Radix was shocked when this teacher, standing behind him in the lunch line,
an Englishman named Stanley Bagshott, leaned close to his ear and asked to
borrow five dollars. "I've got myself in a spot of trouble," he said bunching his
shoulders.
Teachers were, if nothing else, an independent self-sufficient lot. They didn't run
out of pocket cash like factory workers with expensive habits.
The Englishman ̶ he quickly insisted Radix call him Stanley ̶ tried to appear
nonchalant. His face was strained; he hadn't shaved recently; his pea soup green
sweater hung on his shoulders as if, long passed over, it had been snatched
suddenly that morning from a drawer and pressed into service. He seemed in
genuine distress.
Radix, who first thought of pushing both trays to the cash register and paying for
two lunches, passed him a five dollar note.
Feeling he owed Radix some explanation for this unusual request he came over to
his table, shoulders still bunched. "Mind if I join you?" Radix gestured
indifferently.
"I don't mean to intrude," Stanley said; then he groaned. He got up to fetch paper
napkins. "Don't mean to intrude, " he resumed, "but there is something I think
you might appreciate." He got up again, he'd forgotten his plastic cutlery. He
settled down finally with a huge sigh, squirming in his chair, making airless
remarks about the weather, and how dark the future looked for the school.
Then: "What I wanted to tell you was this: I got married."
"Good grief, congratulations! Who's the lucky lady?"
"Do you remember Satin? The Indian girl in Special Ed? I'm sure you know her."
"A student? You got married to one of our students?"
"Well, she isn't a student any longer. We got married soon after she graduated, at
the end of the last semester."
Sensing Stanley wanted a sympathetic ear, Radix looked up from his plate with
frequency.
"I suppose you're wondering how this all came about, " Stanley said, studying the
other man, trying to determine how much he should reveal to him. "Or, as the
Americans would ask, What's going on here?"
Radix shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I had no idea you two…"
"I haven't told anyone else, but I think they know," Stanley said.
"You think they know?"
"The rest of the faculty. And maybe some students. I think one of the students saw
us together on the trains. Maybe everyone knows. This sort of thing you can't hide
forever."
"It shouldn't matter. She's no longer a student, right?"
"Yes, yes, the times are changing and all that, I know, but I can tell you," he
leaned over his plate and lowered his voice, "there are people in this neck of the
woods who are not too pleased with what has happened. When someone like me
consorts, if I may put it the way, with someone like Satin, it raises a few
eyebrows. No, not just eyebrows. It raises hackles. I'm sure questions have been
asked about the propriety, shall we say, of our relationship. I get the feeling it
would be fine if Satin were my kept woman, my mistress, you know. But
marrying her, well, that's something else altogether. Mind you, everything I've
done is above board. There's nothing they can do to me, like getting me fired or
anything. Not that it matters now."
Radix imagined battles shaping up ̶ Stanley vs.various Administrations; and he
decided if push came to shove, without reservation he would side with Stanley.
"You know how things are here, the strong anti-immigrant prejudice in this
country. Always been that way, of course. Isn't it amazing, especially when you
consider the nation was built on the backs of immigrants." Stanley rocked back
and laughed for no apparent reason.
"Has anyone said anything to you?" Radix asked
"In this building? No, and that's precisely the point. All of a sudden they're not
saying as much or smiling as they used to. And the payroll secretary…"
"Oh, I had problems with that woman."
"…you know, she gave me the strangest look when I told her about my change of
address, and enquired about changing my tax deduction code. I wouldn't put it
beyond her to begin snooping around, get a little private investigation going."
"What are you talking about? What's there to investigate?"
And Stanley, feeling there was enough genuine sympathy in the other man's
interest, put down his fork and began to explain the length and breadth of his
dilemma.
(from "Ah Mikhail, O Fidel!", a novel by N.D. Williams, 2001)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 