by Karis Walsh
“It’s not really a reference book. There’s a photo of a krater—a large vessel used for mixing wine and water—and I wanted to show it to my class. I can’t find it online.”
“And they need to see it because…” Tace prompted.
“Okay, I really don’t need to show it to them, but I want to. It’s for the class that’s reading Euripides’s Herakles.”
“And Herakles is on this…what did you call it? A krater?” Tace was reading a copy of the play in translation, ostensibly so Berit could practice her lectures on Tace before she gave them in class. She’d enjoyed the discussions with Berit, though, and was getting as much out of the arrangement as Berit seemed to.
“No, it’s the goddess of madness. In the original, Euripides uses Lyssa—signifying more of a rabid, animalistic madness—instead of Ate, with more human connotations of insanity. I just think it’s interesting and might spark some good ideas for my next lecture.”
“And you can’t provide this spark with words. You need the picture of this goddess.”
Berit shrugged. “I’d prefer to have the actual krater, but I doubt I can get my hands on it by Monday. I can, however, drive to Pullman before then. I work better with physical or visual prompts than with words.”
“Is this as important to your teaching as the coasters are to my brewery?” Tace asked. She’d spent an entire afternoon searching for places to make coasters with her logo on them and designing shapes and layouts on paper with her nonexistent drawing skills. She had more important things to do at the brewery, at home, and at the store, and more fundamental steps to take for the business, but the coasters had been a day’s obsession.
Berit shrugged. “About the same level of necessity, I suppose.”
“It’s the only day off I’ve had in weeks,” Tace said, but she felt herself giving in to Berit’s plan already. She’d resist at first, to assuage her guilt about avoiding work, but she understood how these small obsessions could mean a lot, especially when the larger and more vital aspects of the job could sometimes be too frightening to contemplate.
“Did I ask you to drive me?” Her expression, with its covert smile, showed she already knew Tace would take her, but she continued with the dance they had started. “I’ll rent a car. Can you drive me to a car rental place?”
Tace sighed and gave up her pretense of being too busy to go. She’d just have spent the day sitting here, anyway. Besides, Berit still wasn’t supposed to be doing much driving, especially in winter conditions when she might have to turn or brake quickly. If Berit needed to go on a quest to find a photo, then Tace would support her.
“I’ll drive you to Pullman,” she said. “We should get going soon, though, so we’re not on the road back after dark. It’ll be a sheet of ice out there.”
“I’ll be ready in five minutes,” Berit said. She gave Tace a hard kiss on the lips as she walked by. “Thank you.”
Tace would have agreed to drive Berit anywhere for another kiss like that one. She folded her newspaper and went to put on warmer clothes. She had to admit, though, she’d been easily convinced to procrastinate. She’d cut back on her time at the store, then had immediately accepted any extra hours available there. She had spent the last three weeks working more than she had when she was full-time. For someone normally steadfast to a fault, she was having a hard time following through with her commitment to the brewery. And to herself. The thought of getting out of town, even if it meant going to Pullman, where the university was really the only draw, was enticing.
Of course, being in a car for such a long time with Berit was appealing, no matter the destination. Tace drove through the snow-covered fields and tiny towns as they wound along Highway 12, and she marveled at how easy it was to talk to Berit. They bantered back and forth, or shared stories about Suds and Joseph or the students in Berit’s classes. Tace had thought—when they first met last August—that she’d never be able to hold Berit’s interest, but she had lost her misgivings about being with someone with so much more education than she had. She traced the beginning of her confidence back to Berit’s first day of classes, when Tace had been able to provide comfort and compassion, but the feeling of compatibility had grown incrementally since then.
Of course, the added element of physical contact helped keep Tace both at ease with Berit, and almost electrically charged at the same time. They held hands when the driving was smooth, and when Tace needed both hands on the wheel in tricky spots, Berit rested her palm on Tace’s neck and gently played her fingers through Tace’s hair.
When Tace finally parked near WSU’s campus in Pullman, she was ready to get a hotel room for her and Berit. The constant touching—no matter how nonsexual—and the easy conversation between them were somehow more intimate than any overtly sexual interchange Tace had ever had with another woman. She helped Berit out of the car and kept their arms linked because the sidewalks were slick in places. She wanted to drag her quickly to the library, get the book she needed, and find someplace where she could take Berit’s clothes off. Instead, they walked slowly toward a wide brick staircase and stopped at the foot of it to check the map Berit had printed out at home.
“Have you been here before?” Berit asked, turning the map clockwise and frowning.
Tace looked over her shoulder, and then pointed at one of the squares on the map. “I think we’re in front of this building. I’ve driven past here on my way to Spokane before, but I’ve never stopped. It was bad enough living in a college town. I’d never purposefully drive two hours just to visit another one.”
Berit looked at her. “It sounds like it was bad for you, being a townie. Is that why you didn’t want to go to college?”
