Uncross My Heart (17 page)

“I like helping people. I believe the church makes a difference.

And hey, I like being around men, what can I say,” he joked. “And you seriously get in the way of that, being my best friend and all.”

“Why didn’t we have this talk before?”

“Because we were busy hiding.”

“That’s what Viv said. She said I’m hiding.”

“Smart girl. Maybe you should go find her?”

“I will.” I tried to stand up.

“But tomorrow, when you’re sober. Or the day after, when you’re not hungover and looking like hell.” He waved for the waiter again.

“And now, for our next act, we’re going to put coffee in you for several hours so you can drive home, because I’m not schlepping you out to the farm tonight and then retrieving you in the morning. Friendship has its limits.”

I awoke Saturday morning feeling as if a small grenade had gone off in my head and an incessant ringing was taking place in my ears. Ketch howled, letting me know it was in his ears too—someone was ringing the doorbell. I staggered to the front porch to greet the driver of a white van, who was bearing a vase of roses. I signed for them as he tipped his hat, then opened the card as he hopped back in the truck and drove away. The note read,
Thinking of you. Hope you are
well.
My heart was filled with amazing joy. It wasn’t over. She sent me flowers. I headed for the phone and read the note again on the way
. I’ve
missed seeing you…Gladys.

Gladys? Omigod, not Viv but Gladys. Oh, good Lord.
I paced and fretted.
She reports to Hightower that I’m having lesbian liaisons
and then sends me roses. Why in the world did I ever lay lips on that
woman? I’ve stoked a fire that’s giving hell a run for its money. What
am I going to say to Gladys? Just a casual thanks for the roses. Or act
like I never got them. No, she can check that. Maybe say I kept them for
a day and then took them to the local nursing home. That might turn her
off. I need to turn her off.

“That phrase ‘Love is in the air.’ Well, it’s true, Ketch. It’s like a virus. Even Gladys has caught it.”

I grabbed the phone and dialed Viv’s number by heart. I got her answering machine and left her a message. “Viv, this is Alex. Don’t punch Erase. Let me take you to dinner. I want to start over. Can we talk?”I hung up and Ketch stared at me.

“Come on, ride with me. I need someone to talk to.”

Suddenly it dawned on me that today was the book signing. My heart leapt. I could find her. Instead of heading for campus, I checked my watch and drove across town to Borders.

“You’re going to have to wait in the car for a minute,” I warned Ketch.The parking lot was packed and people were walking in, some with
The Untruths
already purchased and under their arms, apparently wanting an autograph. Across the store, toward the back, a line formed and I headed in that direction. People were queued up in front of a small table with a stack of books on it, and Vivienne Wilde, looking smashingly beautiful, greeted them and asked each person her name and how she would like the title page inscribed. Then for a brief moment she wrote something in the book and looked up with a big smile, handed the book to them, and thanked them for coming.

I waited in line thirty minutes, watching her every move. She stayed focused on the individual directly in front of her as if that person were the only one in the world, and it appeared her fans felt that singular focus and loved it.

As the tall older woman ahead of me moved on, I appeared in front of Vivienne and she looked up, registering surprise as I reached over and picked up a book from the stack beside her.

“Would you autograph this for me?”

She paused, looked into my eyes for a split second, then opened the book to the title page and asked, “How would you like me to make it out?”

“To Alex.”

She bent over the book and I watched her inscribe it, the beautiful fingers of her right hand moving slowly as she shielded the words from me with her left, then fanned the ink dry, and closed the book on me.

“Thank you for coming.” Her eyes went to the person behind me, and I was moved aside by a young girl with horn-rimmed glasses.

I paid the young clerk with the nose-piercings and reluctantly exited the store and headed for my car. Clasping the book like a Bible, I climbed into the front seat, sank back in the leather, next to Ketch, and opened the book to the page she’d just signed.

It said,
Alex, I love you. Viv.

I read it again and again and again as if they were new words no one else had ever heard. So what if they were on every Valentine ever sent, on the lips of every lover who ever loved. These words were meant for me only. My entire being changed and I could hear nothing but
Alex, I love you, Viv. Alex, I love you, Viv. Alex, I love you, Viv.
I couldn’t stop smiling.

