Blood Feud

by Brenda Donelan

  After hanging up, Marlee was at a loss. She wanted to bitch about her change in travel plans with someone, but the hour was too early to make any more phone calls. The night before, she’d called her parents and updated them on the switch from Ireland to India. They were both morning people and would be up, but there was nothing new to share.

  I bet Barry’s up, she thought. People with young kids are always up early. Barry Stevens was an old friend from her college days. When she was a student, he was a new police officer taking college classes to finish his degree and get promoted. They worked together to solve the death of two college students back in 1987 and had stayed in touch. A few months ago, Marlee contacted Barry about that same case from the late 80s. He had moved up the ranks at the police department to captain and was well-respected for his integrity, sharp instincts, and level-headedness. Barry’s whirlwind marriage to a fellow police officer hadn’t worked out, and he was now divorced with shared custody of their two sons.

  Marlee placed the call to Barry and, after two rings, he answered. “Good morning, Sunshine!” she chirped.

  “Who is this?” Barry growled, not yet awake or caffeinated.

  “Take a wild guess,” Marlee said with a chuckle. She loved playing tricks on Barry, especially when he wasn’t fully aware of what was happening.

  “Renee?” Barry asked.

  With all the force she could muster, Marlee pushed END on her cell phone, turned it off, and threw it on the overstuffed couch. Who the hell was Renee?

  We cannot change the direction of the wind, but we can adjust the sails.

  Indian proverb

  Chapter 3

  Less than a minute later the land line phone rang. It was Barry. “You shut your cell off. That’s real mature. I was only kidding, by the way. I knew it was you, and I was just yanking your chain.”

  “Who’s Renee?” Marlee wasn’t convinced that Barry was playing a joke on her. For all she knew, he could be dating another woman. Several other women, for that matter.

  “No one. I mean, I just made up the name. Jeez, you’re testy this morning. Remind me not to joke with you so early.”

  Not bothering to comment on his joke or jabs at her, she launched into her information. “I’m not going to Ireland on sabbatical after all. The MSU president wants me to go to India to teach a class on Criminology at Delhi University.”

  “Whoa! That’s quite a change from Ireland to India. And you’ll be teaching? I thought the whole purpose of your sabbatical was to do research,” Barry said.

  “Research was the main reason, but I basically have to do this for the president, or he’ll make my life hell.”

  “How? You have tenure, so he can’t fire you,” Barry pointed out.

  “He can make sure all of my classes at MSU start early in the morning, he can have me appointed to a bunch of pointless committees, he can deny my requests to travel to conferences, and he can deny my promotion to full professor. And on and on. As long as he’s here, he can put the squeeze on me. Delhi University is a sister institution to MSU, and the president is trying to get more students from India to come here to study for a semester and more of the MSU students to take classes in Delhi. It will be a feather in his cap if he can work out a large transfer of students back and forth, and the Board of Regents will look favorably upon him for his initiative.” Marlee had figured this whole thing was about much more than just doing a favor for a sister institution. It was a political maneuver by the MSU president to secure more status and money. As a small state-operated institution, Midwestern State University was always battling with the bigger schools in South Dakota for additional money. Anything MSU could do to stand out in a positive way held the possibility of more money being appropriated to the school.

  “And they’re sending you as the ambassador?” Barry asked with disbelief.

  “Well, yeah. They have a visiting lecture series and next semester they want it to deal with American Criminology. So, the president and my dean thought I’d be a good fit.” Marlee was more than a little put out that Barry thought she was a poor choice.

  “How well do they know you?” Barry blurted. “I mean, uh, do you really think you’re up to the task of representing MSU and the United States?”

  “What do you mean? You don’t think I’m qualified?” Marlee couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her own sorta-boyfriend didn’t think she was good enough to teach in India.

