Uncross My Heart

by Andrews

  “I’m a lesbian. And I intend to live and teach and preach as one.”

  Hightower couldn’t have whipped his neck back farther if a snake had darted into his face. “What are you saying?”

  “Just that.”

  “Well.” Hightower moved around the room like a caged animal intent on finding a way out. “Well, well, well.”

  I didn’t move. My courage, so strong on my arrival, was waning. I began silently chanting carbon under pressure becomes diamonds and had no idea where that came from . I was quite certain a silent prayer would be more appropriate, but right now I felt intense pressure and needed a sparkling outcome.

  “Do you want this in the school newspaper or just the church bulletin on Sunday?” His tone was acrid. “What do you expect me to do with this information?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Nothing’s changed. I am exactly who I was ten minutes ago when I was completely acceptable to this institution.”

  “Gay priests do not exist. Gay seminary leaders do not work at Claridge. If you are out, Dr. Westbrooke, then you are out.”

  “I’m out but Roger Thurgood III, a dangerously troubled young man, is in?”

  “You’d best decide by week’s end if this conversation ever took place. I am willing to pretend it did not. Good day.”

  “I don’t need until week’s end. This conversation has indeed taken place,” I said and walked out.

  “What happened?” Eleonor asked, her tone worried as Ketch fell in behind me.

  “I just told Hightower I’m a lesbian.”

  “He didn’t know that?” she asked as if he were the idiot.

  “And that I’m going to live my life openly and be who I am.”

  “You go, girl.”

  “That’s kind of what he said.”

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, I rang Vivienne but she didn’t call me back.

  However, Lyra Monahan left a message saying she was in town. And Gladys left a message asking me to lunch. I slumped in my office chair, the blinds drawn, and waited for Viv to call. After several hours I rang her again. Still no answer. This time I left no message. Apparently I had mistaken her loving me with her wanting to see me.

  I opened my e-mail and saw the message with the chancellor’s electronic seal on it. The short paragraph said the administration would not be renewing my contract, which was up next year and, further, if I created any more bad publicity for the school, I would be terminated. A written confirmation of same would be mailed to me. That was quick, and he didn’t even have the courage to do it in person, I thought.

  “The price of an authentic life,” I told Ketch. “I may get to be authentic on a park bench.”

  A knock at the door and Angela was standing with a baby on her hip. For a moment, I couldn’t believe it was the same child we’d taken to the hospital. Certainly not entirely healthy, at least she didn’t appear to be in any imminent danger.

  “Hello.” She picked up the baby’s small hand and waved it at me as if the baby were speaking. “Maria Estrella and I wanted to come by and say hi.”

  “Well, hello,” I said. The little girl reached out for me and I glanced at her mother, who said to please take her. I lifted her into my arms and rocked her. She didn’t seem at all distressed by a stranger holding her.

  “She’s so used to nurses and doctors. Nothing bothers her.”

  “She looks much better.”

  “She is better and she’s come by to say thank you. That night was the worst night of my life, and you came and you saved her life. We will always remember that.”

  “God saved her life. I just drove the car.”

  “But you cared enough to come, you baptized her, you called a doctor, you got her to the hospital. You saved her life.”

  “Well, Maria Estrella must have important work to do in this world since she elected to stay,” I said. I wondered what would have happened if Dennis had gone to see Maria. Would he have baptized her and left? Would he have talked to Ortiz and learned that the baby was only lacking medical care due to money? Would he have known a doctor he could immediately call? Perhaps God saw to it that Dennis had refused to go and that I was there. I hugged Angela as we said our good-byes and for a moment I felt at peace. Maybe my work had purpose. Maybe my life had purpose. I looked up at the ceiling as if God resided there. “You always do it to me. Just when I think it’s all for nothing, You send someone.”

  * * *

  That afternoon I located Dennis coming out of the gym on campus and reported that I couldn’t get Viv to call me back. “But she loves me,” I assured him and myself.

  He cut his eyes at me. “But won’t talk to you? Anything else happen?”

  “I’ve been fired.”

  He stopped suddenly, looking aghast as I told him about going to Hightower’s office. He began pacing and fuming over Hightower’s behavior.

  “He’s a hypocrite.” Oddly, Dennis seemed to be taking this far more seriously than I.

  “It will all work out. I’ll find another job.” I gulped down the last third of a Diet Dr Pepper.

  “It’s not that. You’re good for this school. So many people aren’t, but you are.” He panted like a Pomeranian.

  “Now you’re getting me upset. You’ve never said anything remotely that nice to me. In fact, most of the time you’re telling me I should resign and move on to a more liberal school.”

  “I was keeping you on your toes.”

  “Thanks. Why are you panting?”

  “I’ve been working out.”

  “Isn’t that supposed to make you not pant?”

  “Once my body-fat ratio changes, yes.”

  “A lot more than your body-fat ratio will be changing now that Hightower’s retiring.”

  “He doesn’t want to retire.” Dennis looked around like a hero in a spy novel. “You’ve got to fight for your job.”

  “I haven’t got a leg to stand on. Nothing I could say would change anything.”

