Story 3

Diamond Mountain University backed up on a dividing ridge in such a manner that as students stealthily crept up the hill they suddenly found themselves perched above a city in one direction, and a vast forest in the other. If one peered down into the crush of suburbia it was easy to forget that in spring and summer there were frequent reports of bear sightings, coyotes and even cougars. People were asked to be cautious and not leave food around, especially at night. Mostly no one ever worried about it. Only new arrivals really gave it a thought. In time, however, even they laughed at the memory of spending their first weeks walking about with large eyes and ears, vividly imagining encounters with the malevolent beasts of their nightmares.

The campus pub was on the suburban side of the academic buildings. It was the start of the new semester, the darling buds of May brightened the concourse, and Madge Weaver was rounding up as many profs as she could. It was time to call in favors by asking them if they would bring students from their late afternoon classes to the first mixer. International students brought in hundreds of thousands of dollars to the university each year and it was Madge’s job to make sure they acclimatized well. Drinks were free and there were complimentary sandwiches and veggie platters. Madge herself went to the departments and intercepted profs as they came out into the hallways. She saw many familiar faces; there were high numbers of Math and Science students from overseas this year. Tipped off by her daughter who was a second year Bio major, Madge was after one particular prof who was teaching a course called Women’s Studies in Science. Basically, Madge knew the success of the party depended on having more females in attendance.

Swooping in on them Madge surrounded the young women students with her arms and snagged three as they emerged from the class, including Professor Randolph. Having been urged on by her daughter, she could see immediately that he was a good natured, sociable man, unlike some of his colleagues. She clutched his arm as she merrily spoke to them. One of the students was a skittish, staring Iranian woman who carried her books in a cloth shopping bag. Another one was a tall serious blond woman, who suddenly opened her mouth and laughed at their professor’s helplessness, enlisting the others to join the conspiracy to get him to the pub. A pre-med student with close dark curls seemed surprised at the fuss but smiled.

Madge virtually corralled them along the wall but she was so motherly, so full of good will and cheer that each of them could do nothing but go with her. They moved in bulk through the corridor, fawned over and nudged by the eager woman. Madge wore a blue dress with three large buttons down from the neck, and stockings on her sturdy legs; her brown-gray hair reeled back off her forehead, as it must have been curled each night since the sixties.

At last Madge led them down into the lair of the pub. It certainly looked like a party. All the trappings were there: lights, streamers, drinking and feeding sites. Music videos thumped and growled from the various sets plugged into the ceiling. Beneath a large screen by the bar, Madge’s daughter, Amber, swayed on black-hoofed sandals, her arms dancing with Egyptian strokes, evidently for the benefit of an older professor who stood with his arms crossed. He was not happy. At intervals he turned and surveyed the academics in the room and massaged his head with impatience and discomfort. Exuberantly announcing their arrival, Madge broke up the pair and clucked at Amber to get nametags for the new group. She herself bustled them towards the drinks table which was piled up with cans of beer, pyramids of plastic wine glasses and bottles immersed in ice water. Jorie, the tall blond, and her pre-med classmate, Lynn, readily approached the bar, examining the choices. Glasses in hand, their eyes scanned the students nearby before lowering their lips to drink. The Iranian, however, merely fingered the tablecloth with apprehension. Madge allowed herself a glass of wine and continued with elaborate hospitality to encourage them to enjoy themselves and relax. The others agreed in bright, agreeable phrases but the Iranian said nothing. She seemed to be appraising the immediacy of the gathering in the pub. One might have mistaken her for being resentful or arrogant. She seemed terribly frightened.

As they moved to the food table, she finally spoke a little, directing her comments at Madge. She had just recently arrived in Canada. She had worked in a women’s hospital in Iran for ten years. This information seemed amazing to Madge; she offered that she had lived all her life in the lower Mainland. The Iranian woman asked Madge if she were married and for how long. She didn’t seem to listen to Madge’s response; her eyes were round as she took in the crowd streaming into the party.