  “Of course, you’re qualified. I know you’d do a great job teaching and researching. It’s just, well, you’re not always the best when dealing with rules and regulations in a bureaucracy.” As captain of the police force, Barry had been to a multitude of trainings and conferences dealing with tactfulness, and it had helped him immensely. He was still rough around the edges with his bluntness, but much had improved from when she first met him back in 1987.

  Marlee sighed as she thought about his critique. Barry had a point. She spent the better part of her time on campus figuring out how to get around rules and ditch meetings. Her teaching, advising, and research were good enough that administration basically let her downfalls in the other areas slide as long as she wasn’t too flagrant in breaking the rules. She wouldn’t be given any such consideration in India. “I can be friendly and delightful when I put my mind to it. The dean said the administrative responsibilities shouldn’t take up much of my time, so I’m sure I can act like a normal human being for a little bit. Just a couple meetings and social mixers.” She really wasn’t bitter about Barry’s comments, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right.

  Barry’s laughter broke the tension. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine posing as a normal human being. I guess this means I won’t be coming to Ireland to visit you when I take vacation in March.”

  “You can come to India instead.”

  “No way! I don’t want to get Delhi belly,” Barry said, referring to the chronic diarrhea many visitors to India experience. “And I heard they don’t eat beef there. How could I go a whole week without a steak or a hamburger?”

  It was Marlee’s turn to laugh. Based on her brief Internet search that morning, she knew about the precautions for dysentery and about the Hindu worship of cattle. “I’m sure you’d survive. Besides, you’re a big, bad, cop, and I’m just a criminology professor. Are you saying I’m tough enough to fend off sickness and forego beef for five months, but you can’t do it for one week?”

  After a brief pause, Barry spoke, not wanting to be bested in their ongoing competition. “Hell yes, I can handle it! I’ll come when you have your spring break, and we’ll have a great time. I’ll put a few packages of beef jerky in my suitcase.”

  The two exchanged light-hearted banter for the next half-hour before Barry’s children woke up and demanded breakfast. “Gotta go. The munchkins need food. Maybe I’ll drive up to see you next weekend?”

  Marlee smiled as she hung up the phone. Barry really was a good guy even though he infuriated her at least half of the time they were together or talked on the phone. She’d met his kids, Austin and Henry, and thought Barry was a wonderful parent. She couldn’t envision herself as a step-mom, but the relationship was new, and there was no point rushing anything. Besides, Marlee wasn’t even sure if she wanted their boyfriend-girlfriend status to develop beyond the casual dating stage. Things were great, or at least satisfactory, right now. There was no pressure for either of them to move or change careers so that they could be nearer each other.

  After a quick shower, Marlee made a breakfast of toasted Pop Tarts and more coffee. “I can’t believe I’m out of bacon again,” she muttered, remembering that she’d had bacon for at least one meal every day that week. She grabbed a note pad from the kitchen counter and started her grocery list. Bacon and coffee creamer were the only things listed for now. She wouldn’t be going to the grocery store until the following evening because few people did their shopping on Sunday nights. Then she had the place to herself as she rushed through the aisles
grabbing her provisions for the upcoming week.

  Marlee was in the basement cleaning Pippa’s litter box when the land line phone rang. She dashed upstairs and was greeted by Dean Barnaby. “Hey, Hank. Sorry for waking you up earlier. I couldn’t sleep and started thinking about India and had a bunch of things I wanted to talk to you about before Monday.”

  The perpetually good-natured dean laughed and assured her it was no problem. “The wife and I are going out for coffee and bagels. Do you want to join us?”

  “I can’t. A guy is coming over to install a new furnace sometime today, and I want to be here. If he stops by and I’m not around, no telling when I’ll get my new furnace.” Marlee went on to relay her night without a furnace and how she’d MacGyvered her way through it.

  “That’s impressive. I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be able to put together your own heater like that.” They continued on with survivalist chit-chat for a few minutes, in which Hank disclosed he had a bunker built in his basement. “Now, what can I answer for you about your trip to India?”

