Being The Steel Drummer Part 14

"She got Isabella Santiago to help us. Dr. Santiago went right to them."

Kathryn laughed out loud. "Very good! No really, so Amanda found the archive box?"

"No," I explained again, "she got Isabella Santiago to help us, though she seemed pretty p.i.s.sed off about it. She's a riot, so tiny and pale and kind of interesting looking. She must have been very pretty when she was a younger woman."

There was a long pause, then Kathryn said, "You saw her? You really saw Isabella Santiago? Really? You're not teasing me?"

"Yeah, haven't you seen her?"

There was another long pause, then finally Kathryn said, "Maggie, no one has ever really seen Isabella Santiago, well not in the flesh anyway. She isn't a real person. She's the library ghost.

Chapter 10.

Kathryn insisted she wasn't joking about the ghost in the library and I insisted I really had seen Dr. Isabella Santiago. We ended by being amused that we were both so positive.

"You haven't eaten, have you? I just called Fen-Ultimate Pizza to deliver some supper because we were all starving. By now you must be too. I'm paying, so I think you should come over and have a piece while we're on a break." Kathryn added gently, "Would you? I want to see you."

"Be there in five minutes."

When I got to the English Department Building on the quad behind Administration, I met the delivery person from Fen-Ultimate Pizza outside. I could smell the oregano before I even saw her. I paid and tipped her and carried the pies and other bags of drinks and side dishes to the meeting so I'd be all the more welcome as the bearer of brick-oven ambrosia.

In a large third-floor cla.s.sroom, various professorial types slouched on chairs and leaned on tables in break mode. They were all so academic that if you'd put black graduation gowns on them they could have played a revival of Good Bye Mr. Chips. Of course Kathryn would be in the hot Mrs. Chips role.

When Kathryn saw me her eyes brightened.

"Everyone," she called, "please meet Maggie Gale. Not only the bearer of edible gifts, but the charmer of ghosts!"

They swarmed the pizza as only college faculty can. Kathryn put an arm around my waist and propelled me pizzaward as we argued gently about who would pay the check. She won and gave me cash.

"Maggie, this is Dr. Paul Ericson. I think you two met at the college holiday party," said Kathryn.

Paul Ericson was opening a box of salad. He was blond, fair-skinned, and had a full beard and twinkling eyes. He had on one of those tan corduroy jackets with leather patches at the elbows. He waved to me because his mouth was full.

"And this is Dr. Bolton Winpenny."

So this was the steel drummer from the retreat. Winpenney had close-cropped reddish hair and a beard that mirrored the color of the sweater under his camel hair blazer, also with leather patched elbows. Unlike Paul, who was wearing khaki pants, Bolton was wearing straight legged blue jeans that fit him well. He looked younger than his name.

"Bolton," he said shaking my hand.

"And," said Kathryn, "you know Daniel Cohen."

Dan Cohen crossed the room and bear-hugged me. Two months before, he and I had shared a high adrenaline fifteen minutes in an emergency, as we risked our lives to save another. It was one of those things that cements a friends.h.i.+p even though I'd only seen him a few times since.

Kathryn introduced me to several other people who were too busy with the food to do anything more than nod.

Paul Ericson, with pizza slice in hand, said, "Did I hear Kathryn say something about ghosts?"

"Maggie tells me she saw Isabella Santiago earlier this evening," said Kathryn.

"In the library?" asked Paul.

I nodded.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, Dr. Ericson, I really did." I smiled, nodding.

"Huh! Call me Paul."

"Wait, I thought she wasn't real. Don't people on campus refer to her as the library spirit?" asked Bolton Winpenny.

This time Kathryn nodded.

Dan Cohen was staring at me.

I said to Dan, "Do you believe she's a ghost?"

He shrugged. "I don't use the library archives much. I've never seen her. I thought she was an urban legend. But if you've seen her Maggie, then..." Dan nodded his head but didn't quite finish the sentence.

