Authors: Kelee Morris
“That was nice of you.”
“If I had known it was going to prevent us from having sex, I would have insisted they sleep in the gutter.”
He unzipped my coat. “We need to be careful,” he warned. “Campus security is still on duty.”
“Okay,” I said, a bit disappointed. I had been imagining us crawling into the backseat so we could have sex against the leather upholstery.
He lifted my sweatshirt, exposing my breasts. I hadn’t bothered to put on a bra. My nipples were erect thanks to the frigid air, but he immediately warmed them with his deft fingers. “How was your sabbatical?” I murmured, breathless from his touch.
“Quiet. It gave me time to think.”
I could feel how wet his touch was making me. “What were you thinking about?” It almost came out as a moan.
“You.”
“Anything in particular about me?”
He didn’t answer my question. Instead, he withdrew his hands. I straightened my sweatshirt while he pulled a small box wrapped in festive red paper from his coat pocket. “This is for you. A belated Christmas present.”
Intrigued, I took it from his hand. “That’s very sweet of you, Ashland.”
“I wanted to give it to you now, while the sentiment behind it was still fresh,” he said as I unwrapped the gift.
Inside was an unmarked jewelry box. I opened it. Resting against a velvet cushion was an exquisitely fragile silver necklace. I carefully lifted it. A silver charm dangled from the chain.
The Magoan goddess symbol.
“It’s beautiful,” I said softly.
He slipped it around my neck. “That’s why it suits you so perfectly,” he said as he clasped it shut.
I picked up the charm to admire the delicate craftsmanship. “How am I going to explain this to my husband?”
“When the time is right, perhaps a ‘friend’ can give it to you.”
“I’ll ask Nina.”
I removed the necklace, returned it to its box, and slipped it into a small, zippered pocket inside my coat. I offered him a grateful kiss. Looking into his eyes, I could see how bright and alive they were, even on this sunless day. “What did you mean about the sentiment behind it?”
“The necklace was ordered weeks ago, from an artist I know in Milan. The trip was more spontaneous. However, they both have the same root cause.”
“You’re being very enigmatic,” I complained.
“Julia, I don’t know how to say this, or even if I should say it. You’ve made it clear what you want out of our relationship. That’s why it’s been difficult for me to admit my feelings, even to myself.”
“What is it?” I didn’t need to ask the question. I could see the truth in his deep blue eyes, the way they regarded me, as if the rest of the universe had been sucked into a black hole and I was the only thing left that mattered. I knew at that moment that I had reached another fork in the road. But this time I wouldn’t be able to travel both pathways.
“Julia,” he said, “I’ve fallen in love with you.”
“Holy shit!”
Van and I were both startled by her loud exclamation. We glanced around, but the swarm of children darting in every direction like agitated insects was oblivious.
I had taken Mackenzie to the park district’s indoor play area, a popular holiday break destination for stir-crazy children and their desperate parents. Mackenzie and Van’s son Jake were a little old for the water and dress-up areas, and were initially cool to one another, but they both eagerly disappeared into the large plastic tubes that snaked across the ceiling. We weren’t likely to see them for a while, which gave us time to talk.
“He was very apologetic about complicating our relationship, but he didn’t want any secrets between us.”
“Jesus, what kind of man did you dig up here? Most guys, you’re lucky if you can get the score of the game they’re watching.”
“I just don’t know what to do now, or even if I should do something.”
“Do you love him?”
“No,” I said quickly, but Van’s probing look urged me to reconsider the question. “I don’t want to fall in love with him. It just makes things more complicated.”
“Why not just enjoy what you have now? Let it sort itself out.”
“Because I’m not as levelheaded as you. Since he told me, I can’t stop thinking about the future, if we have one. What if we were really together? How do I know he wouldn’t disappear to some remote corner of the world when we had problems?”
“Mom! Mom!”
We looked up. Mackenzie was directly overhead, peering down at us from a clear, bulbous intersection of four tubes. “Hi, sweetheart,” I shouted over the din.
“I’m stuck. Can you come up and get me?”
I frowned at her. “I hope you’re joking.”
“I am,” she shouted, and scooted off down a passageway.
I turned back to Van. “I wish all my problems were that easy to solve.”
“You need to start by deciding if you want him enough to leave Matt.”
“I don’t know. I’ve already traded a certainty for an uncertainty. This feels like throwing my whole family into an abyss.”
~*~
Coffee, donuts, fruit, succulent, fresh-baked pumpkin muffins… (How did Ashland have time to bake?) It was 6:30 a.m. but the six graduate students gathered around the table leaned forward eagerly, laptops and tablets charged and ready. I surveyed this assemblage of the best young minds in archeology. They were here because they wanted to work under Ashland Stewart. They knew the next three months would be brutal, but being a part of the Magoa Team could propel them to the top of their field. I, on the other hand, wasn’t sure what would happen after my trial by fire, either professionally or personally. Part of me feared I was in over my head in both departments.
