Free Poetic Justice by Amanda Cross Page A

the whole Department realized for years that Emilia was writing them. She never has anything to do with anything in the Department, never goes to parties or gives them; she
might
come down on our side on this issue—it’s not unlikely.”
    “What does she look like?” Frogmore said. “I thought I knew all the tenured English faculty.”
    “What she looks like is the whole point, as you’d realize the moment you clapped eyes on her. She’s a large woman with flat shoes, wide skirts, and glasses, who gives you the impression that she could actuallybe a
jolie laide
if someone with the combined talents of Sophie Gimbel and Yves St. Laurent would only take her in hand. She’s got five children and a husband, and that’s almost all I know about her, although I know her better than most people, since we’re the only two women with tenure in the Department and we inevitably find ourselves together in the ladies’ room from time to time. Her specialty’s drama, and the only other thing I know about her is that when I once asked her what she thought of Clemance, she said that apart from the fact that he was pompous, a company man and a male chauvinist, she had nothing against him, which I suppose, is another good sign for us. All the rest of the Department don’t have votes on the Senior Faculty Committee, being non-tenure, and need not concern us, though of course they wield more influence than is often realized. I hope I have made it quite clear that this is going to be an uphill fight.”
    “You don’t know how uphill,” McQuire said. “It’s on the question of promotions that I’ve had my troubles with the Economics Department. The point is, we want you to see that a couple of assistant professors who’ve been teaching at the University College get promoted.”
    “You don’t want much, do you?” Kate asked.
    “The thing about Frogmore,” McQuire said, “is that easy fights bore him.”
    “Listen, Kate,” Frogmore said, “I don’t want to be Dean of University College if it gets a new image, a new lease on life, and a new destiny. I want to be president of a girls’ college somewhere very rural and genteel. But I want to see University College the model of the eliteadult education for the whole United States, and I want it so badly that I’m going to get it.”
    “What odd reasoning,” Kate said.
    “No, it’s not,” Frogmore said. “When you find a man who wants something very badly, and doesn’t want it for himself, watch out.”
    Kate stared at Frogmore awhile. “Do you know, Vivian,” she said, “like the man, meaning McQuire here, said, you got guts.”
    “What happens at that Senior Faculty Committee meeting on Monday is going to show us a lot,” Frogmore said.
    “I can hardly wait,” Kate laughed.
    Then she hurried home to Reed.

There will be no peace,
Fight back, then, with such courage as you have
And every unchivalrous dodge you know of,       
Clear in your conscience on this:
   Their cause, if they had one, is nothing to them now;
They hate for hate’s sake.
Five
    M ONDAY , Kate reached Baldwin at two, in time for her office hour. The Senior Faculty Committee meeting was scheduled for four that afternoon, and Kate hoped, without too much conviction, to pick up a few tips before the meeting on the way the wind was blowing. So political a thought had not previously occurred to her and marked, no doubt, her initiation into the world of history. Clio, she thought, stand me now and ever in good stead.
    “We have found no one for Swahili,” a voice said. “How is Bulwer-Lytton doing? Look, the elevator is actually coming,” Mark Everglade added. “There must be something wrong with it.”
    “I do think,” Kate said as they got in, pressed ‘8’ and watched the doors close, “that such consistent pessimism is surely the triumph of experience over hope,not to mention reason. Even this University’s elevators must work occasionally. The law of averages …”