Page 89 of Katabasis
“No, dear.” Helen folded her arms and leaned forward. “As it happens, we have nothing in common.”
The trap sprang.
“Girls like you despise women like me. Isn’t that so? You think we are wrong to insist on the differences of our sex. You find our activism embarrassing. You think we complain too much.”
The accusation was just, all these things were true. But Alice had always harbored these thoughts as a sneaky conviction. She could not really justify them.
Helen pressed on. “And why wouldn’t you think that? You’ve never known a locked door. Your mothers were educated, your schools were coed, and so you think the whole world is open to you. You want to wear slacks, and shirts without bras, and drink all night long with the boys, and you want everyone to treat you just the same.”
It occurred to Alice that Helen had been waiting a long time to say these words; had banked up this screed, watching her and Belinda and the others in the halls, awaiting the first one to stop by. This was not about her anymore; it was not even about Grimes; it was about Helen getting her word in, and Alice was merely the audience.
Helen leaned forward. “The difference between women like me and girls like you is that we always understood the battle was never over. Your cohort has chosen to live like the rules don’t apply to you. And it seems to work. I salute you girls, I support you. I wish I could have done the same. But you can’t just cry wolf when things don’t go your way. What you must realize, Alice, is that you cannot just take refuge in feminism when it suits you.”
“I’m not crying wolf,” Alice said desperately. “I just—I need guidance—”
“You want to change advisors, then? You want to work with me?”
This took Alice by surprise. She had not planned to ask; had not even considered it a solution. And perhaps her face betrayed her thoughts, because Helen laughed. “Of course you don’t. You don’t respect me enough for that. You think I am a—what was it? A spousal hire in a girdle?”
“I didn’t...”
Oh, but Alice had. They’d all said it. They received the gossip first from their advisors and they giggled about it among themselves, told stories at late nights at the pub—does Helen even publish, does anyone take Helen seriously, what will happen when he divorces that cow?But professors’ ears were much closer to the ground than anyone thought. Alice should have known this, because she knew Grimes was acutely aware of everything anyone said abouthim.
“Of course.” Helen found the confirmation in her face. “That’s a no. Then would you like to go to the police?”
“What? No—”
“To file a complaint, then?” Helen was having her fun. “Would you like him reprimanded by the university, compelled to write you an apology? Would all this make you feel better?”
“No—”
Helen threw her hands up. “Then help me understand. What are we doing here, Alice? What do youwant?”
Alice felt so stupid then.
Why didn’t she have any response? Why was this question so hard? It was as if she’d sat down for an exam, only to find she didn’t comprehend any of the material. All the contradictions were coming to a head, and she couldn’t synthesize an answer because none of her positions made any sense. She wanted Grimes’s attention but also his respect. She adored his power, except when he used it against her. She wanted no special treatment for her sex, and still she felt wronged, in a way she felt that only women could be wronged. Helen was right—she could not have it all, could not believe everything she did and still complain. But still, was there not something wrong here? Was she so wrong to feel hurt?
She tried to sort through the most basic question. Whatdidshe want? If she could wave a magic wand to fix this, what outcome would she have?
It boiled down to one thing: she wanted Grimes to respect her, to like her again, to go back to being her teacher again. But Helen could not help here there. Grimes’s disposition toward her was an immovable fact. She could not change it by wishing.
In fact, all of her wishes were ridiculous. She wanted it all to have never happened. She wanted her mind back. And she wanted to be more than a body, more than mereflesh, a thing to inscribe and observe and maybe fondle when you were bored. She wanted the version she was promised, she wanted a teacher who cared about her, who respected her as a thinker, who did not treat her as a tool.
But all this was a fairy tale. In relentlessly enforcing the glamour, she had closed off her other options. And now she was left in a trap she had constructed for herself.
There is no point, she thought helplessly.No point in breaking out. It will destroy everything to try. Stop believing in one postulate, and the whole edifice comes tumbling down. You cannot have a stable Euclidean surface without the parallel postulate; you cannot survive without believing you are invulnerable. So your only option is the reconstruction of the lie—I am not embodied, this cannot matter, and so it does not matter.
“So you see.” Helen’s expression was not unsympathetic. “It only hurts you to take this further. The best thing you can do for your career now is to forget it ever happened.”
I can’t, Alice wanted to cry.I can’t forget anything.
“Grimes certainly will.” Helen’s mouth twitched. “He’ll be on to the next freshman by Michaelmas, and then it’ll be business as usual with you. And anyhow—as you say, it was only a kiss.”
Not only a kiss, thought Alice. Her tattoo seared white-hot, hot as the day he’d carved it into her skin. But this she could not reveal. She had promised Grimes her silence; she still wanted to be a very good girl.
And she suspected that Helen knew, anyhow. Not the details. Only the shape. Helen must have known, because she had seen it all happen before, must have been through it herself, and here she still sat where she was. Her own office. Courtyard window, mahogany desk, tenure. What did that take? Alice wondered. What cages of beliefs kept Helen going?
Helen was not mocking her. She had laid out the blueprint. Believe the lie—trust the lie—it is the only thing you have. Stay in the cage and paint the walls. If you do not, then you must quit; but if you can delude yourself long enough, then your delusions might very well come true.
