanford’s office resembled the stereotypical professor’s office, stacks of books, laptop, papers, old art and everything in desperate need of dusting. Sanford’s tiny office and oversized desk make the room smaller there wasn’t room to stand, let alone a chair. He finally sat down behind his desk and put his bag and papers on it.

A year may as well been a hundred. He’d accomplished a lot in a short period of time. He wasn’t published the last time I spoke with him. I looked about at
his office walls. There were magazine articles with his name on them, recognition awards, and pictures celebrating his achievements with people I didn’t know. Events I didn’t participate in. Milestones I knew nothing about. This ridiculous disagreement cost me more than I initially realized. I felt he’d let me down when I needed him the most. By the looks of things, I hadn’t been there for him either,
but it doesn’t appear he needed me
.
I missed all of it
.

I sat down, took in a couple of deep breaths and made a failed attempt at relaxing. “So, how are you?”

“I’m doing good. I just had another article published in the
Journal of Poverty
.”

I nodded. “I saw that, congratulations.” I pointed to a magazine cover framed on the wall. “I actually read that one.” He looked at me quizzically. I added, “In the lobby. I’ve been waiting for a minute. It gave me time to look at the reading material.”

“No
People
magazine for you to look at?”

I smiled. “No, smarty, there wasn’t a
People
magazine. If there was, I didn’t find it.”

Sanford turned on his laptop and shifted through his mail. By accident or intentional, his grim exterior expelled a half-hearted smile. That’s all I needed to feel better about my decision to come. I took a deep breath and exhaled. “I’ve missed you, Sanford, and I wanted to apologize and explain why I got so angry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I already know why you got so angry.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, okay.”

“Alex, I know you felt I betrayed you. I guess in some
ways I did, but I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“But you
did
.”

“Believe me—I’d never intended to. I told Jake he needed to talk to you. Obviously he didn’t, but Jake should have told you, not me. I know you don’t agree, but that’s how I felt. I still do.”

“I understand, I just don’t agree. I didn’t expect Jake to be honest with me, but I did expect you to. Which says what you already know about us. I trusted you with my heart and more than I did him. So, yeah, you’re right, I did expect you to tell me even when he didn’t.”

He sighed. “Exactly, how could I tell you something like that? I don’t care who it is. I don’t want to be responsible for breaking up someone else’s marriage—”

“Sanford, I don’t mean to cut you off, but if you saw Jake out with someone else, my marriage was already over. All you would have been doing is getting me caught up on the game. That’s all I expected from you. I guess what I didn’t understand is why you wouldn’t do that for me. I would tell you if I saw your girl out with someone else.”

Sanford shook his head. “First of all, you know I’m not seeing anybody. Second, you know I would’ve told you if I thought it was the right thing to do, but the truth is—and I hope you don’t get mad at me all over again—but I didn’t. You and I both know what happened the last time.”

“This time would’ve been different. I guess that’s the difference between men and women.”

Sanford leaned back in his chair, hunched his shoulders while resting his arms. “I just don’t see it that way, Alex. Not this time.”

“I guess it’s old news now.” I wasn’t feeling a whole
lot better. “So are you at least going to tell me who you were there with?

“That’s a negative.”

I released a deep sigh. “I’m not winning today.”

“You’re winning—you’re always winning, you just don’t know it.”

I crossed my legs, readjusted my body in the chair, trying desperately to hide my blush behind my hand. Sanford’s music could be heard faintly through his earplugs resting on his desk. I pointed to his iPod. “What are you listening to?”

“It’s a song a good friend of mine turned me onto.”

“Is this good friend me?”

“Of course it’s you. When you called I thought about this one and plugged it in.”

I pulled my iPod from my purse and waved it. “I listened to it in the gym.

“Huh—” Sanford rocked in his chair. “How ironic.”

“Yeah, I guess some things change.”

“But others remain the same.”

“So what do we do now, Sanford? Friends?”

Sanford smiled and reached across the desk to take my hands. “Of course we’re friends. If nothing else, I will always be your friend.”

“Good. So will you hang out with me and Tobey?” Sanford released my hands and leaned back in his chair. “Where you going? The usual spot?”