Tace leaned against the railing of the staircase, putting a little distance between her and Berit. Part of her was always waiting to be judged and found lacking because she didn’t have a degree. No matter how much fun she and Berit had together, and no matter how strong the attraction between them, Tace honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Berit decided she didn’t matter enough to remain friends. She wondered when she’d ever be able to trust in someone like Berit’s feelings enough to be confident in a relationship with her.
“I didn’t not want to go to college, and I didn’t want to go either. It wasn’t an option, that’s all.” Tace frowned. “My chemistry teacher wanted me to apply here, but I figured why bother trying if I got accepted but couldn’t go? I couldn’t have left before Chris and Kyle got through school, even if it hadn’t been a matter of money.”
She struggled to recall the specific times she’d been harassed when she was younger. “To be honest, I’m not sure if it was really as bad as I remember it being, living so close to Whitman. There were some jerks, definitely, who bullied any townie they could find, but I think my resentment about not having choices or chances might have colored my past experiences with the other, less mean ones.” Tace paused, surprised by how easy it was to get some perspective when she didn’t believe she was as limited as she had been back then. Even though she hadn’t considered college an option, she remembered the interests she’d had. She was using most of them in unexpected ways now as she studied the brewing process. “I had fleeting moments of dreams for the future—maybe studying chemistry or geology, or going to a tech school for culinary arts. But I never took them seriously, and never, never let myself believe in them.”
Berit leaned against her side, and Tace was warmed by the contact with her. “But now you have a chance to do something for yourself. You might not have taken the traditional route of college right after high school, but look at the experiences you’ve had. You were a mother, not just a sister, and you’ve worked in fascinating jobs. You’ve studied the natural world around you. And now you’re using your talents and the skills you’ve acquired at the brewery.”
Tace put her arm around Berit and rubbed her back. Moments before, touching Berit had aroused Tace. Now she felt comfort from their closeness. Berit was becoming so many things to her�
�a safe place, a good friend, a loyal supporter, a fantasy that kept her up at night. Tace had experienced them in separate women before, but never had one woman had the potential to be everything for her. Why couldn’t she have discovered this kind of multidimensional relationship with another townie? Someone who could be in her life for the long run?
“You’ve made me rethink my general disgust for anything academic. No, don’t laugh, I really mean this. I think I condemned Whitman and the people who were connected with the college because I knew I had no chance of going myself. I’d never be good enough because I didn’t have enough money or time or freedom to get a degree. But I have more possibilities now.” Tace released some of the tight hold she kept on her aspirations and let her imagination tentatively explore some potential steps forward. “I could study brewing, or do some business classes. Or not. Either way, I’m making the choices now. I guess some of the jealousy and anger I felt for kids with more opportunities is disappearing.”
Berit leaned forward and kissed Tace on the lips. Just like that, comfort and friendship were pushed to the side by Tace’s more determined physical desire. She resisted the urge to wrap her fingers in Berit’s short hair and pull her into a deeper kiss.
“People should be judged by what they do and who they are, not by what degree they have,” Berit said. She brushed her fingertips over Tace’s mouth, and Tace could see a passion that matched her own in Berit’s expression.
“I wanted that courtesy for myself, but I didn’t always offer it to other people,” Tace admitted. She’d considered college students and people with degrees to be elitist, without giving them a chance to prove they were otherwise. “Double standard.”
“Well, I’m glad you let me get close, even though I have my degrees and am soon to win the title of Worst Professor of the Year from Whitman.”
Tace laughed and tucked Berit’s hand in her arm. She took the map from her and started walking toward the library. “Everything will change once you have this picture for your class on Monday. You’ll be voted Most Inspiring.”
“I’ll settle for Traveled Farthest to Get a Reference Book She Didn’t Really Need.”
“The trophy will need to be huge to get all those letters on it,” Tace joked.
She and Berit laughed and teased as they walked across the large university campus. Tace felt relieved to have admitted her shortcomings and her own biases against anyone connected to higher education. Getting past those old habits would take time—and her sense of self-worth wouldn’t heal overnight—but Tace recognized the hurt behind her judgments now. She was feeling more comfortable allowing herself to consider options and choices in her future, ones that would heal the old wounds she’d kept hidden because she had to take care of other people before herself. Berit had helped. Not just because she seemed to accept and like Tace for who she was, but also because she had proven to Tace that even a well-respected and brilliant scholar had more to her than a degree. Berit was witty, self-deprecating, silly, and the most primal and sexual woman Tace had ever encountered. When she had first walked into Tace’s life, she had only been a professor in Tace’s eyes. Now she was so much more. And she was changing Tace’s life in ways she’d never imagined.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Berit stared out the window of the car as Tace drove through the steep streets of Pullman and back to the highway. She’d been on a high all day and was now feeling a letdown from which she couldn’t break free. She’d had a great time with Tace, enjoying their frequent contact. Lately, ever since the brewery tour, they’d fallen into a comfortable rapport. Touching and kissing often, but not forcing the relationship to go further than first-date casualness. They’d shared meals and discussions at the kitchen table. Aside from the near-constant sense of sexual frustration, Berit had been feeling content.
