Tenure Track

by Victoria Bradley

  Lewis realized how much it paid to be traveling with Gus. Besides actually being able to get a parking spot, it was also easier to snag a table in the crowded clubs. Patrons who usually ignored such things often gave up their seats to the scarred vet with the imposing prosthetic leg. Occasionally when they passed service members from the nearby Army base the soldiers would give Gus a knowing nod.

  By the time they were halfway through the R&B band’s last set, Gus had imbibed enough alcohol to share a few details of his service experience with Lewis. He had joined the Corps right after graduating high school—June, 2001. Gus made it a point of pride that he was already in service before the terrorist attacks that changed his country’s trajectory. “I wasn’t one of them pussy flag-wavers who only found their mojo after 9-11,” he proudly declared. “I’m a true patriot. I’d give my right nut for my country. . . . Oops! I already did!” He banged the table loudly while laughing at his own well-worn joke.

  As the evening wore on, Lewis realized that Gus rather enjoyed using his disability to make people uncomfortable and draw attention to himself. The young man carried a small video camera with him wherever they went. At first, Lewis assumed it was to take videos of the group or some of the bands, but the budding filmmaker seemed to be focusing it mainly on random strangers, often very subtly. Mandy explained that it was part of a short documentary he was making about how able-bodied people view those with disabilities, looking up from the perspective of the disabled person.

  Gus explained to Lewis that he was taking some community college classes, but admitted that school was not really his top priority. He wanted to become the next Robert Rodriguez—writing, directing and producing films his own way. He was currently interning at a local television station as a technical assistant and often worked as an extra on locally produced films. He was particularly popular in educational movies about 19th century wars, but relished his recent big break, playing a zombie in Rodriguez’s latest horror homage. “I been dozens of dead or wounded Mexican soldiers,” Gus bragged. “I even get paid extra if I show my stump. Rodriguez loved me ‘cause I was able to play this zombie hoppin’ around on one leg, with this bloody stump hangin’ down ‘cause it got chewed off by another zombie. It was wicked! He said he might use me again in his next Mariachi movie.”

  “Maybe you can be the evil Mexican drug dealer’s hood who gets his leg blown off,” Blanca suggested.

  Lewis was aghast by the thought. Two gin and tonics combined with the beer from earlier loosened his tongue. “Doesn’t that make you feel exploited?” he asked.

  “Exploited? Oh, hell, no!” the Marine replied, himself getting pretty loose after two more Boilermakers. “I figure, I got a commodity and if people want to pay me for it, I’ll take that.” He slapped his artificial leg for emphasis. “This is just like J.Lo’s ass. ‘Makes me unique. Like this great profile.” He turned the unscarred portion of his face towards Lewis. “John Barrymore ain’t got nothin’ on me.”

  “John Barrymore?” the professor responded.

  “Yeah, Drew’s granddaddy,” Gus explained. “Silent film star. They called him ‘the Great Profile” ‘cause he looked so good from the side. His directors, they took a lotta shots of him from the side, to highlight the profile. ‘Dude did look pretty good.”

  Lewis found himself surprised that the young man would know so much about silent movies. He hated to admit that his own knowledge of films was limited mainly to movies that had been released since his teen years and westerns he reviewed for his research. “I see you know your film history,” he said, making sure the comment came out as flattering as it was intended to be.

  “There’s nothin’ this guy doesn’t know about movies,” Mandy explained of her friend. “I think he’s seen every one ever made.”

  “Well, almost,” Gus clarified. “Yah see, my cousin Ritchie, he got this gig workin’ at a video store when I was a kid. Let us see all the movies we wanted for free. Then, he gave me a job after school, doing the shit work that he didn’t like, like sweepin’ up, cleanin’ toilets and shit. Everyday, I’d go in, do my stuff, then watch any flick I wanted in the back office. Everyday, a new movie. How wicked is that? Later, when I got old enough to get a real job, Ritchie was the assistant manager, so he got me a job in the store. Then I got a weekend gig workin’ at a movie theater. Man, I saw every freakin’ movie I could. It was righteous! KnowwhatImsayin?”

  “And he remembers everything about ‘em, too” Mandy said. “Ask him anything about any movie, he knows it, ‘specially old or weird stuff that most of us have never heard of!”

