Winter Jacket: New Beginnings (26 page)

I stood from my chair. “
Thank you for seeing me and considering my request,” I said cordially.

Dean Merlot
nodded, looking absent-minded. I moved to leave, but stopped at her office door when she said my name.

“Elle.”

“Yes?”

“I’
m-I’m sorry we keep butting heads like this,” she stumbled on her apology. Her words expressed her remorse, but her face reflected it even more so. “I envy you, you know? Not everyone can be so brave.” Her youthful features looked nearly pained by what she wasn’t revealing.

I nodded once, feeling a world of confusion.

+++++

“She’
s gay. The Dean is gay,” I proclaimed. “And that’s why she’s been picking on me.”

I’d texted Troian a
message of S.O.S. and both she and Nikole had come on Skype to talk. I could tell it was another gorgeous, sunny day in California as the sun streamed in through their kitchen windows, making my friends practically glow on my laptop screen.

“
How do you know?” Troian pressed. “Did she Come Out to you?”

“
Or
come on
to you?” Nikole chuckled.

“No, neither one,” I clarified to Nikole’
s amused grin. “But she practically Outed herself saying weird things like how she was ‘envious of how brave I was.’ Who talks like that?”

“The gays,” Troian agreed.

“It makes sense – getting the most backlash from someone who should be your biggest ally,” Nikole observed with a sage nod. “She must really be locked up tight in that closet.”

I sighed miserabl
y. “So what do I do about it?”

“
Is there anything you
can
do?” Nikole asked.

I sighed deeply. “
Nothing comes to mind except waiting. Waiting to see if she grants me the sabbatical.”

“If she rejects you, I’
m calling the ACLU or the HRC or something else that uses an acronym,” Troian declared.

I
tried to be more levelheaded. “I’ve just got to be patient,” I reasoned with myself. “She said she’d let me know by the end of the week.”

“I bet she’
d decide a lot faster if you gave her a lap dance,” Troian snickered.

I flashed my friend a warning glare.

She held up her hands. “Hey, I didn’t say
you
had to give her a lap dance.”

I shook my head, but laughed. For being the most dedicated girlfriend I’d ever
met, Troian always thought lap dances made everything better.

“I want my friend in California with me,” Troian pouted.

“I know, I know,” I sighed.

Nikole rolled her eyes. “Get a room, you guys.”

“Have you talked to Hunter about moving?” Troian asked. “Or are you being a bad girlfriend again?”

I didn’t know if the two questions were mutually exclusive. “I talked to her about it Saturday morning,” I confirmed.

“Is she excited for the move?” Nikole asked.

I opened my mouth to respond – to tell them to temper their enthusiasm because I might not even get the sabbatical and that I was overly hesitant to have Hunter stall her career for a gamble – but my cell phone rang.

My friend and colleague, Emily’s, face filled up the screen. I was tempted to let it go to voicemail so I could continue this conversation, but I couldn’t recall Emily ever calling me at home; something had to be up.

“I should take this call, guys,” I said. “I’ll talk to you later.”

I answered the phone after ending my Skype session, feeling all kinds of trepidation. I wondered if Emily had heard about my request for a Fall semester sabbatical already and was calling to yell at me for waiting until the very last minute. I was sure it was going to put the English department in a tough position.

I
answered the phone just before it went to voicemail. “Hello?”

Emily didn’t waste any time with niceties.
“I can’t believe you got married and I didn’t even get an invite.”

“I did
what?!” I sputtered back. I hadn’t been expecting that at all.

“You got married.”

“I did?”

“You didn’t?”

“I definitely did not,” I assured her. “Hunter and I haven’t been together even a year.”

“Oh.
” Emily paused. “I didn’t even think about that. Well, maybe I did, but I thought maybe lesbians worked at a different speed than the rest of the world.”

“What did you hear exactly?” I pressed.

I heard Emily’s intake of air. “There weren’t a lot of details, just that you went to California and you got married.”

“I was
in
California a few days ago, but it wasn’t to get married. My friend
Troian
is getting married, but I was just there to visit.”

I could practically hear Emily shaking her head. “Wow. How do these rumors get started?”

I had a pretty good idea, but I kept it to myself. The only people who knew I’d gone to California were Troian and Nikole, Hunter, and my mom. I could imagine my mom had probably made some innocent comment at the library about me, California, and a wedding, and it had gotten twisted into me going to California to get married.

“I should have known it wasn’t true,” Emily chuckled, “but the last time I heard a whopper about you, it actually turned out to be true.”

“Fuck,” I uncharacteristically swore.
Fuck, fuckity, fuck.

“What?”

“If Dean Merlot hears I got married, she’s going to think I did it just to piss her off; like I’m rubbing her nose in my gayness.”

“Oh gross, Elle. Please don’t rub anything on Dean Merlot.”