I drove Ketch to campus with the top down, energized and emboldened, and told him I’d come to a decision. I was going to lead an authentic life if it killed me and harelipped the pope. “I’m also going to make love with Vivienne Wilde,” I said, and glanced over at Ketch.

He looked at me for a second, then hung his head out of the car. “You can refuse to hear it, if you want to,” I shouted above the wind, “but I’m going to be happy.”

* * *

Monday I parked in the lot nearest Hightower’s office, and Ketch and I jogged across campus to meet him. Eleonor reminded me, as I arrived slightly winded, that I didn’t have an appointment.

“But since you look like both your hair and ass are on fire, I’ll ask if he’ll see you.” She eyed me suspiciously. “What’s going on with you?” She waggled the phone in the air as she held me captive, refusing to buzz Hightower. “Wearin’ a sexy shirt—”

“I’ve had this shirt for—”

“Face all rosy—”

“Do you mind?” I pointed at the phone, reminding her of her mission.

“Somebody’s busted into your aura, girl, and from the looks of it, your heart could be next.” She changed her tone as Hightower came on the line. “Dr. Westbrooke needs a minute with you for something important.” She hung up. “You better make up something important or he’ll bust my butt for the rest of the day.”

Moments later, I was standing in Hightower’s office as Ketch ate part of a breakfast muffin at Eleonor’s desk.

“To what do I owe this visit?” he said, glancing down at my palm, no doubt to ascertain if my wound was healing, and therefore his school.

“I haven’t been honest with you,” I said.

“Roger didn’t stab you, did he?”

“What? No, of course he did. My moral dilemma is about—”

“That woman Gladys saw you with?”

“No, it’s about—”

“Please don’t tell me Gladys has hit on you.” He smiled for the first time.

“She did send me roses.”

“What?” His shock was humorous, then quickly switched to annoyance. “What are you rambling on about, Dr. Westbrooke?”

“I’m a lesbian. And I intend to live and teach and preach as one.”

Hightower couldn’t have whipped his neck back farther if a snake had darted into his face. “What are you saying?”

“Just that.”

“Well.” Hightower moved around the room like a caged animal intent on finding a way out. “Well, well, well.”

I didn’t move. My courage, so strong on my arrival, was waning. I began silently chanting
carbon under pressure becomes diamonds
and had no idea where that came from
.
I was quite certain a silent prayer would be more appropriate, but right now I felt intense pressure and needed a sparkling outcome.

“Do you want this in the school newspaper or just the church bulletin on Sunday?” His tone was acrid. “What do you expect me to do with this information?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing’s changed. I am exactly who I was ten minutes ago when I was completely acceptable to this institution.”

“Gay priests do not exist. Gay seminary leaders do not work at Claridge. If you are
out
, Dr. Westbrooke, then you are out.”

“I’m out but Roger Thurgood III, a dangerously troubled young man, is in?”

“You’d best decide by week’s end if this conversation ever took place. I am willing to pretend it did not. Good day.”

“I don’t need until week’s end. This conversation has indeed taken place,” I said and walked out.

“What happened?” Eleonor asked, her tone worried as Ketch fell in behind me.

“I just told Hightower I’m a lesbian.”

“He didn’t know that?” she asked as if he were the idiot.

“And that I’m going to live my life openly and be who I am.”

“You go, girl.”

“That’s kind of what
he
said.”

* * *

Later that afternoon, I rang Vivienne but she didn’t call me back.

However, Lyra Monahan left a message saying she was in town. And Gladys left a message asking me to lunch. I slumped in my office chair, the blinds drawn, and waited for Viv to call. After several hours I rang her again. Still no answer. This time I left no message. Apparently I had mistaken her loving me with her wanting to see me.

I opened my e-mail and saw the message with the chancellor’s electronic seal on it. The short paragraph said the administration would not be renewing my contract, which was up next year and, further, if I created any more bad publicity for the school, I would be terminated. A written confirmation of same would be mailed to me.
That was quick,
and he didn’t even have the courage to do it in person,
I thought.

