A House on Eden

13. Johnson & Collins

Mr. Johnson was a fatherly man in his early sixties. He was short, broad in build with some remaining hair around his temples. But when he called me into his office that morning his face was as white as a sheet.

He pointed me to the chair across from his desk. I sat down, watching him struggle for the words.

"Jessie," he said finally, "you've been like a daughter to me. What I have to tell you now is very difficult."

"What is it?" I said. "You can tell me anything, you know that."

"I do," he said, "{that's what makes this so hard." He paused again, seeking the right opening.

"You've been with us for ten years now, Jessie," he said. "On your application you supplied us with information about your education. You attended Virginia Tech and majored in business. You obtained a bachelor's degree from said institution."

"Correct," I said.

"I received an anonymous phone call," he said, "informing me that you falsified that information."

"What?" I said.

"That's what I said," he continued, "so I contacted the registrar concerning your records. He told me he has no recorded of our ever having attended there."

"There must be some mistake!" I exclaimed.

"Jessie," he said softly, "if indeed you falsified this information it is grounds for your immediate termination. The warning in this regard is clearly stated in our application forms."

"I know it is," I said, but I swear to you that whoever told you this is lying."

"And the registrar?" He said.

"He's lying too," I said.

"Can you prove it?" He said with a hopeful look in his eyes.

"I think so, but I need time," I said.

"I'm putting you on a leave of absence," he said. "With pay. It's the best I can do. If you can persuade me to the contrary, we'll put this whole business behind us. If not, I have no choice but to fire you. I'll give you the best severance package I can for all your outstanding service over the past ten years. It's the best I can do, Jessie."

I thanked him for his kindness and left his office, my mind reeling.

"I'm getting fired," I told Kevin in the lunch room while making coffee.

"You're kidding me, right?" He smiled, but then he saw the serious look in my eyes. I told him what I had learned and said: "how can my records just disappear, Kev? It all seems so surreal, like I'm dreaming."

"Your records did not disappear," he said. "College transcripts are protected by FERPA, Federal Education Records Privacy Act. The registrar only said that they weren't there. Don't you see what's happening here, Jess?"

"Bruce," I sighed.

"I can straighten this out for you," he said. "We can make this into an unlawful firing case and subpoena the school's records and clear this up really fast. Do you want me to proceed? It will take a little time."

I'm on a leave of absence," I said. "I have all the time in the world."

The next morning I woke to warm sunlight pouring in through the blinds. It caressed the walls, putting long gray images across them. I could almost imagine the walls purring.

I took my coffee out on the porch and sat in my rocker overlooking the garden. The ivy was growing across its edges. Weeds were growing out between the cracks of the stones that laid the foot path. The pond was crowded with an excess of water lilies. The grass needed cutting again.