“I can’t believe this is happening. I just asked her for a sabbatical.” I pressed my palm against my forehead. “I literally just left her office.”

“Sabbatical? It’s about time, lady; you deserve a break.”

I hadn’t told Emily yet, or really anyone besides Hunter, Troian, and Nikole about my proposed Fall sabbatical. “It was more like I
demanded
a sabbatical
.
I basically barged into her office and told her to give me next semester off.”

Emily whistled. “
Next
semester? Girl, you’ve got balls.”

“Do I call her office and head off the rumor mill?” I worried out loud.

“I imagine she’s already heard the news,” Emily offered. “You’re kind of a fount for juicy gossip.”

I rubbed at my forehead. My timing for these kinds of things seemed to be disastrous.
The semester before my tenure review meeting, the campus had been abuzz about my relationship with Hunter, a former student. And now, just as I was trying to get a semester break from my homophobic, closeted boss, rumors about me getting married were floating around the skeleton crew still left on campus.

“I
f you keep hearing the rumor, will you do me a favor and protect my honor?” I made a mental note to tell my mom to never talk about me ever again on campus.

Emily laughed. “It would be my pleasure, m’lady.”

“Thanks for the heads up
again
, Em.” She’d been the one who’d let me know when news was spreading that I was dating a student. It had been immeasurably valuable knowing to anticipate being questioned about my relationship with Hunter during my tenure review. I couldn’t even begin to wonder how I would have reacted had I been blindsided with that question.

After another thank you and the promise to get together soon for coffee, I
hung up with Emily. As if in a trance, I set my phone down and made the trek upstairs to the master bathroom. I hadn’t taken a bath in a very long time. I had nothing against baths, but like taking naps, I generally didn’t have time for them. Showers were more efficient, but I needed to force myself to take a moment to myself so I could just breathe.

I filled the oversized tub with steaming, hot water and poured a generous dollop of bubble bath into the tub. I was still in my outfit from my earlier meeting with Dean Merlot. I carefully shed the dress pants and crisp Oxford shirt and set them on the double vanity so they wouldn’t get wet.

I didn’t set up any music in the bathroom; there was no sound except for the gentle hum of the bathroom exhaust fan and the lapping of water against the inside of the tub whenever I moved around.

I slowed my breathing and tried to empty my mind. It was easier said than done, however.
I’d felt so confident over the weekend. Invincible, even. I’d even been so bold as to invite Hunter’s family over for dinner. But now, just days later, my confidence was shaken again. Two steps forward, one step back.

I heard some
noises outside the closed bathroom door. I knew I was alone in the house; my mom was cataloguing books or something at the university library, and Hunter was at the hospital. I heard Sylvia romping around. She was a big cat and it sounded like a bowling ball falling to the ground when she hopped from one piece of furniture to the next.

She wasn’t the most affectionate cat, but she became whiny and needy when a barrier like a closed door was in front of her. There was a two or three-inch gap beneath the bathroom door and the floor from the previous owners who’d covered the hardwood floors in the master bedroom with ugly carpeting. I could see Sylvia’s pink nose and white chin poking beneath the gap at the bottom of the door, and she howled as if in pain.

I just needed to be alone for a while – alone with my own thoughts. I submerged my head under the water.

+++++

I once thought I’d experienced the epitome of nervousness. It had been my tenure review meeting – a conversation with the collected faculty to determine the future of my employment with the university. But in hindsight, it paled in comparison to the butterflies I currently felt. Hunter’s family was coming over in a short while to have dinner at my house.

I looked over the open floor plan of my kitchen and living room.
I rarely ever ate in the dining room, which was its own separate room, filled with formal dishes I never used. I had breakfast at the kitchen island, and most nights dinner was on the coffee table in the living room. My family hadn’t done the everyone eats dinner at the same time thing, but I knew that’s what Hunter’s parents would be expecting. Maybe someday I could invite them over to eat pizza in front of the TV, but that wasn’t today.

Hunter let herself in
through the front door. Her arms were filled with canvas grocery bags. She dropped them on the kitchen countertop with a great sigh, blowing the hair that had escaped from her ponytail out of her face. “I thought I was going to have to arm wrestle a little old lady for the last steak.”

I squeezed her right bicep. “Well I’m glad it didn’
t come to that. We would have been one filet short.”

“Hey!” she complained.
She spun around and my hands went to her waist. Having her close made me momentarily forget my nerves.

The oven timer went off and I left her briefly to check on the apple pie
. If dinner went well, her family would stick around for dessert. If it didn’t go well, we could console ourselves by splitting the pie. It was a win-win.

I pulled the pie from the oven and the warm, home
y, cinnamon scent intensified.

“
God, that smells good,” Hunter approved. “Forget dinner; we should just eat pie.”