Ashland sat at one end of the table, ignoring the food. He was brusque and efficient as he reviewed what lay ahead. “We’re about to drop a very controversial theory onto a skeptical archeological world. Every piece of research, every artifact, must be checked and double-checked. Not having access to the site will make our work even more difficult. We can’t afford mistakes or sloppiness.”
Nina spoke up. “Unfortunately, we’ve learned some bad news about the conference. Dr. Crusher will be attending.”
Faces around the table dropped like walls crumbling from an ancient temple. “Why?” Elena asked. “I thought he never attended these things.”
“He’s receiving a lifetime achievement award,” Nina explained.
“It’s good that he’ll be there,” Ashland said. “If our theory can withstand the most withering criticism now, then it may stand the test of time.”
“There’s more than a theory and our careers at stake here,” Nina added. “If we can get most of the archeological community behind Magoa, it may pressure the North Korean government to allow further excavation.”
“What if it has the opposite effect?” Daniel Long interjected. I still hadn’t gotten over my surprise that such an intelligent young man resided in a good ol’ boy’s body.
Ashland looked around the table, meeting each of our eyes in turn. “Then I’ll regret this paper for the rest of my life. But where would archeology be without risk-taking? We owe it to Magoa to tell her story.”
After the meeting, I found Nina and Elena talking in the chilly hallway. “So what’s the story with this Dr. Crusher?” I asked.
“He and Dr. Stewart discovered the lost city of Shicheng,” Nina explained, “but Dr. Crusher thought Dr. Stewart received too much of the publicity.”
“Ash was the lead archeologist on the dig,” Elena said. “He deserved the credit.”
Nina nodded in agreement. “The media also knew Dr. Stewart’s face would sell magazines. When they put him on the cover of
Time
and
Newsweek
, Dr. Crusher was angry and bitter. He’s been looking for a chance to take Dr. Stewart down ever since.”
~*~
Our lives narrowed very quickly as we each withdrew from the world to focus on the tasks at hand. My little corner of the rare books library, which had been so cozy and inviting before the break, began to feel like a narrow canyon surrounded by steep cliffs of faded book spines. I worked at least 50 hours a week, occasionally emerging for a 15-minute lunch and one, perhaps two bathroom breaks, if I was lucky. The sky outside my little window was perpetually dull and gray, adding to the sense of isolation.
I finished translating the journal. After many arduous weeks, Ferreira made it back to the coast and eventually caught a ride with a passing Japanese ship. He didn’t mention Magoa again, but it was clear that his visit there had changed him. There were no more passages that read like rote recitations of what he had learned about faith in a Spanish monastery. Instead, Ferreira wrote with rapturous prose about the beauty of Asia and its people. He had lost his religion, but he had found his spirit.
The journal ended abruptly shortly after he reunited with Father Xavier. I suspect he couldn’t suppress his newfound passion. No wonder the church authorities ordered his journal destroyed.
After pausing a moment for a solitary celebration of my accomplishment, I turned back to the journal’s first page and began to review my work. My translation, which I felt so confident about in the first draft, now revealed itself as the work of an amateur. Mistakes sprouted like weeds on every page. More than once I was tempted to turn in my computer and white gloves and return to my former life. But I didn’t, even though my girls complained about Isabelle, frozen pizza, and Chinese delivery whenever I walked in the door, and Matt, on the rare occasions I saw him, was withdrawn and irritable. I felt guilty for neglecting them, but there was nothing I could do about it. I was working less than the rest of the team. I overheard Arturo and Vitoria sniping at one another in the hallway, Nina had taken to drinking coffee instead of tea, and Elena stopped dressing like a fashion model. Once, passing her in the student union, I failed to recognize her dressed in sweats, her hair haphazardly pulled back into a ponytail. Daniel and Nilima even dragged cots into a basement storage room so they could catch a few hours of sleep at night. Elena was sure they were sleeping together, but I couldn’t imagine it.
Even though we were working solo or in small groups, our mutual exhaustion bonded us. Running into one another in the restroom or hallway, we joked about being so absorbed in an ancient civilization that we wouldn’t know if our current one had collapsed.
Often, I forgot to look at my watch and my only gauge of time was when my little window went dark and Caroline came back to tell me she was leaving. A short time later I felt a chill descend on the silent building as the heat automatically set back.
