Hearts on Hold

by Charish Reid

Victoria skimmed the page before resting her chin on her knuckles. “Mmh.”

  “Is that a good ‘mmh’ or a bad ‘mmh’?”

  “Do you have to say the p-word so much?”

  Paula let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled her eyes. “My readers love the p-word. What else am I going to call it?”

  Victoria shrugged her shoulders, her hair ornaments clattering. “I don’t know,” she said. “The books I read have more subtle words like mound and womanhood.”

  “Too much hedging. A lot of women like to get straight to the point, girl. If I labored over the millions of different ways to say pussy, I wouldn’t have time to write what Billy does to it.” She pointed to the second page, forcing Victoria to continue reading.

  Victoria raised a brow as her face burned. “Jeez, Paula. Do guys even do that?”

  Paula raised her own brow in response. “Ooh, baby, what is you doing?”

  “Not that,” she said, nodding to the screen. Although, Victoria did have to do some mental calculation to remember the last time any man had shared her bed. Thirty-three and now thirty-four were particularly dry years since her break up with Kevin. Not that he did anything mind-blowing when they did share a bed. Lights off, missionary, and quick was Kevin’s style. His brand of lovemaking wasn’t even long enough for her to think of a theme for the next day’s lecture.

  “Well we need to fix that,” Paula said, turning the monitor back. “Any prospects?”

  “You sound like my mom.”

  “Don’t tell me that,” her friend said with a barking laugh. “Your mom is a piece of work and I don’t want to be associated with her.”

  Victoria debated whether to tell Paula about the strange email she received from John Donovan. Since Paula signed on for the fall semester, it had been easier to face the stressful culture of Pembroke University. Victoria didn’t have very many people to talk to in the English department even though she’d worked there for four years. But because of the exclusive air of the private institution, a fear of judgement made it difficult to share one’s ideas or problems with equally competitive professors. But this was Paula, her former graduate school buddy and the third member of The Write Bitches Gang. Their other member, Regina Crawford, refused higher education for a life in finance. If there was anyone on Pembroke’s campus she could trust, it was her girl. “Can I talk to you about administration?” Victoria asked, casting a nervous glance over her shoulder.

  Paula typed something before pressing backspace several times. “Girl, yes. Who’s being messy today?”

  “Did you get a chance to go to that all-campus meeting last Thursday?”

  “Adjuncts don’t have to go,” her friend said with a smile.

  Victoria nodded. “Right. So the new president corralled us in an auditorium like Stalin would and told us that the university is basically broke.”

  Paula looked up from her work. “What?”

  “The last president had been playing the stocks with university money and he lost big,” Victoria said in a low voice.

  “Did they tell you this?” Paula asked. She folded her arms over her ample bosom, obscuring the Free Angela graphic on her T-shirt with her brown arms.

  “They didn’t have to,” Victoria said with a sigh. “We all knew they had a ton of investments. But that’s not quite the problem. President Kowalski wants faculty and staff to make up the enrollment numbers. I mean, they’re already increasing tuition for next year, but we need to put our heads down and push for higher numbers.”

  Paula frowned. “How?”

  “Well, I’ll say this about the president, she’s business savvy—”

  “Is she?”

  “—she’s starting a new open-door policy that might work,” Victoria finished.

  Her friend remained unimpressed. “Open-door policies are bullshit.”

  “Be that as it may, the Four-Week Initiative might work. Kowalski is giving us four weeks to come up with innovative programs to attract incoming freshmen. They have to be low-cost of course, but also something that generates excitement.”

  Paula fixed her mouth and sighed. “What have you come up with, Vicki?”

  Victoria grew excited. “Okay, so I’m thinking of a library internship for the English department students. We’ll partner with the Farmingdale Public Library to give students a real-world learning experience that can carry over to graduate school or outside of academia. What do you think?”

  There was a pregnant pause that made her tense. When Paula finally spoke, she gave her a pitying smile. “Girl, I think that’s a great idea. A library internship is going to help give students a leg up in any discipline they choose.”

  Eyeing her smile, Victoria leaned forward. “But?”

  Paula’s shoulders slumped. “But I worry that you think you always have to save someone. It’s like graduate school all over again. Reggi and I had to talk you off a ledge every time you piled too much on your plate. The president’s problems aren’t your problems and you don’t have to work yourself into a lather over mismanaged funds.”

  Victoria frowned. “I’m not working myself into a lather.”

  “You don’t see it until your elaborate plans are near the end. Afterward, you tell us that you’ll never work that hard on bullshit projects. This is not your problem.”

  She shook her head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Paula. Pembroke’s problems are my problems. I chose this path because I wanted to teach and research. If my school goes under, how am I supposed to do either?”

  “I get it, girl. I have the luxury of not needing this job, so I take it for granted. But you’re going to work yourself into an early grave if you keep this up. Being the mule that Zora wrote about is not sustainable.”