I shook my head and set the
pie plate on top of the range. “This will be our reward for behaving during dinner.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Worried you’
ll misbehave without an incentive?”

I shrugge
d, not sure how to answer. I wanted everything to be perfect for her. I felt wound up, strung tight. If I screwed this up, who knew if I’d have another chance to make things right.

“I’
m going to hop in the shower quick,” Hunter said. “Want to come?” Her words were hot against my neck. She didn’t talk much, but when she did, her word-choice tended to make my knees buckle. Or maybe that was from her canines scraping across my neck.

I audibly swallowed.
“I’ve got to get the charcoal started.”

She pursed her lips into
a well-practiced pout. “If you got a gas grill, you’d save us time.”

“
Yeah, but nothing beats the taste of charcoal.”

“Okay.” S
he skipped off and pulled her top off so she was just in a flimsy bra and shorts. Her torso was just starting to tan. “Your loss.”

“Don’t I know it,”
I grumbled as I turned back to scrubbing the dirt from the baked potato skins.

I nearly jumped when the doorbell sounded.
I know my heart at least leapt into my throat. If that was Hunter’s family at my front door, they were early – nearly an hour early. Hunter was still in the shower, and I still had so much prep-work to do for dinner.

I wiped my damp hands on the front of my apron that I wore in case I s
pilled all over myself. I wasn’t usually so Jean Cleaver-esque, but I had nearly had a panic attack deciding on an outfit, and I didn’t want to have to change clothes. In the end I’d gone for skinny jeans, ballet flats and an off-the-shoulder three-quarter length top that was casual, but not sloppy, and youthful without being age inappropriate.

Clothes were important to me.
I used to teach only in fancy, feminine outfits to closet my sexuality and to create some professional difference between my students and myself. Now I was far more comfortable in my skin, at least in my interactions with students, but today my outfit similarly was a little like Dumbo’s magic feather. If I looked the part of the young, feminine girlfriend, I hoped I could make a better impression on Hunter’s family. It was wishful thinking that clothes alone would help the situation, but at this point I’d take whatever I could get.

I peeked briefly out one of the side windows to m
ake sure it was actually Hunter’s family at the door. I really didn’t need any surprises tonight. When I saw Hunter’s mom, dad, and brother standing on my front porch, I began to panic. I hadn’t even started the charcoal yet. If Hunter’s family insisted on being early to dinner like this all the time, I might have to get that gas grill.

I took a deep breath
and pushed a smile on my face. “Welcome!” I greeted as I swung the door open.

“Elle, you have a lovely home,” Hunter’
s mother routinely complimented. “The neighborhood is charming.” I searched her face for signs of emotion, but she wore her practiced politeness like a mask.

The scent of her light perfume trailed behind her as she stepped inside.
She was dressed more formally than we’d seen her at the farmers’ market in a sleeveless shell, light cardigan, Capri pants, and wedge heels. She pressed a bottle of red wine into my hands and I was momentarily frozen. Hunter’s family didn’t drink alcohol, so I hadn’t expected the kind gesture.

Hunter’
s father followed his wife inside. He looked like he’d come straight from work in his button-up shirt, tie, and flat-front dress pants. Only Brian, the last one inside, looked reasonably dressed in cargo shorts and a t-shirt. He wore a tattered baseball cap that I was sure drove his mother crazy.

“Brian, take that thing off,”
she scolded, confirming my observations. “We’re inside.”

Brian obediently tugged the hat off. He ran his hand over the top of his hair, but his hair was short enough that the hat hadn’t done any damage.

I cleared my throat. “Can, I, uh, offer anyone something to drink?” I spun the wine bottle in my hands to inspect the label. It looked far pricier than the brands I was used to.

I could see Ellen Dyson’s gaze traveling the expanse of
the first floor, taking in the living room and kitchen. Out of view were the formal dining room, the guest bedroom and bathroom, and my office. I didn’t imagine giving them the full house tour, but I’d scrubbed and tidied every corner of the house just in case.

M
y mom had wanted to meet Hunter’s family, but thankfully she’d agreed with me that it would probably be too much for one night. I’d make nice with Hunter’s family first, and if all went well, then maybe my mom would get to meet them at a later date.

“Where’s Hunter?”
her mother asked. She craned her neck this way and that as if she thought I was hiding her daughter.

“She’
s in the shower. She should be down soon,” I reassured them, but also assured myself as well.

I looked up at the ceiling when I heard the distinct sound of thunder rumble above. “Is it supposed to rain?” I said out loud without meaning to.

“The weather report said a fifty percent change of rain this evening,” Hunter’s father contributed.

Of course there’d be a storm cloud hovering over my house.

“Let me go check on Hunter,” I blurted out.

