departmental regulation. If Iâm not mistaken, there should be nothing standing in the wayof its approval. The idea behind this new regulation, in substance, is that we fulfil more rigorously what up till now hasnât been worth the paper itâs written on; that is: the contract of a professor who has not demonstrated the level of intellectual and professional competence the department considers adequate will not be renewed. I know such measures can seem threatening; in reality theyâre only intended as a stimulus to everyone. Now then, Mario,â Scanlan went on, clearly making an effort to adopt a less impersonal or more urgent tone, âyour contract, if Iâm not mistaken, expires in June. I imagine that the committee will meet in the spring. Which leaves you six months, more than enough time to prepare something or finish polishing something up that youâve been working on all this time: three years is a long time not to have published anything at all. And I must insist this is not a threat, Mario, Iâm just stating facts; take it rather as advice from a friend who appreciates you. Work, Mario, get something prepared, anything, and send if off to some journal or present it at some conference, and thatâll be that. Either way, write something, and quickly: I have to tell you that otherwise itâll not be easy for me to stand up for you to the committee.â
XVI
Branstyne came to pick him up at seven. They took Lincoln Avenue, turned left on University and carried on towards the suburbs north of the city. They barely spoke during the drive. They parked in front of Branstyneâs house, a single-storey building, with white walls, big windows, a smooth green roof, crowned with two chimneys (one very small and metal, the other larger, rectangular and made of stone), above which swayed a willow. A gravel path across the garden led to the garage, whose silhouette stood out against a dense mass of vegetation.
They went into the dining room. From the kitchen they could hear the clinking of glasses, cutlery and saucepans, as well as a delicate smell of pasta. Tina soon appeared wrapped in a brown apron, her hair dishevelled, her smile radiant. Mario thought she looked lovely. They kissed hello.
âDinner will be ready in a minute,â said Tina. Looking at Mario with shining eyes she added, âItâs going to be absolutely delicious.â And she went back into the kitchen.
âWeâve got time for a drink,â said Branstyne. âWhat would you like?â
âA dry Martini,â answered Mario.
Branstyne prepared two dry Martinis with ice. He handed one to Mario and sat in an armchair, facing him.
âSo, howâs the situation, then?â he asked as if picking up a recently interrupted conversation where they had left off.
âWhat situation?â
âYour position in the department.â
Mario was annoyed by Branstyneâs brusqueness, by the way heâd almost rushed to raise the issue, as if heâd only been invited to dinner to talk about it. What for? he wondered, in confusion.
âBad,â Mario admitted, suddenly feeling like talking. âHow would you expect it to be? In reality things couldnât be any worse since Berkowickz arrived.â And as he said this he was also thinking it for the first time.
âWhatâs Berkowickz got to do with it?â
âHeâs practically fired me,â said Mario as if to himself, without intending to answer Branstyneâs question.
âBerkowickz fired you?â
âNo,â said Mario, returning to the conversation. âScanlan. I spoke to him this morning: now I know that in June they wonât renew my contract.â
âThat canât be,â Branstyne declared with conviction. âThose kinds of things are decided by the committee, and the committee canât rescind a contract just like that. Theyâd have to wait at least until