Moo (48 page)

“The organization did have a permit to gather,” said Provost Harstad, who has come under fire for allowing the protest to get out of hand. “All sorts of groups, from fundamentalist sects to rock bands, hold rallies on the campus. We had no reason to expect that this group would be any different from the rest.”

An investigation by reporters of the
State Journal
has revealed an irregularity in the permit, however. Rather than having been signed by Provost Harstad, this particular permit was signed by Mrs. Loraine Walker, Provost Harstad’s secretary. While Mrs. Walker has assured reporters that such a procedure was routine, university Associate Vice-President Robert W. Brown said this evening that “inquiries are being made.”

In a late-breaking development, the
Journal
has learned that the protest group “Stop the Destruction,” which allegedly catalyzed around university sponsorship of a study approving gold mining in the last virgin cloud forest in the western hemisphere, located in Peru, will move their protest to the state capital, where the state board of regents is meeting this week. City police say, “Let them come. We’re ready for them.”

Transcript—lead news story, KSAT-TV News, January 30, 1990.

“Violent protest today at the state university campus. More after this.

“It seemed like a return to the late nineteen-sixties today, when a violent protest broke out in front of the main administration building up at the state university. Three people were hurt and many windows were broken in a fracas that lasted more than two hours. Reporter Sarah Hobby has more. Sarah? What’s going on up there?”

“Well, Steve, things are quiet now, but it was quite a scene here a few hours ago. It seems that one group, called “Stop the Destruction,” has been holding a vigil in front of Lafayette Hall here for each of the last three days. I have one of their flyers here, and the problem seems to be university sponsorship of ecologically destructive mining in Central America, though the flyer also talks about biodiversity, destruction of the ozone layer, the greenhouse effect, and overpopulation.”

“How did the vigil escalate, Sarah?”

“Well, Steve, it seems that after three days, the vigil had drawn quite a crowd, and somehow a fight began between two faculty members.”

“Two faculty members?”

“Yes, Steve, in fact the chairman of the horticulture department seems to have tried to throttle the dean of extension, who was passing
on his way to lunch. It seems that they were longtime adversaries. We understand that the horticulture chairman is in the hospital as we speak, but that the dean suffered only very minor injuries.”

“What’s the reaction up there, Sarah?”

“Well, Steve, most people are shocked, of course, though one student did voice the feelings of many when he said, ‘Wow, you should have seen these old dudes rolling around in the snow and fighting. It blew me away, man!’ ”

“Thank you, Sarah. We’ll have more on this story as it comes into our newsroom.”

State Journal
, January 31, 1990: “Provost Denies Allegations.”

Provost Ivar Harstad denied today that the university was sponsoring a gold mine under a rain forest in Peru. Recent allegations by a campus protest group have alerted environmental organizations both inside and outside of the state, who promised to mobilize lobbying efforts to prevent the mining. In a prepared statement, Provost Harstad declared, “This university is not in the mining business. We are in the business of education.” The statement denied the allegation that a university-sponsored report had promoted such mining. “While individual faculty members may be hired as consultants by certain corporations, the university itself does not act in such a capacity. We have no interests in Peru, India, China, or anywhere else in the Third World.”

Noticias Mercurios de San José
, 1 de febrero, 1990.

Hoy, en una acción no esperada, el senador Hector Salazar retractó las acusaciones de soborno que hizo hace diez dias en la Asemblea Nacional. En un comentario preparado, el senador Salazar dijo que había estado mal informado por sus fuentes sobre el origen de las fotos que el había enseñado y de las figuras que identificó en el 19 de enero como el secretario del estado Oscar Montez y Juan Molina, un abogado de San José y hermano del presidente Roberto Molina. El senador Salazar se negó a responder a preguntas después de su corto comentario, pero un miembro de su gabinete, Ana Guzman, luego dijo a periodistas que las fotografías aparecen ser fotos fijas de una película de Hollywood filmada en Costa Rica el otoño pasado. “Cualquier persona puede estar mal informado,” dijo ella.

Miembros del partido de la Democracia Social se levantaron en sus pies demandando que el senador Salazar y los oficiales del partido de la Victoria se desculparan, pero el senador Salazar dejó la cámara inmediatamente después de que leyó su comentario.