  Victoria swallowed. Whenever Paula made literary references during debates, she meant business. Throwing Zora Neale Hurston into the conversation made her both irritated and hesitant to defend her school. Sure, Victoria liked pulling her weight, sometimes even a couple extra pounds, if it meant tasks got done and boxes got checked. But if history was any indication of how this project would turn out, she might want to pace herself. “I hear you loud and clear,” she said. “But I’m going to try my best anyway.”

  Paula reached out and took her hand. “And that’s what I love about you,” she said in a softer tone. “Your work ethic is something I’d like to bottle up and take twice daily. But I just wish you’d rest.”

  Victoria squeezed her friend’s hand. “I’ll rest when I reach my goals,” she said with a chuckle.

  “Bitch, please. That sounds like Katherine talking.”

  Victoria pulled away. “We’ll see if any of this actually gets off the ground. Today, I’m supposed to have a meeting with a librarian and he’s already going to be late. I don’t know how that can bode well.”

  “Aww, he’s probably an elderly dude who’s just trying to make his way across town,” her friend said with a grin.

  Victoria didn’t get the sense that John Donovan was a doddering old man. The tone of his email suggested that he might be closer to her age. Originally, she addressed her email to the library’s aging director, Howard Wegman. She was surprised that it was Donovan who replied to her. He was terribly informal and familiar with his message, making her nervous. What if he doesn’t take the project seriously? What if he is incompetent? “He also informed me of an overdue library book,” she said.

  “Stealing books, are we?”

  “No, I definitely returned it,” Victoria said absently. She wondered what she had been doing several months ago that would warrant a missing book. “I just find it weird that he would put that in an email regarding our meeting today.”

  “Did he sound mad?”

  “No,” Victoria said slowly. “He wrote it with a wink face emoticon.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Is that a good ‘h
mm’ or a bad ‘hmm’?” Victoria asked.

  Paula shrugged. “Depends on what the book was.”

  She sighed and averted her gaze. “For the Duke’s Convenience.”

  Paula burst into laughter. “Goddamn, Vicki...”

  “I definitely returned it.”

  Her laughter had not yet abated as she wiped tears from her eyes. “Oh my god... You are still reading the historical stuff? That’s why the p-word is foreign to your virgin ears!”

  “It’s titillating without the vulgarity.”

  Paula doubled over. “Oh man, I needed that,” she said, taking a breath. “It feels so good to laugh.”

  “You’re welcome,” Victoria said in a dry voice.

  “Girl, you were always averse to ‘vulgarity,’ as you like to call it. I’d hate to think that the prim, rule-abiding girl inside you doesn’t want to get her back broke with some great dick. Also, did it ever occur to you that John Donovan might be flirting with you?”

  Victoria frowned. The idea had not occurred to her. Paula was just thinking with her romance writer’s brain. To her, there was always something sexy just around the corner. “That’s not professional at all.”

  “People get by all the time without being professional. How do you think I got here?”

  Victoria sat back in her chair. Comparatively, the two friends had always stood on opposite sides of what one would deem “professional.” Paula and her cute afro, jeans, and sneakers attracted others with her charm and humor. Things seemed to come easy to the one member of The Write Bitches who always remained herself. Even through grad school. Regina and Victoria had stayed in line, choosing fields that required giving up a piece of their personality. Reggi had gone for a career in banking, even though she was an editor for the university newspaper, while Victoria was aiming to make it in academia. Her four years at Pembroke had been devoted to making tenure and she was determined to fight tooth and nail for it. “I’m not here for that, Paula,” she said. “I plan to stay the course. I’ve got an outline and everything.”

  Paula gave her a knowing smile. “She’s got an outline and everything... Baby, it might be time to let your hair down.”

  “My hair is fine right where it is.”

  “True,” Paula said, narrowing her eyes. “Did Reggi do those braids? Because they look hella cute.”

  Victoria rolled her eyes. Her head was still aching. “Forty dollars and you have to bring the bundles.”

  “Okay, that’s what’s up.”

  She smiled. No matter how she disagreed with her friends, they could always switch it up and make light of most situations. “I’m going to wait for Donovan in my office. I’ll talk to you later?”

  “Sure,” Paula said, returning to her screen. “Let me know if I need to bail you out of book jail.”

  Chapter Four

  “You’re late.”

  It was the greeting John expected, but when he looked into his young niece’s eyes, he saw a glimpse of her mother’s wrath. The twelve-year-old wasn’t having it today and John was going to get an earful about it. “You don’t know the half of it,” he said.

  Becca stood on the school’s sidewalk, not making any moves to get into his truck. Her large brown eyes narrowed to slits as her pointed chin jutted at him. “Mom is never late.”

  John leaned against his steering wheel and sighed. “I know, honey. Your mom is incredibly responsible and I’m just a substitute until she gets back. But if you don’t get in the truck, I’m going to be late for the next thing. And so on and so forth.”

  His lateness was actually starting to spiral. He woke up late that morning, knowing that it was his day off, but forgetting that his niece was living with him. Apparently little girls needed to go to school. They’d been late to school, he was late picking her up, and now he was going to be late getting to the university.

  Their stalemate was interrupted by a school administrator who had been waiting off to the side. The older woman approached his vehicle with a disapproving glare, looking from Becca to John, and back to Becca. “Hello? What’s going on here?” the she asked. Her voice was reedy and filled with judgement.

