in the waiting room at the english office, waiting to bitch about my fiction class, i ran into my favorite professor. she breezed through the doorway in her smart tweed suit, covered in mountains of books and papers and canvas bags, much the way she used to walk into class every day. “hi!” she said. “what are you taking?”
“oh,” i groaned, sorry to have to tell her i wasn’t taking any english classes, “philosophy. pharmacy. political science. all the p’s.”
“which political science?” she asked.
“constitutional design, with lutz. he seems pretty cool.”
“well, i think so,” she said. “he’s my husband.”
my head nearly exploded. “really?” i said, thinking that while they don’t have the same last name, they do have the same sense of humor, and i can picture them together. “he’s funny.”
“yes,” she said.
“i’m kind of digging this fictional country thing he’s got,” i said. (we’re designing a constitution for a country he made up.)
“yes, and the roleplaying will be fun, too,” she said. (he’s having people in the class play the members of the council. i’m tara pingapong.)
“yes!” i said.
“i think that’s the best class he teaches,” she said, before going into one of the offices to check her mailbox.
wow! my favorite professor of all time is married to the most promising one i have this semseter! i can just imagine their dinner table conversation — discussion of faulkner novels turns into suggestions of clever names for the fictional country’s indigenous peoples. what i wanted to ask her but couldn’t, though, was: what in the world does he have under that eyepatch of his? a bloody socket? a purple striped iris? a blank white eyeball with no pupil or iris at all? what? what?