Courtney Webb

There was a timid knock on the dark glass paneled door.

“Enter.”

The door opened slowly, and a young woman stuck her head around the corner.

Her boss, seated at his desk at the far end of his office, waved her in.

“Come in, Tracy.”

The young lady, about thirty years old, in a conservative navy-blue dress got herself around the door and entered. The room was a long, box-car affair with huge windows at the far end.  Korean farmland could be seen from these second story windows.

There was one round table, with chairs close to the door. All along both walls were stacks and stacks of brown paper envelopes tied with rubber bands and string. They were placed on top of each other in rows and were falling over on top of each other. A large bookshelf with textbooks was to one side.

She advanced slowly to the desk and stood. 

“You asked me to come see you, Professor?”

“Sit down please.”

She finally sat on a hard-industrial chair in front of his desk. She tried to keep emotion off her plain, ordinary face. She needed this job.

He looked at his computer screen.

“I see you have been having some problems with the language lab.”

“Problems?”

“Yes, one of your co-workers reported the problems to me.” The professor had cold blue eyes that seem magnified by thick glasses. They glinted at her.

“Co-worker?”

“Yes, don’t ask me who it is because I can’t tell you. One of your students, Young Jin Chin, apparently came to the lab and was completely confused about the directions you had given him.”

“Confused?”

“Yes, he got the assignment completely mixed up. Your coworker was required to spend a lot of time getting this student straightened out. He is your student, right?”

“Well, yes, but . . ..”

“This is unacceptable. You are going to have to make more effort to be understood by your students. You realize that they are not native-speakers, right?” A thin to lean man, he had a wide mouth, full of teeth. There was not a hint of a smile.

“Well, of course I do, Professor. I don’t really know how he  . ..”

“Well, there’s that.” He waved a large, boney hand dismissively. “I have also been having reports about your overusing the copier. We have limited quantities of paper and ink. This isn’t America, Tracy, we have budget constraints here. You will have to keep those in mind to make it at this school.”

“Well, yes sir. I will certainly keep those in mind. I  …”

“Fine. I hope I make myself clear and we understand each other. You can go now.”

“I . . .” Tracy closed her mouth, stood up, smoothed down her skirt. “Thank you, Professor.” Her face was red.

She turned and walked stiffly out of the office.  She quietly closed the door, her shadow could be seen for a moment behind the large, stenciled letters: Prof. Robert Towne, Department Head – English Language.

The professor turned back to his computer. He made some entries. ‘Advisement of new teacher Tracy on language lab and over consumption of paper.’ He hit the enter button and closed the app labelled “Black Book.”

There was another knock on the door.

“Enter.”

Another teacher showed up in the Professor’s office. Jack, an older teacher, Australian, a very Hail-fellow-well-met kind of guy.

“Prof, lunch? That new restaurant has some killer brews.”

“You buying?”

Jack winced. Those student loans are killing me, he thought. He swallowed.

“Sure, no problem. Just don’t drink too much!” He gave a hollow laugh.

“Okay, meet you downstairs in about ten. Your car, right?”

“Yup, my car.”

“Good, you know I still ride that bus every day. Got to save every penny.”

Jack made a little salute. “I’ll be out there.” He turned and left.

The professor closed down his computer. He pulled out a ring of keys and turned the locks on his drawers and then pulled at each one; double checking they were locked.

Satisfied, he got up and grabbed his jacket. A tall man, over 6’3”, he was easily one of the tallest people around campus. He got to his office door, locked the knob and pulled the door closed. He pulled on the handle to be sure it was locked. Looking up and down the hall first; he then stepped into the next office.

“Gina, lunch.” He waved at one of the secretaries and she nodded at him.

With that, he walked around the corner and took the stairs double-time down to the parking lot. He waved at Jack and folded himself in the little car. They were off.

                                                                        ###

It was a Saturday afternoon in the Asian fall, one of those breezy, slightly wind-swept days that make a person want to run outside and kick leaves.

High up in the deluxe three-bedroom, two bath apartment Shin was speaking to her husband.

“But, Robert, they asked specifically for you. They really would like you to come to the party.”

“Oh, I know it Shin, but look at this paperwork.”

Robert, the professor, picked up a stack of papers and dramatically let them fall through his fingers. A look of resignation on his face.

“But … “

“I just have to get this done, Hun. I’m sorry.”

Her arms akimbo, Shin shook her head. With an audible sigh she said, “I’ll just have to tell them you’re busy.”

She turned and went to gather up their two daughters, Min and Julie. The girls were hovering in the background, sweaters on and gifts tucked under arms. Silently they watched the conversation. They knew better than to say anything.

Disappointment on their faces, they followed their mother out. The door closed quietly behind Shin.

The professor could hear the elevator doing down. He fiddled at his computer a few more minutes then went and stood at the big glass window that faced out.

He could see puffy clouds chasing each other across the sky. Rain? He thought to himself.

He could see Shin downstairs hustling the girls into the hatch-back and checking that their seatbelts were on. Then, getting into the car, starting it up and carefully pulling out of the space and driving out of the driveway.

“Always such a safe driver,” he commented to the air.

Going back to the computer he entered a few keys and popped up a screen that said ‘Tracker.’ He turned it on, and a little red dot appeared. The dot moved and followed his wife’s progress down the street to the main road.

