Skin Deep

the doctors remove the baby and she becomes a mother. Get it?”

“I guess.”

“There, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

He shook his head.

“Any questions?”

He said nothing for a short while. Then he asked, “Why didn’t you have a baby?”

Her face clouded over. “I did once, but he died.”

“How did he die?”

“He just did.” He could tell that she didn’t want to go into that.

“How old were you?”

“Let’s just say I was too young to understand.”

“Who was the daddy?”

She just shook her head. “A man.”

“How come you didn’t have another one?”

She looked at him and smiled. “I do. You’re my baby.” And she gave him a squeeze.

“Did Jesus have babies?”

“No. He was perfect.”

“Like you.”

She kissed the side of his head. “You’re a sweetie. No, I’m not perfect.”

“I think so.”

She gave him another kiss on his face and stroked the back of his neck. They were silent for several moments as birds filled the air with twitters.

“Does it hurt?”

“Does what hurt? Having a baby?”

“No. Planting the seed.” All he could think was of the tender flesh being torn and split.

“No, in fact, just the opposite. But you’ll learn that for yourself when you grow up.” She looked at her watch. “But that’s Babies 101 for today.”

She put her arms around him and pulled him to her chest. The sun was beginning to burn through the underbelly of clouds and warm him. His face was up against her breasts and he was staring straight down to where her legs joined, thinking about the dark secret things she told him.

“Time to go. I’ve got to put the dinner on or your dad will holler.”

He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to get up. And it had nothing to do with breaking the magical coziness of the moment or being alone with her at the playground. He didn’t want to get up because the moment he did she’d notice that he was hard.

23

Earl Pendergast no longer had an active Web site, but his textbook publisher did. And on it was an author photo. Dressed in an open blue shirt and smiling at the camera, he was a pleasant-looking man with dark sharp eyes, a prominent brow, and long brown hair pushed straight back. Except for the rimless glasses, he looked less like a scholar and more like an aging model.

Steve printed the image, bringing it with him the next morning to the Mermaid Lounge. The place opened at eleven and closed at one A.M., so the daytime staff was different from the night crew and dancers. Steve went alone because Neil was at Terry Farina’s funeral.

He interviewed dancers and staffers, but nobody could think of anyone who might have stalked Terry or wanted to do her harm. But DeLuca and a waitress recognized Pendergast. He had a favorite corner of the bar, the waitress said, and when Terry performed she’d play up to him, give him longer-than-usual glimpses. The waitress also said he was a big tipper. She added that Farina was good at manipulating customers, leading them to believe that they’d be going home with the beautiful naked woman who danced for them, but she’d just take their money and leave. No guilt. All business. But maybe some hard feelings. That Pendergast might be one of those whom Terry had playacted with was encouraging.

Hawthorne State was only fifteen miles to the southwest near the Medford-Everett line. Traffic was light and Steve didn’t need to get back to the station until four. So he headed to the college to learn a little more about Professor Big Tipper.

The Hawthorne Student News office was located on the second floor of the student union, a gray stone building with lots of windows and an outside eating area. A few students were working at desks in a large and cluttered office. At a computer near the entrance sat a young woman in jeans and a baggy T-shirt with a red lollipop in her mouth. She looked up from her keyboard and took out the pop. “May I help you?”

Steve identified himself and said he wanted to know where he could find Matthew Seabrook. The woman looked at the badge. “Oh, wow, what’d he do?”

Steve explained he wanted to talk to him about a story he had written last year. The woman said she thought he had graduated but that she’d get Lisa Snyder, who was the editor. She went into a back room and came out with another woman who was wearing shorts, an oversized work shirt, and a pink Red Sox cap. Steve asked if they could talk privately, and he followed her into the room she had come out of.

He told her he wanted to see a copy of the Pendergast story. She said that the author had graduated last December, but she found the story in their files and printed a copy for him. Before Steve left, Snyder said that she was an English minor and had had Professor Pendergast for a course and that he was a terrific teacher and very popular. “The administration here is rather paranoid,” she said. “Like any other school, there’s a ruling against instructors getting romantically involved with students.”

“Is that what the administration claimed?”

“Yeah. I guess he was something of a flirt, you know, he put a hit on some students. But I think his suspension was a knee-jerk reaction. Besides, he got awesome ratings on ratemyprofessors.”

“On what?”

“Ratemyprofessors.com. It’s a Web site where kids can evaluate their instructors.”

It was nearly two and Steve hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so he headed for the student union, where he picked up a tuna sub and took a table where he read the piece on Pendergast:

The sexual harassment charge stems from last Spring semester when a junior English major complained that Professor Pendergast had made sexual overtures. She complained that over the term he had become overly friendly, asking her to concerts and plays, sometimes making her feel uncomfortable in class by singling her out for comments or calling attention to her outfits or hair.

The junior in question told the News that Professor Pendergast had a reputation for getting too personal with women students. She also said that when she refused his sexual advances following a date, she feared her grade would be affected.

Pendergast admitted asking the student out on dates but denies making sexual advances. According to Dean Patricia Oliver, Pendergast had violated the sexual harassment policy of the college, which forbids instructors from dating students.

Three years ago, Professor Pendergast was reprimanded by the college for his “controversial teaching style.” Apparently some female students in his Romantic Poetry course complained that he “repeatedly called attention to the sexual nature” of the material, often calling on certain women to comment on flagrantly sexual imagery, asking if such lines personally spoke to them. For those charges Pendergast was not suspended but required to take “sensitivity seminars to help him perceive the problem.”

Pendergast has denied the current charges, calling them violations of his First Amendment rights for free speech. …He said he would appeal his suspension.

Commenting on the suspension, junior English major Justin Pace said the two best courses he had taken were those taught by Professor Pendergast. “He’s awesome. He knows his stuff and is very dedicated.” Pace went on to say that the sexual harassment charges were ludicrous. “He’s just a warm, friendly guy.”