Hearts on Hold

by Charish Reid

  When she was able to pull herself away, she’d hurried to the parking lot, glancing over her shoulder the entire way. Victoria hadn’t known what to expect. John had never objected to anything she wanted and him following her to her car had been a slim possibility. She’d said they would talk about it later and he had respected her wishes. You G.D. idiot.

  One of the sliding images on Paula’s phone caught her eye and made her sit up in her chair. “Wait, stop!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Victoria took Paula’s phone and scrolled back to the black power fist set against a red, green, and black background. “Dang it.” The picture was a reminder of one more thing she’d forgotten because of John.

  “Girl, what?” Paula asked.

  Victoria stood and searched for a spare notebook and pen. “I forgot that today is the first meeting of the Black Student Union,” she said in a panicked voice. She glanced at her watch and found another disappointment. “It starts in ten minutes.”

  “We have a Black Student Union?”

  “For the first time, if I can get over to the Student Union building. Jesus, I can’t believe I forgot. Paula, I’m sorry but I gotta go, the kids need me.”

  “Go then, just be careful running around in those heels. Can’t dig a grave on broken ankles...”

  Victoria literally didn’t have time for her friend’s sass. “Okay, bye!”

  * * *

  She didn’t get far out of her building before running into Kenneth Williams and his sycophant group of PhD students.

  “Ms. Reese,” he said with a startled chuckle. “Where’s the fire?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Williams,” she said through a clenched jaw. Since he refused to address her by title in front of his students, she’d have to return the favor. “I’m on my way to a meeting.”

  His mustache quirked with a smug grin. “With the children’s librarian?”

  Victoria ran her tongue over her teeth and forced a pleasant smile. “I’m meeting with the Black Student Union.”

  His students looked at one another and then to him as if they required guidance from the old man. As if they were privy to this conversation. “We don’t have a Black Student Union,” Williams said with suspicion.

  “We do now, and I’m running late to their first meeting.”

  “Are you their advisor then?”

  She sighed. “Well let’s see, the two other black full-time faculty members already have enough on their plates, so that leaves the one black professor of the English department.” Victoria rolled the idea around in her head. “And according to the students, no other professor wanted to take the helm even though it only requires signing forms for expenses.”

  The PhD students coughed and shuffled their feet in response. Williams raised a silver brow as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Very good of you,” he said in a terse voice.

  “I’d love to stay and continue this engaging dialogue regarding diversity in higher education, but the students need me,” Victoria said with a sweet smile. “You remember what it was like catering to undergraduate students, right Kenneth?”

  She moved around his small pack of lackies and raced down the hallway until she exited the building. After a short and almost dignified jog to the Student Union building, in her skirt and heels, Victoria made it just in time. Nearly forty students packed the small room. Victoria was equal parts thrilled and saddened at the thought of so many black students in one space. On one hand, they were finally a collective, on the other hand, it was disgraceful how desperate they were to form a safe space.

  Her literature student, Maya, had asked her to act as a faculty advisor back in August. When Victoria had said yes, she’d promptly pushed it out of her mind. She thought that Maya would simply forget and move on. But the plucky sophomore was more serious than Victoria presumed. She’d recognized Pembroke’s problem right away and had set about fixing it.

  “Dr. Reese,” Maya cried from the front of the room. She was a petite young woman who wore a black blazer over her Black Lives Matter T-shirt, her hair styled in a curly neon green mohawk with jagged lightning bolts shaved on either side. Had Maya been Victoria’s age, she could have been a part of The Write Bitches group. “Over here!”

  Victoria squeezed past the students who were relegated to standing room only and made it to the front.

  To her shock, Maya flashed a beaming smile and hugged her tightly. “Omigod, thank you for coming to the first meeting.”

  When she was released, Victoria let out a surprised laugh. “Of course.”

  As more students filed into the room, she grew increasingly concerned about the small space they inhabited. The students didn’t seem bothered though; they shifted and made room for newcomers. One student maneuvered himself inside the room in his wheelchair and the kids made sure he had a spot in the front.

  “Should we get started?” Maya asked the room.

  A resounding yes, filled the room, causing Victoria’s heart to swell. They were excited to be there and she was honored to stand before them. “Hello, everyone,” Victoria started. “I’m Dr. Reese from the English department. I’ve had some of you as students, I’m sure. As your faculty advisor, my presence here will be minimal. This is your group and I’m just here to sign the necessary forms.”

  “Thank you for taking a chance on us,” said a boy from the center of the room. “Me and Maya asked, like, four profs and they said they were too busy.”

  Instead of feeling slighted by the young man’s remark, Victoria felt disappointed by her institution. “I’m sorry that you felt you were stalled, but I think you’re in business now.”

  “It feels like we’re working hard to be seen around here and no one wants to help,” said another male student. “There’s a Quidditch team with a history professor and it’s not a big deal, but I told some people that we’re starting a Black Student Union and they were like, what?”