“Of course.” I smiled. “Please, it would mean a lot to me if you came.”

He gave in easily enough. “I can meet you. I’ll be there after I teach.”

“That’s okay. We should be there for a while.”

He nodded. “That’s all well and good, but when are you going to catch me up on the last year?”

“If you pick me up on Friday, I can catch you up then.”

“In a bar? How are we going to talk at a bar?”

“No, we can talk a little at the house before we leave and then in the car. Trust me, there hasn’t been a whole lot happening on my end. You’ll be caught up in five minutes.”

“All right, well, give me the five minutes you got—did you say Linda’s coming?”

“Not two weekends in a row, but she and Mitch are going to go with me to this poetry reading. I forgot what night. It’s on my calendar.”

He looked concerned. “Did you start writing again?”

I frowned. “No, I haven’t.”

“So what’s stopping you? You should have plenty of material from the last couple of years.”

Rubbing my eyes, I leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t know.” I yawned, “It was only a hobby anyway.”

Sanford turned toward his computer, pulled up a document and printed it. “It was more than a hobby.” He pulled a piece of paper from the printer and handed it to me, an old poem I’d written shortly after we graduated from college. “You have got to be kidding me. How long have you had this?”

“Since you wrote it—don’t you remember?”

“I remember writing it.” I read on, paused for a second and looked at Sanford. “I don’t remember giving it to you. How did you get this?”

“I have just about all of your old poems.”

I finished reading. “That is crazy—I haven’t seen this in—wow, it’s got to be at least ten years.”

“Close to that, perhaps a little more,” he said.

I handed the paper back. “So how did you get them? You said you have more?”

“Every time you emailed me one, I saved it.”

Pupils dilated, I placed my hand over my open mouth. “When Jake and I moved, I lost track of them. I couldn’t, and still can’t remember where they are. I thought I put them all together in a binder—can’t find the binder.”

“It’s a good thing I kept them then.”

I smiled. “I’d say it is. Were they any good?”

“I think so.” He smiled. “But I’m biased.”

“I can’t wait to read them again. Hey, can you bring some when you come Friday?”

“Yeah, I can bring all of them.”

I waved my finger, “that’s even better.”

There was a timid knock at the door. Sanford raised his voice. “Yes?”

“Dr. Sanford?” It was a young woman’s voice.

I stood up. “I guess that’s my cue.” He stood up as well and came over to hug me. I didn’t want to let him go, but the voice outside was waiting. I pulled away from him and headed toward the door. I grabbed the door handle, stopped short, and turned back to Sanford. “Before I go, how much weight have you lost?”

“For a minute there I thought you didn’t notice.”

I smiled. “Of course I did.”

Sanford rubbed his hands down his chest and stomach. “I thought I would have to be like a girl and ask
if you noticed how much weight I lost.”

Playful, I tapped his chest. “Goofy . . . you look good.”

“Thank you.”

I opened the door and walked into the seating area where a young lady with books in hand eagerly awaited her professor. Sanford patted me on the shoulder and whispered, “Did I mention how good it is to see you?” He walked over to the student. I turned and shot him a quick smile while I exited out of the main entrance.

Tuesday, still seated at my desk after work, I held the flyer in my hand for the poetry reading on Wednesday night. Initially, I’d asked Linda to go, but I was rethinking that invitation. Since my visit on campus I couldn’t get Sanford out of my head. I really wanted to go with him instead.

Over the years there’d been times when I thought
maybe
Sanford and I could’ve been more than friends, but then senior year I met Jake and it didn’t seem to matter anymore. We were, and only could be, friends. All notions of anything else had been pushed out of my mind a long time ago, but if my radar wasn’t too far off, I could’ve sworn Sanford was flirting with me.

I could also confirm that I liked it.

At the risk of being over analytical,
what’s really going on here with Sanford and me? I’ve never thought of Sanford romantically before, at least not seriously. I’m probably only entertaining this because I’m feeling a little lonesome
.

Lonely or not, I wanted to see him. I picked up the
phone, punched nine for an outside line, then Linda’s number. It was six o’clock and I wanted to catch her before she got too deep into her evening with the kids.