I turned to Paul Ericson, who was saying, "About four years ago I saw a woman in a white flowing dress hovering around the end of one of the stacks. I went after her, but she disappeared around a corner and when I got there she was gone. When I asked one of the librarians about her, he said nervously that she shouldn't be disturbed. Did she actually talk to you?"

I thought back. "Well, no, she just made a dismissive sound and waved me off. Amanda Knightbridge was there. She spoke to her."

"Oh, well, Amanda," said Paul knowingly. "What did she say to Amanda?"

"Something about researching 16th century building materials."

"Really? Huh." Paul shrugged moving back toward the pizza."Maybe I should try to talk to her sometime."

Kathryn was looking at me thoughtfully. She said, "Are you sure this wasn't a dream?"

"No, no, it wasn't a dream. Do these people really think she's a ghost?"

Kathryn raised her eyebrows.

"But I saw her."

"On campus it's the people who haven't seen her who don't believe in her," said Kathryn.

"Do you believe in her?"

Kathryn leaned into me. "I didn't until tonight," she whispered. "Maggie, you better get some pizza before it's all gone."

Another committee member came in from outside, reeking of tobacco smoke.

"Maggie Gale," said Kathryn in introduction, "this is Carla Zimmer. Carla's in the Architectural Design Department. She was Rowlina Roth-Holtzman's grad a.s.sistant, but she's just been hired into the Department."

I covertly eyed Carla. She wasn't unfortunate in appearance. Dark hair pulled back, even-toned skin, dark eyes. Hard to tell about her figure; she was wearing one of those long bulky sweaters. I noticed she was eyeing me back at the same time as I checked her out. She turned abruptly in the guise of grabbing a soda. Kinda of twitchy for a person who'd managed to score a job in this desperate economy.

"It is Rowlina Roth now. She has dropped the Holtzman," Carla Zimmer said with her head turned.

Kathryn and I went for the last slices and settled at the big round table to concentrate on fine dining.

Paul Ericson turned to me. "I've heard you and Kathryn are in quite a whirlwind romance? Is this leading to something serious?"

A silence fell over the table, until Kathryn sighed with amus.e.m.e.nt. "Really, Paul." Then she turned to me and said, "Paul has a college-wide reputation for being direct."

"Was that rude? I'm sorry," said Paul.

He seemed to genuinely want to know, but not in a gossipy way. I guessed he was Kathryn's campus version of my friend Farrel and my sister Sara, who'd each grilled Kathryn in their own ways to discover whether her intentions with me were honorable. Though they hadn't done it so publicly.

"To answer your questions, yes, yes, and no it wasn't rude," I said.

The tension eased. Kathryn smiled, looking down at the table. Dan Cohen, who had told me a while ago that he was a PFLAG dad, grinned broadly, and Bolton clapped once and said, "Great!"

Most of the others in the room looked up when they heard Bolton clap and smiled.

Only Carla Zimmer reacted with discomfort. She tried to cover her nervous expression by turning and coughing but I saw her wrinkled nose and deer-in-the-headlights eyes.

"I know you're all engaged in an important discussion, so I'll let you get back to work," I said. "Please don't keep Kathryn any later than..."

"No Maggie, don't rush off," said Bolton. We need your input on something we were talking about before the meeting. I was explaining to Paul how important it is to be out."

"Well, I just wondered why Gay people would choose to be out, if that meant they might experience discrimination."

"Are you married, Paul?" I asked.

"Yes, I am. I have the honor to be married to a wonderful person. I think you met Caren at the holiday party at the president's mansion."

"Oh, yes, I remember. She'd just done some major work reorganizing the doctoral program in Art History, right? What's she doing now?"

"Yes, it was a big job, and now she's getting ready to go on a tour with some grad students to Italy. Then she'll go on to France for a conference in..."

I was looking at him, smiling. He halted abruptly. "Oh... oh, I see!" He sat back in his chair with a look of complete comprehension.

"So, Paul, just to be sure you really understand this..." Kathryn said.