El presidente Molina después expresó satisfacción que la crisis reciente parecía haber pasado. “Nuestra dedicación a la paz y al gobierno
honesto nunca ha fallado,” dijo. Cuando los periodistas le preguntaron sobre qué piensa del hecho que los habían confundido a su hermano y al secretario del estado por los actores norteamericanos Mel Gibson y Dennis Quaid, el presidente Molina dijo, “¡El fotógrafo tenía que estar usando unos lentes muy, muy largos!”

State Journal
, February 5, 1990: “Governor Proposes Cuts.”

In a memorandum to the state board of regents today, Governor Orville T. Early proposed another round of cuts in state support of education. The governor said that he would press for a reversion of $5 million from the budget of the state university. In order to fund the reversion, he suggested that the university administration “fire all those bozos up there who are getting the sons and daughters of the people of this state stirred up. That’s what the people of this state want and that’s what they are going to get.” When asked whether the budget reversion was designed to be a punitive one, in light of recent protests on the campus, Governor Early said, “You bet.”

M
ARLY
, who had finished her shift after lunch and gone home without passing Lafayette Hall, was just waking up from a long nap when Nils called her from the emergency room at the hospital. She looked at her watch as she answered. It was nearly seven and she had slept through Father’s suppertime. Where was Father, anyway? She picked up the phone on the fourth ring after calling out, “Father? Father? You here?” and receiving no answer. Rooms were dark.

“… pick me up because Ivar is all involved with the police,” said Nils.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, my dear, you’ll be happy to know that my injuries seem to be very slight, although I am sure that there will be neck problems later on. And I am going to press charges against that little man—”

“Nils, I’ve been asleep, so I really don’t know what you are talking about.”

“This sort of thing is at the root of our social ills, in my opinion. I don’t think anyone could accuse me of being a vindictive man, and I can truly say that I don’t feel any anger at the
person
, only at the
act—”

“What act?”

Shortly thereafter, Marly Hellmich realized that she had missed the only exciting thing to happen in this town in her lifetime.

Nils was waiting, his coat buttoned, his hat on, and his leather gloves in his hand, in the chair closest to the door of the emergency entrance, so that as soon as Marly walked in, she saw him. That is, before she had prepared herself to see him. He stood up with a courtly smile, saying, “There you are, my dear.”

Two of his fingers were taped together and he had a circular white bandage attached to his forehead. He put his hand on her shoulder. He looked, even more than usual, as if he had had his throat slit, been turned upside down, and drained of blood. “Not too fast,” he said as she led him to her car.

“Nils, are you really all right? You look terrible.”

“It has been a trial, my dear. Did you see me on the local news? I know I was on KCOM, but only for a split second, as they were carrying me off the field. Would you mind opening the door, my dear? I am just so very stiff.”

As he got into the car, his muffler slipped down, and she saw the bruises around his neck, standing out violet against the deathly pale flesh. She looked away.

As she pushed the key into the ignition, she said, “Who in the world attacked you, Nils?”

He drew himself up with a groan. “A very unimportant little man, my dear, that chairman of the horticulture department. He is a madman, in my opinion, a regular Luddite. I’ve been patient with him for years, turning my cheek week after week to one insult after another. Well.” Nils’ voice went very soft, and Marly strained to hear it. “He. Is. In. Deep. Shit. This. Time.” Marly gave out a bark of laughter, but Nils pretended not to hear her.

She drove carefully, slowing for yellow lights, looking for oncoming cars at stop signs as if they might pop into sight without warning from another dimension and crash right into her. Perhaps she was still disoriented from her nap, Marly thought.

Nils said, “The accusations he made against me were highly unwarranted. The coca plant isn’t even grown in Ceylon, as far as I know! It is not criminal to plant corn in Asia …” His voice trailed off.

