“Grace, someone here to see you,” Aaron sang from the outer office.
When she’d first arrived at the Art Department, the informality had irked her and reminded her of how her own mother’s hackles went up any time she or her siblings hollered for someone across the house. Now she accepted it as part of the charm of a small campus, one of her reminders to slow down.
Normally, she asked him to direct people to her office even though it was small, but this was at least the fifth visitor to ask for her that morning. She feared that this one, like the others, was not related to business, so she stepped out into the general art department office.
“Can I help you?” Grace said in what she hoped was a friendly tone. She had no appointments, and as she’d suspected, she didn’t recognize the cute baby dyke.
The young woman smiled broadly, making her look even younger. “There’s a poetry jam this weekend.”
Grace accepted the flyer, the third she had to add to her stack. She’d also been informed of a feminist author who was visiting and talking on campus and of the art opening at the First Street Gallery in Eureka. She wondered if the student who invited her to the art opening had any idea that she was behind the entire project and would be there to coordinate, not socialize.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m sure many of our students will be interested in attending. In the future, you can give event notifications to Aaron, and he’ll be happy to post them for you.”
The young woman remained rooted where she stood, and Grace could tell she was working up the courage to invite her specifically. To save them both from the awkward silence, she thanked her again and disappeared into her office. She felt a little unkind, but better to be brisk and shut down any hope these young women had about fraternizing.
“Are you the new GLBSA advisor or something? What’s with the parade of adoring young women?” Aaron asked a few minutes later, merrily batting thick eyelashes that Grace envied. The public face of the office, Aaron’s couldn’t have been better chosen with his warm smile, carefully trimmed beard and neat, styled, close-cropped hair.
Grace rested her forehead on her palms. “I have no idea. It’s a little late for the welcome wagon. Do me a favor and run interference for me? I’m not here unless it’s campus business.”
“You bet.”
Minutes later, a rap at the door sent Grace’s forehead down to the desk mumbling about Aaron’s failure to protect her from the campus lesbians. Steeling herself, she sat up and without trying to hide her annoyance, barked “Come in.”
“Is someone wearing grouchy pants today?” Kristine asked, hesitating at the door.
Grace slumped with relief. “Kristine.”
“Who were you expecting? A firing squad?”
“All this week, I’ve been ambushed by student dykes.”
Kristine eased into the chair opposite Grace. “What prompted that?”
“I wish I knew. I told your wife I was ready to meet someone. I guess I should have specified that I’m ready to meet someone who is well into her thirties.”
“You two had a nice visit the other night?”
Grace stretched back in her chair. “Indeed. She said you know a good bluegrass band.”
“Yeah, she mentioned that. I’ll let you know when they play again.”
“I’ve never been a huge fan of bluegrass, but it’s got to be better than the stuff they play at the club.”
“What club?” Kristine asked, leaning forward.
“The one over in Eureka, Club Triangle?”
Kristine doubled over laughing.
“What?” Grace demanded.
“There’s your problem. That’s the feeding ground for all the baby dykes.”
“I only had one drink. A drink. That’s it. Then I left. I couldn’t even hear myself think.”
“Well someone recognized you, and now they’re probably all crushing on you,” Kristine said, still laughing.
“The way everyone was glued to each other, I’m surprised anyone noticed.”
“Think about how many of them probably don’t know a lesbian of your stature. Successful. Professional. They admire you.”
“Please don’t call me a professional lesbian.”
Kristine cocked an eyebrow in question.
“It’s not like one can make a successful living from it.” Grace reflected on Kristine’s words, remembering the older established women she herself had crushed on when she was young. “If it were just admiration, I’d be okay, but they’re not in here asking me to be a mentor. They’re asking me out to events.”
Kristine flipped through the fliers. “These are actually way more your speed compared to the club. Check out the poetry one. I’ve been really impressed with the events The Jambalaya hosts. And it’s going to be a different crowd. They won’t be sizing you up.”
“Sounds like you have experience.”
“Arcata and Eureka are bigger than Quincy, where I grew up, but the lesbian community here feels just like it, everyone up in someone else’s business. It took me a long time to get used to when I first moved here. I went from a town where no one wanted to acknowledge I was gay to having this gaggle of lesbians in my face about what my intentions were with their Gloria, sizing me up, seeing if I was good enough for her.”
“Guess you passed the test,” Grace said.
Kristine shrugged. “We’re pretty much off the radar now that we have the kids. It feels like we have more in common with new parents. Single lesbians aren’t interested in potty training or sleep deprivation.”
“I like hearing about how Eliza’s sleeping.”
“That’s because you’re wacked.”
“Has she figured out night and day yet?”
“Getting there. We should hit a good rhythm this next month.”
“Seems like you’ve made the transition back to work okay. Now that you’re back, will you scare off all those lovely young women who are after me?”
“Aaron says it’s entertaining.”
“At least someone is enjoying the attention,” Grace groused loudly enough for Aaron to hear. He would turn the day’s entertainment into an elaborate story. This she knew from the dramatic story he told of plucking Kristine out of the High Sierras to cover the classes of an associate professor whose illness forced her to retire. Tired of dwelling on her personal life, she switched gears. “I’m sure you didn’t come in here to observe the flirtations.”
“No. Actually, I came in to talk about the Nature Photography class. I want to get them shooting something other than forest and beach. What do you think of me taking them to Joshua Tree or the Grand Canyon, somewhere we can play with light? Just a weekend trip.”
“Not any weekend soon. You can’t leave your wife alone with two kids,” Grace said, her voice stern.
“No. Not until next year for sure. But isn’t it better to investigate funds now?”
Grace acquiesced. “Yes, it is. I like the idea, even if it’s a thinly-veiled opportunity for you to get your own shots.”
“Just as instruction.” Kristine feigned affront.
“Mmm-hmmm.” Grace woke up her computer, happy to have actual work to occupy her time.