Winter Jacket (37 page)

He shuffled his papers around.
“Uh, what is the nature of your relationship with Hunter Dyson?”

I didn’t blink.  “She’s my partner.”

A few members of the committee looked startled and a spattering of hushed murmurs followed my answer. I didn’t know what kind of response they’d been expecting from me, but I had been prepared for this.  I wasn’t going to sputter, or make excuses, or look weak. I was stronger than that.  I wasn’t going to deny my relationship, either.  We had done nothing wrong. I wasn’t going to let myself be bullied by fear anymore.

Bob nodded solidly. “Thank you, Elle,” he said with a brief smile. “I think we have all we need.”

I rose from the table and smiled mildly at each member of the tenure committee. “Thank you all for your time today,” I said in the most civil tone I could muster. “I look forward to hearing your decision.”

My hands shook a little and it took me a moment to collect my workbag and the legal pad
that was still blank except for my name and the date.  When I finally gathered my things, I strode out of the conference room and didn’t look back.

I took the elevator down without botheri
ng to stop at my office first. When the doors opened again on the ground level, I exited the lift. There, sitting nervously in the building lobby like it was a hospital waiting room, was Hunter. I hadn’t known she would be waiting for me.   I thought she was at the hospital today. 

She spotted me and immediately stood up.
 She looked so perfect, even in jeans and a t-shirt.  Her winter jacket was left, forgotten for the moment, on the chair in which she’d previously sat.

I could see the concern etched across her beautiful face.
 "So?" she asked me, wringing her hands in front of her body. "How did it go?"

Instead of finding my words, I burst into tears, and for the first time in recent memory, I
wanted someone to take care of me.  She threw her arms around me, and I let myself be weak.

+++++

EPILOGUE

I leaned against the balcony and breathed in.  The air felt a little crisp and smelled of salt and seaweed.  The sun, burning through a morning fog, already felt warm on my skin.  It was mid-December, but you’d never know it.  Malibu was beautiful around Christmas time.

I watched her wade on the shoreline.  From the anonymity of my balcony perch, I watched Hunter kick at the crashing whitecaps as they crested and slammed against the sandy shoreline, slowly eating away at the solid land mass. One day the ocean would reclaim the rest of the world.

She seemed to me a piece of beach glass, sharp around the edges and unremarkable until years of being thrown against the sandy shore had worn down her sharpness and polished her smooth.  She kicked her long legs, timing each lift of her limbs perfectly with the rolling waves.  Something about it struck me – like she was fighting against something so massive, despite knowing the impossibility of ever winning.

I t
urned from the balcony and wandered downstairs to the kitchen, with its magnificent views of the ocean, and began gathering the materials I’d need to make us breakfast.   The Malibu condo on the beach was a bit of an indulgence, but I’d promised myself that when I had my tenure review, regardless of the outcome, I’d rent a beachfront property for as long as I could and spoil myself for all my hard work.  Troian, with her influential Hollywood connections, had gotten me a good price on the rental property and I had it through the end of the month.   Hunter had flown to California with me after her last final of Fall semester was complete, but would be returning home for Christmas to spend the holiday with her parents.  I thought that maybe she might return to Malibu with Troian and Nikole for New Years, but for now I was thankful for the time we had together. 

Not long after I started on the waffles, fruit, and bacon, Hunter came bouncin
g into the kitchen like an over-exuberant puppy. “How’s my Associate Professor girlfriend doing this morning?”

“That’s a mouthful.”

“That’s what she said,” Hunter retorted.  She picked up a blueberry from the bowl of fruit salad and popped it into my mouth.

“I would be doing even better if you hadn’t snuck out on me this morning.
I woke up to an empty bed,” I pouted around the piece of fruit.

“But this w
eather is just too perfect,” she remarked, sneaking a piece of bacon off the paper towel where it cooled. “I couldn’t
not
take advantage of it.”

“Have a nice run?”
I asked.

“Mmhmm,”
Hunter confirmed, resting her chin on my shoulder. “The best.  I love running on packed sand.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I remarked. “No one actually
likes
running, do they?”

“Just you wait, babe.  I’m going to get you into running one of these days.
  It’s addictive,” she added, “like sex.”

