Hiding Places

by Shannon Heuston

  I held my breath, waiting for Ursula to rebuke him. This must cross the line.

  “Did they learn it?” Ursula asked, shaking a packet of dressing over her salad.

  Will sighed. “No. Maria and the older Abdallas still don’t have it down.”

  “Well, we’re going to need to cut lunch short, so they can go back to their rooms and change,” Ursula said. “I’m not subjecting my fellow professors to that stench. They smell like barnyard animals.”

  “You can say that again, Dr. Reiter,” Ariana said. “I can’t even eat with this reek. Thank God Will and I are going out to lunch.” She smirked at me.

  I shot her a dirty look. I was being deliberately excluded. It wasn’t my imagination. I turned and caught Ursula studying me. When our eyes met, she looked down at her salad.

  “What is your father having for lunch?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “I was expecting you to be there to feed him, but you said you’re too tired, so I guess he’ll just eat granola bars if he gets hungry.”

  “I’ll go and fix him something,” I said, pushing my sandwich away. The smell really was revolting. We should have let the candidates change before lunch.

  Ursula’s lips curved ever so slightly upward in a smile.

  It was nice to have afternoons off, I decided as I trudged toward the Reiter house. Storm clouds were massing on the horizon. I felt a surge of irritation. Typical Baylor weather. I would leave campus to walk downtown on a beautiful sunny afternoon, then the sky would darken, and the wind would rise.

  I hurried inside the Reiter house just as the raindrops turned into a deluge. It was dark and gloomy inside. I stopped and listened. I couldn’t hear the TV playing in Helmut’s sitting room, which meant he was hiding. I sighed. I was exhausted. I planned on making him a sandwich then dozing on the couch.

  He was asleep in one of his favorite spots, the passage behind the second-floor landing. I dropped to my knees and curled up next to him.

  Helmut’s hand slid into mine. “Remember how you used to sing?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I lied.

  Hiding in the crawlspace calmed me, lulled me into forgetting that Will and Ariana were lunching without me. I hoped they got soaked to the skin in the downpour.

  For a moment, it was like I’d traveled back in time, and I was hiding with little Helmut, cocooned in a place safe from the cruel world. No wonder he found it so appealing.

  “Let’s go have some lunch,” I said finally. I rose to my feet and held out my hand. He took it, as trusting as a little boy.

  “I’ll make grilled cheese and tomato soup,” I promised.

  Helmut sat in the kitchen while I buttered the bread and dumped the can of soup into a pan. “I was afraid I’d never see you again,” he said.

  “Why would you think that?” I asked, stirring the soup.

  “Just a feeling I had,” he said with a shrug. “Did you quarrel with my daughter?”

  The old man was perceptive. It made me uneasy. He seemed out of it, yet observed more than an ordinary person.

  “Not exactly,” I said, dropping a wedge of butter into the frying pan. I watched it melt and bubble. “She’s just real busy with work.”

  “Don’t let her get too busy with work,” Helmut urged. “We need you.”

  I shut my eyes against the sudden feeling of weight on my shoulders, responsibility. A burden to carry. I didn’t want to be needed. I wanted to be wanted. It wasn’t quite the same thing.

  My head was throbbing. I pressed a hand to my temple.

  “Take some aspirin if your head hurts,” Helmut said.

  I was hoping Ursula would return before I had to leave. I needed to talk to her about what transpired in the recreation room with the candidates. The Advil I’d taken at Helmut’s directive had eliminated my headache. Now that it no longer hurt to think, I realized I was not okay with what had happened. Denying human beings the right to use the bathroom and forcing them to sit in their own waste was degrading. It was wrong.

  I needed to talk to Will, too. But I wasn’t sure I had the courage.

  But Ursula didn’t return. It rained steadily all afternoon. Around four-thirty I borrowed a huge old-fashioned umbrella with a crooked handle from the front closet for the trek back. I was dreading the evening.

  I should resign.