Finally, after a few moments of silence, she laughed a high-pitch sound, and then brought her chin down with gravity, saying, “This Western society, it is very corrupt.” She straightened herself up higher and made a fist, laughing again with force. The others who had come in with her turned round to look at her in wonder and silence.

More students and faculty pushed up to the tables and Madge swept her entourage over to a seating area near the windows, where they had a view of great turmoils of clouds sinking into crimson with the setting sun. With a cheery voice, Madge declared it was a sure sign of a summer’s day tomorrow. “Don’t you love it when it’s hot?”

Professor Randolph raised his glass. “Here’s to summer then, when the living is easy.” He stretched out his long legs under the table and seemed grateful for the chance to unwind. The woman all looked him over without looking for too long and he accepted their interest with great confidence. They all touched glasses in the center, except for the Iranian woman, who continued to gaze out the window. She was sitting still but with an expression that revealed some deep agitation.

Madge got up to see to a few students who were standing alone against the walls, and on her way she exchanged a few words with Amber, who then breathlessly joined the table.

“Dr. Randolph,” she said with exaggerated concern, “come, come. You must drink up!” She brought forth a large bottle of wine from behind her hip and poured drinks all around. “A toast!”

As they talked, Jorie had a way of swinging her blond hair and bursting out laughing. Whenever something witty was said, her staccato laugh made the others jump. Dr. Randolph would chuckle quietly after each outburst and the others chirped more brightly to match the gaiety. Because of the joking, no one paid much attention to the strangeness of the Iranian. Her eyes watched the room, and watched the movements of each person around the table. Finally, in a lull in the merriment, she sharply pronounced to Amber, “I believe it is true that a great number of women have been raped on this campus.”

The Iranian fixed her jaw and scoffed. “I believe you know what it is I mean.”

Amber raised her eyebrows and looked at the others. “Duh! I don’t think so.”

Everyone put down their glasses and studied the Iranian woman. Amber searched around for her mother but then made an effort on her own. “Why would you think something like that?”

The Iranian woman jutted her chin forward as if challenged. Her hand shook as she held the untouched glass of wine. “Maybe you think I know nothing of your culture. Maybe you see me as a sheltered woman, ignorant of the West.”

“I have no idea who you are,” Amber responded. “And I don’t follow your meaning. There have actually been very few rapes on this campus.”

“Is there any reason you feel this way?” Dr. Randolph inquired. He smiled to soften his directness.

The Iranian started as though she’d been touched by an electric wire. Dr. Randolph moved away from her. Her face had gone white and she sought support from Lynn, the pre-med. “They won’t admit it,” she said to Lynn with venom.

Lynn shifted uncomfortably, visibly searching for the right words. “Honestly, I can’t say I know what you’re getting at either,” she said carefully.

This was too much for the woman. Suddenly she slapped both palms on the table and said, “Oh! It is true! You are all in favor of this!”

Jorie’s curtain of hair swung back and she winced. “What are you talking about? What is the matter?”

The Iranian woman shoved out of her seat and shouted at them, “I don’t want anyone to touch me!”

Heads nearby turned and someone pointed at their table. The Iranian woman backed away from the group in obvious terror. “Please,” she said, “is it too much to ask? I just want to be left alone.” Over her shoulder the lurid sky was deepening to dusk.

Through the crowd Madge appeared, and stopped in her tracks when she recognized the Iranian. In a serious tone she asked the table, “What is the problem?”

“I…” Madge stuttered, her face tightening. Then she turned severely to her daughter. “Amber, if this has anything to do…”

Amber was defiant. “She’s nuts! Totally losing it! I mean really.” As if to dismiss the whole thing from her mind, she started pouring more wine. As an afterthought, she added, “You know what she said, ‘A lot of women get raped on campus’. It’s news to me!”

Madge looked at all their faces. Dr. Randolph made an effort to meet her eyes but was too embarrassed by the whole thing. He made as if to get up and leave but Amber lowered her voice and said, “Please!” Madge too put out a reassuring hand on his shoulder and tucked him back into his seat.

“I am leaving now,” the Iranian announced with a mixture of fright and indignation. “Now I see that I must go. Believe me, never again,” she said to Madge.

