Free Substitute for Love by Karin Kallmaker Page B

having it is an unfortunate barrier.”
    “One of those necessary evils that rob you of your essential humanity?” She took advantage of an 18-wheeler’s lag in acceleration to cut over a lane. The 405 was, as usual, a parking lot.
    He didn’t seem to notice the ironic edge to her tone. “Just that. Of course, I’d feel like I could really go for it if your situation were settled.” He threw her a charming glance and all at once she remembered the way he had been the first time she had seen him. Profound and compassionate, he had been dedicated to helping his students escape from the relentless message of a consumerist society. His first question for the class, that first day, had been, “So, what did you buy today?” The follow-up had been, “Why did you buy it?”
    It seemed ages ago, before he’d given her the presence of mind to accept herself. She amended her thoughts. To accept herself as he saw her. She had never accepted herself as she was. That much was clear. Of course, to accept herself as she was she needed to understand who she was. That equation was too complicated and frightening to approach rationally, so she put it away.
    “My situation? Oh, you mean job. I’m going to look into the master’s degree I turned down. I haven’t kept up on the field, at least not much, and a lot changes in four years in the sciences. There may be opportunities I never foresaw. Certainly, there may be developments I can’t follow or understand.” It was an unsettling thought.
    “So you really are going to do it? What are we going to live on? I don’t think my paycheck will cover the mortgage.”
    “It does, you know,” she said softly. She wanted to explain to him that he would have to figure it out from now on. She felt as if she was being a little unfair to him. She knew a part of his future and he had no clue. “And we live so cheaply.” She felt a fraud to say “we.”
    “You could get something part-time, maybe? That wouldn’t interfere too much with your studies.”
    Dumbfounded, she realized he was being supportive. He was actually suggesting a solution that would allow her to pursue her dreams. “Would this all be okay with you?”
    “I admit that last night I was taken aback. I meditated on it, and what you said was right. Just because I didn’t understand why someone wanted something didn’t mean they shouldn’t want it. Certainly not when it comes to improving the mind. You want this and if you are careful to avoid the negative applications of what you learn, you should be fine.”
    She pretended the need to change lanes so she could look away from him. It had been four years since she’d dropped that letter into the mail and said good-bye to this future. Why did he have to be this way all of sudden? Understanding, encouraging even? She had not caved in yesterday, had not admitted that she had made what he declared a mistake. Had he finally realized she had a right to a mind of her own?
    Had she misjudged him? Was all of this turmoil of her own making? She’d never been friendly with a lesbian before. Maybe it was just her libido talking — finally. Lesbian sex was foreign, forbidden, exotic. It was Murphy and her hands, and imagining them on Tori’s body. A fantasy, but nothing more. Maybe that was all there was to it. Yes, that could be all. She would plug that notion into a formula and see if she could live by it.
    “Am I being presumptuous?” His sudden question made her look back at him.
    “About what?”
    “You said the degree you turned down. That was at MIT. That’s a long way from here.”
    “I — I wasn’t considering colleges yet. I was going to step back and look at the field and try to measure what ground I would have to make up.”
    His nod was approving. “That’s a good plan.”
    She felt even more like a liar. He had obliquely asked if her plans meant she would consider moving. She had as much as said no. But she was going to move. Wasn’t she? Where had her