  “That’s right,” Gus replied. “Dude, you gotta study the masters to make great stuff. I love the old black and whites. Great visual style, the way they worked with shadows and light. KnowwhatImsayin’? Especially those old Germans! Makes ya sad color came along.”

  “Germans? You mean the Nazis,” Blanca chimed in.

  Gus bristled. “Oh, don’t you get started again. Most of those guys left after Hitler took over.”

  “What about Leni?” Mandy retorted. Lewis vaguely recognized the reference to Leni Riefenstahl, a talented filmmaker vilified after World War II for having made Nazi propaganda films.

  “Leni was brilliant,” Gus defended. “In Olympia, the way she set up some of those shots. Outrageous! Sure, she slept with Hitler, but hey, if you wanna to get the job, sometimes you gotta do things. KnowwhatImsayin’?”

  “Oh, so you mean you’d sleep with Hitler to get a job?” Julie inquired with a raised eyebrow.

  Mulling it over, Gus mused, “Well, maybe just a handjob.”

  Everyone at the table laughed except for Blanca, who asked, “Professor, you do American history. Whatcha thinka Birth of a Nation?”

  He heard a collective groan from the revelers, who had been through this discussion many times before. As the faces at the table stared him down for a response, Lewis decided it would be prudent to just admit his ignorance. “Well, to be honest, although I’m familiar with its themes and the controversy surrounding it, I’ve never actually seen the film.”

  “What?” Gus shouted. “Oh, we gotta have a movie night! Dude needs some education!”

  “Ech! Leave me out,” Blanca declared. “I’m not watchin’ that Klan-lovin’ white trash again.”

  “Oh, you should come,” Mandy interjected. “So Lewis can watch you and Gus go at it over ‘artistic merit’ versus ‘offensive content.’”

  The professor had to admit that listening to Gus and Blanca passionately debate a controversial movie would be much more interesting than listening to a similar theoretical classroom discussion. Before he could commit to witnessing such a fight, the conversation veered to Gus’s experiences at the film portion of the festival the previous week. Gus regaled them with analyses until Julie tired of the conversation and pulled him away to the dance floor. Ignoring the stares from other dancers, the vet swayed and moved his upper body in joyous rhythm with the music. “Gus is an interesting guy,” Lewis mused to the women left at the table.

  “He’s smart, too,” Blanca piped up, as Mandy nodded in agreement. “Dude never studies and still has a 3.5 average. I think that’s the only reason he bothers with it. The government’s payin’ and it’s easy.” Lewis could tell that, despite their constant bickering, Blanca respected Gus as much as any of her peers. Perhaps they argued so much because each considered the other a worthy opponent.

  “He’s got like a photographic memory,” Mandy added. “That’s how he remembers all that stuff from movies. And he works his butt off.”

  The much quieter Julie seemed to be a good match for the outgoing vet. Watching them sway to a slow song, Lewis recalled that feeling of intense, young love he had not experienced since his teens. “How’d he and Julie get together?” he asked.

  Blanca rolled her eyes and nudged Mandy. “You tell it, cher.”

  “Oh, it’s really sweet,” Mandy narrated with a gleam in her eyes. “Like somethin’ out of World War II. Gus u
sed to go on these high school recruitment trips when he was in the service. He went to Julie’s high school.”

  “P.S. Army Brat,” Blanca said interjected.

  “Shut up,” Mandy told her friend before continuing. “Anyway, Julie’s dad’s a colonel. He’s also been in Iraq, like, forever. Anyway, Jule’s was in this group at her school that sends letters and care packages to soldiers, so she made sure to meet Gus after his talk to discuss ‘the project.’” Mandy made air quotation marks with her fingers.

  “Actually, she just thought he looked fine in his dress blues,” Blanca explained.

  “Yeah,” Mandy giggled. “Anyway, they started e-mailin’ each other and talkin’ on the phone. It was one of those Internet romances. Really sweet. They didn’t see each other again for, like a year, until he got a leave.”

  “Good thing she was 18 by then!”

  Mandy rolled her eyes again at Blanca’s commentary. “Anyway, before he went back, he gave her a promise ring and it’s been ‘true love’ ever since.” Mandy sighed, betraying a hint of jealously.

