LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

kind of hate is not right, not who I hope we are as a country.” Even to my own ears, I thought I sounded like Barack Obama.

      “But yes, it is,” he said, gesturing at the phone images with his spoon. “That image, the rope, it is American history, right? It is from right after slavery. These kind of white people now, they want to bring that back, no?”

      “Well, yes, they do,” I admitted. “But we can’t let them win,” I said and then winced. I looked at his dark visage, now set as if carved in stone. “I know, I know, they won this round with this stunt and then the way they blasted it out. But it must be stopped.”

      “And how do you plan to stop the next, as you say, ‘stunt’?” Giles asked quietly.

      “I wish to hell I knew,” I said. I looked at his solemn face. “What do you think we should do about it?”

      Giles bent his head over his bowl and gazed into the porridge.

      “I am contemplating that. Of a certainty, I am contemplating that.”

      And he resumed eating.

      ✳ ✳ ✳

      I hustled back to campus and jogged up the three flights of Myerson, the aging building where most of the humanities offices and classrooms were now located. No one ever took the rickety elevator if they could help it.

      Even before I reached our floor, I could hear raised voices. I thought it was just about 8, but it sounded like the colleagues were already going at it. I stopped for a moment to throw my backpack and light jacket into the office I now shared with Dr. Abubakar. Yes, we were reduced to sharing offices. Once upon a time, Philosophy and Religion had possessed several more, very large offices down this corridor, but now three of them had been converted into one large classroom/meeting room and a smaller seminar room. We’d had to do that when our second-floor classrooms had been made into small offices and even smaller classrooms for the ever-shrinking Sociology Department. And to think that not long ago, the intellectual reputation of this university had been carried by its extraordinary work in Sociology. Now we were known for the Business School and its ghastly work in trickle-down economics. Sure, why not? Cut the very disciplines like sociology or philosophy that would help you understand why that kind of economics was a fraud.

      I hustled down the poorly lit hall, aware that I was already getting irritable, and I didn’t even know precisely what my faculty colleagues were arguing about. But I suspected.

      As I entered, I saw Adelaide sitting at the head of the very long table that ran down the center of the room. Behind her, faux-medieval, stone tracery held stained glass windows that split the watery Chicago sunlight into shards of color. The colors spilled over the back of Adelaide’s head and shoulders, making her look like she was piously sitting in church. Her face, though in shadow, showed narrowed eyes and pursed lips. Adelaide wasn’t feeling pious, she was feeling pissed.

      I could see why. Dr. Donald Willie, Associate Professor of Psychology of Religion, was standing in front of his chair, pontificating in a raised voice. At least, I thought he was standing. He was so short it was sometimes hard for me to tell. His narrow face was red with rage, and he was blowing out his words under his unfortunate mustache. I disliked him intensely. In incidents nearly a year ago, he had shown himself to be a coward and even a liar, as well as one of those squishy, faux-liberal, white men who are actually deeply racist and sexist. He had been on leave last semester, and I’d hoped he had been using the time to find another job. No such luck. I struggled to listen to his words as they blew out between his thin, pale lips.

      “Unacceptable risk, completely unacceptable risk” was what I thought he was now practically shouting. It is actually hard to shout sibilants. He unwisely accompanied this angry hissing by shaking his finger at Adelaide. Now that, Donald, I reflected, is a big mistake.

      Adelaide’s face turned from merely stern to darkly ferocious in less than a second. I thought, for one scary moment, her head was swelling. Donald took one look and abruptly sat down.

      Our newest colleague was sitting very still, maybe because he was stunned. I didn’t know how they conducted faculty meetings at Oxford, but I bet it wasn’t as ridiculous as this. I had taught summer school at Oxford University for several weeks a few summers ago. I’d drunk sherry in tiny glasses in the Faculty Commons, but I had not been asked to attend meetings. In the Commons, at least, everyone had been civil.

      This would be Dr. Abubakar’s first American faculty meeting. What an introduction. He was sitting at the table on the opposite side from where Donald had just been standing. In the momentary lull, I pulled out a chair next to him and sat down. He didn’t even turn his head. I could only see him in profile. His jaw, with a closely cropped black beard sharply outlining it up to his short black hair, was set, though I could see a muscle working in his dark cheek. He was probably trying to hold in several choice words. Then he took off his glasses, put them on the table and pinched the bridge of his nose.

      Adelaide addressed me with what sounded like relief.

      “Kristin, glad you’re here. I know you were on the quad this morning when the noose and the leaflets were found.”

      There was a kind of strangled gurgle from Donald, but Adelaide ignored it.

      “Now, unfortunately, pictures of that, as well as the work of the campus police to remove those items, are circulating around campus, including photos of what the flyers said. Would you give us a brief update and anything the campus police have learned?”

      I hesitated. Then, Adelaide glared at me, and I hurried into speech.

      “I assume you’ve all seen the photos, including what the flyer said, as they have already circulated widely. I don’t need to rehearse that. I can tell you that the campus police searched the surrounding buildings, but as far as I know haven’t located anyone they thought was involved. But they were there. And more than one.”

      I took out my own phone from my pocket, put it on the table and just tapped it to make my point.

      “The photos I’ve seen of the active scene were from several different angles, all at approximately the same time. That indicates more than one person is involved. Moreover, I believe this is a hate crime and should be investigated as such. The perpetrators should be found and prosecuted. I also think it is a coordinated effort to stop Dr. Abubakar’s announced lecture.”

      I turned in my chair and addressed him.

      “Dr. Abubakar, I think we need most of all to hear your thoughts.”

      Adelaide nodded, but before Aduba could speak, Donald broke in.

      “It is obvious it is too dangerous for him to give this lecture,” he puffed. “I don’t see why we are even discussing it.”

      Whitesplaining. Typical. As was the deliberate use of a pronoun rather than a colleague’s title and name. And, of course, what Donald really meant is “I think it is too dangerous for those of us who teach in this department, namely Donald Willie,” but I didn’t say any of it aloud.

      Aduba slowly picked up his glasses from the table and put them on.

      “I will not be a coward,” he said. “I will give the lecture as planned.” He folded his arms and looked at Adelaide.

      “Well, okay,” she said and made to rise.

      “It’s not about cowardice, it’s about common sense,” Donald sputtered, rising to his feet again and glaring at Adelaide.

      “It’s not your call, Donald,” I said, not bothering to hide the contempt in my voice. I rose as well and emphasized my words by leaning over the table toward him.

      “We’re done here,” Adelaide said firmly. For a large woman, Adelaide was very quick on her feet. She was up and out the door in a flash. I could hear her office door open and then shut with a bang.

      Willie quickly followed her out the door, not glancing at either Aduba or me.

      Aduba waited a moment. I was sure he didn’t want to encounter

Скачать книгу