Oscar kisses my cheek. “She will. She’s a good person.”
I think she is too, but she’s a colleague and you don’t alwaysknow their true nature. You know the work-person. Not the real-person. We all know you have to pretend to be a lot of things to advance in life. I once walked into the administrative office and overheard one of the deans talking to his longtime secretary who’d just gotten off the phone. I gathered it was a difficult phone call. He said, “I think you exaggerate how much you dislike talking on the phone and soothing people’s tantrums. You’re incredibly good at it.”
She gave him this deadpan look and responded, “Would I have had a job if I told her off and hung up on her?” The dean laughed. “I said I hate talking on the phone to idiots, not that I didn’t know how or that I wasn’t good at it. You do what you have to do at work.”
I think about that a lot when I meet new people at work. Am I seeing them suffer through this conversation with me because theyhaveto be polite to their colleagues, or do they actually think I’m nice? Are they trying to get away from me, or are they actually enjoying this conversation?
I never would have thought about it had I not heard their conversation. She’s absolutely right. Even in a job you love, there are probably going to be aspects of it you hate. And when you can’t avoid them, you need to be good at them. So good that you can hide your dislike of them and have everyone around you fooled.
Oscar makes my breakfast and lunch every day. There’s a breakfast sandwich wrapped in tinfoil to keep it warm, a bowl of fruit, and a travel mug of tea alongside my lunch box that’s packed with many snacks and a little heart on a sticky note. A smile touches my lips as I think about it. Someday, I’m going to bring home the drawer full of sticky notes so he can see that I’ve kept every last one of them.
I kiss my husband goodbye and head for my car. There are days when I think I should walk or jog to school since we live three minutes away by car. Three. Which means my walk, at a slow pace, is only twenty minutes to get from my door to thedoor of the athletic building. Four of those minutes I’d be walking regardless because of where the staff parking is.
However, I’ve convinced myself it’s difficult to do that when I have my bag, my lunch box, my breakfast, my hot tea… I want to enjoy the three-minute transition from home Alka to work Alka.
Today, I drive around the campus a couple times as I munch on my breakfast sandwich and consider how I’m going to talk to Harper. Ineedto, and it needs to happen today. Not only did I avoid her after practice yesterday when she witnessed me turn into a spooked man who creepily stared at one of our new players, but I’ve never avoided a conversation with her.
Now, I’m late. I roll my eyes as I pull into a parking spot and begin meandering toward the athletic building. The walls inside are painted to represent the stripes of pride flags. My hall is transgender—blue, pink, white, pink, blue. Halfway down the hall, there’s a line in each strip that tells the meaning of the color.
Blue and pink are pretty straightforward. Pink has traditionally been used to symbolize female identity, so in the flag, it represents the feminine. Blue is the same but for masculinity. The white is the color I look at a lot as I walk down my hall. The white color is for those who are transitioning, people who have a neutral gender or no gender, and those who are intersex.
When I read the words, as I do every single day when I walk by them, I appreciate that there’s a home for everyone. They don’t have to fit into the feminine or the masculine. They can simply be, and the white stripe recognizes them.
That’s what’s great about Rainbow Dorset. This is a home for everyone. Gender, sexuality, creed, nationality—none of those matter. The only criteria is that you’re a good fucking person. Tolerance isn’t expected; it’s enforced. I’ve seen many students be expelled for their words and nasty behavior. I’ve seen staff fired. I’ve seen visitors escorted off the property.
The only thing there’s no tolerance for is bullying andbigotry. This isthesafe space. Maybe the white stripe always resonates with me because, in a way, it represents the entire school. We give a home to everyone who needs one. No qualifying questions asked.
I touch the stripe before walking into my office. There’s a smudge in this one place because I touch it every single time I come and go. Others have seen me do it, and, without asking why, they do so as well. I’ve even seen Harper touching that one spot whenever she walks by or comes into my office.
Taking a sip of my tea, I sigh and set it down. Might as well get this over with, then I can relax. Marginally. We’re still going to be hiding this for a while.
Harper’s office is the next door down the hall. The cowardly part of me hopes she’s not here. She’s here, of course. I’m not sure she’s ever called out. Taking a deep, hopefully cleansing breath, I knock.
She looks up and smiles. Not just a smile in greeting. There’s also amusement. No doubt because of yesterday.
I step inside and shut the door. “Have a minute?”
She sits back in her chair to give me her full attention.
“If you’re busy, I can come back,” I offer.
Her smile climbs. “Something really freaked you out yesterday, huh?”
With a huff, I drop onto the chair across from her. “Okay, look. There’s something… sensitive I need to talk to you about, and while this first part is going to sound irrelevant, it’s entirely relevant.”
Now, she’s looking at me curiously.
“You know Oscar and I go away for the summer. All summer.”
“Yes. You leave me with your responsibilities.” I open my mouth to apologize and promise to take some back, but she shakes her head. “Which I appreciate. It’s fun work.”
I’m skeptical, but we’ll address that as next summer approaches. “We go to the Isle of Kala. Are you familiar?”
“I am. I’ve heard it mentioned at least a hundred times before and following summer break every year.”
“Okay, good. So that’s where we go. We rent a bungalow on the beach and enjoy doing nothing for eight weeks. This year, we met someone. We spent five weeks with him and had agreed to keep seeing each other long distance when we left, knowing it would be difficult.”
This time, Harper’s smile is devoid of her teasing. She looks genuinely happy. “That’s good, Alka.”
