CHAPTER 10
KENDRICK
The domes are cool as shit. I didn’t mean to have one all to myself, but there were only so many multiple-person domes unless we wanted to share beds.
I like my staff, but that’s probably pushing the line.
Zarek volunteered to partially pay for the cost of a dome for himself, so I did the same. Thus, we each have our own.
It’s beautiful, too. I’ve never been in a structure like this, and I can’t stop looking at all the triangles that make up the overlapping fabric. I bet Zarek can tell me all about the geometry of this place. It’s as if numbers flutter about, pointing at angles and intersections.
With a yawn, I fall into the chair and close my eyes for a minute. I didn’t mean to stay awake throughout the plane ride. The exact opposite, in fact. I’d wanted to sleep, especially since we’d be flying overnight.
That didn’t happen. So much of the trip was me watching Brevan. Even when I couldn’t see him, I watched him. It bothered me that he thought he didn’t belong here.
Anyone accepted into RDU should have the potential to represent our school. In reality, they all do represent our school. I won’t say that we make anyone jump through hoops to gain admittance. That’s not the kind of program we run.
I don’t want RDU to be an elitist in the university atmosphere.
That’s not the part of my school that I want competitive.
Our educators are just as accomplished as the Ivy League’s and our athletic department is moving up into hiring more talent to advance our game.
That’s where I want us to be competitive.
While I don’t make it a habit of judging admission based on anything other than academics, we are a very obviously queer campus.
Which means that most of our student body is queer, as is the case with the staff.
That doesn’t mean we accept only a certain number of straight-identifying students every year.
Because we’re not shy about being a queer campus, we automatically dissuade many non-queer people from even applying. The world has a long way to go before some people don’t make a decision on where to attend school based on the acceptance of queer folk.
Either way, advertising queernormative culture on campus has its own way of weeding out the bad eggs.
All this roundabout thinking is me trying to remind myself that it’s not just the toxic culture against queer people that innately avoid RDU and therefore keep their toxicity to themselves, but we do end up with people who choose cruelty, even when doing so under the assumption that they’re not being overheard.
One of my most life-changing moments isn’t because of the hate I faced outside of the queer community, but that which comes from within.
I was shocked the first time I witnessed it.
Horrified. I don’t understand how people who are so used to being treated harshly think it’s okay to turn around and treat those of their own community harshly in turn.
As if their victimization gives them a free pass to be an asshole.
It makes my stomach flip that we somehow managed to bring two of those people into this ambassador program. But how do I change that? How do I modify the admittance process to weed those people out?
When I close my eyes, I can still see the way Brevan walked toward the lines to board when the announcements were made to begin lining up. The way his shoulders sagged. His cheeks flushed. His head bowed as he refused to meet anyone’s eyes. The aura of sadness on the plane.
I hate that. I hate that someone I chose to be here, representing the good that RDU represents, made him feel that way. Not one person but two.
There’s something far crueler about overhearing nastiness directed at you than when someone says it to your face.
When they’re direct, nine times out of ten, you know they’re just spewing shit that they think will hurt you.
They don’t necessarily believe it or think it.
It might just be something they know you’re insecure about, and therefore, they know they’re going to stick a knife into a sensitive area.
But when they don’t know you’re there and they say awful things? I’d wager a guess they believe it more than when they’re saying it outright.
And that hurts more.
Closing my eyes is a mistake. Even as the frustration with the two girls and how they made Brevan feel lingers while I half-heartedly attempt to figure out a solution to avoid people like that in the ambassador program in the future.
Sleep pulls at me from all directions, threatening to drag me under.
I jump when my phone pings. My eyelids feel heavy as I dig it out of my pocket. My son. I hope everything is okay with Martha.
Seth
Are you in Iceland? Did you land safely?
A smile touches my lips. You only ask that if you care about someone, right? It gives me hope that what I let break between us can be repaired.
Me
I’m sorry. Yes. Flight was easy. Nothing to report, which is the best kind of flight. I’m currently trying to force myself to stay awake, though it’s proving to be a losing battle.
Seth
Haha no doubt.
Me
Everything okay there? You and Martha getting on okay?
Seth
It’s cute that you think of her like a toddler that I might have to struggle with. Yes, we’re fine. She’s currently holding down my legs so I don’t float off.
A picture follows of Martha lying across Seth’s calves. Her full body. I chuckle.
Me
Perfect. She’s just making sure that she’s not going to miss you going to get a treat without her.
Seth
Or if I want to take a piss. Who knew that was an activity that I needed protection while doing?
I laugh out loud. Living with dogs is hilarious like that.
If you need to take a pee, they’re there guarding the door.
If you need to sit on the toilet, they think that’s their time for you to scratch their ass.
Showers, with those horrible, non-see-through curtains, are devil time, and Martha barked at the curtain for the first eight months I had her, convinced that it was torturing me.
Me
Bathroom time is not private time. I suppose I should have warned you.
Seth
In the middle of typing a reply, my phone rings. Why does it sound so loud? Ah. When Natalia’s name flashes on my screen, I understand. Somehow, she always makes my ringtone louder than it is. As if it’s preparing me for her screams.
I shouldn’t answer. Whatever she wants, it can wait. And yet, I hit answer anyway.
“Hello.”
“I want the house,” she says immediately.
I roll my eyes. Honestly, I try to be patient. “I’ve said at least a dozen times now, keep the house. I don’t want it.”
“Of course you don’t want it. You were never here and don’t love it like we do.”
In reality, I don’t think she wants it either. She just doesn’t want me to have it. Or she wants me to want it so she can take it from me.
“Fine,” I answer. “I’m far too tired to argue this again. Keep the house, Natalia. It’s already been written into the divorce papers.”
“So that’s it,” she spits. “Just like that.”
