Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
“Yep, just more flyers,” I say while strolling back to the warmth of the kitchen. “A lot of wasted paper here.”
But then I stop because there’s a very official looking envelope in the pile. The sender says it’s from the university, which isn’t odd in and of itself. But usually, when the university wants to communicate with me, they do it by email. Only formal communications are reserved for snail mail.
“Anything good?” Aria asks from her seat in the kitchen. “Mmm, these pancakes are so yummy. Thank you for making them Roland.”
But I don’t answer. Instead, I rip open the envelope, my forehead creasing. There’s a letter inside printed on university letterhead, and my eyes go wide as I read it. Oh shit.
“What the fuck?” I sputter, placing the letter down on the breakfast table with anger. “Who the fuck do they think they are?”
Aria looks confused and picks up the letter herself, reading it quickly.
“What?” she asks, her voice trailing off with surprise. “They think that you plagiarized someone in your work? How is that possible?”
I stalk around the small kitchen, raging.
“It’s not possible, that’s the point. But this fucking ivory tower, I want to fucking blow it up! You know how these things work?”
The pretty blonde still looks confused, shaking her head.
“No, how?”
I rage more, spittle practically flying from my mouth.
“There are no rules! Some fucking prick writes in to your department claiming that you’ve plagiarized a piece. Then your department chair has to open an investigation, and your career pretty much hits a standstill. Because what journal is going to publish my work while I’m being investigated? How am I going to “publish or die”? I’m just going to die. What the fuck? Who did this?”
Aria looks completely surprised, her face draining of all color.
“But surely, there has to be some proof right? They can’t just open up an investigation based on nothing. Did you copy something, even inadvertently?”
“NO!” I rage. “All of my work is my own, and I’ve never stolen from another writer. What the fuck? How could you think that, Aria?”
She becomes even more pale, her hands dropping limply into her lap.
“No, I didn’t mean to imply that Roland. Of course you’ve never plagiarized anyone. I’m just trying to understand how this mysterious accuser could even come up with the allegation. I mean, he can’t just pull it out of thin air, can he?”
I shake my head miserably, while continuing to stalk around the small space.
“Yes, he can, Aria,” I say in a low monotone. “Or she, whoever this fucker is. Basically, the internet has made the impossible possible. You can literally create a literary journal out of nothing. You can find some critiques, slap them onto a site, and then call yourself the New Review of Books. Keep this up for a few months, put up a fake masthead, and soon you have a journal of sorts. Then, you publish something based on my work, but instead of crediting me, you say that I plagiarized this mysterious author.”
“But that’s all fake,” Aria says with utter confusion in her voice. “These fake literary journals are totally transparent. Anyone can see that they’re just pulling wool over our eyes.”
I shake my head with despair.
“Yeah, you’d think that, right? But the truth is that when an allegation like this surfaces, the university has to investigate, and more often than not, those investigations take months, if not years. My career is probably over, Aria. I’m not going to get tenure. I’m fucked.”
Immediately, my girl stands and throws her small arms around me.
“That’s not true,” she says, her voice muffled by my shoulder. “This isn’t the end. We’ll prove that this is all a hoax, and that you’ve been targeted by some vindictive assholes.”
I pull her close, the sorrow making my voice choke.
“I hope you’re right, but sweetheart, the investigation is going to be relentless. They’re going to look under every rock. They’re going to sic the university’s lawyers on me. Hell, I’ll probably need to get a lawyer myself, seeing that my life is about to be placed under the microscope. I’m fucked,” I say again, my big form shaking a bit. It’s been a long time since I’ve cried, but suddenly, I discover that my cheeks are wet. What the hell? Who is this anonymous terrorist hell bent on taking down my career? Who the fuck does this asshole think he is?
But at least I have Aria because she pulls me close, murmuring sweet nothings while stroking my back.
“We’ll get through it together,” she says in a soothing voice. “I promise you, Roland. Everything is going to be okay.”
I inhale on a shuddering breath and pull that curvy form close while burying my head in her golden hair. The pain that we’re about to go through is going to be intense because the university is bound to discover our relationship. Yet, I can’t go through this without my love. She’s everything to me: my backbone, my identity, and my calm in the center of the storm. Only with Aria by my side, will I survive.