  Dinner was uneventful. Fortunately, the Abdallas had no objection to the baked chicken and lightly seasoned rice served on the traditional line. Romana ordered a hamburger, then also claimed a portion of chicken and rice. Will glared at him but said nothing.

  There were squares of gooey chocolate cake for dessert, which put me in a better humor.

  Ursula didn’t show up for dinner, causing Ariana to disregard her instructions to sit with the candidates. She claimed a small table, waving Will over with a flirtatious waggle of her fingers.

  Will glanced at her, then over at the table where Lucinda and I were dutifully eating with the candidates. Faced with a dilemma, his desire to ride herd on our charges won out.

  He deposited his tray across from me. “I’m gonna sit here,” he announced.

  Ariana shot me a look filled with poison. I looked down at my plate, struggling not to smile.

  “So, where have you been all day?” Will asked, as if I’d avoided him.

  “I’ve been around. You’re the one ignoring me,” I replied, sawing off a sliver of chicken.

  He gaped in mock outrage. “Ignoring you? You didn’t say a word to me all morning and then you up and vanished!”

  So, it was all in my head, I thought with relief. No wonder I had no friends. I was too goddamn sensitive and interpreted everything as a slight.

  “I went to sit with Dr. Reiter’s father,” I explained. “Otherwise he would have been alone all day.”

  “Ah, the mysterious father of Dr. Reiter,” Will said. “I had lunch with Ariana.” He rolled his eyes at me.

  I bit back a giggle, not wanting to have fun at the other woman’s expense. Over at the smaller table, Moose had joined Ariana without invitation. She looked unhappy about this development. She was craning her head to watch us, pouting.

  “We’re supposed to do after dinner activities,” Will moaned. “Really? I want to wind down with a little TV and some fun.” He waggled his eyebrows at me to communicate his meaning.

  I blushed.

  Will glanced around to make sure that no one was watching, then deliberately licked his lips, staring deep into my eyes. I was instantly aroused.

  “Let’s make them play Twister,” Moose suggested, as we thundered down the stairs to the basement.

  Roman rolled his eyes. “Come on dude, don’t be a dick.”

  “What did you just call me?”

  Roman sighed. “I didn’t call you anything.”

  Will turned to him. “I don’t care for your attitude. Maybe you need to forget about this goddamn program and go back to China.”

  “I’m Korean,” Roman informed him.

  “Whatever,” Will said. “Who can tell all you slant eyes apart?”

  Lucinda hung back, waiting for me. When I caught up, she said, “Is there something going on between you and Will?’

  I was startled. “What would make you think that?” I replied, giving myself away with my high-pitched tone.

  “I’m not calling you out,” she hastened to assure me. “I’m bringing it up because I want you to talk to Will about the way he’s treating the candidates. I don’t like it. It’s terrible.”

  “Why don’t you say something then?” I said. “Why don’t you speak up when it’s happening?”

  “Look. Dr. Reiter said we should be a team and present a united front. I don’t want to ruin that. But at the same time, I feel he went too far this morning. I’m not comfortable. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll talk to him.”

  “Good. The sooner, the better.”

  Will unearthed a Pictionary game from the dusty shelves, and we spli
t up into two groups to compete, the counselors and the candidates.

  The candidates were operating at an enormous disadvantage, yet Moose and Ariana celebrated every success so loudly it was obnoxious.

  When eight o’clock finally rolled around, we herded our charges upstairs, to shower and prepare for bed. They were given the option of watching television in the lounge, but they had to be in their rooms by nine.

  I knew Will would knock on my door at nine o’clock, and he didn’t disappoint. I had showered and sprayed myself with perfume in anticipation.

  “You look good enough to eat!” Will declared. I was wearing my sexiest nightie, a low-cut pink one Ursula had purchased for me from Victoria’s Secret.

  I wasn’t thinking about that, though, as Will buried his face in the valley between my breasts, his penis already hard against my thigh.

