Collusion

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

When I got to work Monday morning, I was surprised to see a student waiting at my office door. As an English instructor at Philadelphia County Community College, I was forced to schedule weekly office hours each semester to meet with students and, usually, none of them came to see me. Every once in a while, someone would stop by with a question about a paper or homework assignment, but most students chose to e-mail their correspondence rather than meet face-to-face. When I first started teaching full-time about six years ago, I took it personally when no students stopped by my office. But, as the years rolled on, I began to appreciate the blocked hours that I used to grade papers, work on lesson plans, or stare at the wall if I so chose. And if students stopped by, that was great, but if none did, that was fine, too. However, having students show up bright and early Monday morning during non-office hours was neither great nor fine with me.

The student at my office door was Sean Gluski, a young white guy from my Monday and Wednesday afternoon composition class. Despite the pretty equal distribution of whites and blacks in Philadelphia, my students tended to be overwhelmingly black and female. There were whites at the college, but not many, so the few in my classes managed to stand out even when they tried not to.

Sean was a young guy, probably no more than eighteen or nineteen years old, with a round, baby-like face (marred only by a fading scar on his forehead), large brown eyes, and a thick head of brown hair in dire need of a cut. He had a thin build and usually dressed in the kind of clothing I associated with skateboarders: Converse (or Vans) sneakers, hoodies, tee shirts, and baggy cargo shorts or skinny jeans. In spite of his slacker appearance, he was actually a pretty good student in my class. He didn’t say a lot, but much of the work he’d submitted was well-written and also entertaining. One amusing essay he wrote was titled “My Dialect Dilemma” and focused on his struggle to lose his Philadelphia accent. But, while his writing was funny and conversational, he was just the opposite.

Sean was, well, creepy. During class, I’d often find him staring at me, watching my every move. Other times he’d wait for me after class to talk about a grade or discuss some grammatical rule and then show up at my office the next day for basically a repeat conversation. Figuring he just had some kind of weird yet harmless infatuation with me, I did my best to basically ignore his weirdness. But, seeing him the first thing Monday morning put me on edge.

“Hi, Sean,” I said, unlocking my office door. “What can I do for you?”

“I had some questions about the paper that’s due Wednesday, Mr. Daly.”

“You could have e-mailed me.”

“I wanted to talk to you in person.”

“Okay.”

He asked a series of questions about the paper that he could have easily found the answers for had he simply re-read the written instructions I’d given him and everyone else in the class. He claimed to have “misplaced” the instructions, but a simple e-mail to me or any of his classmates would have quickly provided him with a replacement copy. Even though I knew Sean was full of it, I answered all of his questions and listened patiently while he rambled on about how stressed he was this semester. He talked about the difficulty he was having in his political science class and how he hated his job as a bellman at the Marriott near the Convention Center. Finally, after about ten minutes, I told him I needed to prepare for my eight-thirty class that morning, hoping he’d get a clue and leave.

“Oh. Okay,” he said, gathering his backpack. But he didn’t leave. Instead, he looked at me and asked, “Are you dating Jay Tanner from Channel 2?”

In spite of my best efforts to avoid being photographed with or speaking publicly about Jay, it was common knowledge around town that he and I were involved and living together. While he was still in the closet, we’d managed to keep our relationship under the radar and very few people knew we were together. Although we’re both pretty straight-acting, Jay was so paranoid back then that we were rarely seen in public together. But now that he was supposedly out and proud, I was the one who felt the need to hide. With Jay being a local celebrity, I was suddenly thrust into the spotlight as the weatherman’s “boy toy” even though, at thirty-five (going on thirty-six), I was hardly a boy and Jay, at forty, was far from being my sugar daddy.

Sean’s question surprised me, not because it had been asked, but because he had asked it. In all of our brief conversations, he’d never once asked me anything even vaguely personal. His inquiries always focused on something school-related.

“My personal life isn’t any of your business, Sean,” I said as nicely as I could. I didn’t want to snap at the guy because I figured he was just curious, but his curiosity didn’t stop me from being annoyed.

“I saw a picture of you and Jay together on the Internet.”

I sighed, but didn’t say anything.

“So you two are, like, a couple?”

“Yes,” I finally answered. “We live together.”

Sean nodded. “That’s cool…I guess.”

With that ringing endorsement, I told Sean I’d see him later in class, really hoping he’d take the hint this time and leave without me having to throw him out.

“Okay,” he said, rising from his chair.

I watched him hitch his backpack over his shoulder and walk out of my office, but he turned and gave me an odd look before disappearing down the hall. Sean’s behavior with me over the semester made me wonder if he was gay himself, and his visit that morning only fueled my suspicions. But I still wasn’t entirely convinced. As a friend told me once, “There’s a thin line between gay and geek.” Truer words had rarely been spoken. Sean struck me as more geek than gay and, honestly, I couldn’t see him being involved with anyone, male or female. He seemed too awkward and isolated for a relationship. Then again, I only saw him a few hours each week. For all I knew, he could be a totally different person outside of school, fun and popular with people his own age. However, I doubted that was the case.

Sean wasn’t a bad looking kid and I felt fairly certain he would clean up well if he got a decent haircut, stopped dressing in unflattering jeans, hoodies, and sneakers, and quit gnawing on his fingernails. He actually reminded me a little of myself in high school, smart, but also anxious and introverted. I hoped he’d be able to break out of his shell as I eventually did and open himself a little to life.