I cleared my throat.  It still made me blush to hear her talk like that
even though I should know better by now. “Well in the meantime, why don’t you hop in the shower, and by the time you get out, I’ll have breakfast ready.”

“You. Are. Amazing.” 
Her arms tightened around my waist and she punctuated each word with a nuzzle of her nose against the back of my neck. “How did I get so lucky?” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek and then spun away to skip down the hallway in the direction of the bathroom.

I continued stirring the waffle batter. “I guess you can thank your winter jacket,” I mumbled under my breath.

“What’d you say, Ellio?” Hunter’s voice filtered down the hallway. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Nothing, love,” I said, raising the volume of my voice. “Don’t take too long in there or the waffles will get soggy.”

“You could always join me,” she sing-songed as she made her way to the bathroom attached to the master bedroom. I’d already fallen in love with that bathroom – a massive Kohler shower and a tub that put most backyard pools to shame. “That’s why God invented microwaves.”

I bit my bottom lip to keep from laug
hing out loud.  How had
I
gotten so lucky? I wasn’t quite sure the answer to that question, but I knew I owed someone from the University Physical Plant at least a fruit basket for that damn broken classroom heater.

When
my tenure committee had called me with the results of my review, just hours after the public meeting, I’d honestly been flabbergasted to hear their news.  They wanted to promote me from an Assistant to Associate Professor – I’d achieved that long-awaited tenured status.

Troian seemed to be the only one disappointed by the news.  I still could have resigned and joined her new television-series venture, but I’d meant what I’d told her before – I was an educator, not a scriptwriter.  Writing screenplays would have been the easy route.  I wouldn’t have to apologize for my sexuality.  I wouldn’t have to continually deal with the knowing smirks from faculty and staff.  But in a few years all of the current students would have graduated, and in time another “scandal” would distract the university employees from my own personal drama. 
             

When
the new contract had been signed, and I was sure they couldn’t retract the recent appointment, I’d approached the Chair of my Department, Bob Birken, to find out how they’d known about my relationship with Hunter.  He revealed that the Dean’s Office of the College of Arts & Sciences had received an anonymous phone call regarding the matter.  From there, they’d taken the time to look over Hunter’s records, looking for grade discrepancies to see if she’d received any special treatment from me while in my class.  I was offended they’d gone through Hunter’s student records, but I’d bit back my indigent retort, knowing it was just standard procedure for these kinds of things.             

Finding nothing incriminating,
since there
was
nothing to find, they’d determined that no ethical breaches had been made and that as long as Hunter didn’t enroll in any of my other classes in the future, we were free to continue dating without university interference.  The latter wasn’t going to be an issue since she was graduating in a semester.

I was still bothered by not knowing who had betrayed my confidences. 
I’d contacted Ruby not long after my tenure meeting.  She’d insisted she hadn’t called the Dean, staying loyal to her promise to me. I believed her, but that unfortunately meant that one of Hunter’s parents had probably made the call, hoping to get me fired.

Maybe I’d been too careless at Peggy’s
on Hunter’s birthday night, or maybe my outburst at the scene of her car accident had drawn unwanted attention to our relationship. But my gut told me that Hunter’s parents had something to do with it.  I hadn’t approached the topic with Hunter yet though.  She’d told me she and her mom were just starting to rebuild their relationship.  We’d get to that bridge eventually.

D
own the hallway I could hear the shower turning on followed by the sound of Hunter’s melodic voice singing a song I didn’t immediately recognize.  I stared at the plate of fleshly-made waffles.  Hunter’s words echoed in my head:
That’s why God invented microwaves.
 

I pulled the plug on the waffle
maker and tossed the bowl of extra batter into the sink.  We had plenty of time to have breakfast later.  But for now, I had a carbon footprint to whittle away at with my girlfriend.

+++++

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Eliza Lentzski is the author of lesbian fiction, romance, and erotica novels including
Second Chances, Date Night, Diary of a Human, Love, Lust, & Other Mistakes
, and the forthcoming
All That Is Gold
(Fall 2013)
.
Although a historian by day, Eliza is passionate about fiction. She calls the Midwest her home along with her partner and their cat and turtle. 

Follow her on Twitter, @ElizaLentzski, and Like her on Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/elizalentzski) for updates and exclusive previews of future original releases.