  “You can win this. Go back to his office and stand up to him and—”

  “And what? Tell him I was mistaken…I’m not gay?”

  “You came forward and told him something honestly from your heart, and he fired you.”

  “Well, it’s over.”

  “Same damned thing he did to Emerson.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I knew Emerson. He was a great teacher. It’s not, look—” Dennis stopped so suddenly I had to jump aside to keep from running over him. “I want you to go to his office and simply say you refuse to be fired—” My laughing broke up his words. “Listen to me. Tell him…”

  Dennis started circling like a dog pressing down grass, then flopped to the ground and ran his hands through his hair and cracked his knuckles repeatedly.

  “What is wrong with you, are you having some kind of spell?”

  “Tell him you know about the panties,” he blurted.

  “I know about the panties?”

  “Both times.”

  I stared at him.

  “That’s all I can say. Promise me you’ll do it.”

  “You have to tell me—”

  “Just do it…but don’t mention my name.” He suddenly bolted to his feet. “I only wish I could be there,” he said over his shoulder and I watched him disappear down the walkway, leaving me to contemplate the absurdity of our conversation.

  Chapter Twenty

  I made the appointment for the next afternoon. Hightower wasn’t ecstatic about seeing me again so soon but agreed, perhaps hoping I was there to hand deliver my early resignation.

  Eleonor asked how I was doing as I breezed past her, much as someone would ask how the funeral went.

  “You got yourself all glued together, girl? If you don’t, don’t be goin’ in there, ’cause Mr. High Power got himself a ’tude today.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Matter of speculation,” she muttered as I entered Hightower�
��s office and closed the door behind me.

  He didn’t bother to get up from his desk but merely looked up.

  “Well, I assume you got the e-mail. I wouldn’t feel too badly about it. I’m comfortable characterizing it as a function of budget cuts, really.

  We’re trimming everywhere and I will, of course, give you a letter of recommendation when the time comes. We have some time before then, so let’s try to make the most of it.”

  “I’ve decided I refuse to be fired.” I selected the words from my memory bank exactly as Dennis had put them there.

  “Refuse? I’m afraid that’s not an option, Dr. Westbrooke, as indeed you are…fired.”

  “I am asking you to reconsider.”

  “If this is the only reason you’re here, then I will have to cut this meeting short as I have other important matters.” He rose to sweep me out of his sight but I stood planted.

  “I know about the panties.” I could feel my own heart beating at the nonsensical nature of that statement and wondered if he knew I was bluffing.

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “Both times.”

  “Well, very interesting, my dear Dr. Westbrooke. Then your source most likely told you there were no photos, no forms, no evidence, nothing. Everything expunged.” He paced and stared out the window across the campus as if reliving some moment I knew nothing about.

  After what seemed like a very long time, he whirled on me and glared.

  “So I drove around at night in women’s lingerie. So what? Do you think that makes me a pervert? No, thousands of men do it. A victimless crime. No one harmed. All hype. Arrests contrived to put money in the city-hall coffers.” He tapped his fingers on the desktop. “You, of all people, should understand that. You were arrested for protesting. And what if you’d been wearing men’s boxers at the time? Would that make you a pervert? Maybe you like boxer shorts. Maybe they make you feel sexy or excited, or maybe they’re soft.”

  I carefully controlled my facial expression as I felt my eyebrows rise at the visual he conjured up, and I struggled to keep from glancing down at his crotch. I was aware I should say something but couldn’t get a word in and was fearful it might be the wrong word. My silence seemed to aggravate him, a condemnation. “Get out. I will be in touch.”

  I turned and walked away. Good Lord, driving around in women’s underwear. Why? And what size were those panties? I had so many questions —Silk or merely cotton briefs? How did Dennis know? Does this make me a blackmailer? I never told him I would tell anyone. I never bartered with him. I simply said I knew about the panties. I can’t let myself off that easily. I used my knowledge as a weapon. So I am a blackmailer. That alone would be reason to convert to Catholicism—

  several Hail Marys and the slate wiped clean.

  “Well?” Dennis was waiting at the bottom of the staircase.

  “He drove around town in women’s underwear? How did you know about that?

  “I picked them up for him.”

  “Oh, Dennis, that’s—”

  “He said they were for his sister, who was a shut-in. Then Emerson let the cat out of the bag because he knew someone on the police force who was there when Hightower was arrested.”

  “So maybe Emerson was fired for more than being gay.”

  “Maybe. Did he reinstate you?” he asked, switching subjects.

  “Why does he do it?” I was more interested in his panty obsession than my job.

  “Why does humanity do any of what it does? He wasn’t killing anyone or exposing himself or robbing a bank or doing drugs. He was just driving around in the wrong kind of underwear.”

  “Oh, good grief.” Out of the corner of my eye I caught Gladys Irons coming at me like a heat-seeking missile, her hurt ankle obviously well, and before I could make a diversionary turn, she was on me, clasping my arm. Dennis started to say something on my behalf, as I shot him a furtive plea for help, but then suddenly he just gave me up, perhaps too worn out by the strangeness of today’s events to be up for a Gladys encounter.

  “Call you later,” he said, and fled.

