Tenure Track

by Victoria Bradley

  One afternoon, while taking a quick lunch break with a visiting Clint, Lewis picked up the daily newspaper he had tucked into his satchel that morning. A story in the entertainment section caught his eye. It was a familiar face, dressed in a wife-beater T-shirt that fully displayed battle scars, standing on his only leg in a deserted theater. Gus. My buddy Gus.

  The article was a combination of art and human interest story. Gus Gomez was starring in an updated version of Lanford Wilson’s classic play Fifth of July, about a gay Vietnam vet and former teacher who lost both legs in war. In the revised version, the main character is a gay Iraqi War vet who lost one leg in combat. The article noted that in the original productions, able-bodied actors usually played the role as if the character was supported by prosthetic legs. In this version, Gus’s real-life war wounds were incorporated into the story for greater realism. Other small details and dialogue had been changed to make the play a reflection on post-9/11, more than post-Vietnam, society.

  The reporter noted that this was Gus’s first theatrical production, listing his extensive film credits as various one-legged Mexican soldiers, hitmen and zombies, as well as his aspirations to make movies. The reporter noted that the vet had completed a screenplay inspired by his own wartime experiences and was hoping that this production would generate greater interest in his script.

  Lewis smiled as he read. It was so like Gus to take advantage of any opportunity for career advancement. The article also included information that Lewis did not know, such as the details of the day Gus’s unit was hit by an IED that killed three fellow Marines and left him in a coma for two months. In the article, Gus recounted waking up to realize that his right leg and testicle were both gone. “I thought my life was over, you know?” the ex-Marine was quoted as saying. In all the months that Lewis had known Gus, the usually loquacious young man never explained exactly how he lost his leg and Lewis always thought it impolite to ask. Yet Gus opened up to the reporter, talking about the daily regime he followed and the hours of physical therapy he still endured, along with bowel and bladder problems that four surgeries had not been able to completely correct.

  In the article Gus also talked about the challenges of playing a gay man, admitting that he at first felt uncomfortable with one scene in which he kisses the actor playing his lover. “But then I realized, when you close your eyes, lips are just lips. You do what you gotta do to put beans and rice on the table. You know what I’m saying?” Lewis chuckled reading that line, recalling Gus’s fast-spoken expression. It was comforting to see that some things never changed.

  Lewis stopped by Sheila’s’ office on the pretense of visiting with Clint. Before she could respond, the dog hopped into her lap to cover her face with wet, sloppy kisses, much to her delight. “I think he prefers you,” Lewis commented.

  “No, you are his parent, the one who must raise him. I’m just the Aunty who gets to spoil him. I get the fun part and let you deal with the ramifications.” She chuckled in delight at the thought as Clint hopped down and sat obediently beside his master.

  “Well, he wanted to say ‘hi’ to his favorite aunty. He also wondered if you had seen this.” He handed her the article.

  She nodded. “Curious. Ms. Dejean sold me two tickets for opening night, but as it turns out, my husband will be occupied. Would you like to accompany me, Dr. Burns?”

  He grinned widely, “I would be delighted, Dr. Stevens.”

  The following evening they sneaked into the theater just before the opening curtain. The small U-shaped arena ensured there was not a bad seat in the packed house. Lewis and Sheila sat high up on the left side of the stage, which was set up to represent a Fourth of July barbeque.

  His eyes scanned the crowd until he spotted Mandy sitting in the front row next to Blanca and Julie. Occasionally he could glimpse her profile, but she never turned completely around where she could see him. She looked good: happy and relaxed. It was nice to see her in an upbeat mood again.

  The curtain rose and there sat Gus behind a desk, his unscarred profile turned to the audience. The first time he moved out from behind the desk to reveal his wounds, there were audible gasps throughout the room. Very quickly, however, the power of the dialogue and performances overcame the shock gimmick and the audience came to accept the realism of the character and actor. Gus was very good, reflecting the weariness and subtle fear of a man scared to return to his pre-war existence. The first act ended with the strapping young man playing Gus’s lover carrying him offstage. It was a powerful and touching moment.