The professor had placed the GPS tracking device under the carriage of her car some months before. Handy, these things. Amazing what you can get on the Internet these days, he thought to himself.

With a satisfied smile, he watched until he knew she was well on her way. He restacked his papers, printed out a report that he had completed at the office the previous day and placed it on top of the stack.

Just in case she comes snooping around. He gave the stack a little pat and did a big stretch. Tall but very lean, he was like a big cat surveying his domain. He closed out the computer and put it on ‘shut down’ just in case curious fingers decided to go walking while he was away. Then, checking the closet, he got out a heavy rain jacket, a hat and some waders.

In the fridge he pulled out two beers, a bottle of water and put them in a small igloo container. Checking the apartment one last time, he decided to leave a note.

“Hun, got my report done and went to the gym. See you back at dinner time. Love, Robert.”

He took the stairs down to his car for exercise. In the parking garage, he opened the trunk to check all his fishing gear was there. It was neatly placed in the carry bag to include rod, reels, the tackle box with flies and a cushion. He was ready to go.

The professor got on the highway and went the opposite direction of his wife, to the marina. Their apartment complex was conveniently located halfway to the university where he worked, and the marina, where he kept his skiff.

Busan, South Korea, was known for its fishing and the professor had grown to love this location just for that. They had had a little argument when he wanted to buy the boat. Something about college funds.

“Shin, the girls are four and six. There will be plenty of time for that. Let’s enjoy today. They’ll love getting out on the water.”

And they had, the two times their father had taken them.

Hey! Foot-loose and fancy free, Robert thought to himself. No wife, no kids. The boat all to himself. This is the life!

At the dock, he stopped at his regular bait shop and got some fresh bait and some bim-bim-bap Asian rolls for lunch. He gave the owner 5,000 Won.

“No wife today, Bob Shi?” the owner asked with a wink.

“No, aniyo.” The Professor looked sad.

“Too bad, Bob Shi.” They both laughed like boys out of school.

Still chuckling, the Professor made his way down the creaky wooden ramp to his little skiff.

 It wasn’t much. But, still, way more than I would ever be able to afford in the States, he nodded to himself. Thinking about the prices in San Diego, he shook his head. His brother Bill kept him apprised of the cost of housing and everything else that was going up.

“Think I’ll be staying a little longer, Bro,” the professor had told him.

“Can’t blame you man, if I had the least amount of interest in teaching, I might do what you’re doing,” Bill replied.

“Well, different strokes buddy. Say hello to Mom for me.”

“Say hello yourself, asshole, why don’t you give her a call?”

“I will. Been busy, you now, all these employees, the wife, kids. . ..”

“Right guy, that and more, huh?” Bill chuckled.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” his brother answered with an indignant tone.

“Okay, okay, tiger. Keep your hair on,” Bill was quick to appease his older brother. “What she doesn’t know, won’t hurt her, huh? Call Mom, right?”

“Sure, talk to you later.” Robert hung up the phone.

They rang off. Robert did call his mother. On her birthday, three months later.

                                                                        ###

The professor was out on the water and the rain clouds, threatening earlier, had blown away. It was a little cool, but he liked that and anyway, he had his jacket.

He had finished off the bim-bim-bap and one beer and was starting on the second beer. He was hoping for a couple of carp or small sea bass. If he caught one, he would just tell Shin he had stopped at the store to get them for dinner. She’d never know.

The sun was starting to get a little lower in the sky and he was almost nodding off, leading back against one of the braces. He saw a flicker off the corner of the boat, a tail, something blue.

He came awake and sat up and readjusted his glasses. Was it just a reflection of something? No, definitely, there it was again, going the other direction. From the size of the tail fin it looked big. Shark? In this far? He didn’t think so.

Still, he pulled in his line and rebaited the hook with the last bit of chum out of his tackle box. He cast it out in the water. He stood up to get the line out as far as possible. Then he sat and waited. Starting to feel some excitement, he had never caught any really big fish.

Wow! There it was again, a flick of the tail and a little closer. He pulled the line taunt. There was a tiny tug. Whoa! He gripped the line tighter, yes, that was a definite pull. He pulled the line tighter and tried to pull it toward the boat. This fish was fighting. Jesus! It was a big one.

Back and forth they went for several minutes. The professor, a strong man, was starting to get sweaty and tired. Wait till I tell the guys back at school. They won’t believe it!

Suddenly, the line went completely slack. He waited and waited. The clock ticked by, twilight was just starting to settle. Finally, with a note of disgust, he pulled the line back into the boat. He looked at the hook. The chum was gone, and his nice hook was bent.

“Shit!” His favorite hook. He undid the tie and threw the damaged hook in the water. He started the outboard and was turning it around when there was a ‘splash’ sound off to the side. He turned and saw what looked to be a grouper come up to the top of the water, catch a fly and go down again.

He rubbed his eyes. One more time the fish came up to the surface, grabbed another insect.

“Ha, ha!” The fish was gone again.

Robert stared after the fish. Did he just hear laughing? He grabbed the bottle of beer and shook it. Empty. The other one too. He touched his forehead lightly.

“I’ll be damned.” He gunned the motor and headed for shore. “Son of a bitch.” He was planning the next time he would come back. He’d have a much bigger hook and larger bait. He was going to get that bastard.

Continued – Part II