Divine: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

do? Richard, thankfully, ignores my words as he watches the crowd,
keeping his hands in his pockets and his eyes everywhere but on me. He’s a man
who’ll never look a woman in the eye. I think we, women in general, terrify
him.
    “Div? Have you spoken with any of your
colleagues lately? Anyone in or outside of the department?”
    Why is he asking me this? Why now? “No.”
    “Some friendly advice...”
    Oh, here we go, the friendly advice
lecture.
    “Stop hiding out...”
    I fold my arms in defense as he speaks.
    “You need to get out of your office and
classroom more. Why don’t you invite a colleague to coffee or lunch? Or go out
to the bar with some of us on Friday nights? A few people have come to me and
have mentioned...”
    “People? And invite what colleague to
coffee? Anyone specific?”
    “You and Margaret...”
    Fuckin’ A, here we go.
    “The two of you need to come to terms or
the Board of Trustees may consider eliminating the department. There can’t be so much tension between the two of you. The
students can sense that something’s off, you know? Remember, we exist in these positions because of them, and for them.”
    “Trust me, I know.” My heart’s racing.
He’s heard about the petition. I just know he’s heard about the petition.
    “I want you to try harder.”
    I roll my eyes. I didn’t mean to, but I
did.
    “Div, listen to me. You’re going to have
a hard time getting tenure if the two of you can’t get along. I’m trying to
help you out,” he sighs.
    “Okay.”
    He looks at me; he turns and actually
looks at me with a doubtful expression.
    “You do realize that plenty of people
have quit because of her. I haven’t done anything wrong. She makes...”
    “It’s her word against yours and I hear
different things from different people,” he says.
    Fuck you, Richard. From now on, I’m
referring to you as dick. “I’ll try.”
    I head to my office with my Grande Mocha
Frappuccino with whipped cream and chocolate syrup, frothy cream on my lips and
thoughts racing on how I could possibly make things work with my colleague.
She’s trying to take me down, Margaret Cole, but it won’t be a quiet collapse.
I’ll bring her with me if she doesn’t let up. Making an effort on my part is what I’ve tried for years... years .
    At least Hannah’s too busy this morning
to meet with the Dean. A smile appears
and there’s a spring in my step. This might turn out to be a good day. I whistle while I work .
    My office is the only one on the top
floor of the oldest building on campus. A stone three-story with the American
flag flapping its pretty stars and stripes in the wind each day. Margaret once
joked that I should take the stairs to the roof, stand next to it, and call out
“I surrender.” Her British humor never amuses me.
    The third floor also consists of my
classroom, just outside my office door, and the close proximity (no need to
leave the building) is why I never see or interact with colleagues. I walk in,
work, watch porn, teach, and then travel home. No one else is on this floor.
    Richard’s right, I could make an effort;
ask someone to lunch, but my feeling is that people should make the effort to
come over and see me, and not the other way around. Do I have to do everything?
    It’s that simple.
    And if anyone ever did make their way
into my land, they’d see just how amazing I am. My office is decorated like my
home, full of oddities and rare books. I’m proud to say I own the largest
collection of erotic pop-up books in the world, keeping them spread out in my
spare bedroom with the pages open to my favorite three-dimensional displays.
These books are fucking awesome. Everyone should own at least one.
    But I don’t think my pop-ups would go
over well at the university, so instead I’ve displayed a collection of over a
hundred vintage carnival chalkware figurines on the wall.
    My office is dark when I’m alone. My two
windows are covered with grey velvet curtains.