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  Jess laughed hard, choking on her beer. “Oh, I can talk to a woman when her feet are up in the stirrups. Then she’s not a woman, she’s a patient. It’s just beautiful women in bars I can’t seem to talk to without making a fool of myself.”

  Jennifer appeared at Alison’s side, her sandy arm wrapped affectionately around her girlfriend’s neck. “Ready to head out Ali? I need a shower and we have class first thing!”

  It was astounding how oblivious Jennifer could be. She seemed to have no idea she had interrupted a conversation at such an intriguing moment. Before Alison could find words to speak, Jess excused herself and melted into the crowd. Sighing, Alison followed her friends out of the bar, her half-finished beer abandoned on the table.

  Chapter Eight

  “So, in our reading for last week, we were introduced to the Querelle du Roman de la Rose.” Standing, Alison leaned against the front edge of her desk to address her class. “You’ll recall this was a literary controversy that took over several European courts during the early fifteenth century. It centered on Jean de Meun’s continuation of the epic poem Romance of the Rose. More specifically, his portrayal of women in it. Her part in the debate launched the career of Christine de Pizan. Who can tell me what her issue with de Meun was?”

  Two dozen sets of eyes dipped down to their desktops. It was the standard reaction for an introductory level class. She knew that if she waited, a brave soul would rise to the challenge. That brave soul appeared in the form of an undersized boy with pouting lips and a hint of a Korean accent.

  “She didn’t like his language. She thought it was vulgar.” He looked around to see if anyone wanted to chime in, but no one did. “She also said it was inaccurate. That a woman of high birth would never use the language he used.”

  “It was also how he portrayed them.”

  Alison turned her attention to the new speaker, an eager blonde with a long ponytail and frameless glasses. “He denigrated women. He showed all of them as sluts and gold-diggers.”

  “A rather modern way of putting it, but absolutely true. You’re both right. By criticizing both the message and the language he used, she hit him on two fronts. Both his literary ability and his morality.”

  A voice piped up from the back of the room. “So she basically said ‘you suck as a writer, oh and you’re also a huge misogynist.’”

  There was a smattering of laughter and Alison smiled. “Essentially, yes. She just used big words and a lot of sarcasm, but that’s the basic idea. She used intellectualism to pick apart his work and left his supporters in the rhetorical dust. It was a formidable argument, and she caught more than a few people’s eye.”

  Alison pushed away from the desk and paced the width of the classroom.

  “Here was a woman who was standing up for women and she was eloquent and intellectual and she made this famous man look like a fool and a bully. Keep in mind this was a time of chivalry, and he was disrespectful to women.”

  “So, a normal man then.”

  More laughter for this one, and Alison turned to the girl in frameless glasses with a good-natured smile. “Oh, I’ve known a man or two who was nice enough. Even after the first date, if you can believe it!”

  The girl in the back spoke up again and Alison recognized her as the class activist. “Didn’t Simone de Beauvoir call her the first feminist?”

  Alison stopped her pacing, appreciating the contribution. “She did. In 1949 she said that de Pizan demonstrated ‘the first time a woman took up her pen in defense of her own sex.’”

  She turned to look at the slide projected on the whiteboard behind her desk. It showed de Pizan kneeling in front of the Queen of France, presenting one of her books to the monarch. It was one of Alison’s favorite depictions of de Pizan, so she always included it in her lectures. The women stood tall, their backs straight and shoulders proud, nearly identical to the portrayal of men at the time.

  “We should be careful with that assessment, however. Remember that Simone de Beauvoir was a philosopher, not a historian. She was correct to say that de Pizan was unique for her time and she was certainly a strong female role model, but to call her a feminist is a bit anachronistic.”

  “What do you mean?” called the activist.

  “I mean that de Beauvoir had a habit of bending fact to meet her own agenda. Her understanding of the time and the individual was limited.” She focused on her class, hands clasped behind her back. “In any event, why don’t we talk about the idea that she did defend her sex? Let’s look at one of her more famous works, The Book of the City of Ladies. In it she discusses the virtues of a society that is built by women and which values women.”

