I Want It Now. Sydney Molare
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“Hey, Terrell, get everything together?”
“It’s on your desk,” he replied, not looking at me but at Dubois.
I turned to make the introduction. “Dubois, this is my graduate student, Terrell. Terrell, this is my husband, Dubois.”
“Hus—husband?” Terrell’s eyes grew wide, a frown etched his forehead. “Ah…I didn’t realize…” He must have realized that his reaction wasn’t the correct one and he changed up his expression, forced a smile onto his lips. “Hey, congratulations!”
“Well, thank you.” I didn’t add any more information. I was sure I’d be explaining it over and over as the news spread like wildfire.
“It’s good to meet you,” Dubois said, holding out his hand.
“Hey, great to meet you also, sir.” It must be the accent, because Terrell stood straighter and became more formal as he held out his hand for the shake.
“Okay, let’s get down to business.”
Dubois gathered my hands in his and pulled one to his lips, where he kissed it. “Dina, you would not mind greatly if I just roamed around the building, would you?”
“Of course not, honey. We have some wonderful exhibits here. The new dinosaur one will keep you busy for a while. And of course we have the tomb excavation artifacts on display also. Some of their treasures are remarkable.”
“Sounds like it. I will let you and Master Terrell get to work, then. How long do you think you shall be?”
“An hour, give or take.”
Dubois glanced at his wristwatch. “I will return within an hour.” He leaned over to give me a peck on the lips before leaving.
Both Terrell and I watched as Dubois left, my eyes glued on how his gluteus muscles bunched and released as he walked. Terrell…I suspected for the same reason. He’d never said anything, but if I were a betting woman, I’d bet my money on Terrell being gay and reluctant to come out. But it didn’t matter to me. As long as he did our work, his sex life was just that—his.
True to his previous form, all the information was laid out on my desk. I reviewed the initial proposal and cut money from a line here and slashed some things over there. Within forty minutes, I’d outlined the new proposal budget for submission. We quickly saved, then printed out the new budget as requested.
“Grab a fax cover slip and let’s get this baby to them,” I told Terrell, happy to have salvaged the upcoming excavation—I hoped. Of course, it was all in the Orion Group’s hands to determine yea or nay. But my fingers were crossed that the budget was streamlined yet would still allow us to reasonably complete a project enough to write a paper or two from it.
“I’m on it, Doc,” Terrell said. He then asked what I knew he’d been bursting to ask. “Doc, so when did all this…the marriage happen?”
I smiled. “Well, it was a short courtship, but we’d planned the marriage. I just kept it to myself.”
Terrell laughed. “You can say that again. Last time you talked about a man, it was that Michael dude, the lawyer in the next town over.”
“Ooh! Don’t even remind me.” I knew Terrell would love to hear the dish on what happened that morning, but I never broke my rule of not sharing my outside life with students.
“Guess he’ll be heartbroken when he finds out about this.”
“Oh, he’ll be just fine. Just fine.”
Suddenly, we heard voices in the hallway. Then the door to my office opened. In stepped one of the staff members, Mary Manor, assistant to the department chair and all-around busybody. Sixty, husband dead and children gone, her life was the department. If there was information to be had, she was the one who had it.
“Dr. Charles? Sorry to barge in like this.” No, she isn’t. I’m sure she hoped to find me and Terrell locked in an intimate embrace. “But I found this gentleman roaming around the department, and he says he is your…husband?” Age had been kind. Like the saying goes, “Black don’t crack.” She looked way younger than her years.
I smiled widely. “Oh, so you’ve met Dubois. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to introduce you properly first.”
Her eyes were curious; her hands rose to her throat in disbelief. This was juicier than hearing the basketball coach had impregnated two cheerleaders. “Well, that was…fast.”
“Not really. As you’ve constantly told me, I can be very close-mouthed about some things.”
“You certainly were about this one.” She continued to stare at me. “Where, exactly, is he from?”
“Dubois is from a small isle off the coast of England. Extania.”
“Extania?” I could see the cogs churning and whirling in her head. “I don’t recall ever hearing about that isle. I was a history major in college, you know.”
“I remember.” You’ve only told us a million and one times before. “Where is Dubois now?”
“Dr. Chambers is talking to him outside the office.”
I groaned a bit. Our department chair could be a bit stuffy at times, but then again, Dubois, with his impeccable manners and lovely accent, was the type of individual he craved to be associated with—exotic but educated. He’d shit a brick if he ever found out Dubois was a Mail Order Husband…and he’d had husbandship training. I giggled to myself deep within.
“Thanks, Mary. I’ll go see what my husband is up to.”
“Ah…Dina, I would have loved to have attended the wedding. When was it?”
This chick just will not quit. “It was yesterday.”
“And you’re here? Not on your honeymoon? Hmm…”
“Actually…with a man like Dubois”—I leaned so close she could count the pores on my nose—“every day is a honeymoon. Feel me?” Her mouth dropped open like a guppy gasping for air. Good. Nosy heffa.
I moved past her and out into the hallway. The cadence of excited voices led the way. I found Dubois one hallway down, his side to me while he held a Mayan artifact found by one of our archeologists nearly two decades before. Dr. Chambers’s hands were animated as he delineated the finer points of the vase Dubois held.
“They think this is at least seven thousand years old, and the condition…surprisingly pristine for the location it was found in—a crumbled temple twenty feet below the ground surface.”
Dubois turned it in his hand, then caught sight of me walking down the hallway. He turned. “Ah, here comes my lovely wife.”
Dr. Chambers let a frown crease his forehead before turning my way. “Yes, Dr. Charles, it’s good to see you again. It seems that your vacation has been”—he looked at Dubois—“fruitful.”
“Indeed