Uncross My Heart

by Andrews

  I jumped when the phone rang, as if in response.

  “My God, he’s dead,” Dennis said the moment I answered.

  My mind flew to my father. He couldn’t be dead. He’d gotten steadily better and was now in a private room awaiting a decision about his future care. He could converse and watch TV again. “Who are you talking about?” I asked, breathless.

  “Thurgood. Dropped dead in the bathroom of his home from a stroke.”

  “Oh, good Lord. Did he have heart trouble?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Who will run Claridge?”

  “I don’t know. The big question is did he arrange for his family to continue to support the school, and who will replace him on the board.”

  I was silent, thinking about the hand of fate and how occasionally it bends the road to change the path.

  * * *

  The funeral was held on a Sunday at the cathedral in Chicago with all the pomp and circumstance befitting the richest man on campus.

  We were all in attendance and the archbishop himself conducted the mass.In the sermon that followed, Roger Thurgood was touted so extensively that I felt like he was someone else, someone I’d never met.

  But then, maybe we are different personae for different people. Maybe the kind, intelligent, thoughtful, and generous man talked about as he lay dead had just never shown up for me, but only for others.

  The bishop, a tall, silver-haired, distinguished man, concluded his sermon with, “And just at that moment when someone says, ‘He’s gone,’ there are others on a distant seashore, watching his coming and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, ‘Here he comes.’”

  I bowed my head and said a prayer, asking God to be good to Roger Thurgood Sr., for he was only trying to do his work in the way he knew how.

  As I raised my head, Gladys’s waggling fingers caught my eye, letting me know she’d spotted me, and I realized that in a moment of anger, I’d kissed her, becoming a catalyst for more emotion than she’d most likely experienced in decades…perhaps in her entire life. That alone struck fear in me. I could attest to passions once unearthed being never again buried.

  I stared up at the stained glass to avoid seeing Gladys and conducted my own private conversation with God about Vivienne.

  There’s no question, Lord. I believe she is a gift from you.

  * * *

  The following Monday I was summoned again to the chancellor’s office, and this time I had no idea who I would meet. Eleonor was no longer at her post and a young female secretary, attractive in a military kind of way, held the chancellor’s door open for me. Nothing seemed to have changed inside the chancellor’s office other than the fact that the personal photos that had rested on Thurgood’s credenza were now gone.The backside of the tall, tufted executive chair faced me, so the person seated in it, apparently too short to be seen over its high back, was hidden from view. For a moment I envisioned Roger Thurgood III whirling around with a large aha and announcing he was in charge.

  I cleared my throat slightly to let the person know I was in the room, and the chair swiveled slowly to face me. A trim, well-dressed woman in her late seventies, with wire-frame glasses propped down on her nose, glanced up at me and waved the secretary off. Her eyes piercing me, the elegant woman asked, “Are you a liberal, moderate, or fundamentalist Christian?”

  Accustomed to being summarily grilled in this room, I found her skipping the introductions only slightly odd.

  “There are days I think I’m post-Christian and perhaps even more spiritualist.”

  “And if I asked you about adultery and what God thinks of it?”

  “I don’t presume to know what God thinks. God is within all of us, so if we are quiet and listen to our hearts we will know what’s right.”

  “And if I resort to abortion, what is my judgment?”

  “We have to forgive ourselves and then God forgives us.”

  She changed subjects, and for a split second I thought she was trying to avoid any emotional connection. “Tell me about the trinity—

  Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.”

  “We, ourselves, are a trinity. Body, mind, and spirit—separate and yet one.” I was becoming annoyed, viewing this as a personal hazing, an attempt to needle me before she fired me. A change of regime is always an opportunity to sweep out the corners. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name.”

  She ignored me. “And if you were chancellor…?”

  I fixed her with what I hoped was a penetrating stare. “The earth would split down the middle and men would fall screaming into its cavernous center, for I have a female lover.”

  She smiled slightly. “Well, then the rumors are true in regard to that issue. I am commissioned by the Thurgood Trust to ascertain the caliber of the seminary staff and assure that another strong chancellor is named.”

  “I’m sorry about the interim chancellor’s death.”

  “I doubt that,” she said sharply, pinning my lie to my conscience like a butterfly to a sample board. “So, is she…the one?” Her voice was mocking and I knew she was referring to Vivienne.

  “Is that a theological question or are you just an HR nightmare?”

  My response seemed to infuriate her and her tone changed quickly.

  “Dr. Westbrooke, the now-deceased chancellor didn’t really care for you.”

  “I certainly didn’t want him to die. However, you’re right. I didn’t care for him. Nor do I care for his grandson. Are we through?”

  She nodded and I left hurriedly to head back to my office and simply pack up. Better to go of my own accord, before I’m thrown out.

  Besides, enough is enough.

  * * *

  Dennis was waiting, as he always did when I went to the ivory tower. “How’d it go?”

  “I’ve managed to offend the Trust Nazi and I’m done. I’m getting the hell out.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “It’s best for everyone,” I said, and broke away from him.