  She moved back to her desk and turned to the boy with the Korean accent. “Can you tell me one of her assertions, Mr. Kim?”

  He stammered a bit, and his face darkened worryingly, but he didn’t have to consult his notes to answer. “She said women should recognize and embrace their ability to make peace between people.”

  “Absolutely correct.” She gave him an encouraging smile. “Obviously she never saw women in a scrum trying to catch the bouquet at a wedding. Not much peacemaking going on there.”

  There was a snort from the TA’s desk in the corner where Jennifer sat taking notes. More eyes were on Alison now, and they were bright with interest.

  “What else?” She addressed the girl with the rimless glasses who was practically hopping in her seat. “Ms. Barnes?”

  She read from her notes in a clear, carrying voice, “A woman’s influence is realized when her speech accords value to chastity, virtue and restraint.”

  “Now you know why I don’t put her in with feminism. Those aren’t exactly the ideals shared by women’s lib.”

  The activist in the back row piped up again, “Definitely not the restraint part!”

  “Extra credit for a bra burning joke!”

  Even Mr. Kim laughed at that. Jennifer tapped three times on her desk with the tip of her pen. It was their signal that class time was ending and Alison needed to wrap the discussion up.

  “Okay. I think we’ll leave it there. I don’t want to go too in depth and take away all the points you’re bound to make in your essays about de Pizan.” The usual groan rose from the crowd at the mention of writing an essay, but Alison talked over it. “Remember folks, I’m old school. You can email me your essays or put them in my mailbox, but you will get a paper copy back with my notes. Enjoy the rest of your evening, everyone.”

  She stepped behind her desk while the class filed out. They were chatting among themselves, and she caught some discussion about history mixed in with the usual banter. She looked up in time to see the thin form of the women’s libber squeeze past a guy with a blue mohawk to chat with Mr. Kim. The girl’s smile made him blush even brighter than he had when Alison called on him, and he had to sit back down after she walked away. He stumbled out of the classroom at last, looking lost but happy.

  Jennifer slid over to the front row of desks, adjusting the one his large backpack had knocked out of place. “Great discussion today.”

  “It was. Nice to see the class involved.” Alison slumped into her desk chair, letting the stress of another day roll out of her. “There hasn’t been much of that yet this semester in any of my classes.”

  “Well it’s early yet. This group still has plenty of time to disappoint you.” Jennifer laughed at her own joke. “You’re not a big fan of Simone du Beauvoir, are you?”

  Alison curled her lip. “Not at all. She was a rude, pedantic, sexual predator who lured impressionable teenage girls into her bed and then passed them off to Sartre as if they were her property when she was done with them. And she’s this pioneer of feminism. Despicable.”

  “She was hardly the poster child for discretion, I’ll give you that, but predator’s a bit harsh. Her contributions to the feminist movement are undeniable. No one’s perfect.”

  “Her least of all. I’m not a fan of moral ambiguity. That’s why I’m a his
torian and not an ethicist.”

  Jennifer began to pack away her notes. “Ah, yes. The moral high ground that was the Middle Ages?”

  “Precisely.” Alison laughed, letting her head loll over the back of her chair and closing her eyes. “Do you think the students picked up on how much I dislike her?”

  “You aren’t as subtle as you like to think, Ali.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I don’t think many of them will be citing her in their essays. Well, Jerry might. He’s not much on subtlety either.”

  “Which one is Jerry?”

  “The one with the lip ring. And the nose ring. And the eyebrow ring. And the blue mohawk. Like I said, not subtle.”

  “Oh, right. Mr. Graves.” Alison had picked up the practice of referring to her students by their last name when she studied abroad. She hadn’t been able to shake the habit, so her colleagues chose to embrace it as her own little quirk. “He’s also the one who doesn’t know the difference between there, their and they’re. Trust me, I don’t expect much from him. Maybe all that metal in his face is weighing him down. Probably has misspelled tattoos too. Word is he’s brilliant with numbers. I wonder if he knows Goldman Sachs has a dress code.”