  As the curtain fell for intermission, Sheila excused herself to go to the ladies’ room as Lewis tried to find a hiding place. Blanca caught sight of him first and nudged the other two women as he futilely tried to escape their line of sight. Mandy’s face went blank when she saw him dashing out the door. The theater foyer was rather small, offering few corners in which to avoid recognition. A haze of smoke from a patio offered refuge. Lewis decided it was better to endure second-hand puffs than the glares of three angry women.

  Mandy was determined not to let him get away that easily. Just as he thought he had found a safe niche, she approached him. He could not tell from her expression whether she was pleased or upset by his presence. He glanced around uneasily for her posse, but did not see either roommate.

  True to his promise, he tried to be polite. “Sorry, I hope you don’t mind that I came. Dr. Stevens asked me to accompany her.”

  Mandy assured him she didn’t object. “Gus was worried the house would be empty.”

  “’Looks like a good crowd,” Lewis observed. “He’s doing a great job so far, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, he’s terrific!” she agreed. “He’s been so uptight about this. It’s been good for him, but it’s rough, too. He acts tough, but this stuff really drains him. Plus, he and Julie broke up.”

  “Really?” Lewis was genuinely surprised.

  Mandy rolled her eyes. “Well, officially, they’re broken up, but still friends. But, FWBs, ya know? Gus was supposed to move to the couch, but most nights he’s either out ‘til dawn or in Julie’s room. I think they only split up to take the pressure off and let him screw around.”

  Perhaps out of a sense of male unity, Lewis felt the need to defend the young man. “I don’t think Gus ever wanted to cheat on Julie,” he said, “but I do think he felt they were too young to be tied down.”

  Mandy looked at him skeptically. “Is that what you think?” she asked rather sarcastically. “Is that part of the guy code? To stick up for each another?”

  Now Lewis became defensive. “I’m just saying, I think Gus wants to do the right thing. He talked to me about it once. He really loves Julie, but sometimes love isn’t enough.”

  “Spoken like a true divorced guy,” she replied cynically. “Momma’d be proud.”

  Lewis stuck his hands in his pockets and shifted the weight on his feet. As a cool breeze began to blow, Mandy pulled a sweater up over her shoulders. A few months ago, he would have offered a protective arm for warmth, but he knew the time for such an affectionate gesture had passed.

  After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Mandy sighed and looked into the distance. “Ya know what I think?” she said philosophically. “I think Gus and Julie are one of those couples who’ll go their own way, do their own thing, but keep in touch, and then, somewhere down the line, when the time’s right, they’ll hook back up again and it’ll be forever. They just get each other too well.”

  “Soulmates?” Lewis asked.

  “Oh, that word’s way overused, but I do think some people are destined to be together. Gus and Julie are like that, I think. It’s just meant to be. Can’t fight it.”

  He reminded her that she had once said something similar about her own parents, to which she agreed. Lewis breathed a quiet sigh of relief at her romanticism. She still believes in true love. He had not ruined that part of her.

  “Well, there’s always hope,” he remarked with a wry smile.

&nb
sp; “Yeah, there is,” she said, shivering. “Brrr. It’s getting cold out here. I’d better find the girls. Make sure Gus knows you came. It’ll mean a lot to him.”

  He promised that he would as he watched her go back inside and approach the roommates, who were conversing with Dr. Stevens. Lewis made his way back to his seat just as the curtain rose on the second act, in which Gus’s character fights with friends and relatives who call him out on his fears of re-entering the world. By the end of the play, he decides to take a chance and return to his true love—teaching. As he watched this final act, Lewis could not help but relate to many aspects of Gus’s character.

