Winter Jacket: New Beginnings (2 page)

I was getting sick of the season as well, but I couldn’t be too mad at the weather. I owed an unseasonably long winter from the previous
year to my attraction to Hunter. If she hadn’t kept on her puffy winter jacket every day, all class long, even when the in-room heater was broken, I might not have noticed her. It wasn’t a large classroom with a lot of students, but she’d been just shy enough in class discussions that she could have flown under my radar.

“
What are you smiling about, Elle?” Emily asked, a laugh barely hiding behind the question.

My head snapped u
p. “Me? Nothing,” I squeaked defensively, feeling like I’d been caught. “Aren’t I allowed to smile?”

“
Oh, leave her alone,” Penny gently chastised. “She’s young and in love, not jaded by life like the rest of us.” The rest of the committee members chuckled at my expense.

I cleared my throat, embarrassed by all the attention.
My relationship with Hunter would be at the center of campus gossip until the next new “scandal.” I couldn’t wait for that day to come. I wanted to be known on campus, but for the right reasons.

The faculty were decidedly split in their support of my decision to date a former student. I hadn’t done a formal tally or anything, but that was my sense of the situation. Thos
e in my own discipline, including Bob, the Chair of the English department, had been nothing but supportive. But I could still feel the icy glare of judgment coming from others outside of my department, particularly from those who’d been employees of the university since The Beginning of Time. Emily and I referred to them as Dinosaurs, but they were just of a different generation, I supposed.

It wasn’t my job to change their attitude though
. I hadn’t experienced any over-the-top confrontations, just a few eyeballs when I went to collect my mail at the Campus Mail Center, but then again it could have just been my own paranoia and I could have been imagining it all.

The students themselves didn’t treat me any differently, eit
her, for which I was grateful. I didn’t know what I’d expected – maybe whispers as I walked into a classroom, or female students throwing themselves at me during my office hours, trying to get an Easy A – but everyone had been very mature about the whole situation.

“So do they know who’s taking over for Dean Krauss?” Betsy from Theology asked.

“I can’t imagine the Board of Directors would have moved
that
fast,” Suzanne from History remarked.

“They’ll probably make one of us take over his responsibilities in the interim
plus
keep teaching a full load,” Kathy Wagner from the Sociology department huffed. “All without extra compensation.” If there was one person on our small committee who I thought abrasive, it was Dr. Wagner. Whenever she talked, I felt like I was being scrubbed with sandpaper.

“Actually,” Penny said, raising her voice just slightly to regain control of the conversation, “they’ve already moved forward and made a hire.”

“Really?” Emily looked surprised by the news, which surprised me.

“
Yes,” Penny continued. “And word on the street is that Dean Krauss’ replacement is a savant at fundraising.”

“Well, I hope so,”
Kathy from Sociology snipped. She crossed her arms across her chest. “Our budget has been slashed every fiscal year for the past five years.”

The rest of the meeting continued in that fashion, Penny making announcements and then someone on the committee derailing our productiveness with a bit of gossip.
I started to take notes on a legal pad just to keep myself focused. Admittedly, I was finding it a little hard to get back into the swing of things of the new academic year. Maybe I was a little burned out from the tenure process. Maybe I should take Emily’s advice and slow down on this new book proposal. I tried to focus on Penny, who wanted to discuss things like course selection and budgets for going to conferences, but my thoughts kept drifting back to a Malibu beach and watching a girl defiantly face-off with the ocean.

+++++

“Hey, Doc. How’s it going?”

A former student of mine approached me before the start of my 20
th
Century American Literature class that afternoon. His name was Jeff, and even though he wasn’t an English major, he’d been in a few of my classes to satisfy general education credits. He was quirky; he’d probably been an introvert in high school who’d found his voice in college. When I’d first interacted with him outside of class I’d thought him to be a bit of a brown noser, but he was polite and outgoing and affable.

“
Not too bad, Jeff. How’s your semester?”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants and rocked back on his heels. “It’s still too early to tell,
but I wish I had you again this semester. I feel like all my professors this term were born in the 1900s.”

“
I was born in the 1900s, Jeff, and I believe you were, too,” I chuckled.

He duck
ed his head, looking sheepish. “You know what I mean.”

I smiled, but kept
my personal opinions about the Dinosaurs on the faculty to myself. Being around students who were perpetually 18 through 21 kept me abreast of the latest fads and technologies and hashtag language. At some point though I would become too old and all of that would pass me by and I’d become the professor who told Dad-jokes and tried just a little too hard.

“How’s Hunter?”