  Twenty minutes later I let out an earsplitting shriek as I orgasmed on his flicking tongue, my back arching. He climbed onto me, nestling his wet face into the crook of my neck, as he slid his penis inside me. This time I welcomed him, spreading my legs wide as he slowly began to pump. The earth still wasn’t moving. I felt pain mixed with pleasure, but the encounter was more satisfying than our first.

  Afterwards, as we lay panting together in the darkness, Will rose up on one elbow. “I wish we had air conditioning,” he complained. “I’m dying in here.”

  I slid a hand down the curve of his back and over his rump, marveling at the tight bunches of muscle, a stark contrast to Ursula’s bony bottom. “Lucinda asked me to talk to you about something,” I said, glad of the darkness hiding my expression.

  Will turned his head. “Why can’t she talk to me herself?” he asked.

  Good question. I felt a flash of guilt, followed by disgust. After all, it wasn’t just Lucinda who had a problem with the way he was acting. I didn’t like it either. But I didn’t want to piss him off. I wanted him to like me.

  “Because she doesn’t know you, and she knows we’re friends,” I explained.

  “Friends? Or something more?” There was a dangerous edge to Will’s voice. “What have you told her?”

  “Nothing,” I said, but the wheels were turning. Was I supposed to be hiding our relationship? Why would he want to keep it secret?

  “I don’t want people in our business,” Will said. He sounded like my parents.

  “She doesn’t know anything,” I assured him. “She just knows we’re friends. Anyway, she feels you went too far this morning.”

  He snorted. “I don’t think I’m going far enough. Have you seen Roman’s attitude? We should deport his ass to North Korea tomorrow. For real, where does he get off? Doesn’t he know where he is?”

  I bit my lip. All Roman did was ask to use the bathroom and eat a hamburger and chicken for dinner. For some reason, Will was threatened by him.

  “Dr. Reiter said negative reinforcement was a crucial part of getting people to learn quickly,” Will said. “That’s all I’m doing, helping them learn faster.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I conceded, not wanting to annoy him.

  As we snuggled together, I remembered something. Months ago, when Dr. Reiter was lecturing about Stanley Milagraum’s experiments, didn’t she say that’s what he told his subjects? That they were participating in an experiment in negative reinforcement?

  Good thing Ursula wasn’t that kind of psychology professor.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ursula

  Will accosted me at the top of the stairs to the dining hall, his face urgent. “We need to have a word with you,” he said. “As a group.”

  The other counselors were assembled uneasily behind him. Maggie was hugging herself and looking toward the candidates, already lining up to be served.

  I could smell coffee. I shifted from one foot to the other, needing my morning caffeine fix. I didn’t sleep well, not after observing Will entering Maggie’s room, then not leaving for hours. When he finally left, he’d looked furtively up and down the hall, to ensure there were no witnesses. Now Maggie was avoiding my eyes.

  “What is it?” I asked, the words sounding harsher than I intended. It was beyond my strength to be pleasant to my lover’s new boyfriend.

  “Those robes the Muslim women are wearing,” he began.

  I raised an eyebrow. I’d predicted this would come up eventually. But I figured it was at least three weeks away.

  I could end my experiment right now. I already had the research I needed. I could put the kabash on all the bullshit and order the counselors to start treating the candidates with respect. No more punishments or humiliations.

  But of course, the scientist in me wanted to see how far this group of privileged Americans who had been given everything, including a set of higher ideals, would go.

  “What do you want to do?” I asked.

  “Force them to wear American clothes,” Will said in a condescending tone.

  Dislike surged through me. I glanced at Maggie, who was watching us impassively, like she was at a play, not an active participant. I wanted to know what she saw in this shithead.

  “Well, it’s not like we can take them shopping,” I pointed out, hoping that would put an end to this line of inquiry.

  “I got it covered already,” Will announce. “I spoke to the head of campus facilities. There are tons of unclaimed clothes in storage from students who didn’t come back to school after summer break.”

  I knew this. At the beginning of every fall semester, the college held a sale of all the used items culled from the storage rooms. A student who put their possessions in storage had two years to claim them. After that, they went up for sale. Mini-fridges, rugs, and fans at bargain prices were incredible finds for cash-strapped students. Clothing, not so much. Most of it wound up either being thrown away or donated.

