homosexuality. If anyone had known about either, my
research or the fact I was a lesbian, I’d never have gotten tenure, especially
here. The university is only nominally religious now, but there was a time they
took their Baptist charter seriously. Twenty-five years ago, gays and lesbians
lived in their quiet little closets and pretended to be normal.
“So, there I was, the bright young star of the
department. My career path rolled out in
front of me like a red carpet. Life was good. Diana, the woman I was in love
with, had moved in with me. Times were so innocent no one thought anything of
two women living together – they even called us bachelorettes!”
She laughed briefly and took a long drag on her
cigarette.
“Freemont Willard started at the university the same year
I did,” she went on. “He was crap then, just as he is now. However, his future
looked a lot bleaker than mine did, though. His field was supposed to be
creative writing, but he rarely published, and certainly not anywhere you'd
brag about."
"I've always wondered about that," Deirdre said
slowly. The mere mention of his name prompted a wave of disgust. "Some of
his early stuff was brilliant. Some of it made me want to cry."
“Me, too," Bess admitted. "But that's part of
this story, too." She poured herself more wine and topped off Deirdre's
barely touched glass.
"We
came up for tenure at the same time, Freemont and I," she continued.
"I was a shoe-in, but he looked shaky at best. That was fine with me. He
gave me the creeps, slithering around with his innuendoes and cheap feels. I
was ready to write a brilliantly nasty letter for his file and vote against him
in good spirit."
"I can see why. He should be selling used cars, not
dealing with students. What happened?"
“Freemont likes to play games," Bess continued . "And he only plays games he can
win. He showed up at the apartment one night, about six months before our
reviews. Diana was out of town, visiting friends in Vancouver, or so I thought.
He just walked in, looked around. I asked him what the hell he was doing.
“‘Bess,
I just want to let you know about my salvation,’ he said.
“I didn’t know what he meant, but I soon found out. He
had pictures, pictures of me and Diana at the beach. We’d thought we were
alone, but he must have hidden himself somewhere. He used a telephoto lens. The
pictures were . . . very invasive. I felt physically sick. I think I would have
thrown up, but I didn’t want to humiliate myself in front of him. ”
Deirdre felt an answering rush of nausea as Bess related
the tale; It was as if every instinctive disgust she’d ever felt in response to
Freemont Willard had found its way into her body in the form of pale,
abominable worms. And if she felt so invaded, how much worse must it be for
Bess?
Deirdre looked away. “You don’t need to tell me this.”
“I’ve only just begun, Deirdre. I know it's horrible, but
for your own good, I’m afraid I have to insist that you listen.” She ran a hand
through her gray hair and stared at the ceiling for a moment before
continuing. “Freemont knew, of course,
that he couldn’t pass muster on his own. That Ivy League degree of his reflects
family connections and money, but very little else. He needed to use whoever he
could, and with those wretched pictures, he had a way to coerce us into
collusion. Both me and Diana. She was a poet, you see, a good one. You've heard
of Diana Vibert?"
"Of course. I've always loved her work. La Lune Dormée . But she's–"
"Yes," Bess cut her off. "She committed
suicide twenty years ago."
The silence hung between them for a moment before
research or the fact I was a lesbian, I’d never have gotten tenure, especially
here. The university is only nominally religious now, but there was a time they
took their Baptist charter seriously. Twenty-five years ago, gays and lesbians
lived in their quiet little closets and pretended to be normal.
“So, there I was, the bright young star of the
department. My career path rolled out in
front of me like a red carpet. Life was good. Diana, the woman I was in love
with, had moved in with me. Times were so innocent no one thought anything of
two women living together – they even called us bachelorettes!”
She laughed briefly and took a long drag on her
cigarette.
“Freemont Willard started at the university the same year
I did,” she went on. “He was crap then, just as he is now. However, his future
looked a lot bleaker than mine did, though. His field was supposed to be
creative writing, but he rarely published, and certainly not anywhere you'd
brag about."
"I've always wondered about that," Deirdre said
slowly. The mere mention of his name prompted a wave of disgust. "Some of
his early stuff was brilliant. Some of it made me want to cry."
“Me, too," Bess admitted. "But that's part of
this story, too." She poured herself more wine and topped off Deirdre's
barely touched glass.
"We
came up for tenure at the same time, Freemont and I," she continued.
"I was a shoe-in, but he looked shaky at best. That was fine with me. He
gave me the creeps, slithering around with his innuendoes and cheap feels. I
was ready to write a brilliantly nasty letter for his file and vote against him
in good spirit."
"I can see why. He should be selling used cars, not
dealing with students. What happened?"
“Freemont likes to play games," Bess continued . "And he only plays games he can
win. He showed up at the apartment one night, about six months before our
reviews. Diana was out of town, visiting friends in Vancouver, or so I thought.
He just walked in, looked around. I asked him what the hell he was doing.
“‘Bess,
I just want to let you know about my salvation,’ he said.
“I didn’t know what he meant, but I soon found out. He
had pictures, pictures of me and Diana at the beach. We’d thought we were
alone, but he must have hidden himself somewhere. He used a telephoto lens. The
pictures were . . . very invasive. I felt physically sick. I think I would have
thrown up, but I didn’t want to humiliate myself in front of him. ”
Deirdre felt an answering rush of nausea as Bess related
the tale; It was as if every instinctive disgust she’d ever felt in response to
Freemont Willard had found its way into her body in the form of pale,
abominable worms. And if she felt so invaded, how much worse must it be for
Bess?
Deirdre looked away. “You don’t need to tell me this.”
“I’ve only just begun, Deirdre. I know it's horrible, but
for your own good, I’m afraid I have to insist that you listen.” She ran a hand
through her gray hair and stared at the ceiling for a moment before
continuing. “Freemont knew, of course,
that he couldn’t pass muster on his own. That Ivy League degree of his reflects
family connections and money, but very little else. He needed to use whoever he
could, and with those wretched pictures, he had a way to coerce us into
collusion. Both me and Diana. She was a poet, you see, a good one. You've heard
of Diana Vibert?"
"Of course. I've always loved her work. La Lune Dormée . But she's–"
"Yes," Bess cut her off. "She committed
suicide twenty years ago."
The silence hung between them for a moment before
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