I nearly swallowed my tongue. This was the first time another student had acknowledged our relationship. It was no secret that Hunter and I were dating – it was a small campus that sometimes felt like the petty gossip of my high school years all over again – but no student had asked me about it, face to face.

“I hope that’s not out of line,”
he said with a smile that showed no trace of cruelty or malice. “She was quiet in class, but I thought she was cool.”

I’d completely forgotten
that Jeff had been in that class with Hunter.

“She’
s, ah, she’s good,” I said, feeling wildly uncomfortable. The hallway had suddenly become very warm. There must have been another broken heater somewhere. I tugged at my scarf.

“Well, time to get to class,”
he said, redistributing the weight of his backpack from one shoulder to the other. “Nice seeing you, Professor.”

“You, too.”

I felt self-conscious through the rest of my next class. We were discussing the first few chapters of one of my favorites, Ralph Ellison’s
Invisible Man
,
which traditionally confuses students because they think it’s supposed to be sci-fi, but discussion that day held no joy for me.

I went over my roster sheets afterwards
in my office to see if I currently had any students in my other classes who’d been in Hunter’s class. In a few semesters everyone from that course would have matriculated, giving me a clean slate. I hoped for no other conversations like the one I had had with Jeff. As innocuous as it had been, it still reminded me of how unorthodox our situation was.

+++++

Peggy’s was crowded for a Wednesday night, but the semester had just begun and students were overly eager to exhibit their independence from their parents so close to wrapping up Winter break. I’d finished working before Hunter had gotten off at the hospital. She’d come straight over to my house after work to get ready to go out. We’d met up with Troian and Nikole to have dinner at our favorite burger bar and afterwards we’d all made the trek across town to Peggy’s. I usually avoided the lesbian dive during the school year so I wouldn’t run into any current students. I had tried to stick to that policy the previous semester, but if I’d stayed away, Hunter and I might not be together.

I maneuvered my way to the front of the
bar crowd, catching the eye of Megan, one of the bartenders working tonight. She looked annoyed by a gaggle of barely-legal baby butches all vying for her attention, but when she saw me working my way closer to the bar, her dimpled grin made an appearance.

“Elle!”
she greeted, voice carrying over the din of music and conversation. “How are you?”

I allowed myself an inviting smil
e to match her own. “Thirsty.”

“Fair enough,” s
he laughed. “What can I get you?”

“
How about a pale ale on draft and a Malibu and pineapple if you’ve got it.”

Megan leaned back and grabbed a pint glass
from beneath the bar. “Malibu?” she said, her painted eyebrows rising on her forehead. “When did you join a sorority?”

I smirked at the jab. “My girlfriend’s not a beer drinker.”
Hunter hadn’t been 21 for very long and so wine and mixed drinks were her territory. After enough time with me though, I was convinced she’d graduate to hoppy craft beer.

Megan nodded knowingly. “
Sounds like you need to convert the girl.”

I accepte
d the drinks and left my credit card to keep an open tab. “I’ll see what I can do,” I said, saluting her with my pint.

It felt nice that there was no awkwardness between Megan and me.
But I shouldn’t have been surprised; Megan had never brought drama, not even when I basically kicked her out of my bed after the almost-one-night-stand. It was a lucky thing, too; Troian and Nikole would have never forgiven me if I’d gotten us banished from the only lesbian bar in the area. Community was hard to find in our remote, conservative region.

I maneuvered around the clusters of bar patrons that had seemed to grow more condensed since I’d first gone to the bar. I felt not a few pairs of hands pass along my backside as I tried to make it to the back of the bar, near the dance floor. If my hands hadn’t been preoccupied with drinks, I probably would have started a fight.

“Hi,” I murmured into Hunter’s ear when I finally returned to my spot in the crowd. I brought her drink up to eye level. “I’m glad you didn’t die from thirst.”

“It was touch and go for a while,” Hunter laughed.
Her grin spread and she took the proffered glass. She took an experimental sip and her eyes widened. “Oh wow. That’s good. And dangerous,” she added. “What is it?”

“Malibu and pineapple juice, compliments of Megan,” I said. “She knows how to mix a good drink.”

“Sure she didn’t spit in it?” Hunter asked with a lift of a skeptical brow. She examined the contents of her glass.

“I watched her the entire time,” I assured her.

I wrapped my arm around her waist and she seemed to reflexively shift her body so we fit together. I kissed her hair, near her temple. Even in a crowded bar and after a full day of interning at the hospital she smelled clean, like bar soap and fresh laundry.

