November Surprise (13 page)

He hunches his shoulders. “We never finished our
conversation at the reception. You were talking about maybe leaving
Minneapolis?”

“That’s not why you’re here, is it? To hear about that?”

Monty shakes his head. “I couldn’t sleep. And the house was
so quiet I was going crazy. I’m used to the noise of the Congo.” Monty has been
working for the American Bar Association, travelling through some of the
rougher parts of Africa and counseling rape victims, with his girlfriend
Evelyn. Evelyn is still in Brazzaville, waiting for him to get back.

“Iowa is a world away, huh?”

He nods. “I haven’t been back in over a year. It took my dad
having a heart attack to get me to return.”

“I’m sure he understood.”

Monty pulls off his stocking cap, and shakes his head like a
dog shrugging off water. “I doubt he did, actually. But it’s nice of you to say
that.”

I run my fingers through my own short hair on my own hatless
head. I’m finally allowing my curls to show their true nature, but ridiculously
I feel self-conscious. He’s never seen me with short hair before today.

“I know he was proud of you, Monty. Jack told me as much.”

“Well, my dad never told me.” He bites his bottom lip, and
his chin quivers a little.

“With your degree, you could have worked at some fancy
private firm and made a ton of money. Instead you’re out fighting for what you
believe in. What parent wouldn’t be proud?”

“He didn’t see it like that.” Monty attempts a smile, but it
looks more like a grimace.

Slowly, carefully, I move close enough that my knee can rest
against his. “I wish there was something I could do for you, Monty.”

He uses his cap to cover his face. His breathing becomes
rough and labored. I put my hand on his back and rub it in broad strokes.

He lowers his cap from his face. “There is, actually. I
probably have no right to ask you for anything, but it’s about Jack.”

“What is it?” I say softly.

“I’m worried about him.” Monty fiddles with the cap,
stretching it, and keeps his focus on that rather than looking at me. “He and
my dad were so close. They talked to each other all the time, saw each other at
least once a week. I’m not saying I’m not sad, but it’s different for me. My life
will go on pretty much as it has been, but Jack’s won’t.”

He looks up, off into the distance, and he wipes his face
with the sleeve of his coat. “I feel like such a tool. Dad would be furious, if
he knew I was going back. He’d want me to stay around, and be here for my mom
and Jack. But I can’t. My life is over there right now…”

I place my hand on the back of his neck, cold skin against
cold skin, and he drops his head down, hanging it like a child who’s been
scolded.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here. I …” His voice trails off,
and is replaced by a strangled-sounding sob.

But he doesn’t break down. After a moment he straightens
himself up, and says again, “I really shouldn’t be here. Your boyfriend might
get the wrong idea.”

If Monty was in any way wrong about that, I’d argue the
point. But I can’t. There is nothing Drew could accuse me of right now that
wouldn’t be at least partially true.

“Are you going to be okay?” I ask.

Even in the dark I can see more tears brimming from his
eyes. If our situations were different I’d wipe them away. As it is, all I can
offer him is the edge of my blanket so he can wipe them away himself.

“I’ll survive.” He takes the blanket to wipe his face, then
he pats my shoulder.

“Thanks for meeting me out here.”

“I can stay a little longer, if you want.”

He gets up. “You should go back in, before Drew misses you.”

I stand up, and capture him in a hug. At first he resists,
but then I feel his body relax, and his chest heaves with a deep sigh.

I speak as I continue to hold him, and my mouth is pressed
up against his neck. “I’ll check in with Jack at least once a week. I promise,
okay?”

“Thank you.” Monty whispers into my ear.

“Take care of yourself, Monty. Be careful.”

He releases me. “I will.” He leans in and kisses me on the
forehead, and his lips linger there. It makes me remember what it’s like to be
kissed by him in a less innocent sort of way. “You take care of yourself, too.
And for what it’s worth, I think you’re wasting your talents if you don’t go
back to school. You were born to be a professor.”

I raise my eyebrows in question.

“Jack told me after my walk,” Monty says. “You’re applying
to grad schools so you can teach. It makes sense to me.”