  Jennifer dropped her bag with a bang on the desk. Alison looked up to see she was grinning from ear to ear. “Speaking of tattoos, Courtney says you were chatting up some inked hottie sporting a lesbian fauxhawk last night. I wasn’t sober enough to notice, but Courtney can generally be counted on to spot the hottest chicks in any public space.”

  Alison sat up straighter in her chair. “Doesn’t it bother you that your girlfriend checks out other women?”

  “Nope.” The grin on Jennifer’s face gave strength to the assertion. “I know where she spends her nights.”

  “It doesn’t make you just a touch insecure?”

  “Not at all. I have abundant confidence in my sexual prowess.”

  “Must be nice.”

  “It is. So tell me about her.”

  Alison stood and started stuffing papers into her bag at random. “She’s my friend’s doctor.”

  “And?”

  “And discussion about an idiot freshman made you think of her. That should tell you all you need to know.”

  “So that’s it? She has tattoos and a funky hairstyle and you write her off?”

  “No.” She picked up her bag and headed to the door, Jennifer a step behind. “I also know she doesn’t like Richmond and she is assertively happy. It’s annoying.”

  Jennifer’s laughter was drowned out by the bang of Alison shutting the classroom door behind them. “Sins beyond measure.”

  “I love Richmond. I grew up here. It’s in my blood. The sound of the river rushing over the rapids at Pony Pasture. The view from Hollywood Cemetery. The cobblestone streets. The Greek Festival!”

  “Yeah, yeah. Gyros are great and all, but seriously Prof, you need to get laid.”

  They reached the door to Alison’s office, which she locked without going inside. “First, no one says ‘Prof’ anymore and second, I’m on your dissertation committee. Remember that before you insult me.”

  “Yeah, and you would tell me that I need more evidence than you just provided.”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t work so hard to find something wrong with her.”

  “Drop it.” Jennifer slipped ahead of her and opened the stairwell door, holding it wide so Alison could walk through. “Anyway, how come your flirty girlfriend has never said I’m the hottest woman in the bar?”

  “Who says she hasn’t? I just didn’t think it would do my chances at a PhD any favors if we invited my advisor to be our third.”

  “It definitely wouldn’t.” She had meant it as a joke, but she couldn’t quite tell if Jennifer was joking or not. “You’re sweet, but I know you’re lying.”

  Jennifer let out an exaggerated sigh that Alison took as a sign that she was messing around. “I guess Courtney is doomed to disappointment. Anyway, I know neither of us is your type.”

  They pushed through the exit door and stepped out into a burst of early autumn sunshine. “Threesomes aren’t my type.”

  “Hey, don’t knock it till you try it.”

  “Knock. Knock. They aren’t my type.”

  “Well, well! Alison Reynolds, full of untapped secrets!”

  Alison came to a stop. “They will remain untapped, thank you very much.”

  Jennifer shrugged and gestured with her thumb over her shoulder. “Need an escort home?”

  “No thanks.” She moved off in the other direction, the ghostly silhouettes of the downtown office towers not quite visible from here, but almost. “I’m headed down to the hospital.”

  “Give my best to Beth. And the hot doctor.”

  Chapter Nine

  Alison was still thinking about her class when she walked into the hospital lobby. She’d had precious few good discussions this school year, and she allowed herself a slice of pride over this last one. She was still thinking about it when she boarded the elevator with a small crowd, and still preoccupied when she pressed her floor button. It wasn’t until a man pushed onto the elevator just before the door closed that her mind switched gears. He turned and apologized to everyone in the car, and something about his demeanor reminded her of Jess. After that her already jumpy mind wouldn’t settle back on her class no matter how hard she tried to return there.