  After the curtain closed, Lewis and Sheila hung around in the foyer to congratulate the lead actor. They did not see the women, who may have been backstage, in the restroom, or already driving home. When Gus entered the lobby, he was mobbed by admiring fans. Lewis noticed that the young man was uncharacteristically leaning on a cane for support and looked a little thinner and paler than usual. Gus fed off the small crowd’s energy, rejuvenated by shaking hands, signing autographs, and posing for photos. Lewis stood back a moment until the vet caught sight of him. “Lew! Hey, Dude!” He used his cane to part the crowd and make his way to the professor, whom he embraced like a long-lost brother, touched that Lewis had made it to the show. He then embraced Dr. Stevens like an old friend. Both instructors shared their positive assessment of his performance.

  “Thanks, that means a lot. Boy, will I be glad when this thing is over, though. Whew! It’s wearin’ me out. All I ever do is work. Hey, we’re havin’ a little openin’ night party next door. Ya’ll wanna come?”

  They politely declined. Gus was the same as ever—friendly, forthright, and ambitious, going 90 miles an hour without stopping. Lewis hoped the young man would find fame before his schedule killed him.

  After Sheila excused herself to wait outside, Gus asked rapidly, “Oh, didya hear me and Jules broke up? But we’re cool. It’s cool. . . . Didya see Mandy?”

  Lewis stiffened a bit. “Yes, I spoke to her a little during intermission.”

  “She’s lookin’ good, ain’t she?” Lewis nodded in agreement. “Sorry about all that crap with her mom. She’s a little out there, ya know?” Lewis looked sheepish. “I hope it didn’t get ya in too much trouble, but your story’s really big with my fans. One of my most popular bits. They think you two should get back together.” Lewis was not quite sure what to think about having his personal life decided by Internet vote.

  Gus leaned in very close to Lewis’s ear and whispered, “Ya know she still loves ya, Dude.”

  Lewis’s shocked look revealed that Gus had struck a chord. He continued. “She hadn’t gone out with nobody since you two broke up, Dude. She might as well be a nun, knowwhatImsayin’? Check out the site. It’s all there, Dude.”

  Before Lewis could ask more, Gus was whisked away by a band of co-stars who declared it was time to party. Walking to the car, Lewis looked around one more time, hoping Mandy was still nearby. No sign of her. He assumed the friends had probably already headed over to the party.

  He was rather sullen as he drove his companion home. “What are your thoughts, Dr. Burns?” Sheila finally asked.

  He hemmed and hawed a few moments. “Dr. Stevens,” he finally said, “do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

  She shrugged. “You may always ask.”

  “Do you have any regrets? I mean, things you wish you had done differently if you had known you’d have MS.” He surprised himself by actually naming her disease out loud.

  She pondered his question for a moment. Looking out the window at the starless night sky, she mused, “Sometimes I wish perhaps I had given birth to a child, but I have two fine stepsons and a host of children I’ve helped raise through my work. So, no, I can’t say I regret that. I believe I’m doing what my maker intended for me to do. . . . I can say I wish I had married sooner.”

  Lewis nodded slowly, less in agreement than in acknowledgement. “We had our reasons for waiting,” she explained. “I was stubborn and he had faired poorly in his first marriage. However, it should not have required a debilitating illness to solidify our commitment. I regret that it did. And what is it that you regret, Dr. Burns?”

  “These days,” he answered, “everything.”

  “Hmm,” she replied. “That’s a bad place to be.”

  “Yes, it is,” he agreed.

  “You know the only difference between myself and others without a disease, Dr. Burns? I am fully aware of my own mortality. But I still do not know how much time I have. None of us do. Should my disease progress to its completion, it will kill me, but something else might before then. It could be cancer, a bullet . . . an automobile accident. None of us knows the hour or date of our fate, Dr. Burns. All we can do is not waste the time we have been given.”

  After safely delivering Dr. Stevens home, her chauffeur contemplated her advice as he made the lonely trek back to his quiet abode.

  The solemn anniversary of Bloody Valentine’s Day rolled around once more, with a simple memorial. Few professors even remembered to observe the moment of silence. With each passing year the collective memory faded.