I hug my arms around my chest. “Drew is pretty upset. I
don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“Sorry.” Monty reaches for me again, but I step back a
little, and his arm falls to his side. I know how good it would feel, to
embrace him again. I’m still warm and tingly from a minute ago.

I can read the understanding on his face. He nods, smiles,
and walks toward his car.

Wordlessly, he gets in, and I stand there, alone, as he
drives off.

Chapter 10. August 2003

Jack hands me the menu.

“Study it,” he says. “And feel free to sample stuff when you
have the chance. You should be as familiar with the food as possible.”

“Does that mean I can take bites off customers’ plates?”

“Very funny.” He swats my arm. “It means I can fire you at
any moment, so you’d better get used to calling me boss.”

“That will never happen,” I tease. “What if I call you ‘Sir’
instead?”

He smirks. “I suppose that could work.”

He gestures towards the bar. “Let me show you the basics
here, so you can do simple drinks, like wine and sodas.”

We move behind the heavy, wooden bar, and he points out
where all the glasses are kept, and the different varieties of beer that are
offered. I try to focus, but my mind starts to wander.

Jack snaps his fingers in my face. “You have that
glazed-over look again. Am I boring you?”

“Sorry. No, of course not.” I exhale and square my
shoulders. “I’m listening, really.”

Jack’s expression softens, and his voice turns sympathetic.
“Have you talked to Drew lately?”

I shake my head no. “There’s nothing to say.”

He leans against the inside rim of the bar. “I thought you
loved him.”

“I did. But we want different things. So it was time to end
it and move on.” I scan the room, Jack’s restaurant, my new place of
employment. “And I really appreciate this, Jack. Working and earning tips will
help a lot with all my student loans.”

He nods. “Graduate degrees don’t come cheap.”

I reply with a sarcastic little laugh. “Tell me about it.
Even when you’re living at home and going to Iowa State, with instate tuition
and grant money, the degree still doesn’t come cheap.”

“I know this is a big change for you, Lucy. But I, for one,
am glad you’re back.” Jack’s smile warms my heart a little, which is good,
because it’s been kind of chilly in there lately.

I give his arm a friendly squeeze. “We should keep going,
before the evening rush starts. I need to know all about everything.”

“Of course you do,” he says.

We continue with my orientation, and I push away all my
regrets. At least, that is, I try to.

The Iowa wind is cold against my face and my cheeks are stinging.
Yet I still hesitate and slow my pace, although I should be walking fast. I am
late for my undergrad 20th Century Politics course, where as a T.A. it’s my job
to review the lecture notes from the previous session. I feel my lunch fighting
its digestion in the depths of my stomach, and I slow for a minute to try and
catch my breath The review session is often abused by students who did not make
it to class the previous time, and they can get kind of snippy when I “rush”
through things. But I have a whole hour’s worth of lecture notes to go over in
the space of ten minutes, so it’s not like I have a lot of choice. Still, when
I catch the eye rolls, sucked lips and belligerent exhales it’s hard not to
take it personally.

I pass the Iowa State campus library, and I envy the kids
entering it. They’re probably grabbing an hour to study, and I’d give anything
for an extra hour a day to do just that. Lately I’ve been stretched so thin
that I may as well be Mary-Kate Olsen.

I guess I’m still having trouble with the major transition
my life is going through. Around sixteen months ago my life in Minneapolis
contained Drew, my close-to-perfect boyfriend who wanted me by his side as he
ran for Minnesota Senate, a fulltime job with the Minneapolis Neighborhood Association,
and my own apartment. But I gave it all up so I could be lonely and work two
supposedly part-time jobs to make ends meet while I pursue my graduate degree
in political science. Did I mention that I’m also now living with my parents?

So yeah, I’d say I’m pretty balanced. That is, if you’re
measuring a balance between adulthood and renewed adolescence.

I’m sprinting up the steps of the building where my class is
being held, and I pass a guy who is tall like Drew, and he has the same short
haircut, same clean-cut appeal. For the millionth time I wonder if I made the
right decision. Why did I give up everything, including love, to go after
something as unstable as an education?