"Yes, I get it. It would be impossible for me to not talk about Caren. I'm proud of her; I love her. If I had to pretend she didn't exist... Yeah, I see. It would eat at me every day," he said. "OK, so then, do you think it's wrong to be in the closet? Is there any excuse?"

"People should keep their personal business to themselves. What people do in the bedroom has nothing to do with their lives," said Carla Zimmer with surprising sharpness. I couldn't help remembering that her boss Rowlina Roth, formally Rowlina Roth-Holtzman, had actually broken federal law to marry Holtzman in her own vain attempt to disguise her s.e.xual orientation. Mr. Holtzman had failed at his beard job though. Among other flaws, he lived 3000 miles from Fenchester.

I nodded and said, "What people do in the bedroom isn't really the issue though is it? Civil rights is the issue. And sure, there are situations that make sense for people to remain closeted. People in the seventy-eight countries that still criminalize s.e.xual behavior, people who were in the military under Don't Ask Don't Tell, parents going through tough custody battles in conservative jurisdictions, high school students whose parents would throw them out of the house if they found out..."

"I have kind of a hard time understanding why someone teaching at a liberal arts college like Irwin would hide. This college has full protections and even gives domestic partner benefits. Someone in the closet here, well, that would have to be an internal issue," said Bolton, shaking his head.

"You've always been out?" asked Paul.

"Even fifteen years ago, before I was tenured," said Bolton.

Paul turned to me and Kathryn. "And you?"

"Yes," we said in unison.

I went on, "But that's not to say... People have to come out when they're ready. It's a personal choice. I just hope people know that being in the closet actually makes you far more vulnerable."

"And why do you think that?" asked Carla.

"Because most people talk about their personal lives all the time. People who don't are suspect and vulnerable. So all some bully has to do is ask them if they're Gay," I explained gently.

"One could simply say, That is none of your business," insisted Carla.

"But the problem with that is..." I turned to Paul and asked, "Are you Gay?"

Paul shrugged and said, "No."

I went on, "See, ninety-nine times out of 100 a straight person would never say It's none of your business. So a person who does say that is probably Gay. The only other alternative for a Gay person is to lie, which Paul has just demonstrated would be demoralizing."

"You know," said Bolton, "bullies don't pick on people because they're Gay. They pick on them because they're vulnerable."

"No one is more vulnerable than someone who's living a lie," said Kathryn.

"So, so, you hate all people who are in the closet!" Carla said with a faint German accent, as she teetered on the transparent edges of panic.

The rest of the people clammed up in response to Carla's obtuse interpretation of the conversation.

Finally Bolton said, "Being in the closet calls for support not hatred. But I'm not wild about people in the closet who use their positions of power to spew anti-Gay rhetoric. All those far right preachers and legislators who vote against LGBT rights and then get caught with rent boys on vacation."

"Or in airport restrooms," laughed Paul. "OK, I know we have to get back to work, but one more thing..."

The pizza was gone, but these academics would stretch this topic into tomorrow if I didn't get out of the mix. I stood and said, "I'll let you all get back to work. Thanks for letting me join in the supper and lively conversation."

"I'll walk you out," said Kathryn, grabbing her coat.

On the way down the steps I said, "I kind of got you all off track there..."

"Maggie, an activist once told me that anytime you have a chance to explain discrimination to straight people, you have to take it. Most people don't even know there's no federal law or Pennsylvania law that bans employment or housing discrimination based on s.e.xual orientation. I'm a teacher, and when the opportunity arises, I teach, and I'm happy to welcome guest speakers," said Kathryn, stopping at the bottom of the stairs."

"I'd really have a hard time if you wanted us to pretend you slept in the guest-room!" I laughed.

"To be honest, Maggie, I'm not wildly personal with my students. It's not my nature. But I'm proud to say that I've never s.h.i.+ed from standing up for their rights and that's far easier to do out of the closet than in. Of course everyone has to come out on their own schedule. But here at Irwin? Good grief, we just went to full gender-neutral housing. This is a progressive inst.i.tution. It's one of the reasons I choose to work here."