journal article like an oven glove. “‘Kranz’s Kosher Pickled Herring.’” It had, of course, been thrown into the cart that is still, on the morning of Family Weekend, sitting under the stairs. Smelling of rotten herring.
I dial Lorraine Forster’s number, but the voice that answers is Matthew Dancey’s.
“Anna—are you out of your mind? It’s Family Weekend! I have to make a speech to the parents in less than an hour!”
“Yes, sir, I understand. But unless you want to make a speech explaining why the top floor is displaying graffiti that says—sorry, I’d like to give you this verbatim—” I pull the phone’s cord out from under my desk and walk into the hall. “‘If a priest’s daughter defiles herself by becoming a prostitute, she must be bur,’ I guess he ran out of paint here—I suggest you send someone up here pretty damn quick. Oh, and it says ‘WHORE’ across one of the office doors. Pardon my language, sir, I’m only quoting. And there is the further damage of spilled herring, moldy, pickled herring, which has been slopped all over my office door, so the place reeks to high heaven. Actually, maybe it would be easier to think of a reason why the fourth floor will be closed to all visitors today, only you’d have to inform Modern Languages of that, because—well, it’s their corridor, too.”
I can’t deny that I am enjoying this a little. The customized insult in the form and smell of kosher herring will earn a place in the Lieberman Hall of Fame, and as such it is here to stay. The opportunity to tell Dancey that a wall in his department is displaying the vilest kind of obscenity re the pending rape case, however, is too rare and too delicious not to be savored.
Two minutes later Dancey is surveying the evidence for himself, surrounded by everyone else who has arrived.
“I hope you weren’t planning on showing your kids where Mommy has her office,” I murmur next to Yvonne’s shoulder.
“Well, not today, that’s for sure,” Yvonne says with a grimace. “This smell is making my throat hurt, do you want to—”
“Good kosher herring is making your throat hurt?” I exclaim in mock outrage. “You anti-Semite! Oy, what next?”
“Stop it, Anna. This is not the right moment.”
“On the contrary, this is exactly the right moment.”
She scans me through narrowed eyes. “You’re furious, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I’m furious. Sorry, I’d love to get out of here, but I have to stay and see what they’re going to do with my door. I didn’t tell you, did I? A week ago they replaced the lock on my door. No one told me, no one left me a new key. I spent all of Monday trying to get into my own office. And now this. Oh, and there was some sort of oily goop on my door handle before, a couple of weeks back.”
“That’s mobbing, Anna, and it’s anti-Semitic. I told you from the first!”
“Well, it’s general assholery. And the only thing I hate worse than mobbing and anti-Semitism is general assholery, so…we’ll see how this plays out.”
“Anna, if you do meet Teddy and Alethea later on, you will mind your language, won’t you? You have the mouth of a ghetto queen on you.” Yvonne looks at me like a stern mother who understands why her overstrained toddler is screeching but nonetheless has to shut her up.
It is amazing to see how fast the administration of a private university can move if the objective is to shield parents from any knowledge that might confuse them as to where to send their next child. Within minutes of Dancey’s phone call to maintenance, a phalanx of men in overalls has appeared on the fourth floor. The graffiti is not a problem; a fresh coat of beigy-gray might look odd on old grubby beigy-gray, but not obscene. The letters on Natalie’s office door resist the solvent that is used on them, so some posters are found and strategically placed over them. My door is taken off its hinges, placed on a large plastic sheet and scrubbed, using liquid soap and language that would make any ghetto queen blush. I try to keep in the background, but when Larry glares at me, I glare back.
“Will you now stop thinking that I’m doing this myself, Larry?”
“I never said you was doin’ it, ma’am. I’m sayin’ you was havin’ it done to you. Take that Dumpster down, two of you,” he mutters to his young men.