  “Her parents must be happy she hooked up with a military man,” Lewis observed.

  “Yeah, they’re probably gonna have babies come outta the womb wearin’ cammo,” Blanca joked.

  “Yeah, everybody in Julie’s family is in the Army, except her Mom and she’s like, the ultimate Army wife. Julie’s big rebellion was joinin’ the Navy,” Mandy offered.

  “She’s gonna be a nurse,” Blanca explained. “Right on the front lines. Don’t let her looks fool ya. That girl is one tough chick. Oh, and don’t ever diss’ the war or George W. in front of ‘em unless you’re ready to fight.”

  He was grateful for the warning. Living in the sheltered world of the politically left-leaning Edutopia, most of the people Lewis knew had been strongly opposed to Bush’s foreign policies. It was both disconcerting and refreshing to be out with two people who were decidedly from the right side of the political spectrum.

  “Blanca fights with ‘em all the time,” Mandy whispered. “She’s a pacifist.”

  “I ain’t a pacifist!” the young woman declared. “I jus’ don’t stand for dumbass wars caused by dumbass presidents!”

  “Here, here!” Lewis raised his glass in agreement, tapping against Blanca’s in a show of solidarity. Then he looked at Mandy. “So, where do you usually stand in the debate?” Despite knowing that she was a Government major, he had never really asked about her political alignments and it had never been very obvious. He thought he recalled from her résumé that she had worked on at least one Republican campaign.

  “She’s a wimp,” Blanca chimed in. “Refuses to take sides.”

  “Shut up!” Mandy commanded playfully. “I like to think of myself as an independent. I can usually see some good points and bad points on both sides.”

  “Aaah, you’re Switzerland again,” he concluded. “I see a definite pattern of behavior here.”

  “Mandy’s like Obama,” Blanca explained. “But she’ll never run for office. ‘Seen too much dirt—.” Mandy quickly interrupted her friend with a poke. After their eyes exchanged knowing instructions, Blanca continued. “Well, all I’m sayin’ is: ‘Manda’ll be the analyst type, the one who reads all the reports, hears from everybody, then makes decisions for the politicians who steal all the credit.”

  “Hey, don’t knock it, you’ll need me when you rebuild N’Orleans,” Mandy declared.

  “Damn straight!” Blanca affirmed as the two women clinked their glasses.

  About that time, Gus and Julie returned to the table. Lewis noticed the young man was sweating and out of breath, belying the ease he tried to convey on the dance floor. The performance clearly required a lot of physical exertion. “Whoa, I need another drink, Dude!” he wheezed, motioning to a waitress.

  At that moment, Blanca piped up, “Uniforms!” Lewis turned in his seat to observe a small group of Army soldiers in Class A greens enter the club. “Ooh, that one’s fine!” Blanca said, indicating a tall, handsome African American soldier who looked to be about Gus’s age. Mandy leaned over to Lewis and explained that, despite her pacifism, Blanca had a thing for men in uniform.

  Gus nodded towards the soldiers, who all returned the nod in recognition of a fellow combatant. The group took a seat within range for Blanca to exchange eye contact with the “fine” young man she had pointed out. When the waitress brought out Gus’s next drink, she informed him that the soldiers had already paid for it.

  “Okay, Gus, do your thing!” Blanca ordered, checking her hair and makeup in a compact mirror.

  “Oh, alright!” he said, rising from the table with noticeably more effort than required earlier in the evening. Lewis watched as Gus sauntered over and exchanged handshakes with each of the soldiers. After a few moments, Gus spoke directly to the fine-looking one and motioned over to Blanca, who exchanged smiles with the young man. The soldier walked back to the table with Gus and introduced himself to Blanca in a deep, soulful baritone. The two were soon up on the floor, exchanging gyrating moves in some kind of modern-day mating dance.

  “Why don’t you get out there, Professor?” Gus asked.

  Ignoring the look in Mandy’s eyes that indicated she might like to be asked, he demurred. “I’m not much of a dancer. I think I’d have to get a few more drinks in me first.” Actually, it was not so much that he did not like to dance, but that he felt very self-conscious about doing it among people 15 years his junior.