  Marlee’s head was spinning as she thought of her dean and his horde of canned goods, toilet paper, and ammo just waiting for the big one, whatever that was. She talked about her concerns and asked him several questions about Delhi University, most of which he couldn’t answer. “Has anyone from MSU ever been to Delhi University?”

  The line was quiet for so long Marlee almost asked if Hank was still there. “Um, not in person,” he said in a low tone.

  “What do you mean, not in person? How is Delhi University our sister institution if no one from MSU has ever visited there?” Marlee wanted the dean to assuage some of her fears, but this conversation was just making her more and more sorry that she agreed to go.

  “It was a virtual visit. The administrations from both universities had several communications online and decided we would be a good fit for each other. Then we had a virtual tour online of each other’s university. That was two years ago when our budget was cut way back, and we didn’t have the funds to travel to Delhi.”

  “So, I’m going to be the first MSU representative to visit Delhi University in person? And it’s our sister university because the two “liked” each other online. This is the academic equivalent of online dating!” Marlee shouted, getting madder by the second.

  “Oh, Marlee. Your sense of humor just kills me. I don’t know how you come up with these things,” Hank said with a chuckle, attempting to divert the conversation through flattery.

  “Why do we even need a sister institution?” Marlee pointedly asked, not understanding the connection between the two universities.

  Another long pause followed as the dean chose his words. “Because some of the other universities in the state have sister institutions, and we didn’t want to be left behind.”

  “Well that’s a piss-poor excuse to ship me over to India when I had a perfectly good sabbatical trip planned for Ireland! Why me? You know I don’t deal well with meetings or academic politicking.”

  Hank sputtered on for a bit, eventually disclosing that of the four people who received sabbaticals for the next semester, Marlee was the least likely to cause an international incident. That and the president was anxious to get students moving between the two universities, so he could brag about it to the Board of Regents.

  “This really chaps my ass!” Marlee spat, forgetting that she was talking to her superior and not a colleague on equal footing.

  “I know, and my butt will be in a sling if he hears about it, so mum’s the word, okay?”

  “Yeah, I won’t say anything. How many meetings will I have to attend?” Marlee got to the bottom line. She’d rather teach two additional classes than attend weekly meetings.

  “Not that many, from what I understand. The dean of the Sociology Department will meet with you right away and let you know what’s expected. They’ll have a reception for you one of the first days you’re there, and there may be a couple meetings you’d be expected to attend, but other than that, you can teach your one class and spend the rest of your time on research and getting to know India. It won’t be that bad, really,” the dean said with such conviction that Marlee found herself wanting to believe him.

  They who give have all things; they who withhold have nothing.

  Indian proverb

  Chapter 4

  The heat, humidity, and overall stench hit her like a punch to the gut. Marlee trudged out of the Indira Gandhi International Airport in New Delhi, pulling two suitcases of her belongings behind her. This would be the entirety of her wardrobe, reading and teaching materials, and beauty regimen for the next five months. Not that the eighteen hours in the air plus layovers weren’t awesome, but she was now short-tempered and ready for a shower and some air conditioning. The flight was long and uncomfortable, with the usual drunk businessmen, crying babies, and vomiting landlubbers. So much vomiting.

  Marlee left Elmwood, South Dakota on December 28, with a temperature of negative 14, with over a foot of snow on the ground. She arrived in Delhi, India with a temperature of 70 and high humidity. It was considered jacket season in India, and most of the professional men in the airport were dressed in white oxford shirts and button-up suit jackets. Marlee was sweating her ass off in a t-shirt and yoga pants. Outside the airport, it was a bit less crowded, but still overrun with adults, children, and stray dogs. Every ounce of her introverted self was screaming “Get me out of here!” as she waded through the congestion of people, the noise coming from every direction, and the smells of spicy food, feces, and car exhaust. It was an assault on the senses, one hundred times what she felt when she traveled to New York and visited Times Square on a Saturday night.

