Who Names The Colors

Portrait of two women

Jo's tears dried up, like a microfiber towel had been swiped across her eyes. She assumed from nerves, or fear. She thumbed the moisture out from under her eyes immediately. Her head had been down when the door opened, her eyes on the papers still in her hand. She walked to the other side of the desk to give herself a moment to gather herself, gird her loins and exhale before she faced Victoria.

She could hear the rustle of fabric behind her and assumed that Victoria was sitting in the only chair besides her own in the room. Jo was trying to figure out how to play this. She wasn't sure how much you could really hear about what was going on in her office from the outside. Jo never paid much attention to who was in her colleagues offices. She assumed they were doing their jobs and didn't spend her time trying to catch them out, like the bitch who sat across from her seemed to.

Jo reminded herself that there was nothing to call out; nothing to be ashamed of, so far as Victoria knew. Her and Harry could very well have had a heated discussion about any number of things. Even the papers, the ones with the fellowship offers she still clutched in her hand. Or her son and something personal that Harry may know and be unwilling to share.

She shook her head just a little bit, hopefully subtly at that. She didn't need to invent tension, she and Harry had plenty, some fit for public consumption.

Jo turned around in her chair and straightened the papers. She hoped her face was not salt tracked. She figured she was safe there, but knew she looked not quite right. Hopefully not like a sledgehammer had been taken to her heart.

"Good evening Professor McStruppins. You're here late on a Friday evening. Getting everything ready for end of term? How's Ewan's final project coming along?" Stop talking, Jo reminded the Nervous Nelly that seemed to have taken over her mouth.

Victoria pursed her lips and left the air open. It made Jo nervous for a tick until she recognized the tactic. She did this in class when people were not bringing their A-game to discussion. People felt compelled to fill dead air. Instructors had to get used to it though, or they would fill it and let their students off the proverbial hook.

People also felt compelled by politeness, especially British people, even when it was disingenuous, they had manners. So Jo let the air get bigger, like a child chaffing in too small clothes because of a growth spurt and stared back at Victoria. She tried to smooth her expression at first, then she ticked her eyebrow in a non verbal, 'Well?'

The other professor took in a breath. "I'm often here late on Friday. I find that the quiet hours on campus are very instructive." And she glanced her head to the side. "I get a ton done and you never know what you might hear."

Jo wanted to bite her lip, she really wished she had paid more attention to the way sound carried through her office walls. The campus was old though, made of heavy woods and ancient glass and heavy metal blinds. She was sure you could hear shouting, but her bet was you couldn't make out the words. Jo was also sure that if Victoria had something real, that she could prove, she would be in another office entirely rather than trying to rattle Jo's cage.

Jo also knew that she was not a 25-year old new to the game, she didn't like it, but she knew how to play it, the cat and mouse some women liked to engage in. Double-speak over what you actually wanted to share and ponderous with implication. It's why Jo had only really invested in relationships with women she felt like didn't do that and she could trust. She had Cidra, though they waded into each other's life when the water was deep only, and she had Chelsea from Liverpool. Jo would have to check and see how summer was shaping up for her family. She wanted to see how big the girls were. Chelsea was her closest friend in heart, but not distance, and trustworthy.