Marly didn’t answer, a victim of her own guilty conscience. Hadn’t this man, her husband-to-be, treated her from the first moment with kindness and generosity? Hadn’t he taken her as he found her, accepted Father and all the rest of her crazy family, spent money on her, promised to spend more? In some way, that hurt her the most, that he had bought her clothes and pieces of jewelry, that he had bought her father a Lane recliner, deprecating the gift with the remark that it would fit nicely with the furniture in the big brick house. Father used that recliner all the time now, sat right down in it, swinging his rear from side to side and screwing his shoulders into the luxuriously padded chair back, finding all the comfort there was to find. Nils’ fiscal surplus and her lifelong deprivation had seemed to her from the first like tab A and slot B—a perfect fit—but now as she drove carefully along, his gifts struck her as poignant.

Her sympathies lay with his attacker, not with him. Without even knowing the other man’s motive, Marly could supply one of her own.
There he had been (she imagined), standing on the sidewalk, and here came Nils Harstad, pale and bustling and self-important, and he had just wanted to. That was all. He had felt his hands clench into fists and his body tense. Nils could provoke that. He could make you just want to punch him or strangle him or trip him. As Nils came along the sidewalk, his feet turned out, his face wide and bland, the wanting had grown unbearable, the hands had risen of themselves, a throttling had commenced.

It was reassuring in a way, because it made her same desires not so much her fault after all.

They pulled up at his big brick house. He opened his door, but she did not touch hers. He said, “Do come in, my dear. Ivar isn’t home, and it would be sweet to feel your gentle touch on my fevered brow.”

Marly sat still.

“I will tell you all about it.”

“Really, Nils. Really. I haven’t made Father his supper yet. You know how he is. Maybe I’ll come back later. You’ll be all right, I bet.”

After a long quiet moment, Nils pushed the squeaky door on his side all the way open (not like the door of the Lincoln, which practically opened itself, heavy as it was) and hoisted himself out with a little groan. Marly sat curled over the steering wheel. When, almost to the door, he turned, she gave him a big wave and a bright smile.

I
VAR LAY
on Helen’s couch, listening to Mozart’s Sinfonia Concertante on the CD player. He couldn’t see anything, though, because Helen had placed an extremely fragrant warm cloth over his face. Now she was in the kitchen, making some little delicious thing to eat, something to revive him before he had to get back to his office for a meeting with the president.

Ivar understood his position perfectly, and more than that, he accepted it as his office. The university had become a broad, bare field in the center of which he stood alone, while everyone else covered their heads and fled. His job was to stand there, smiling, pretending that everything was fine, while sniper fire from the press, the regents, the legislature, the governor’s office, the faculty senate, and the parents of students ricocheted all around him. He had to keep smiling and use certain words, “concerned,” “situation,” “of course,” over and
over again. Other, truer words and phrases ran through his head. “Fall guy” was one.

He heard steps, then Helen said, “Why don’t we just eat right here at the coffee table?”

Ivar removed the cloth from his face. There she was above him, smiling, a plate in each hand. When he sat up, he saw that there was a triangle of pizza on his plate, no banal wedge of pepperoni and cheese, but a collage of sun-dried tomatoes, artichoke hearts, feta, walnuts, roasted garlic cloves, and fresh basil giving off the most delicate column of fragrant steam.

She sat down and set his plate in front of him. She said, “Did you reach the doctor?”

“Oh, yes, and Nils, too. The doctor says there’s nothing to worry about, and Nils is spending the evening with Marly, so I think we’re fine on that front.”

“What about, you know, the Chairman?”

“Nils is not going to be arrested. At least four witnesses say that Nils was already ten feet away from him when X slipped on the ice and fell, and that it was cracking the back of his head on the wall of the fountain there that knocked him unconscious. And he was the attacker. Everyone is agreed on that.”

“Elaine is at home. She’s got a lump over her eye, but they didn’t think she needed to be kept under observation since she never lost consciousness. I said I would go over there later.”

In fact, Ivar was angry at all three of them, not especially for anything they had done, just for who they were: a man easily provoked, a man often provoking, and a woman who enjoyed it when all eyes were upon her. He bit off the tip of his piece of pizza. Anchovies, too. He chewed appreciatively. He said, “No students hurt, thank God. What a nightmare that would be.” He ate another bite, watching Helen lift her glass of Lambrusco (given the meeting and who the president was, a Friend of Bill who considered AA the crossroads of America and the greatest fund-raising network in the world, he had decided to have mineral water himself), and said, “What if I have to go back to the physics department?”