  It felt like hours before she made it to the pick-up area where she’d been directed via email prior to her flight. She weaved between emaciated people finding their way to their destinations, beggars looking for a pittance that would help to feed their families just one more day, and dogs with rib bones protruding and vacant looks in their eyes. No one had it easy in India, neither human nor beast.

  Marlee boarded a bus after confirming it was indeed the correct transportation to Delhi University. It was dusk, but from the dimly lit streets, she could still see the shanties where people lived. Sticks of wood held up pieces of corrugated tin to form a lean-to under which a family of five gathered. Up the street a bit, three skinny cows stood before a stretch of homes with actual doors. A fire barrel blazed as a scrawny child threw trash on it while a sari-clad woman roasted food for her family. Marlee had never felt so guilty and sad in her life. She had a solid roof over her head, a fairly well-paying job, and more than enough food to eat. Her excess and that of her fellow Americans made her sick. Just last week, she’d been debating on getting another television so there would be one in the guest room. She frequently ate more than she needed and had a weight problem. She knew people who didn’t conserve any of the natural resources and were wasteful when it came to water, electricity, and recycling. Why do some of us have so much and others have nothing? Marlee thought as the bus crawled toward the university. What can I do to change this?

  The bus wound through the streets of Delhi, dodging cows, horse-drawn buggies, a variety of motorized transportation, and pedestrians from toddlers to the elderly. The traffic congestion alone was mind boggling, but there was also an ongoing symphony of honking horns. Everyone with a horn, including her own bus driver, made liberal use of it. What is all the honking about? How can anyone figure out what it means if every driver is honking? On top of the congestion and honking, there appeared to be very few rules regarding driving. She felt like an ant in a colony with everyone busily making their way toward their destination. I’ll never make it five months in India. I won’t make it five days here, she thought. I’ll call Hank Barnaby tomorrow and tell him I’ve contracted typhoid fever and have to return to the states immediately!

  After an hour’s drive, the bus chugged into Delhi University campus with a puff of black exhaust and pu
lled up next to a red brick building. Marlee had one nerve left after the eighteen-hour direct flight from Toronto and the harrowing ride from the airport. Standing outside the bus was a slight man with a wide smile, appearing to be in his mid-thirties. “I am Raj Sharma!” he exclaimed as she stepped off the bus with her bags in tow. He immediately grabbed both of her suitcases and began talking. “I am a graduate student at university and will be your liaison while you’re here in our fine city of Delhi. Anything you need, you talk to me. I am at your service. I am here to help you in any way possible.” Raj chattered on in this vein for another ten minutes until they reached faculty housing. Marlee nodded as he spoke, happy to have someone there to look after her in this overwhelming city.

  A one-level white brick building stood before them. The doors to each residence faced the open courtyard before a trickling water feature. “This will be your home. I hope you like it. It will be most comfortable for you, I hope. If you need anything, you tell me. I will get for you anything you need. We are most happy to have you here at our university. It is a gift to have someone of your stature honor us here at Delhi University. We are forever in your debt.” Raj’s compliments and offers for assistance were never-ending, which Marlee soon learned was the custom in India. To leave a guest unhappy or wanting for something was an unforgiveable offense in India, and Raj would not let it happen. Not on his watch.

  As he opened the door with the oversized brass key, Marlee thanked him for his attentiveness and courtesy. Even though she said she could manage, Raj insisted on showing and explaining each feature of the tiny apartment. “This is your bedroom,” he said pointing to the twin bed and one bedside table with a diminutive lamp as he blushed and looked at the floor. Rushing past the bed, he motioned to her kitchenette featuring one chair and a table Marlee would have used as a plant stand back in the states. Raj then directed her to the bathroom with a toilet, sink, and shower, all crammed into a room smaller than her coat closet at home. He didn’t even meet her eyes as he pointed toward the lavatory as if it were poor etiquette to even acknowledge the bathroom.