  It only took an hour for me to find a grocery store with some empty boxes and another two hours to put the majority of my belongings in them and lug them out to my car. Sally bumped into me on the third trip to the car and swept the box from my arms.

  “Are you moving?”

  “Just a little housecleaning,” I said, not wanting to upset her or any of the other students until things were final.

  “You’re not quitting?” She grabbed me by the arm, which for a student was an extremely personal gesture.

  “I wouldn’t say I’m quitting.”

  “Good, because I want you to know that you’re my…my…role model. I mean, you speak up and you don’t buy into everything you’re told to buy into and you…well…I feel better about who I am because of you.”

  “That’s very nice, Sally. Thank you.” I was afraid if I stood still a minute longer she might hug me or kiss me, so I quickly patted her hand, using the gesture to remove it from my arm, and hurried to finish the rest of my packing. I could feel her eyes bore into my back and sensed she was kicking herself for not saying what she’d really wanted to say, and I was grateful she hadn’t. I had enough trouble on my hands without a young woman confessing her crush.

  * * *

  “I told you she has a crush on you the first time I saw her.” Viv continued her exploration of my body with her soft lips as we lay nude together on the bed in the predawn light, a large down comforter scrunched up all around us. Periodically we pushed it to the floor as our body heat roared, and then retrieved it as we cooled momentarily to talk.

  “I think she’s just discovering women. Maybe hasn’t even had one.”

  “Well, she’s not having this one.” Viv kissed me sensually over and over, and I felt myself slipping back into that amorphous state in which the physical sensation was so radiant that I could no longer pinpoint the area from which it exuded. I was merely a ball of yearning, a tingling, buzzing sensation without form, an entity tied to her— Perhaps
tongue-tied, I thought with a grin.

  “I’m old enough to be her mother,” I managed to whisper.

  “That’s not what she’s thinking.”

  “You hungry?” I pushed away from her to look into her gorgeous eyes.

  Viv made a sound as if I’d just offered up myself and she was pleased to accept.

  I lifted her face and pulled her toward me. “I’m fixing breakfast before you kill us both.”

  * * *

  I wiped down the old antique table that sat in one corner of the back porch and put our breakfast on it. I’d made pancakes, which I placed on turquoise pottery, and poured her iced tea from a small pitcher. My turn to cook and serve the goddess, and I was delighted to do it. She stretched catlike and smiled a warm smile at my scurrying around.

  “How can you start your morning with a cold drink?” I asked.

  “Because I’m a hot-blooded woman.”

  I kissed her and caught the syrup on the edge of her lip. “Sweet, but not nearly as sweet as other nectar I’ve tasted.”

  The phone rang and a crisp young woman’s voice asked if I could attend the board meeting this afternoon. I was aware that the board meeting was held monthly, at best, and usually on the first Thursday of the month, so this was apparently a special session to officially let me go.

  “Well, I think this is it, darling,” I said to Viv as I hung up. “I am about to get the proverbial axe.”

  “More time for me to have you to myself. However, I can’t believe they would do that to you—the only intelligent life form in that ecclesiastical maze of morons.”

  “You only began thinking that after you slept with me.”

  “True.” She shrugged and I laughed.

  * * *

  The board was in session when I entered the room, directed to do so by a young man obviously tapped to be doorman for the occasion.

  All the elderly faces looked appropriately grieved and somber, and the session opened with a prayer for the soul of Roger Thurgood Sr.

  The vibrations in the room weren’t exactly friendly toward me, but somewhat fearful, for reasons I couldn’t ascertain. Unless they were picking up on my having had more sex in twenty-four hours than all of them had most likely had in a year.

  The interim-interim chairman, a short pudgy man introduced as Mr. Rockwell, called the meeting to order and asked that the treasury report be read. Despite the elaborate dissecting of funding, it was apparent that there was only one key donor family, the Thurgood Trust.

  The chairman introduced me, saying I needed no introduction and therefore making me wonder why there was one. He then laid out the opportunities for the university and, in addition, the problems. Among the latter were image and reputation. The axe loomed above me as I envisioned that the next words would be about my negative contribution in those two arenas.

  “At the urging of the Thurgood family, we are considering you, Dr.

  Westbrooke, for the chancellorship of this fine institution.” Pendergast looked down at the floor, pressing his long white beard tightly against his chest, obviously unable to even look at me. Vance Shepherd’s Tourette’s shoulder bounced up and down as if in medical protest.

  My mind froze. “I’m quite confused by this. You’re aware that my contract is not being renewed.”

  Several board members exchanged glances as if I’d resurrected something they’d hoped would remain buried. “We have no knowledge of contractual issues and frankly, for purposes of this discussion, the past is the past. It’s the future we are most interested in.”

  “Future” seemed to be an igniting word that blasted them out of their worry, and Pendergast said, “The future is where we will make a difference.”

  An older man in the back said, “The future is everything for this school.” And everyone nodded and signaled agreement over a phrase that seemed infantile in its vision. Of course the future is everything, I thought.

