“Shit.” It only reminded me that I had to act fast. I tossed down the last gulps of my coffee on the way out.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Courtney yelled out as the door closed behind me.
I just shook my head, feeling both nervous and excited at the same time. Whatever was about to happen, my life was going to change, and there would be no going back.
****
I didn’t expect to see very many students around due to the holiday, but the campus was eerily quiet. Boston University was massive, spread out across a hundred and thirty-five acres with thirty-thousand students. The university, including all of its buildings, dorms, and athletic facilities, was the size of many municipalities around the Commonwealth. Now, however, it was practically a ghost town.
I felt a little self-conscious not having any sort of academic reason for being there, and after a half- hour of wandering around in search of the Native American Studies faculty offices, I couldn’t help thinking that maybe the curriculum, like the professor himself, did not actually exist outside of my mind. I had not been aware of a Native American program before I met Kenny, and now I was afraid to ask someone for help locating the department building because if there was no such program, it would prove that I really was nuts.
Not wanting to be ridiculed, or arrested by campus police for trespassing, I was about to turn around and head back home when I saw a small sign with NATIVE AMERICAN STUDIES listed on a placard along with other programs of study outside one of the Social Sciences buildings.
I thought I was out of luck when I found one of the double doors at the front entrance of the building locked. The other one was open, however, and I stole inside. The hall was dimly lit, but clearly open for business. I followed the signs to a doorway that led to a stairwell down into the basement, where several offices were located. All the doors on both sides of the corridor were closed except one at the farthest end of the hallway. A wedge of light was splashed across the vinyl tile flooring, and I headed toward it.
My ears were ringing, filled with the sound of my own heartbeat, which was only magnified by the silence all around. Each unfamiliar name beside the doors I passed along the way increased the odds that just ahead was Kenny’s office shining like a beacon to me.
Finally, I reached the open door and paused at the threshold. Professor K. Honana was embossed in black lettering on a gold nameplate on the wall. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath, all at once regretting this visit and mortified by the prospect of what I came there to talk to him about. Essentially, I had to find some way to ask him if he had “spirit- fucked” me the night before. Only half-aware that I was shaking my head, trying to talk myself out of doing it, I knocked softly on the wooden door frame. Part of me hoped he wasn’t there or couldn’t hear me.
“Yes,” Kenny’s voice boomed from inside the office. I poked my head around the corner and saw his dark skin and chiseled face looking at me over the top of a computer terminal on a desk cluttered
with stacks of books and papers. He smiled immediately when he saw me.
“Shanna,” he said with warmth, but no real surprise in his voice, as if he had been expecting me. “Won’t you come in?” He stood, and it looked like his head was going to hit the ceiling.
I tentatively stepped inside and immediately saw the Kachinas, the same dolls that had been in the shop. It appeared to be the entire collection, though it was impossible to tell because the only ones visible were those that were spilling out of the numerous overstuffed boxes. They were stacked one on top of another along all four walls, making it appear as if I had stepped inside a storage closet instead of a university department head’s office.
“It’s very nice to see you again,” Kenny said. “Please excuse the clutter.”
As I approached him I felt a little woozy, and my knees started to buckle. Don’t faint. Keep it together, Shanna. You can do this.
Kenny looked sexy and handsome, dressed professionally in a dark blue suit. A charcoal wool- cashmere blend overcoat was draped on a mahogany valet stand beside his desk. Instead of a traditional tie, he was wearing an ornate Native American bolo tie that clung to his broad chest. I was drawn to the bolo and the imagery that was formed by the multi-colored inlaid polished stones set on a sterling silver base. What appeared to be a bird started to look more like a penis the longer I stared at it. I recalled what my sister told me about Kenny’s Hopi name meaning “bird with big beak,” and I blamed her for planting that thought in my
head.
“You like it?”
Kenny’s voice nudged me out of my musing. “What?” I asked, looking up at his face.
“My bolo. That is what you were looking at?
You like it?”
“Yes, it’s lovely.” I glanced down at it again without thinking. The design more obviously resembled a cock now that I was thinking about it, and I had to force myself to turn away from it. “I know you must be busy,” I said, gazing up at him and shuffling my feet, the way I sometimes do when I was really nervous. “I’m sorry to bother you.”
“No bother at all.” He extended his hand toward the wing back chair in front of his desk. “Please make yourself comfortable.”
Once I sat down, Kenny came around and positioned himself directly in front of me. He reclined back, half-leaning, half-sitting on the top of his desk. It took all my will power to avoid looking at his crotch. Seated as I was, he loomed so high over me that I had to arch my back to look up into his eyes. I could not help thinking about the night before, when our naked bodies had been arranged similarly, and I had the most unbelievable sexual encounter of my life.
Feeling a little faint all of a sudden, I took a few deep breaths to steady my respiration and heart rate in preparation for what I was about to ask him.
“I know this is a strange question,” I began, “but did something happen between us last night in my apartment? Or did I just imagine it?”
The corners of Kenny’s lips extended slightly
and curled upward. “What do you believe?” His mischievous smile matched the look in his eyes.
I kept my eyes locked on his face, searching for an answer. “I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about you. I guess I want it to be real.”