“Look. As much as I enjoy you screaming at me, as I’ve endured for the past several months, it’s going to have to wait until I get home next week. This is not what I’d like to use my international minutes on.”
“International? You give me shit in alimony so you can go on international trips? Did you bring your second family?”
“Goodbye, Natalia.” I hang up and close my eyes.
In reality, alimony is stupid. I should not be paying for her to ‘maintain’ her lifestyle to the detriment of my own.
The number I agreed on is basically the equivalent of half the mortgage, utilities, health care, etc.
that I’d already been paying for my family in Anaheim, so it’s not all that different from what comes out of my paycheck now.
The difference is there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. In three years, the money going out stops, and I can transfer that money into my retirement accounts.
However, I maintain that alimony is stupid. Get a job. Live within your means. I shouldn’t have to continue to support someone that I’m no longer with, especially since my kids are grown and no longer dependent.
I sit in silence, staring out the large windows. I think I can still hear Natalia’s voice ringing in my ears.
My sigh feels heavy. I know that her anger is probably covering hurt, but I think she needs to move on. She’s not changing my mind. She doesn’t even want me to change my mind. She just wants to rant and be heard.
I’ve listened. For months, I’ve listened to her rant and rage without pushing back. Enough is enough.
My phone pings, and I remember I was texting with my kid.
Seth
Just so you know, I let Mom know that the trip you’re on isn’t out of pocket and it’s with school.
I smile and close my eyes again. Just a second. But my smile turns into a frown.
Me
Thank you, though I hate that you’re continuously dragged into this. That’s not fair to you.
Seth
Parents divorcing does affect their kids.
Me
I agree; however, calling you to bitch about me being on an international trip with a supposed second family is not appropriate. No matter your age. I’m sorry that you have to listen to it.
Seth
We’ve learned that Mom’s complaining is only half the truth. Sometimes it’s her interpretation of the truth.
Yet, I’m relatively convinced that it’s Natalia’s constant commentary about me that’s contributed to my children becoming so distant. Not that I’m not at fault. I certainly am. It was my decision, conscious or not, to stop coming home and effectively remove myself from their lives.
Me
I wish you weren’t subject to that.
Seth
Yeah.
I let the conversation drop and look out the window in time to see one of my students walking by. It’s impossible to tell who is who when all their jackets and hats look the same, but there’s something about the way they’re walking that hints at Brevan.
I watch until they’re out of sight. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I get to my feet and layer myself into my outdoor gear to follow.
Some of the domes don’t have bathroom or kitchenette facilities inside, so there are a couple of structures that serve as both.
A communal bathroom and a communal kitchen.
I pass one of the kitchens just as the door opens.
I’m not sure which of my students it is with their faces practically wrapped like a mummy with their scarf, but they raise their hand in greeting.
I wave in return, inclining my head as I continue down the path. I see the figure I was following in the distance. He’s leaning against the railing on a patio. There’s a large fire behind him in a big firepit, but he’s staring at the mountains, his gloved hands on the railing.
While I don’t intend to stare, I linger just off the patio and watch him. I’m convinced that it’s Brevan now. I spent hours staring at his profile on the plane, and while he’s far more bundled now than he had been, I believe his build supports my assumption.
He’s peaceful. The weight of rejection that he’d been carrying around on his shoulders since LAX has melted away as he loses himself in the serene landscape. I wonder what he’s thinking about. Is he happy to be here?
I’d like to reassure him, but I’m not sure he realizes that the conversation between the girls concerning him was overheard. Maybe not by me, but by someone. Reassuring him might only make him remember, and I like to see him without that weight.
I haven’t talked to any of the student ambassadors at length. I haven’t gotten to know them. It reminds me of the conversation on the plane about not knowing my students, who feel the direct impact of the decisions I make.
A part of me feels like a hypocrite. I’m here pushing our brand of inclusion, and yet, I don’t know my students at all.
I remember myself as a student, and that younger self is who I think about every time I consider something that might have made my life better while I attended RDU. I’m not just pulling shit out of my ass.
But that was over twenty years ago. This is a different time. I’d like to say the world has changed since then, and it has, but some things have not changed for the better.
Queer voices have gotten louder. Young queer people are no longer accepting others’ need for their silence so they can pretend we don’t exist. They’re taking on the fight early, and they’re not stopping.
All those are positive changes.
But the fact that laws continue to move backwards with every step forward we take hasn’t changed. Religious suffocation hasn’t changed. Hate is still loud and around almost every corner.
So is being a student now all that different from when I was in school? Technology has advanced, obviously, but I can’t even say that’s a positive change as far as social structure. Now there’s a far larger reach to be bullied and hated on. At least the voices shouting back are equally loud.
That doesn’t truly satisfy my need to know whether the changes I view as positive are, in fact, received that way. I need them to be. I want them to be. That’s the entire reason I conceptualized the sisterhood university program.
Brevan sighs, and I think I see his shoulders sag again. He’s picked up the weight once more. Before I consciously make the decision to do so, I step onto the patio and move toward him. I’m halfway to him when Brevan turns his head to look at me.
The beauty of his green eyes takes my breath away, and for a second, I don’t register anything else. Not until he speaks.
“Hi, Dr. Keller,” he says, and I blink out of my trance.
Wow. “Hello, Brevan. Please call me Kendrick.”
“That’s a cool name,” he says. “I’ve never heard it before.”
I join him at the railing and look at the mountains. “I had the benefit of being the only Kendrick in class.”
He smiles. “Me too. Well, not Kendrick but Brevan. I’ve never met another Brevan.”
As beautiful as the view is, I find that I’m looking at Brevan instead. “One-of-a-kind name for a one-of-a-kind person.”
His eyes meet mine, and his cheeks pinken. How… lovely.