Page 66 of Man Hands
She snorts. “Fucking budget cuts. We have them too. Here’s the deal. We need someone to take over four classes. Three sessions of freshman writing, and one on writing about art. The woman who was supposed to teach them was on sabbatical and fucking fell in love while on a cruise or something with a woman named Thora. They met in Iceland. I don’t understand the story fully, but it involves a fjord and following her heart. Anyway. She’s quit. Up and quit! And we are, to use a cliché, forgive me, up shit’s creek without a paddle. That’s where youcomein.”
“Ido?”
“You’re ourpaddle.”
I’m trying to breathe here, I really am. I think she just offered me a job. I’d respond but I’m too busyfreakingout.
“There will be a probationary period until you can join the tenure track. But I have faith in you! And since we’ve got the biggest freshman class coming in and no one to teach them how to write, you’re all we’ve got. We can give you a temporary full-time position. Classes start onTuesday.”
“Tuesday? Like,tomorrow?”
“Shit creek,”shesays.
I nod. I understand that. But there’s something niggling at me. Twothings.
“Look,” I say. “I so appreciate it, but I just want to be clear and upfront with you.” I’m not talking in exclamation points. I love my mom, but I am not pink. “I’m engaged, but there was this video that cameoutand…”
“The sex tape?” she says, and it’s in a tone that I think sounds like approval. “Honey, this is an art school. Clothing is sometimes optional. The students will be thrilled that they have a professor who’s actually heard of sex. We don’t care. What we do care about is the quality of your teaching. If you can do that, thenyou’rein.”
And I nod. I can do that. This crazy school is going to take a chance on me. I can hardly believe it. “Okay.I’min.”
* * *
Igohome and try to find someone to celebrate with me. Sadie is unavailable because her babies are teething and she’s too grumpy and tired to chat. Ash is working, but I bribe her by offering to make dinner. Tom texted me to report that he and his pals went out for fondue in Quebec, so naturally I’ve been thinking about melted cheese ever since. He’s up there eating French food without me,damnit.
And, hello, fondue is adip. I can blogaboutit.
I buy three different cheeses and white wine at the grocery. And two baguettes. And also broccoli because that’s my nod to healthyeating.
The recipe calls for only one cup of wine, so I pour myself a glass while I grate cheese. Seriously, you could get nice, toned arms from making fondue. I stand at my kitchen counter and grate my way through three blocks of cheese. It’ssoothing.
After the first block, it occurs to me that I can treat myself to another episode ofMr. Fixit Quick. I’ve been portioning them out with as much care as Sadie took with her pot stash in college. I don’t want to run out too quickly. I mean, Tom’s in Quebec, so this is the only way I can watch himflexing.
Episode seven takes me by surprise, because I recognize the exterior of the house. It’s Tom’s place on the lake! “A real fixer-upper,” he says during the first walk-through. The interior looks like a seventies time machine. There’s an avocado-colored refrigerator and brown laminatecountertops.
Gah—there’s a shot of the boathouse!Ourboathouse. The block of gruyère I’m grating hits the counter with a thud as the memories come floating back. I should probably be more embarrassed about the way I hurled myself at Tom that night. But watching the camera pan the boathouse, I feel happy, not sad. That night I lived out loud. No apologies. No askingpermission.
It felt damn good. And that was true even before theorgasms.
The camera pulls back, and I see Tom with his hands on his hips. “This is gonna be awesome,” he says. And since I’ve seen the finished product, I already know he’sright.
I go back to grating cheese as the show unfolds. Unlike the other episodes I’ve watched, there’s no homeowner on camera. They don’t mention one, either. Tom tackles a tricky roofing problem, and I watch his biceps tense as he uses hishammer.
Because I have very little willpower, I watch the next episode too. Chandra is in this one, which dims my enjoyment. “What color palette does the owner want in the kitchen?” sheasksTom.
He gives her a sexy grin, and I’m instantly jealous. “We have a lot of latitude here,” he says. “What color wouldyouwant to wake up to every morning,prettylady?”
Uh-oh. I have a bad feeling about where this is going. So I top up my white wine and keep watching. And it only gets worse. Chandra can’t decide on lighting fixtures for the patio, and Tom says, “Choose them as if they were for your ownhouse.”
And then they do the bedroom. “I’ve always wanted a sleigh bed,”shesays.
I watch each scene with wide eyes that are glassy withhorror.
At some point Ash shows up. I pause the show and turn to her, my cheeks hot, my wineglass empty. “I… I think he renovated the Reeds Lake house for Chandra,” Isputter.
Ash gives me an appraising look. “I have twoquestions.”
“Shoot.”
