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were having in honor of Peters becoming dean and receiving a fellowship wasn’t exactly a social gathering, and it was barely academic .
    And what difference did it make?

    Crawford kept looking over at Peters, trying to distract himself from the audience in front of him that was now a mass of ghostly silhouettes. Crawford hoped the sight of Peters would help his jitters, but it didn’t.
    Peters sat quietly on the opposite side of the podium from Dorothy, smiling as Crawford delivered his introduction. W hat a perfect example of a legitimate scientist in the field of Behavioral Psychology, Crawford thought. If there is such a person. With his neatly trimmed beard and spectacles, Peters almost looked like Freud — without the dog, the cocaine addiction and the ridiculous ambition of explaining the human mind.
    “I can’t think of anyone who deserves the honor of being dean of the graduate school more than Dr. Phillip Peters.”
    Mediocre remark.

    As the audience applauded, Crawford realized he’d just said what he’d overheard Berry say half an hour before, almost verbatim. But strangely he started to relax a bit.
    Nothing’s original. Keep going.

    “Phil and I have known each other for over seventeen years now, and I know of no one more dedicated to the field of psychology than he is.” Crawford hoped that was sufficient. “Ladies and Gentlemen, the new dean of graduate studies in psychology here at our marvelous university, and this year’s recipient of the Helmut Vogel Fellowship. Dr. Phillip Peters.”
    The audience broke into applause, but after a few seconds Crawford didn’t hear it. His thoughts about Peters drowned out the noise. His thoughts were a cruel mother pointing to an example of the person he should be. He stood to the side and shook his old friend’s hand then saw the audience stand and applaud. He walked over to his assigned seat and waited for the audience to sit down so he could do the same.
    Peters awkwardly pushed his mouth toward the microphone and said thank you. Crawford thought of how humble he was in the face of such admiration. No ego, no attempt to impress.
    That’s why he’s the best.

    “Thank you so much,” Peters said nodding. “The University. The members of our department. Thank you all. It’s certainly a pleasure to see an old doctoral comrade of mine who’s gone on to bigger and better things,” he said smiling at Crawford.
    The audience clapped again, but not so loud.
    “I guess he had the self-esteem and I didn’t.”
    The room filled with vociferous laughter. Crawford didn’t appreciate the remark, even though he knew Peters didn’t mean to be cruel. Nevertheless, he now felt more uncomfortable.
    And this damn crotch is killing me .
    During his brief speech, Peters never mentioned Crawford again. He thanked his colleagues in the department. He thanked the members of the administration for their appointment. He thanked the board at the Vogel Fellowship for believing in his research. He seemed to thank everyone but Crawford.
    By the end of the event, Dorothy, seeing that her husband’s insecurities had been aggravated by the experience, was especially attentive. “Are you okay, dear? Did something bother you tonight?”
    “Can we just go now? I’ll feel much better when we’re on our way home. Let’s just go. Right now.”
    They both walked to the lobby, with Crawford two steps ahead as Dorothy continued to smile and say hello to others.
    “That means tonight, sweetheart,” he said under his breath, periodically nodding to the other guests.
    “Okay, okay,” Dorothy said before grabbing her husband’s arm. “Let me just say hello to Joanne Brady over there,” she said, tiptoeing away with her just-one-minute finger in the air.
    I’ll never get her out of here, he thought.
    Crawford stood in the foyer with people nodding as they passed. It reminded him just how much he needed his wife. She was the backbone of the family. She’d always been the