  “And so that brings us to why you’re here. We want to congratulate you on making the short list, and we want to make certain that if made chancellor you will abide by the oath of chancellor and—” Mr.

  Rockwell intoned.

  “Do you have a copy?” I asked.

  “A copy?” he parroted.

  “Of the oath,” I probed.

  “Well, no…the gist of it is that you…” He stumbled and hemmed and hawed.

  “I think he’s petered out,” Pendergast joked, then realized perhaps he’d chosen an inappropriate euphemism.

  “What we’re saying is…” Vance Shepherd jumped in. “You would have to remain chaste as so many before you have done to put the church and God first.”

  “You mean turn my back on my sexuality? Or make love in the closet and lie about it so we can all feel pious?” I said the words pensively and quietly. “I think not. But thank you for considering me.”

  I got up and walked out of the room to a chorus of male voices asking me to please come back and finish the conversation.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I lay curled up in Vivienne’s arms. “Can you imagine giving this up for the praise of old farts?”

  “Something bigger than the board is going on. You know they don’t want you to be chancellor. They’d rather have a guy who’s driving around town in the wrong underwear or even name Ketch before they’d appoint a gay woman.” On cue, Ketch whined.

  “You see, even he doesn’t want the position,” I said. Ketch got up and trotted into the living room. Since that was generally a sign of visitors, I jumped up and followed him. Out the front window, I saw a black Town Car pulling into the driveway.

  “What is it?” Viv called.

  I ran back to the bedroom. “A limo.” I jumped into my jeans and a seminary sweatshirt, checking my hair briefly in the mirror. Viv was pulling on her sweats.

  “Find out who it is before you just open the door and let them in,”

  Viv said with some suspicion.

  When I got back to the living room, the woman who had grilled me in the chancellor’s office was climbing the steps. Thank God she’s not a man or I’d think they’d sent her to assassinate me.

  I opened the door before she could knock and greeted her with a quizzical smile.

  “May I come in? I’m Margaret Thurgood, Roger Thurgood’s sister.”

  My mind flashed back to her interviewing me and my telling her how I disliked her brother and her nephew.

  “Come in. Could I get you some coffee or tea?” I asked as Vivienne came out of the bedroom looking spectacular. I introduced them and they shook hands. Margaret took a seat on the couch after I brushed off the dog hair. “Sorry,” I said as I let Ketch outside. “He pretty much has the run of my life.”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt your evening, but the decisions I have to make have immediate consequences. I’m the controlling interest in the family trust. So, in short, the seminary gets its money only if I say so.”

  “Please don’t judge the seminary on recent events. Many wonderful things have come out of—”

  “I have no interest in the seminary personally or religiously, for that matter. I find the entire institution archaic and dreary. Nonetheless, places like that seem to thrive, and my role in all this is to determine how. I heard the board had a special little party for you today.”

  “They wanted a celibate chancellor.”

  “Yes, well, it’s hard to look as gloomy as some of our past chancellors unless you aren’t getting any.” Both Viv and I laughed.

  “You’re the seminary’s nemesis,” Margaret said to me, then suddenly looked at Vivienne. “I like you quite a lot. Heard you on the radio.” Viv thanked her.

  “So, Alexandra, if you were I and could change the academic structure of the seminary, how would you do that?”

  “I would teach nothing as truth, but all things as possibilities.”

  “You are disruptive.” She laughed slightly and in that instant I felt a connection. A kindred soul had surfaced, and I relaxed. “My
teachings would make no sense in the context of a seminary. The power of thought—quantum theory, feminist studies, things that would ball up the traditionalists’ shorts. Curriculum that won’t be popular for centuries and today would be asking to be attacked by parents, peers, and press.”

  “A bit radical even for me. What do you think of all this?” Margaret addressed Viv, and for a second I thought she gave her a physical once-over, like sizing up a racehorse she might be interested in purchasing.

  “I think light has truly arrived at the seminary.” Viv grinned.

  Margaret Thurgood’s gaze stayed just a moment too long on Viv for my liking before she spun to rivet me with it.

  “I want you to become the chancellor of Claridge, Alexandra.”

  “I can’t,” I said, stunned.

  “I want you to do this as a personal favor,” she said to me, then turned to Viv. This time I felt a twinge of jealousy, as the look seemed sensual. “You’re lucky you’ve found each other. I make do with young friends who are merely entertaining and like money.”

  Suddenly it was over. Without waiting for my answer, or perhaps assuming she’d gotten it, she told us good-bye, climbed into her carriage and rode away. I was dumbstruck.

  “What do you think?” Viv asked.

  “She’s insane. I’m not chancellor material.”

  “Unfortunately, darling, you are. And it will be your biggest battle yet.”

  “You don’t even believe—”

  “Alex, it’s not the church that holds us back. It’s ourselves. You of all people should be able to get that across, don’t you think?”

  “What will we do about your house?” I asked, and Viv laughed.

  “So it all boils down to real estate?”