"Rusch-WithoutEnd" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rusch Kristine Kathryn)

Dylan did as he was asked, and sat on the ancient upholstered chair in front of
Nick's desk. Students probably felt like they'd walked in hell's anteroom when
they came here. Everything was decorated early '70s, in browns and burnt orange.

Nick was a white-haired man in his late fifties, face florid with too much food
and stress. "I'm sorry about Geneva," he said. "She had spirit. I never expected
to outlive someone like her."

Dylan made himself smile. "My mother said she was like a flare, brief but
beautiful."

"You don't believe that," Nick said.

Dylan took a deep breath. "You didn't call me in here to talk about Geneva."

"Actually, I did. Indirectly." Nick stood up, and shoved his hands in his
pockets, stretching out his pants like a clown's, and making his potbelly pool
out. Geneva used to call him Chuckles when he did that, a comment made all the
better by the fact that the gesture meant Nick was going to say something
difficult. "Word is that you've been acting a bit erratic lately. Letting
classes out early, missing meetings, spouting spontaneous philosophy in the
halls."

"Doesn't sound like the crime of the century," Dylan said, then bit his lip.
Defensive. He couldn't get defensive.

"No, and it's not even all that unusual--except for you, Dylan. You were always
consistent and quiet. I'm not saying you're doing anything wrong, but your wife
just died. I wanted you to take the term off, but you insisted on working, and
I'm not sure that was such a good idea."

Dylan stared at him for a moment, uncertain how to respond.

It begins with little complaints, Geneva once told him. Maybe your clothes are a
little unusual, or you don't conduct class according to the right methods. Then,
one day, you wake up and find you've been imprisoned for your beliefs.

He opened his mouth, closed it again, and thought. The classes meant nothing
this term. The students, merely full-sized reminders of how much time had passed
since he had sat in their chairs, since he had met Geneva.

"You're right," he said. "I think I should take a leave of absence, maybe come
back next fall term."

Nick turned, pulled his hands out of his pockets, and frowned. Obviously he
hadn't expected Dylan to acquiesce so easily. "Sure it won't leave you alone too
much?"

Dylan smiled and shrugged. "I'm not sure I'm really alone now," he said.