  Just as during the previous year, the day put Lewis into a funk, made worse by unintentionally seeing Mandy again. She was studying in the main library early in the morning as he entered to renew a rare title. Remembering his promise, he offered a friendly “Hi” as he passed by her chair.

  “Oh, hi!” she returned.

  He wanted to say more, so much more, but his tongue seized up on him. Ever since seeing her at Gus’s play, he had entertained thoughts that perhaps one day, after graduation, they might be able to reconnect. As the day progressed and his funk deepened, he found himself inexplicably headed towards the Chug-a-Lug, stopping along the way to buy a rose from a transient. Realizing she might not even be working that night, he just as impulsively tossed the flower into a trashcan outside the pub doors.

  The tenure committee reconvened in late February to make a final decision on Lewis’s application. At this point, he felt pretty confident about his chances. However, he had not reckoned how much his future lay in the hands of his department Chair. The tenure committee was ready to put its stamp of approval on his promotion. Once his Chair approved their decision, the paperwork would move to the Dean of Academic Affairs and the President for their review. Both administrators had indicated they would follow Jane’s recommendation.

  Technically, Gary’s role in the matter was finished, but throughout the ordeal he and Jane had discussed the importance of the incident as a precedent setter. Gary was still a supporter of No Fraternization and believed that this case proved its value. He noted that, even though this accusation had been resolved quietly, the whole campus knew about the scandal from the gossip network and the Internet photo. The Dean believed the complaint had the desired chilling effect on any professors who might consider engaging in such risky behavior, but expressed concerns that there would be no continuing deterrent should it seem that Lewis Burns was getting off scot free. Gary still believed that undergraduates needed to be treated more like children than adults and that the university had a duty to protect them from their own foolish decisions.

  Jane had grappled with this issue for months, though her judgment was admittedly clouded by personal worries. Despite several therapy sessions with Phyllis, Dana had still not confessed to an inappropriate relationship with Coach Gibson. Jane did notbelieve her own daughter anymore than she believed Mandy Taylor’s carefully worded denials of an inappropriate relationship with Lewis. Jane could never think about Mandy and Lewis without conflating them with Dana and Coach Gibson. The twins had just turned 18, only two years younger than Mandy at the time of the affair. To Jane, Dana was still a child, incapable of making rational decisions regarding a teacher who wielded great power and influence over her. Would she be capable of making such decisions in two years? As seen through the eyes of a mother, not a scholar, Jane sympa
thized with Gary’s rationale.

  Jane recognized her own hypocrisy and sexism in discounting her long-ago affair, but that was a different era and she was a different person. Had No Fraternization been in place years ago, the young man might not have asked her out. Or if he had, she would more likely have said “no.” In hindsight, the prohibition might have saved her a great deal of heartache. Sometimes, people do need saving from themselves. Jane now had the power to prevent others from making similar mistakes, and she planned to use that power.

  Two days after meeting with the tenure committee, Jane broke the news to Lewis. He was in an especially cheerful mood, no doubt expecting to hear congratulations. He sat in a stiff wooden chair in Jane’s office, as she stood facing him, leaning against the desk, with arms folded in front.

  “Lewis,” she began. “The tenure committee met. They were very impressed with your application.” His face fell. It was like reading the Yale rejection letter all over again. Had he been granted tenure, she would have just said so right away. Listing his attributes was only drawing out the inevitable rejection.

  “You’re obviously a dedicated teacher and a good scholar,” she continued. “Your service to the school has been impressive. They liked the fact that you have a second book coming out.”

  He refused to be humored by compliments. “Just spit it out, Jane. Did I get tenure or not?”

  Jane stretched her mouth, as if trying to pull words from it. “The university has decided to table any decisions for this year and to review your application again during the fall process. You won’t have to redo the packet, but you will have an opportunity to add new information to it.”

  Lewis had been relegated to the Last Chance pile. Such a one-year extension was usually a type of probation, reserved for those who needed to beef up their credentials. A rejection after extension was the kiss of death.

  “What do you mean, the university has decided? Who was that? The committee? The Dean? The President? Who?” he asked incredulously.