‘The Englishman who visits Mount Etna will carry his tea-kettle to the top.’ Now would you like a cup?”
“No, thank you.”
“Right. Now what can I do for you?” He asks taking a seat at his expansive ornate desk. His keen eyes stare, considering me.
“You’re my academic advisor,” I say.
“Right. Right. You mentioned that,” he says, leafing through various bulky stacks of paper cluttering his desk. “I have your file here.” He switches piles. “It was sent over yesterday.” Switching to the papers on the back of the credenza, he rifles through those as well.
“Is it in that stack?” I ask, pointing to a stack of blue binders with student names labeled on the front.
“What stack?” He looks at me, as if he’s not sure why I have spoken. His teal blue eyes muddle with a flash of confusion.
“Behind you. On the credenza.” I motion to the stack on the corner of the credenza behind him.
“Right. Right.” Pulling my file, he reviews its content, muttering out loud. “I see, hmm, excellent grades in secondary school. High college entrance scores. Good, good….Oh my, three schools in a year, one expulsion. Abysmal grades. How on earth did you ever get admitted here? We do have standards to adhere to after all.” He sniffs, murmuring to himself, “I see.” His ardent eyes settle on me again saying, “Why are you here, my dear?”
“You’re my advisor. Ms. Chadwick sent me.”
“Yes. But why are you here at Texas College? Are you interested in making a go of it?” He asks leaning in, intensely interested in my response.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Why are you in school if you don’t give a damn about giving it even a bit of effort?” His eyes narrow with a quizzical look.
“I don’t know what to say to that.” I sneer.
“I see.” Looking down, he reads a note, “Oh, I see here, Ms. Chadwick has scribbled some rather nasty notes…that woman is in dire need of a good shag, I must say…Hmmm.” He sifts through the papers. “Right, a trauma. You witnessed a robbery and a homicide…Terrible stuff…anyone would go a tad barmy under the circumstances.” His fingers rub his strong chin absentmindedly.
I study his puzzled expression as he reads, waiting.
“Right. Ms. Turner, it is clear to me that you are more than capable of making excellent marks. Stop fannying around and get on with it.” He swishes his hand toward the door. “Cheers, off you go.” He turns back to his paper shuffling process again.
I stand and walk out, completely confused. What was that? Where’s the ass chewing? The berating? Is that it?
As I walk down the steps of the English building, Karen waits on the steps so we can walk back to the dorm together. “What did he say?” she asks.
“He said, ‘I should stop fannying around and get on with it.’ What the hell does that mean?”
“It means you need to stop fooling around and start studying.”
“Oh.” I smile. “That’s it?”
“Yeah,” she says, straightening her back, “They don’t do a lot of hand holding at this point. You either do the work, or they flunk you. What did you think of him?”
“Kind of hot…he has a whole Sean Connery-thing going. Nice smile. He’s a bit off, though, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, He’s a tad disorganized. Did you get a load of his office?” She giggles covering her mouth to hide her grin. “I took his British Literature class last year. I tell you what…I could listen to him all day. I love a British accent.” She sighs. Pushing her glasses up her nose, she says, “That aside, he’s a good advisor, helpful, kind, straight-forward. He’s one of those teachers that doesn’t sugar coat it. I have Ms. Prendergast this year.” She rolls her eyes. “Ugh. Sugary sweet. I think she’s trying to encourage but she doesn’t offer any real help.”
As we walk through the quad, a group of guys approach, laughing and joking around, still dressed in their soccer uniforms.
“Hi Bobby,” Karen says.
“Ladies,” he says drawing the word out with a slight Spanish accent.
“Hey,” I say.
Bobby’s eyes roam up and down my body only to look away in disinterest. Turning to his teammate he says, “Es un traje caliente.” He gestures like he’s touched something hot.
As I pass, I turn back calling, “Muchos gracias. Bolas de acero cuando usted habla español, huh?”
Bobby looks mildly surprised, and shrugs. His Hispanic teammates crack up and the others look back and forth between us.
Karen asks, her face intrigued, “What