  By the time the elevator doors opened and she worked her way through the crowd, her mind had drifted to her conversation with Jennifer. She wasn’t really looking for a reason to dislike Jess. She didn’t have to. The reasons were all right in front of her. But her mind quit its moorings once again, this time wandering to the conversation with Jess at Babe’s. It hadn’t been all that bad, talking to her over a beer. If she could steer the conversation away from anything she particularly cared about, there was the potential for her to end up tolerating Jess’s presence after all.

  Alison was so distracted that she jumped when she heard Jess’s voice. She was standing halfway down the corridor, her back to Alison, deep in conversation with an older, balding man wearing brown corduroy pants with creases so straight and sharp they could have been chiseled from marble, and an ill-fitting lab coat. He faced Jess with his hands clasped behind his back, bobbing on the balls of his feet. His expression was roughly identical to the one Alison’s grandfather used when she told him about what she learned in elementary school. Jess was blandly describing something that Alison assumed was about a patient, though she didn’t understand much and they didn’t use any names. A nurse she recognized from the previous day as Beth’s hovered nearby.

  The older doctor’s bushy eyebrows lifted all but to what would have once been his hairline and he nodded. “That is very astute of you, Dr. Baker. I must admit, I am pleasantly surprised by your handling of this case.”

  “How kind of you, Dr. Emmett.”

  He continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “I have found that physicians of your generation tend to lean toward surgical interventions rather than letting the pregnancy follow its natural course.”

  “Interesting. I’ve found that all physicians, no matter their age, follow the advice of their mentors. If the doctors here are relying too heavily on surgical intervention, perhaps we should reevaluate the way we train them. You should bring it up at the next faculty meeting.”

  His smile stayed perfectly in place despite the veiled insult. “A good doctor will take advice, but still blaze his own trail. No, I think age is a major factor. There is a certain arrogance to youth. It’s rather pronounced in your generation, but you seem to be immune. And how old are you, Dr. Baker?”

  “Old enough that your well-meaning condescension qualifies as regular old condescension, Dr. Emmett.”

  His veneer finally cracked. “Well! No need to be rude. I was just being polite.”

  “No, you were being passive aggressive, but I understand those two are the sa
me thing here in the South.”

  He stared hard at her for what should have been an uncomfortably long time. She didn’t so much as blink. Eventually he recognized defeat, turned on his heel and marched away. The nurse stared at Jess as though she were either some superhero brought to life or a mental patient. “Dr. Baker!”

  Her voice was still stiff when she said abruptly, “Jess.”

  “I don’t know if that was wise. Dr. Emmett has been here for longer than I’ve been alive. He plays golf with the governor and the attorney general.”

  “Sounds like he spends too damn much time on the golf course. If he spent his time here, he would find several excellent young doctors. Instead he wanders in, insults the staff and wanders off again. Maybe this place needs some new blood.” Her shoulders slumped and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I probably shouldn’t have let that happen in front of you, Nancy. That was very unprofessional.”

  “I’m sure you can smooth it all over with Dr. Emmett.”

  “Oh, I don’t give a shit about him. I’m apologizing to you for being unprofessional.”

  The nurse looked down and smiled at her toes. “You know he’s friends with half the hospital’s Medical Board right?”

  “They spent too much money to bring me here to get rid of me.” She smiled at the nurse, who seemed to melt a few inches into the floor. “They knew what they were getting. Too late to back out now. Anyway, I should get back to work. Was there anything else you needed, Nancy?”

  She shook her head and Jess walked away, unaware of the almost slavish way Nancy’s eyes followed her. Alison’s jaw clenched so hard she heard her own teeth creak.

  A few minutes later she burst through the door of Beth’s room more forcefully than she had intended, and Beth jumped.

  “Christ almighty, Alison! Are you trying to scare me into labor or what?”

  “Sorry,” she said, not sorry at all, and slammed her bag down. She flung herself into the chair next to the bed.

  “Girl, what in the hell is wrong with you today?”

  “It really bugs me when people are outright rude for no reason.”