“But, there’s no need!” Madge said to her. “It’s just a simple misunderstanding. Come, my dear.” She reached out to pat the woman’s arm but changed her mind. Too late, the Iranian woman knelt down towards the floor and began uprighting her book bag.

“No, really dear, it’s all right.” Madge pleaded with her. She shot a terrible look at Amber and the others. “Now, right now, I want to know what’s been going on!”

Bearing down on the Iranian woman who was trying to get to the stairs, Madge instinctively held her by the arm to prevent her from leaving. The Iranian woman looked at Madge’s hand on her arm and then turned fiercely towards Madge. Madge removed her grip but faced her squarely, “Look, now, this is a mistake. I promise no one is going to harm you. We want you to enjoy yourself. That’s why I’m here.” Then she softened her voice, “Are you feeling okay? Is there anything bothering you, dear?”

For a moment they stood, eyes locked. Then Madge rubbed her temples and said distantly, “I can’t see why you would feel threatened. Look, over there. A very nice woman professor, Dr. Shari, also from Iran. And there, a prof originally from Jordan.” Madge waved her hand over the room. “These people are all very nice. There is no danger here.”

The Iranian woman stared hard into Madge’s face, searching. “I believe there is.” She clasped her bag with finality and said formally, “Thank you for this invitation.”

“No, now, just wait. You are a student here, far from home. I understand that. Maybe you would accept an invitation to come to my house. For dinner, sometime. See how people live. I have a litter of puppies right now! My husband and I raise dachshunds. Do you know these little sausage dogs? Yes?” Madge smiled into her face. “Would you like that?”

Madge took courage and added, “Now, please stay. Don’t go away feeling badly.

“There. It can’t all be done in a week. You’ve got classes to get used to, a new residence. All that. Now, would you like some coke, some soda?”

A young waiter was nearing with a tray of fizzy drinks, and Madge lifted off two, handing one to the Iranian. They both took a big sip and Madge’s eyes opened in surprise.

The Iranian woman smacked her lips and panted, then laughed uncontrollably. She downed the glass in two gulps and shuddered, and turned eyes full of hatred upon the older woman.

At the table, Jorie broke the stunned silence and said, “What’s with her?” mostly addressing Dr. Randolph.

Dr. Randolph seemed to have regained some composure and poured from a second bottle of wine. “Likely it is a case of not having mastered the nuances, the subtleties yet.” Then he winked at Amber, “C’mon, don’t let it get you down. Where’s our Amber? Mom’s doing a great job.”

“Humph! Should be somebody’s job to screen for crazies. Jesus.” But she smiled at Dr. Randolph.

“She’s probably heard all kinds of negative propaganda about the West,” Lynn suggested.

“Yeah, but it’s not like it’s East Hastings. It’s a university campus, for heaven’s sake.”

Amber’s body jerked upwards as though she kicked her foot under the table. Leaning forward, she said, “And you have her in your class for the rest of the semester,” she smiled slyly at Dr. Randolph.

“Ahh, ha,” he smiled slightly as he poured more wine. “I’ll be counting on your help.”

The Iranian woman took a seat next to Dr. Randolph and thrust her coke glass forward. He paused over the ice in it and then shrugged imperceptibly before pouring in the wine. Madge sat down wearily and also accepted some wine. The students talked about their course and Dr. Randolph took out a pen and drew a diagram on a napkin. Amber laughed at him and he seemed to find her giggling amusing. Madge took inventory of the room, and was pleased by the number of people chatting in small groups. Dr. Randolph’s pen rolled off the table and a glass spilled as he bent under the table to fetch it but Jorie went for some napkins. Madge’s eyes followed her and she noticed with satisfaction the food was being taken and more couples had moved around to watch the music videos, edging onto the dance floor. She knew by now what made for a good party and took comfort in the energy. As darkness settled in outside, inside the lights flared warmer and stronger. Then suddenly beside her, she heard a venomous accusation.

The faces around the table changed in a second. The Iranian attempted to flip the table and Lynn jumped away, shouting, “I’m sorry! Did I brush your arm?!”

