Read Fall Semester for Free Online Page B

the weekend with La Fuente de Piedra , this was notable.
    All three of his classes finished with unremarkable progress, and Malcolm prepared himself for the trip to the bank. A box. He still needed to find the right box. Leaving his last class, Malcolm headed across the second floor of Griffin to the department office. Suzy Ryers, the department secretary, would have something.
    When he stepped in, he found himself glancing to the left to Dorothy’s office. To his relief, the door was closed. As usual, the department office was crowded. The one copy machine was always in demand, and the contraption had a habit of seizing up mid-job at least once a week.
    He found Suzy crouching before the machine, peering into its blackened innards to find the offending jam. A new T.A. stood behind her, looking both culpable and desperate, clutching several pages to her chest. Malcolm sighed.
    The T.A. glanced at him, eyes wide.
    “You don’t need the copier, do you?” she asked.
    “No.” Malcolm waited for Suzy to acknowledge him, but like every departmental secretary he ever knew, she would rather act like a horse with blinders. If she made eye-contact, she might actually have to do two things at once.
    You know I’m standing here. Ask me what I want.
    Malcolm waited. Sighed. Folded his arms across his chest. Suzy stuck one hand inside the copier, used the other to turn the bright blue crank. Malcolm could see that she had toner up to her elbow. The T.A. looked at the office door, seeming to envision escape.
    “Suzy…?” he tried.
    The secretary grimaced, reaching further. Malcolm heard paper tearing. She ignored him.
    “Suzy.”
    She sagged then, shoulders slumping and arm still hidden in the machine. She faced him with a glare.
    “Yes, Dr. Vashal?”
    “Can you tell me where I can find a box? About the size of a… of a phone book?”
    Behind her wall-eyed glasses, she arched her brows at him.
    “Could you give me one second? And I’ll be happy to help you.” She sounded anything but happy, but went back to the copier full-strength, able to ignore him again.
    Malcolm stifled another sigh, eyed the half-wall that formed a corral around Suzy’s domain. None of the secretary’s student aids were anywhere to be seen. He glanced at his watch. 3:15. Of course, they would have left at three. He dared not cross the swinging corral gate to hunt for a box. Malcolm looked from her desk back to Suzy again, but he scanned the area for any sign of a box. Nothing.
    “Come on!” Suzy demanded the copier. Malcolm looked back to see her tug-of-warring against a shred of paper. It came free in her hands, and the secretary smiled with triumph. With bovine lurching, she stood up and slammed shut the copier façade, resetting the machine. The suffering T.A. took a tentative step forward.
    “Is it ready?” she chanced. Suzy touched the START key, and the copier whirred to life.
    Suzy walked past Malcolm to the corral.
    “Do you need it for the meeting?” she asked, without glancing his way.
    Malcolm frowned.
    “What meeting?”
    Suzy turned and eyed him over the top of her glasses.
    “The creative writing division meeting. At 3:30.” She tapped a memo that lay on the counter in front of him for emphasis.
     
    Creative Writing Divisional Meeting
    (C.W. faculty and grad students)
    Friday, Sept. 4 @ 3:30
    Rm 530 Griffin
     
    (Pizza and beer to follow at Bisbano’s.)
     
    Fuck!
    As a translator, Malcolm qualified as a member of the creative writing faculty. They met with the grad students two Fridays a month. He’d forgotten, and it would be impossible to skip the first meeting of the year.
    Malcolm was still staring at the notice when Suzy handed him an empty envelope box.
    “Will this do?”
    The meeting. The bank. The gun.
    Fuck.
    Malcolm felt a sweat wash over him.
    “Yeah,” he muttered, grabbing the box and heading back to his office. He had five minutes to contemplate.
    There was no way out of it; he could not miss the meeting.