Caroline was an enormous support, making tea and bringing in cookies that we would share at the library’s front desk. (No food or drink allowed in the stacks!) But the university wasn’t willing to pay her overtime, so Ashland made special arrangements for me to stay alone after closing hours. When I was ready to leave, I would call campus security and a maintenance person and police officer would arrive to lock the doors and escort me to my car. I was both grateful and resentful for their presence. They made me feel safe after campus had emptied out of everyone except the students stumbling drunk back to the dorms. On the other hand, it allowed me to stay as late as I wanted, sometimes until well after midnight. Thankfully, Matt was able to arrange his travel schedule so he could be home more. It was a relief to me and he began to enjoy getting more involved in the girls’ activities and homework.
I saw Ashland even more infrequently than my family and the rest of the team. When he wasn’t preparing his paper for the conference, he was on the phone or meeting with archeologists and government officials. On the rare occasions when I ran into him in the hallway we would pause a moment to share our progress before hurrying on. He seemed completely unfazed by the pace he was keeping. In fact, it appeared to energize him. We still communicated through our secret email accounts, though sometimes a day would go by before I could pause long enough to check it.
I want you,
he wrote.
I want your warm skin next to mine. I want to feel myself inside you.
The messages still made me wet, but there was an underlying tension caused by the words he hadn’t spoken or written since New Year’s.
I’ve fallen in love with you.
When I thought of his confession, I alternated between excitement and anger. I had become involved with a man who had spent most of his life running from the pain of love and commitment. Now, he embraced it. What was a goddess to do?
~*~
One night, my eyes so tired that Brother Ferreira’s elegant handwriting began to fuse together into a muddle of curves and slashes, I pushed the journal aside and picked up my phone from the table. The message I found was from that morning.
How are you holding up?
I’m OK.
I wrote back.
I miss you
.
We need to talk soon,
I added
.
I logged out of the account. Should I be more upfront? Should I write him a long email, explaining my conflicted feelings, telling him that I couldn’t fall in love with him? It felt cruel to leave Ashland’s declaration hanging like a forgotten Christmas ornament. I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, but there was no way to avoid that now.
I slipped the jewelry box out of my coat pocket, where I had left it hidden since New Year’s. I opened it and pulled out the silver chain, letting it sway back and forth before my eyes.
I’ve fallen in love with you.
Up to that point, the emotional consequences of my affair had lain outside my relationship with Ashland. We laughed, we talked, we fucked, we enjoyed one another’s company. Our affair was all about the present moment, not the future.
Did we have a future?
I glanced up at my little window to the outside world. The snow was falling thick and heavy outside. When had it started? It would make the drive home difficult. I might not even get out of the parking lot. I tried to focus on my work.
A loud thump against the window startled me. A fresh circle of snow was plastered against the pane. As I watched, another snowball hit the leaded glass with a muffled whack.
Curious, I rose and carried the journal back to the front desk. I tucked it and the gloves safely behind the desk, left my laptop on the counter, and went outside.
I was shocked by how much snow had fallen. Perhaps a foot covered the front steps, the walk, and the lawn. It continued to fall heavily. The whole world seemed lost in darkness and white.
There, in the middle of it, was our team. A strange madness had fallen over them. Snow flew like laughter in powdery clouds and heavy balls. Their cheeks red and their noses running, they had become children again. Daniel whipped a snowball at Nina, knocking off her knit cap. Nilima tumbled purposefully into a snowdrift, rising like a crazed Yeti, snow clinging to her face. Arturo and Vitoria lay side by side, making perfect angels in the pristine powder. Thomas Cheng grabbed handfuls of snow and tossed them gleefully into the air, a maniacal look on his face.
Standing like a general at the center of his demented army was Ashland. Grinning boyishly—and this was a man who would never be accused of having a Peter Pan syndrome—he whipped snowballs in Elena’s direction. “Magoa has driven you all mad!” I shouted at my colleagues.
Ashland whirled in my direction. “It’s about time you got out here.”
He scooped up a large handful of snow, packing the moist heavy flakes into a sizable projectile. He slowly approached me. “Was this your idea?” I asked, trying not to break into a smile.
“It’s part of my research. It turns out the Magoans had their own version of Boxing Day. One day a year, the men were in charge and this is how they let out their pent-up testosterone.”
“No wonder they weren’t in charge the other 364 days.”
He stopped and cocked his arm. “You’re going to regret that remark.”
Ashland had no idea whom he was up against. Backyard snowball fights were serious business at my house.
He fired the missile with precision, but I deftly evaded the shot. Without taking my eyes off him, I molded two handfuls of snow into a large sphere and launched it back at him. It caught him squarely in the chest. He looked down in surprise at the white blotch on his coat. “Impressive,” he remarked, but before I could get off another shot he charged me. I tried to run, but he caught me easily, gently tackling me on the soft snow. He then proceeded to shove copious amounts of snow down the back of my coat. Ashland rose, standing triumphantly over me as I laughed hysterically. Offering a hand, he helped me up. As he brushed snow from my hair, he leaned forward and whispered in my ear. “Even a Magoan goddess can be brought down to earth.”