  “’Come on. Man’!” Julie said, leading her friend to the dance floor. The two men watched silently as the women danced together with a sense of abandon that only comes from being 20 years old. Was I ever like that? he tried to recall. He certainly never had the seeming confidence of these young people. What little youthful joy he may have had was cut short by the car crash, replaced by the burden of responsibility and guilt.

  Lewis wondered if the 20 year-old version of himself would have had a chance with Mandy. He felt his face flush as he watched Mandy’s hips sway, her arms seductively holding up her long, dark hair. He finally concluded that his younger self would probably have been too self-absorbed to have appreciated her or her friends.

  “So,” Gus asked, still watching the women. “You like ‘er? It’s okay, Dude, you can tell me.”

  “Uh, of course I like her,” Lewis stammered, feeling very warm. “She’s a very good employee.”

  The wise young man began to laugh, beginning as a slight chuckle that grew into deep guffaws. “Whatever, Dude.”

  By the time Mandy and Julie returned to the table, Gus was receiving an important text message. “Time to fall out, troops,” he ordered. “Blanca’s ready to dump her dude.” Apparently Blanca had spent enough time with the soldier to realize that his good looks hid a misogynist streak she could not tolerate, even for one evening. She stood at the bar with her date encroaching uncomfortably into her personal space as Gus gallantly strode over to fulfill his bodyguard role.

  “Hey Blanc’, we gotta get goin’,” he ordered, stepping between the two and placing a protective arm around his friend’s shoulder. The soldier looked confused as Blanca and Gus clasped hands together. “Sorry, Dude, gotta collect my harem. Hey, good luck on your tour.” He motioned to the bartender as he set a ten-dollar bill on the counter. “Give my buddy a drink. Whatever he wants.” He and the soldier shook hands as Gus and Blanca smoothly made their way towards the rest of their group waiting near the exit. As they left the club, Gus made sure to remind Blanca that she owed him ten bucks.

  By midnight, the group sat entrenched in front of the Toob Sucks band, whose very loud bass tempo failed to keep Lewis’s eyelids from growing heavy. Catching a glimpse of him rubbing them, Mandy asked if he was all right. At first he lied that his new contacts were bothering him, before finally admitting that he was having trouble readjusting to undergraduate hours. Gus resolved that problem by ordering a round of Red Bull and vodka for himself, Lewis, and Blanca. He described the wondrous effects of mixing
alcohol and energy drinks. “Dude, you can be drunk and keep goin’ at the same time. It’ll keep ya rockin’ for hours.” To Lewis, this sounded strangely like what drug addicts called speedballing. Mandy and Julie both declined, but did order iced coffees to keep them going.

  Two Red Bull and vodkas later, Lewis was feeling a unique rush unlike anything he could describe within his expansive vocabulary. As the group made its way to their last venue, he felt like he was floating on air. If it would not have looked so ridiculous, he would have skipped along the sidewalk. Mandy kept a close eye to make sure he did not fall and hurt himself.

  At the final club the crowd was beginning to thin out in anticipation of last call. Gus led his troops to the dance floor, where a now uninhibited Lewis tried to follow the motions of the younger group without looking too silly.

  “You still dance like a white guy,” Blanca critiqued. Lewis was flying too high to feel insulted, especially when he compared himself to Gus, who now danced like a drunk guy with one fake leg, often leaning on Julie for support. At one point, Lewis enviously watched the two of them kissing passionately as they clung to one another and swayed to the music.

  Around that time a very drunk, college-age patron sauntered over to Mandy and started talking to her in a flirtatious manner. She politely tried to ignore him as she continued dancing with her friends. Since Gus was too distracted by his tongue-wrestling match to notice, Lewis decided to play the role of protector. Emboldened by his speedball, he sidled up to Mandy, placing a protective arm around her waist while glaring at the drunk, who got the message and scurried off. Still swaying to the music, Mandy thanked Lewis for his assistance. As his hand slipped back around her, he felt the exposed skin on her back, just above that tattoo. She felt her body shudder slightly as his fingertips stroked her flesh and their eyes met briefly. Before he could respond, Lewis was overcome by the sensation of not being able to catch his breath. The room was suddenly stifling with bodies pressed into him, as if a giant vacuum was sucking all of the oxygen from the room. He looked away and excused himself while Mandy watched him make his way through the crowd to find the men’s room.