More Than Allies Read Online Free PDF

at Rachel to come in. Rachel was wearing a nicely cut but loose-fitting dress, and Maggie couldn’t be sure, but she thought she had lost weight. Maggie could see it in the face, where Rachel’s rather delicate features had for the past year seemed buried in flesh.
    â€œThey hired a teacher from Milwaukee for that freshman slot,” Rachel told her. Maggie had applied, but the truth was, she had just about forgotten there was an opening. Her application was on file—it had been on file four years, here, and in the next two towns over, except that she had skipped the year after she had Stevie. They were never going to hire her. Why should they? She had a B.A. in English and a basic teaching certificate. She had no experience other than subbing, and she was nothing special, personally. She didn’t ski or play handball, she hadn’t been to Thailand, she didn’t speak another language, and she wasn’t particularly good at teaching (not that she had had a chance to test that very far). Her only real qualification was that she would be a cheap hire. She had counted on that but it wasn’t paying off.
    Rachel smirked. “Milwaukee, Wisconsin, not Milwaukee, Oregon.”
    â€œReally,” Maggie said, not even mildly interested.
    â€œThere’s a rumor that she’s black. A black teacher on this staff. Imagine that. Don’t you hope she’s married?”
    Maggie looked up. She tried to remember the last time she had seen a black person in Lupine, other than athletes at the college. Two years ago they had done a play at the theatre, with an all-black cast.
    â€œIt was all done by mail, by phone. She didn’t come out to interview.”
    â€œAnd they don’t know?”
    â€œOh, they know. But we don’t know.”
    Maggie didn’t understand why Rachel was telling her this. She asked, truly curious.
    â€œMaggie, you are so damned literal. You remind me sometimes of Leah.” Leah was Rachel’s four-year old daughter.
    Blood rose to Maggie’s face. She felt insulted, without understanding the nature of the accusation.
    Rachel saw. “Oh shit, Maggie, don’t be so thin-skinned. I’m teasing you.”
    Maggie picked up the chalk again. “I need to write the rest of these questions out.”
    â€œWhat I meant was, everybody’s talking about it like it matters. I was commenting on the petty, stupid nature of gossip at LHS.”
    Maggie set the chalk down and leaned on the desk, to give her hands someplace to be firm. “You weren’t gossiping?”
    â€œI was being ironic . Well, maybe not. I mean, not actual irony, in the literary sense. But I don’t care. I hope it’s true, and I think it’s worth mentioning because it’s all they’re talking about in the English offices.”
    The first bell rang.
    â€œSorry,” Rachel said.
    â€œI didn’t expect anything,” Maggie said. “I’ve never been called for an interview.”
    â€œNot that. I assumed you’d know what I meant. In a way it’s a compliment, you know. Thinking that you’d know. My therapist says I’ve become a master of hidden meaning because I don’t want anyone to know my real state of mind. She says if I keep it up it will interfere with my writing. It already interferes with the integrity of my life. I ought to be better at saying things straight out.”
    â€œI suppose you could practice on me, but I’m not really the one you’re hiding anything from,” Maggie said, suddenly, inordinately proud of her insight. She had always considered Rachel mysterious; what if she were just deceptive?
    Rachel didn’t miss it. “Everybody underestimates you,” she said. “Even you.”
    As Rachel left, Maggie wondered whether Rachel was avoiding honesty in her marriage, or in her writing—with her Muse, Rachel would say—or just with herself. Something about Rachel