I bounded up the stairs, two at a time.
Hunter was just walking out of the master bathroom when I came in. Her hair was wrapped in a towel, but she’d forgone the second towel for her body. I stopped abruptly in the doorway to enjoy the view. She grinned, wide and lazy. She knew exactly what she was doing to me.

“
Your family is here,” I announced.

Hunter let out a shriek and ran back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. I laughed, despite my desire to puke.

“Give me five minutes,” she hollered through the closed door.

“I think it’s going to rain.” I pressed my palm flat against the door that separated us. Maybe I could just hide up here until she finished getting ready.

“Okay,” came Hunter’s response.

It was turning into a humid evening and
as the thunder continued to rumble above us, a warm wind whipped through the open windows in the bedroom. There was a small overhang on my back porch to protect me and the grill if it started to rain, but if the wind continued, the charcoal would struggle to heat the food evenly or heat it at all. I mentally catalogued the contents of my fridge and pantry because I had a sinking suspicion that steak and potatoes wasn’t going to work.

“I guess I’ll go downstairs,” I said dejectedly.

“Okay,” she said again.

I turned, sighing heavily. I thought I heard Hunter chuckle, but I couldn’t be sure because of the closed bathroom door.

I descended the stairs heavily as if marching to my firing squad. I hoped Hunter’s promise of five minutes didn’t turn into half an hour. Her mom, dad, and brother, Brian, stood around the kitchen island looking equally uncomfortable. I mentally shook myself, forced a broad smile to my lips, and marched towards my death.

Hunter was true to her word and was downstairs just a few minutes later. Her hair was still wet and her cheeks flushed from the shower.
I was sure she’d wanted to look perfect for dinner with her family, but she knew better than to let me sit downstairs making awkward small talk; I’d ruin things before she even got downstairs.

I thought she looked more than perfect though in s
kinny jeans and a scoop-necked top that showed off the fine bones of her clavicle. I grinned, realizing she wore the necklace I had gotten her for graduation. As I watched her approach, however, and my eyes drifted to her exposed collarbone, I thought maybe a better choice for tonight would have been a burlap sack. Although, if she managed to make shapeless scrubs look sexy, I was probably in trouble regardless of what she wore.

She
was barefoot, which didn’t help those ill-timed thoughts. Something about her freshly showered and barefoot on my hardwood floors never failed to excite me. It was like a Pavlov’s Dog response. She padded over to me after briefly greeting her family who continued to hover around the kitchen island and pick at a vegetable tray I had set out. She stood up on her tiptoes even though we were basically the same height and placed a chaste kiss on my cheek.

“Change of plans?” she murmured for only my ears.

I nodded and turned over an oversized meatball in the saucepan.

I’d abandoned the steak and potatoes plan for spaghetti and homemade meatballs. The charcoal would have taken forever to get ready
, and by the time the grill was set up, who knows what the weather would have been like. Plus, all that extra prep-time would mean awkward conversation with Hunter’s family while we waited with empty stomachs. I could make the meatballs quickly, all while fulfilling my hostess responsibilities. I had salad supplies in the fridge that I could dump into an oversized wooden serving bowl and a loaf of frozen garlic bread in the freezer that I could throw in the oven.

“Need any help?” she asked, returning to the ground.

I took a sip of red wine. It was from the bottle Hunter’s family had brought with them. They didn’t drink, but I needed just this little bit of courage. “There’s things for salad in the fridge if you want to tackle that,” I said. “Otherwise, just play nice with your family.”

A smile crept onto the corner
s of her generous mouth. “I’m always nice,” she rasped.

Dinner conversation wasn’t easy, but I hadn’t expected it to be. Hunter’s mother was still frosty and reluctant to warm up to me, but it was a vast improvement over the hostile reception we’d received at the first family dinner. Hunter’s father and Brian were different though; they both possessed a boyish charm that put me at ease. I had never enjoyed small talk; I would rather eat in uncomfortable silence than participate in forced conversation. But for Hunter, I would do it.

Hunter’s mother cut daintily through the
el dente
noodles. I’d thought for sure that she would have been a fork and spoon kind of spaghetti eater. “How has your work been, Elle?”

I sat to attention and self-consciously wiped at my mout
h with the napkin from my lap. “To be honest, it was a challenging semester.”

“Bad students?” Hunter’
s father guessed.

I shook my head
. “The administration, actually. I’ve got a new boss and we don’t ever seem to get along.” I didn’t go into more detail about how my sexuality was at the epicenter of those problems.

“Sounds like a real ball buster,” Hunter’s dad grinned.

Elle Dyson made a disapproving noise in the back of her throat.

“If I go to your school for college, will you give me an A in English?”
Brian posed with a boyish grin.

“I don’t
give
students grades,” I gently corrected him. “Students
earn
them.”

“
What grade did Hunter
earn
in your class?” Brian asked, grinning as wide as ever.