All my life I’d worked toward some far-off goal; getting tenure at a teaching college had been my goal for such a long time it had been hard to focus on anything else. I was lucky to have friends like Troian and Nikole who forced me to stop and enjoy the journey rather than put on the blinders until I got to the destination. I spotted Nikole at the bar, laughing about something with Megan. The combination of all those white teeth was blinding. I assumed Troian was nearby, glowing green with unwarranted jealousy.

If it hadn’t been for their prodding, I might never have pursued Hunter, dismissing it as too professionally risky to date a former student. I would have missed out on getting to know this amazing, gentle-souled, open-hearted individual. She would have forever remained a What If or an If Only – an enigma in a blue winter jacket.

I didn’t want us to grow out of this honeymoon phase. I knew it was inevitable that our relationship would evolve at some point, but I wanted to hold onto this feeling for as long as I could. I wasn’t unreasonable. I understood that long-term relationships couldn’t stay electrically charged forever. One day you’re having sex in a public restroom and ten years later it’s tight-lipped kisses goodnight because you’re exhausted and you have to get up early in the morning. Relationships change.
They evolve. But I didn’t ever want to evolve. Damn you, Charles Darwin.

I felt the phone in Hunter’s back pocket vibrate against me. She fished it out to see who was texting her, but set it down just as quickly on a nearby cocktail table.
“God,” she fumed. She made a frustrated noise. “Sara has the worst timing ever.”

I let my arm lax around her wais
t, but didn’t let go entirely. “What’s wrong?”

Hunter’s
roommate, Sara, made me uncomfortable. She’d been a student of mine in her Freshman year. That in and of itself was unremarkable, but it hadn’t been too long after we’d been at Hunter’s apartment one night that the rumors about me having a relationship with a student had started to accumulate on campus. I still suspected that it had been Sara who’d told the University about my relationship with Hunter. The timing was too suspect. I’d petitioned Dean Krauss, the then-Dean of the College of Arts & Sciences, and Bob Birken, the Chair of my department, to discover who had been my anonymous confessor, but neither, understandably, would reveal who had informed the school.

Hunter growled again as she typed
back a response on her phone. “Our lease isn’t up until after graduation, but Sara’s just decided she doesn’t want to live with me anymore. I’ve got to either replace her with a new roommate or find a studio or single bedroom apartment I can afford on my own.”

“She doesn’
t want to live with you anymore?” I echoed with a frown. Hunter and Sara had been friends in high school and that friendship had carried over when they’d both attended the same local university. They’d been roommates since Freshman year. “Is it because of me?”

“
No. I made it sound overly dramatic, sorry,” Hunter said, waving her free hand. “She graduated a semester early and just got a job out of state. I should be happy for her, but now I’ve got this added stress.”

I anticipated it was
going to be a tough semester for my girlfriend. Senioritis was a challenge to combat, even for the most dedicated student, plus she had a demanding internship at the local hospital. She’d secured a very competitive position in the Maternity Ward this semester, which included rounds in the neonatal intensive care unit. I was extremely proud of her and not a little in awe.

“You wouldn’t want to, I don’t
know, move in with me?” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could shove them back in. I found myself unable to look her in the eyes, so I averted my gaze. The dark green carpeting looked stained even through the dimmed bar lighting. I shuddered to think about what it looked like when all the lights were turned on.

“That’
s really sweet of you, but I don’t want to U-haul you.” Hunter frowned slightly and fine creases formed between her blue eyes. “I hear that’s a thing we lesbians do.”

“
U-haul, eh? Did you finally get around to reading the lesbian handbook?” I shakily teased, hoping I didn’t look like I might puke. I couldn’t believe I’d asked her to move in with me so casually. That was moving at the speed of light for me.

She nodded, still lookin
g serious. “Troian’s been educating me.”

I
stood up a little straighter. “Oh she has, has she?” I flashed a look in the direction of my best friend. Troian was talking animatedly with one of the other bartenders, Leah. I wondered if Troian had had something alcoholic to drink because her face looked a little pink and she was talking with her hands more than usual. “And what else besides U-hauls has she educated you about?” I was only half kidding.

“I hope you’re not mad.” Hunter
bit down on her lower lip. “I know I practically live with you anyway, but it’s nice to have a space that’s all my own.”

“No. I know we’re not there yet,” I quickly agreed. “
I just got a little carried away.”

We’d jumped head
first into this thing, having sex before we’d even been on our first date. We needed more dates – I was convinced of this. Our schedules had gotten so busy with the ebbs and flows of the academic year, and the drama surrounding my tenure review had probably accelerated the pace of our relationship even more so. Our age difference and the unconventional way in which we’d met had forced us to defend and justify being a couple.