  Laughter erupted in the room before someone called out. “It’s like they think we’re starting a Black Panther Party at Pembroke.”

  “Right?” Maya said through giggles. “All we want is a place to talk comfortably. No code-switching, no answering dumb questions about our identities. Just a place to relax.” Victoria stepped back and let Maya take over. The girl was speaking truth and people were listening. Victoria admired her ability to hold a crowd captive with her enthusiastic energy. “We want to bring something different to this campus, right?”

  The crowd confirmed this.

  “This isn’t just about us though,” Maya said. “It’s my hope that we’ll partner with students who want to form a Latino Student Union and an LGBTQ Student Union. And we need to host events that welcome everyone.”

  Pembroke didn’t have those groups yet. The university had a long way to go before reaching their diversity mission statement, but these students had enough enthusiasm to get the ball rolling. Hope bloomed in Victoria’s chest.

  “Yes,” said a female student from the front row. Victoria recognized her from last semester’s Composition class. “Because we need fun parties because this place stays boring.”

  “Oh my god, you guys, we could have a ’90s dance party as our first event!”

  “That would be so lit!”

  As she watched the kids dissolve into excited shouts and laughter, Victoria fought the temptation to call the group back to order. This wasn’t her classroom and it wasn’t her place to control their conversation. She sat uncomfortably, waiting for some order to happen. There were no officers yet, so there was no one to keep Robert’s Rules. Victoria pretended to be totally cool with the pandemonium even though it made her sweat.

  “Okay, y’all!” Maya shouted. “Let’s be cool for a second. This many black folks in one area shoutin’ is gonna make people nervous.”

  The occupants of the room laughed and Victoria was relieved. Ho
w did she do that and how can I be as chill as a nineteen-year-old?

  “If we’re going to get any of these ideas off the ground, we’re going to need a plan. Kerri is going to send around a clipboard for contact information. If you’re serious about this, please sign up. In our next meeting, we’re going to toss in nominees for officer positions. We need structure before we do anything else.”

  Victoria let out a small breath. Maya was teaching her a valuable lesson about guiding those around her with loose reigns. She gave her peers agency. She didn’t need to get cross or micromanage them, she just let them express themselves.

  “Girl, why don’t you just be president?” said the young man in the wheelchair.

  “Because democracy, Quinton,” Maya replied. “We have to nominate and vote based on the people. Student Government also wants us to write up a constitution. Can I get a three-person committee to work with me on that?”

  Several students raised their hands.

  “Okay, which of you are Pre-law or English?” Maya asked. A couple students dropped their hands. “Right, Jaleena, Marcus, and Izzy; let’s meet up tomorrow to sketch this out.”

  “What about money?” Quinton asked. “We need to raise money for events.”

  Maya’s gaze flitted to him. “If you’re nominating yourself for treasurer, please do.” She smiled and threw him a cheeky wink.

  “I’m majoring in Economics,” he said with a shrug. Victoria could tell that the young man was a little smitten with their fearless leader. “I don’t know, I think I could help.”

  “Well, we could use it,” Maya said. “They’re not going to throw money at us. Everything we want, we’re going to have to work for it.”

  “Parties are great or whatever, but what about the shit we have to deal with on the daily?” said a kid from the back. People ahead of him shifted to give him the floor, all eyes on him. “Like, is this the group I can come to when I’m feeling...” he trailed off, sensing the room’s full attention focused on him.

  “Alone,” Victoria said.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Alone.”

  She stood and addressed the room. “As I said, you guys are in control of all the day to day business, but you’re also in control of how you take care of one another. Pembroke is prestigious, expensive, and lacking in diversity. Some of you are already used to this fact, while others might only be recognizing it now. Some of you are here on scholarship, the first of your family to get to this stage. Some of you have the hopes of an entire community on your shoulders, right?”

  There were a few nods from the students. “I can’t tell you that the pressure will ever let up. If you weren’t asked to the table, you’re always going to have to prove you belong there. For some of you that might never end. What’s your name?” she asked the student in the back.

  “Adam O’Neal,” he said. “I’m a freshmen.”

  “Adam, you belong here. If you made it this far, you’ve got the strength to go even further. That goes for all of you. Some of you will have to have the strength to convince Adam that he belongs here on the days he feels isolated. Can you reciprocate the encouragement, Adam?”

  The boy gave a wordless nod. Victoria’s chest ached for him and his pensive expression. He was a small light-skinned young man with pale green eyes and tight sandy curls. He chewed on his lip and averted his gaze from Victoria. “Yeah.”

  “Does everyone promise to give each other the encouragement they need to make it through their time here? Because if you can’t, a group like this cannot succeed.”

  Murmurs rippled through the group, some nodding, others clapping and saying “yes.” The students closest to Adam clapped him on the back and pulled him in for hugs. When she saw his bashful grin, Victoria knew he’d be okay.