“You’re actually leaving?” Drew said this to me, months ago,
when our inevitable breakup finally began to sink in.

I blinked back tears and nodded my head. “I want to teach,”
I told him. “I need to follow my own dreams, which means I can’t help you
follow yours.”

He grimaced and his nostrils flared. “You sound like an
after-school special, Lucy.”

We talked and talked, but he couldn’t understand why getting
my degree in Minnesota wasn’t a possibility. Why did I have to leave town? It
was like I was going backwards.

I couldn’t disagree. I also couldn’t tell him that while I
loved him, I doubted I loved him enough to be a politician’s wife. They’re
always so polished, and they smile and nod their heads but they never get to
say what they really think. If I told him that, I’d be making him choose
between politics and me. I couldn’t do that to him, and I didn’t want to know
what choice he would make.

Now I concentrate on my breathing as I stride down the hall
towards my classroom. I open the door and there’s a lecture hall full of
undergrads waiting for me. I can feel their antagonism as I make my way to the
podium, but I pretend like everything is roses and sunshine. Maybe then they
won’t smell my fear.

“Sorry I’m late,” I say. “It’s been a crazy day.”

“Two more minutes and we would have left,” says a skinny
girl with lots of eyeliner, sitting towards the back. “That’s the rule. If
you’re ten minutes late, we get to leave.”

“Right,” I say drily. “Well I’m glad I caught you before
that happened.”

There’s murmuring, shuffling, and the white noise of people
sifting through their backpacks and clicking open their pens. I hear someone
say, “Why couldn’t she have waited two more minutes?”

I square my shoulders and speak up. “Okay! So last time we
were discussing the effects of globalization after the Second World War. Let’s
review.”

“Just don’t go so fast this time, ‘k?” The eyeliner girl’s
friend says this. She has on a super tight sweatshirt with the collar cut off
so her cleavage can show. I never dressed like her, even when I was her age.
Maybe if I had, she wouldn’t intimidate me now.

I nod my head and launch into
the lesson.

Class ends up going better than usual. The professor was
late too, and after reviewing the notes, one of the more engaged students asked
a question.

“Do you think Truman, with his nuclear capabilities, should
be considered our first modern-era president?”

I thought for a moment.

“That’s complicated. Obviously the facts about his
presidency aren’t going to change, but our concept of what ‘modern’ is will.
Truman wasn’t prepared to be president.” I gripped the edges of my podium and
continued. “Yet he was faced with ending one war, entering another, and
navigating a new age. All that, and his wife wouldn’t live with him in the
White House. The guy was challenged.”

This piqued their interest:
Why
wouldn’t his wife live with him?

I have theories, but no real
answer. Sometimes, love isn’t enough. I could give my students all sorts of
real-life examples to demonstrate the point, but on that, they need to learn
for themselves.

I walk back to my car, hugging my thick, green fisherman
sweater around me for warmth. It has been mild all month for October, but this
afternoon the weather has turned and the wind is picking up. Leaves are blowing
around in circles. It’s like every movie that’s set on a college campus in the
fall. Isn’t it always fall when you’re in college?

This isn’t just any fall, though. In less than a week we’ll
be electing a president, and that obviously happens only once every four years.
In my mind this is a unique opportunity to correct the mistake made in 2000,
when Bush became president despite losing the popular vote and the questionable
counting methods in Florida. I don’t care what anyone says; I still believe
Gore won Florida, and if we had counted all the over and under votes, the
history books would need to be rewritten. However, history is as much about
peoples’ perceptions of what happened as it is about actual events. And if
there’s one thing I’ve learned in my thirty-three years, it’s that changing
public opinion is about as easy as traveling back in time to change what
happened. I really wish I could do either.

It’s Thursday, which means I need to drive to Des Moines and
work an evening shift at Jack’s restaurant. Afterwards, I will drive to my
parents’ home. I’ll stay with them for several days, working weekend
waitressing shifts and studying/researching in between. On Sunday afternoon
I’ll pack my clean laundry into my 1993 second-hand Saturn, and drive forty
minutes back to Ames, where I share an apartment with a biology graduate
student from Somalia.