Page 159 of Crystal Iris
“It says here she had Paget’s disease,” says Terry.
“No phones, Terry. We’re learning to describe what we see and think for ourselves. And yes, some say the woman had the disease in which bones become enlarged and deformed. If she is indeed suffering from it, then perhaps Matsys is sympathizing with her instead. He could have even used a live model for this portrait. Any other guesses?”
Silence fillsthe room.
“What if she isn’t a woman after all?” I ask.
Flynn coughs, and I’m not sure if it’s on purpose or not.
“It’s a new theory; it’s currently being discussed that this is actually a cross-dressed man comically playing the role of a sought-after young woman, a carnival tradition,” I continue.
“I believe this new theory doesn’t have enough proof to be taken seriously, let alone be discussed in the classroom,” says Flynn. I’m surprised to hear him speak.
I’m still digesting his words when James says, “You don’t think we should be aware if a new theory is being discussed?”
“I think, as historians, we have the responsibility to stick to the accuracy of history. We can’t feed into every theory out there,” Flynn tells him.
I take a breath and respond, “I believe, as historians, we have an even greater responsibility to find the truth. I encourage discussion in my classroom. I hope each one of you will continue to seek history for the purpose of finding the real stories, not just the ones we’re accustomed to.”
The rest of the lecture goes by in a blur. I’m very much aware of how my review is going—not well—even if Flynn doesn’t say another word. I reassure myself I didn’t make it this far in my career by trying to please others. I did it by being myself. I finish the lecture and wait for him to approach me.
“You know I’m going to have to report on this,” he says, coming closer.
“I stand by what I said.” I acknowledge him with a simple nod.
“You’ll hear from us soon.” And he walks away.
Perhaps I should’ve played a little nicer.
“He isn’t a student, is he?” asks James. I hadn’t noticed he was still there.
“Hi, James. No, he isn’t.”
“I’m sorry if I said the wrong thing,” he apologizes.
“You said the only right thing.”
“Is there anything I can do? I could write you a good…review?”
“Thank you, but unfortunately, I think the damage is done. I appreciate your offer, though. How’s your research? Anything for me to read yet?”
“Actually, yes. Here.” He pulls the papers from his backpack and hands them to me. “It’s just a rough draft, though.”
“I’ll let you know what I think.”
“Are you kidding me?” says Akira by the coffee cart.
“Nope.”
“I can’t believe Aaron gave all of it back.”
“Actually, he did more than that—he apparently turned a profit too, for himself and Hoyt.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, it feels good to have that figured out, at least.”
“What do you mean?” she says, taking a seat on the bench.