  “Just trying to grab this little one,” John said with a friendly wave.

  Nope. That came out wrong.

  Behind thick glasses, her magnified blue eyes widened. She clutched a walkie-talkie, threatening to call for backup. “Excuse me?”

  John glanced at Becca, who was thoroughly enjoying herself. “Becca, please tell the nice lady that I’m here to get you.”

  His niece smirked.

  “Sir, do you have clearance to receive this child?”

  John sighed again and retrieved his wallet. “Yes, ma’am. She’s my niece, and her mother is in Europe. Becca will be my ward for two months.” He reached across the passenger’s side to hand the confused woman his driver’s license.

  He understood the woman’s bewilderment. Becca’s burnt sienna skin and curly afro puffs bore no resemblance to John’s white skin and green eyes. He stared at his niece with a perturbed expression, silently willing her to speak. She rolled her eyes and let out a huff.

  “Yeah,” she finally said. “This is my uncle Johnny and he’s late...as usual.”

  The school marm relaxed the grip on her walkie-talkie and took another sneaking glance at the two. Of course she had questions, but was too polite to voice them. “I see, well, Mr. Donovan... I encourage you to be mindful of the time in the future.”

  “I’ll do my best, ma’am,” John said, starting the engine. The roar of his busted muffler filled the school parking lot preventing anymore conversation.

  Becca scooted past the administrator and climbed into the pickup. As they rolled out of the parking lot and on to Center Street, John glanced down at the girl and scowled.

  “You know better than to pull that,” he said.

  “How else will you learn to be on time?”

  Oh, the mouth on this one... “Let’s start over. Hey kiddo, how was school today? What did you learn?”

  Silence filled the cab as they stopped at a red light. Then sniffles. A drag of a jacket sleeve across the nose. John looked down again to see a quiet stream of tears roll down Becca’s cheeks.

  Okay, so it was a bad day. John caved under the pressure of seeing his niece’s tears. “What is it, honey?”

  “Nothing,” she muttered.

  “No, not nothing. I’ve known enough women to understand what ‘nothing’ means. Now what’s wrong?”

  “I miss Mom,” Becca snapped. “I hate school and Dad won’t talk to me.”

  John’s stomach knotted from the girl’s words. When the light turned green, he pulled off, and thought about how to stop these tears. He’d never taken up the father title and only knew his niece as a fun time he could drop off at the end of the day. Uncle Johnny got to toss children around and feed them candy until they got sick. Sick kids eventually went home to their real parents. Now he had to wander the minefield of twelve-year-old girl emotions without help. One false step and boom.

  “Honey, your mom—”

  “Yeah, I get it,” Becca said. “You don’t have to explain it. Can’t I just be mad?”

  Boom.

  They drew closer to the library and Uncle Johnny was running out of time to put a bandage on this situation. “Your mom didn’t just up and leave you. She loves you and she loves helping others, yeah? Because women can what?”

  Becca’s dark watery eyes met his. “Because women can do anything.”

  John smiled. “That’s right. She can love you and work at the same time. Now, your father is working though some things at the moment.” This was harder to articulate, but he’d try to push through. “Divorce is difficult for moms and dads.”

  He got no response and wasn’t surprised. If they were actually blood-related, John would say Becca go
t her ability to hold a grudge from him.

  “Your dad...he’s got a lot on his mind,” he said. He knew that his attempt to save his brother-in-law was a lame one, but his sister wanted him to try. “He’ll reach out when he’s ready, but until then you have to continue being great.”

  John drove them to the entrance of the library parking lot and cut the engine. Becca clutched her backpack to her chest and stared out the window. “I guess.”

  He reached across the space and took her tear-stained face in his large hand, pulling her gaze towards him. “Hey, honey, you’ve got this,” he said, wiping her cheek with his thumb. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

  Becca’s face crumpled into a fresh sob. “I feel like everyone’s lying to me.”

  The tightness in his chest was familiar. Everyone’s lying to me... “It’s a confusing time for you. I know what this feels like.”

  “Because of Granddad?”

  John nodded. “My parents divorced when I was your age and Granddad found your nana and your mom. I was angry just like you are, but the anger goes away.”

  Eventually.

  Becca took a deep breath and wiped her eyes on her jacket sleeve. “Okay.”

  “Your mom became my sister and that was the greatest gift I could have received. That is...until you came along.”

  This made her smile, which was a relief. “So it gets better?”

  John undid his seatbelt and gathered her into his arms. “Of course, honey.” When her arms wrapped around his torso, he knew he’d diffused the bomb for now. “It does get better.”

  She sniffed against his shirt. “Okay.”

  When John released her, he swiped his palm down her wet face and tweaked her button nose. “I’ll pick you up this evening and we’re going to talk about school.”

  A cloud settled over her face. “Okay,” Becca said cautiously.

  “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Check in with the front desk and do your homework in my office.”

  She opened the door and hopped out of the cab. “Fine.”

  “Do it, Becca.”

  She slammed the door. “Fine!”