“The price of an authentic life,” I told Ketch. “I may get to be authentic on a park bench.”

A knock at the door and Angela was standing with a baby on her hip. For a moment, I couldn’t believe it was the same child we’d taken to the hospital. Certainly not entirely healthy, at least she didn’t appear to be in any imminent danger.

“Hello.” She picked up the baby’s small hand and waved it at me as if the baby were speaking. “Maria Estrella and I wanted to come by and say hi.”

“Well, hello,” I said. The little girl reached out for me and I glanced at her mother, who said to please take her. I lifted her into my arms and rocked her. She didn’t seem at all distressed by a stranger holding her.

“She’s so used to nurses and doctors. Nothing bothers her.”

“She looks much better.”

“She
is
better and she’s come by to say thank you. That night was the worst night of my life, and you came and you saved her life. We will always remember that.”

“God saved her life. I just drove the car.”

“But you cared enough to come, you baptized her, you called a doctor, you got her to the hospital. You saved her life.”

“Well, Maria Estrella must have important work to do in this world since she elected to stay,” I said. I wondered what would have happened if Dennis had gone to see Maria. Would he have baptized her and left? Would he have talked to Ortiz and learned that the baby was only lacking medical care due to money? Would he have known a doctor he could immediately call?
Perhaps God saw to it that Dennis
had refused to go and that I was there
. I hugged Angela as we said our good-byes and for a moment I felt at peace. Maybe my work had purpose. Maybe my life had purpose. I looked up at the ceiling as if God resided there. “You always do it to me. Just when I think it’s all for nothing, You send someone.”

* * *

That afternoon I located Dennis coming out of the gym on campus and reported that I couldn’t get Viv to call me back. “But she loves me,” I assured him and myself.

He cut his eyes at me. “But won’t talk to you? Anything else happen?”

“I’ve been fired.”

He stopped suddenly, looking aghast as I told him about going to Hightower’s office. He began pacing and fuming over Hightower’s behavior.

“He’s a hypocrite.” Oddly, Dennis seemed to be taking this far more seriously than I.

“It will all work out. I’ll find another job.” I gulped down the last third of a Diet Dr Pepper.

“It’s not that. You’re good for this school. So many people aren’t, but you are.” He panted like a Pomeranian.

“Now you’re getting me upset. You’ve never said anything remotely that nice to me. In fact, most of the time you’re telling me I should resign and move on to a more liberal school.”

“I was keeping you on your toes.”

“Thanks. Why are you panting?”

“I’ve been working out.”

“Isn’t that supposed to make you
not
pant?”

“Once my body-fat ratio changes, yes.”

“A lot more than your body-fat ratio will be changing now that Hightower’s retiring.”

“He doesn’t want to retire.” Dennis looked around like a hero in a spy novel. “You’ve got to fight for your job.”

“I haven’t got a leg to stand on. Nothing I could say would change anything.”

“You can win this. Go back to his office and stand up to him and—”

“And what? Tell him I was mistaken…I’m not gay?”

“You came forward and told him something honestly from your heart, and he fired you.”

“Well, it’s over.”

“Same damned thing he did to Emerson.”

“How do you know?”

“I knew Emerson. He was a great teacher. It’s not, look—” Dennis stopped so suddenly I had to jump aside to keep from running over him. “I want you to go to his office and simply say you refuse to be fired—” My laughing broke up his words. “Listen to me. Tell him…”

Dennis started circling like a dog pressing down grass, then flopped to the ground and ran his hands through his hair and cracked his knuckles repeatedly.

“What is wrong with you, are you having some kind of spell?”

“Tell him you know about the panties,” he blurted.

“I know about the panties?”

“Both times.”

I stared at him.

“That’s all I can say. Promise me you’ll do it.”

“You have to tell me—”

“Just do it…but don’t mention my name.” He suddenly bolted to his feet. “I only wish I could be there,” he said over his shoulder and I watched him disappear down the walkway, leaving me to contemplate the absurdity of our conversation.