  “Fine,” I said. I felt like a judge pronouncing sentence. “Tell them to change out of their robes into something more American.”

  I walked away quickly, so I wouldn’t have to watch the sour look of triumph spreading across Will’s face.

  There were pancakes and hash browns for breakfast. The Abdallas claimed their share, happily chattering to one another in their own language, unaware of what was in store for them later. I felt weary.

  Roman sidled up to them. “Go easy on the food and drink, they probably won’t let us use the bathroom again.”

  Sahar translated for her parents. Their faces fell.

  I got my coffee to go. I couldn’t stomach sitting with them today.

  I needed to talk to Maggie, but I didn’t know how. Relationships had never been my forte. Like my father, I hid, but in plain view.

  I snapped my laptop open in the privacy of my office, reminding myself that I could choose not to look. Stick my head in the sand, pretend nothing terrible was happening, at least until I figured out what to do. After all, I had plenty of work.

  But I had to watch, for the same reason people slow down to gawk at accidents on the side of the road. Humans love watching others suffer. There is something delicious in the knowledge that fate has chosen someone else.

  I watched as the candidates were herded into the rec room. They sat in a row on the dusty couches, Maria’s arm wrapped protectively around Eduardo. The Abdallas were stone faced. Roman’s foot jigged up and down, betraying his anxiety.

  “Stand to say the Pledge of Allegiance, hands over your hearts,” Will ordered. The candidates obeyed. Will twisted around to glare at his coworkers. “How about putting down your goddamn phones and helping me?”

  I rolled my eyes as Ariana bounced to his side. Her nipples were clearly visible beneath the thin material of her baby blue lace camisole. I’d never bothered discussing the dress code with my employees. Clearly that was a mistake.

  Moose lumbered into place, crossing his arms and glaring at the candidates. Lucinda and Maggie stood together, a bit apart from the group, their faces distressed.

  “Every time someone makes a mist
ake during the pledge, everyone will drop and give me fifty.”

  There were mistakes during the first recitation, the second, and the third.

  By the fourth, the candidates were desperate. I closed my eyes against the expression on their faces.

  I forced them back open. It was only push-ups. They were not being beaten, raped, or killed. Their suffering bespoke weakness. They were soft, used to a life of American privilege.

  The fifth recitation was no more perfect than the other four, but people were on the verge of collapse. Sedentary people were being forced to do push-ups and run laps. I frowned. I drew the line at putting these people in the hospital with a coronary. If one of them had a heart attack and died, that would cause questions. This program needed to fly under the radar.

  It was going to be difficult bringing this up to my employees without letting them know there were cameras in the room.

  Will threw up his arms in defeat when the candidates failed to recite the Pledge correctly for the sixth time. Fortunately, he realized they could no longer continue doing push-ups. “Let’s do the same thing we did yesterday,” he instructed. “You’ll take turns reciting the Pledge.”

  The entire room sighed. Standing behind Will, all the counselors rolled their eyes. “Not again,” Lucinda muttered.

  Will ignored this. “No break until all seven of you can say it perfectly!” he proclaimed.

  He pointed at Parisa. Her recitation was the worst. She didn’t speak English. All the rest spoke it at least haltingly, having picked it up from working. She probably rarely left her home or interacted with anyone outside her family. She even exhibited difficulty making the right sounds.

  “I,” she began, “pwww…no…peh…”

  “We’re gonna be here all day,” Roman groaned. “Dude, come on. She’s the only one who can’t say it right. That’s not fair to the rest of us.”

  Will pointed at him. “Okay, that’s it. I’ve had it with your attitude. I guess doing push-ups isn’t humbling enough for a jackass like you.”

  It wasn’t, since Roman was in fantastic shape. I’d observed him exercising in the lounge during his limited free time, using his own body weight as resistance. After being forced to run laps and do push-ups yesterday, he’d chosen to do more.