  Gladys was moist, either from the brisk run to catch me or from some internal turmoil I did not want to contemplate. She asked how I was and why she hadn’t seen me and if my hand had healed and finally whispered that she hoped I’d received the flowers. I said that I had and thanked her as one would thank a pizza delivery person or a toll taker.

  She tucked her arm through mine.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened to you and me,” she whispered conspiratorially and I swallowed hard, not wanting to know what was coming next. “I think when two people have true feelings—not evil, anti-Christ thoughts, but true feelings—and they agree to be bound by the same rules as other people, then their relationship is acceptable unto God.”

  “So you believe actively homosexual people can go to heaven?”

  “Gay people? No. But you and I aren’t gay, Alexandra, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She gave me a little squeeze that struck terror in my heart. “We just have a special feeling for each other. A private feeling no one else has to know about.”

  Alarm bells went off in my head. Horrible images of Gladys in bed with me praying in between each sallow orgasm. I shuttered involuntarily and my fight or flight mechanism kicked in. I had to save myself.

  “I’ve just told Hightower I’m gay. I’ve just been fired for being gay . In fact, I think Hightower has several people watching me to see who I’ve been having gay relationships with so he can fire them…or perhaps have them killed.” I said the last few words just to make sure she would let go of me.

  “Oh, my heavens.”

  “And I intend to tell everyone I’m gay—including my students.”

  Gladys staggered back from me as if she’d suddenly learned I was a leper. “Oh, Alexandra, you can’t be serious.”

  “Serious beyond serious. Out, Gladys. I’m out, and everyone around me will be outed with me.”

  Gladys, perhaps fearful she might breathe my same air, scurried away taking her dark, orthopedic soul from my sight.

  I sagged to a stop and let the air out of my body in a silent depressive moan as I passed the bench where I’d first seen Vivienne Wilde the day she arrived on campus and was feeding the squirrels.

  The empty bench felt like a hole in my heart. Never could I remember feeling so lonely. I rang her cell phone and this time she picked up.

  “Hello,” I nearly shouted. “I need to see you.”

  “I’m not—”

  “I’ve outed myself to Hightower and he’s fired me.”

  “He can’t—”

  “I don’t care about that. Will you drive to my farm on Saturday or I’ll come pick you up?”

  While she seemed to contemplate the disadvantage of seeing me again, my brain danced around trying to come up with something else to convince her to say yes. “What time do you want me there?”

  “Any time, all the time. Come for breakfast, stay for lunch, and be there for dinner, and we would have time to do whatever it is we want to do.”

  “I’ll be there midmorning, then.”

  “Yes. That will be just…the best.” I hung up before she could change her mind and did a little hand pump in the air. A squirrel stared at me and I laughed out loud.

  * * *

  It was Friday noon in the campus cafeteria and I hadn’t stopped smiling in twenty-four hours and hadn’t slept all night. Now that I’d invited her to my farm, what should her visit be like? What should I wear? What should we eat? What should we do? Would she stay over?

  And what would we do if she stayed over?

  “You’ve got to help me plan it, Dennis.” I couldn’t eat, so I stared at him while he munched his lunch and tried to keep it from falling on his black cassock.

  “Just pick up some chicken breasts and vegetables and do a little stir-fry or something.”

  “She has a chef.”

  “She’s not bringing him, is
she?”

  “No but—”

  “I’m only kidding. You’re a wreck.”

  I didn’t deny it.

  He put his pizza down and pushed the plate back and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin before reaching over and taking my hand.

  “Just be yourself. Wear what you always wear, say what you always say, do what you always do—”

  “Last part, I think, is the problem. I don’t always do this.”

  He frowned as if trying to get my gist and then grinned. “Oh, that. You’re worried about the s—”

  “Yes, that,” I interjected to keep him from saying it out loud, then glanced around. “And you aren’t going to be any good at giving me pointers on that—”

  “And why not?” He looked miffed. “Anatomy aside, I think I know what you’re up against.”

  “You don’t, actually, since you’ve never been up against that particular anatomy.”

  “Not true. I was married when I was very young.”

  “What? Every time we talk about this you tell me something more startling. Next you’ll be telling me that you once drove around town wearing women’s underwear.”

  “Just the dress.” He glanced down at his cassock and lowered his voice to a reassuring whisper. “It will all just happen.”

  “Well, if it doesn’t happen she’s never coming back, she told me so.” “That’s pressure, for sure. Do you want it to happen?”

  I tried to suppress a grin and made sounds as if to speak, but my voice squeaked and I ended up saying nothing. Dennis took over.

  “I see no problem here, except with the food, which I think should be picked up in advance and heated. I’d love to stay here and play teenage girl with you, but I’ve got to go hear confession. As if this one hasn’t been enough.” He gave a little wave and left the lunchroom.

  I glanced at the clock. In only twenty-one hours she would be standing in my living room. The very thought turned my body to Jello.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I tossed and turned all night, unable to regulate the rapid heart rate that had taken up residence in my chest. I flopped over on my right side and stared at the clock. It was two a.m.—twenty minutes later than the last time I checked.