She frowned at her reflection in the passenger-side window. Contentment was something Berit avoided at all costs. She’d never felt it as a child, when instability and chaos had been the best ways to describe her home life. She’d never trusted contentment as an adult because she knew it wouldn’t last. It would eventually turn into disillusionment, disenchantment, boredom.
She had gotten a glimpse of her former life—the one she was aching to return to—when she had been digging around for a good photo of the incarnation of madness. She’d felt the excitement of unearthing a rare find, the joy of sharing it with Tace and soon with her students. But she had only found a photo of the result of someone else’s labor. She was too far removed from the actual discovery to make it her own. The elation of finally holding the book in her hands was a poor simulacrum of what she experienced after excavating something magnificent or mundane on a dig. The light and optimistic feelings she’d had on the drive here and during her talk with Tace on the brick staircase had disappeared in a blink once she’d filled out the inter-library-loan form, and she was left deflated.
“The suicide rate must be astronomical around here, with all this nothingness to look at day after day.” Berit knew she sounded cranky, but she couldn’t help it. Wheat fields stretched for miles on either side of the car, exacerbating her foul mood and reminding her of her exile in this foreign landscape.
Tace seemed unfazed by Berit’s irritability. “Where you see nothingness, I see sustenance. Rich soil hiding under the snow, with the potential for growth. In the spring, the fields will be covered with shoots, all different shades of green. During harvest, the breeze will make the fields ripple like melted gold, like a hefeweizen pouring into a glass.”
Berit snorted, trying not to laugh, but sounding instead like she was disparaging Tace’s remarks. “Beer poetry. Nice.”
“You’ve been in a pissy mood since we got your book. Care to tell me what’s wrong?”
Berit sighed, regretting her tone. “I’m just feeling the letdown. I’m sorry. I wish I had been uncovering the krater myself instead of just tracking down a photo of it. I wish I were—”
“Anywhere but here,” Tace finished for her. “Seriously, Berit, you should wear it on a sign around your neck, then you won’t feel compelled to say it every five minutes.”
“You don’t know what I was about to say,” Berit said, her voice rising. Of course, Tace had been correct to the letter, but Berit didn’t want to admit it. She didn’t want to face how surly she was being. “You finished my sentence without really knowing what I was thinking.”
“Oh, okay. Were you going to say I wish I were able to live here forever? I wish I were a wheat farmer?”
“No. You were right with the first one,” Berit said, her emotions changing too quickly to follow. At least the anger was something she could hold on to, something she could use to energize herself. Once it went away, she was left with a confusing sadness. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I think I’m homesick for a patched-together tent in the middle of nowhere. I need to be on my knees digging a trench while the desert around me seems determined to keep refilling it with sand. I don’t know who I am here.”
Tace didn’t look at her, but she reached over and took Berit’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Only four more months,” she said. “You’re over halfway through your sentence.”
“With no time off for good behavior,” Berit said, still hearing an edge to her voice. Tace’s touch and words calmed her, but Berit didn’t want calm right now. She wanted passion and freedom—freedom from this place.
Tace laughed. “Good behavior? Really? You should get time added on for sulky behavior, not time off.”
Berit punched her playfully on the arm, some of her foul mood easing. She’d never had anyone with whom she could be so messily and honestly herself like she could with Tace.
“Do you mind a short detour?” Tace asked. “It won’t add much time to our trip, and I want to show you something.”
“Another wheat field?”
“No. Something different. You wanted a change, didn’t you?”
“Yes, please.”
Tace turned off
the main highway and onto the smaller Highway 261. They drove in silence for a few miles while Berit sorted through her mixed-up feelings. Tace had let her explode a little bit, and the release had helped Berit figure out the core of her shift from excitement to an annoyed ennui.
“I was hoping this photo would stimulate something in me,” she admitted in a quiet voice. “You were right last fall, when you said teaching matters to me. But since then I’ve really been trying to do better and I’m still a failure at it. I want out of here because I’m good in the field. I want to feel accomplished and capable again.”
“What’s been going wrong in your classes? We’ve talked about the books you’re using in them, and I’ve learned a lot and have had fun reading with you. How do you know your students aren’t feeling the same?”
Berit shrugged. “I know. I don’t get the same sense of focus that I get when you and I talk. They look out the windows or pretend to take notes when they’re really writing other things. I was exactly the same when I had boring professors. I was hoping this picture might prove to be the catalyst for some great lecture, but now, when I look at it, I don’t feel inspired at all.”
Tace looked over at her, and Berit saw a slight frown change the angle of her elegant eyebrows. “You don’t lecture me.”
“Of course not. Why would I?”
“Well, whenever you mention teaching, you say you’re planning a lecture or giving a lecture. But we have discussions. You ask me questions about what I’m reading, you don’t just talk at me about it.”
“A dialogue,” Berit said. A sudden memory of a café in Athens, where she sat across from her grandfather and drank iced coffees while the white hot sun baked the patio umbrella over their heads, came into her mind. He’d ask her what she thought about the pieces they’d seen in a museum or at an ancient ruin. He never told her how to experience the world to which he was exposing her.