  “I’m going to hand it back over to Maya,” she said. “But I just felt like I needed to say that. You don’t have to feel alone, any of you.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Reese,” Maya whispered, her warm hazel eyes smiling. “We need to hear that.”

  Victoria nodded and sat back down. The kids are alright. The students knew what they wanted and were willing to work for it. That’s all she needed to know. If they elected Maya as their president, they would be fine. She was reminded of what John had asked her when they spent the evening at his house. What you bring to your work that wasn’t there before? This was one of those moments she would hold on to. The smiles of students who no longer felt alone... Victoria had helped, in a small way, to create this feeling of comradery.

  After an hour of debating, brainstorming, and good-natured fun, the students were ready to break up the party and return at a later date. Victoria said her goodbyes and slipped into the hallway while students mingled with one another. As she rushed across the quad, a phone call buzzed in her pocket, making her slow her pace.

  She stopped short of Stevenson Hall and checked the screen. Mother. “Not now,” she whispered. Victoria knew that her mother wouldn’t stop until she got a reply. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Victoria, you’re still coming tomorrow?”

  “Yep.”

  “Have you found a dress yet?”

  Victoria rolled her eyes. “I’m going to find something soon.”

  “Please make sure that it’s tasteful. Nothing busty, nothing too formfitting. Please don’t look fast.”

  Fast? She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed her mother didn’t need to prolong this conversation. “Gotcha.”

  “And you’ll come to the house before we leave. You can unpack and visit with your dad before we head out. The ball starts at 18:00, so try to catch a 15:00 train.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Just make sure you keep track of the time,” Katherine reminded. “We need enough time to get prepped before the event and I cannot worry about loose ends.”

  Victoria was counted in the loose threads category.

  “I will be there.”

  “With bells on, I hope,” her mother said in a cheery voice. “Are you excited to meet Matthew?”

  “Still not interested.”

  “We’ll see, little lady.”

  “Goodbye, Mom.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Hold your hand over your head, Johnny, before you bleed out!” Margaret shouted.

  Baking Halloween cookies had been quickly put on hold in favor of a minor emergency. In the flurry of two panicked mothers hurrying around the kitchen for something to bandage his bloody hand, John chose to sit at Sandra’s dining room table. A knife was in his other hand and a hacked pumpkin sat before him. Somewhere in the laborious process of carving a smile, John’s knife had slipped and nicked his palm.

  “Sandy, where’s your first aid kit?”

  “In the hallway bathroom,” Sandra said as she pressed John’s bloody hand with a tea towel. “Jesus, he’s bleeding like a stuck pig.”

  “I’m fine,” he said in a tired voice. “Really, Sandy, where are those knives I got you for Christmas? Why are you still using these dull blades?”

  “Johnny, put that knife down and hush up,” Margaret called from the bathroom. She came rushing back to the kitchen, blowing her hair out of her eyes. Locks of red hair had escaped the bun tied at the back of her head, making her already frantic appearance more witchy. John didn’t have it in him to laugh at his mothers. He didn’t have the heart to laugh at anything at the moment. “You need to save your strength.”

  John glanced at the thin rivulet of blood that snaked down his arm and back at his mother. “I’m not going to die.”

  “Good lord, I can’t,” Margaret said as she set the first aid kit on the table and backed away. “I never could see my own child bloodied. Sandy, you do it. Does he need stitches?”

  Sandra removed the towel and peered at his hand. “Nope, just some butterfly bandages and gauze. Go wash your hand, kiddo.”

&
nbsp; John stood and took his mother by the shoulder, leading her to his chair. “Sit down, Mom.”

  Margaret’s hand fluttered over her chest as she took a deep breath. “I just wish you were more careful, Johnny.”

  He stood at the kitchen sink, shoved the sleeve of his gray Henley past his elbow, and washed away the blood. The cut on his palm stung from the heat of the water, but he ignored it. He’d spent the last twenty-one hours ignoring his feelings, one more couldn’t hurt. He hadn’t heard from Victoria and it gutted him. John had to stuff his feelings down and carry on with business as usual. Becca was still his ward and she needed him. Library business still needed to be completed. Had he been any other man, he would have stomped over to Victoria’s house, beat down her door, and hauled her over his shoulder. But he was raised with manners and going full alpha-male wasn’t in his nature.

  “That’s good enough, kiddo,” Sandra said, interrupting his thoughts.

  He shook out his hand and returned to the table. “It’s not that bad,” he muttered as Sandra slathered ointment along the cut. She bandaged him up and tied the gauze in a neat bow at the outside of his hand.

  “Clean that tonight so it doesn’t get infected,” Margaret said, shielding her eyes. “And wash that shirt with cold water.”

  “Fine.”

  “Alright, what’s got you so bent out of shape?” Sandra said as she washed her hands and returned to the abandoned cookie dough. “You showed up claiming you’d help us with Becca’s cookies and all you’ve done is stew.”

  “I haven’t been stewing,” John said.

  “You have,” his mother said. “And hold your hand up.”