He stepped through the gates and Angela followed closely.
“You know, I’m almost surprised you waited for me,” she said. “You could’ve told me the wrong time so you could do this solo.”
“I considered it,” he said. “But I figure I owe it to Amir to not turn down whatever help is offered.”
“I’m sure he’d be happy to hear that,” Angela said.
“You didn’t tell him what’s going on, did you?” Eric asked.
“No, I told him not to worry, like you wanted,” Angela replied. “It didn’t do much to help, but I’ve bought us a little time, at least.”
“That’s better than nothing,” Eric said. “I just hope he can forgive me for keeping all this from him.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to him,” Angela said. “I recommend some place with lots of sun. And maybe a hot tub.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
They made their way into one of the campus’s main buildings and headed upstairs. On the third floor, at the end of the hall, Eric stopped at the door to the Anthropology Department. He knocked on the frosted glass.
“Come in!” a pleasant voice called out.
Eric opened the door. A secretary’s desk sat empty in the centre of the room. Behind it, a small photocopier churned out midterms. Doors led off in all directions to various professors’ offices, but one stood open.
“Are you the one that emailed?” the voice said.
“Uh, yes,” Eric replied.
They followed the voice to an office on the right. The room was cluttered with stacks of books, artifacts of varying age and function, scraps of computer printouts. A whiteboard hung from the far wall, and a woman stood in front of it jotting notes that Angela couldn’t understand.
The woman was tall, close to six feet, and wiry. Her hair was strawberry blond, tied up in a bun at the back of her head. She wore a white blouse with pale pink pencil skirt.