Amber leapt up to force the table back down and Jorie’s mouth hung open in amazement. Three of them lurched back from the circle, while Amber and the Iranian woman struggled over the table’s center, heads crashing in mid air. Madge pried their shoulders apart just as Amber twisted at the Iranian’s wrists, and for an awful moment, the women fought at each other.

Amber shouted at her as she grappled with the shifting table, “Get her out of here! Call security!”

With her face contorted, the Iranian screamed, “They are all touching me! I tell you!”

Amber took a step back and yelled, “Get out! Get out you crazy bitch! Shit!”

“I am going!” The Iranian spoke through her teeth. “And you! She snarled at Dr. Randolph.

“Oh! That is enough!” Madge bellowed. “That’s quite enough out of you, young lady. Take yourself home now.” Then she heard herself and added, “Go back to your room.”

The Iranian looked at each of them and said, “I will go. But you have not heard the last of it. I believe I have legal rights in this country too. I am told sexual harassment, sexual assault, is a serious crime. Especially for this one.” She glared at Professor Randolph. Amber lunged at her and caught a lock of her hair and they both rolled on the tabletop. Several students and professors around them moved in to break it up and the Iranian professor, Dr. Shari, demanded of Madge, “What have you done? What is the meaning of this?!”

They sat there morosely, no one daring to leave, which would have admitted defeat or culpability, but not wanting to stay and be judged and ostracized by the people who had seen.

“She needs a psychiatrist,” Jorie claimed, bringing their thoughts into the open.

“Maybe,” Lynn agreed, “or she may be suffering an identity crisis due to culture shock. In any case, we should report this.”

They each stole looks at Dr. Randolph who had gone silent. He had the most to lose if there was an official complaint and everyone knew he could be suspended until it was settled.

The Iranian woman hugged her book bag and went out into the dark of night. There were many students leaving night classes or traveling to and from the library but she moved as though the electricity had failed and she needed to find reliable landmarks. Her path took her beyond the campus proper and along the ridge of dark trees that led to the residences. She saw few students there and a rare silence wrapped about her. The streetlights only penetrated so deeply into the forest below and she edged along the curb. In her mind there was a certainty of the glint of eyes, the heat of sinews and claws, all there beside the unseen abyss.

It might have been a wilderness, a thousand miles from civilization, no one to call out to in human recognition or friendly camaraderie. Difficult to recall there was the hum of a large city just on the other side of the mountain. Here, she was exposed to nature’s rules, more to do with luck or strength rather than logic or cunning. It was a game of fate she had never before engaged in. Propelled only by her will, she continued on her way. It seemed a gift that she eventually found her footsteps upon the path up to her building.

The fog of night faded to gray and then to white. In the lobby many of the lights had been unscrewed or disconnected but several large speakers blared out into the courtyard. The sound reached her before her eyes took in the scene. There were maybe a hundred young people dressed in bed sheets with branches crowning their heads. Kegs of beer were set up beside one wall and circles of young women with their arms draped over one another’s shoulders sang out to the music. Many people turned as she climbed along the tall stairs over the parking lot, up to the residence. Someone called out wildly for her to join them but she stolidly climbed higher. At the landing three bare-chested men blocked her way and informed her the toll for entering was to chug a glass of beer. A red-faced boy grinned at her with hearty encouragement. She stared at his body and dropped her books.

“You,” she said. “You drink with me.” She stabbed her finger into his sternum.

He blinked in surprise at her demeanor and tried to focus on this complexity. His friends nudged him, “You heard the lady. She wants to drink!”

“Do you know what I have done tonight?” she demanded of Jimbo. “I have kept my pride. I have overcome this…corruption. This rot inside and out.”

Jimbo screwed up his eyes and looked at her. “Well, that’s a good thing. Isn’t it?”

Jimbo swung his head and drawled, “I don’t know. Are you okay with this?” He steadied himself on the railing, looking for help. His friends were enjoying his predicament and egged her on. “He really wants to drink with you. Really, really.”

“What about all of us?” Jimbo asked her. “You want them, too? Hell, everybody, cheers!”

Jimbo threw his head back and swallowed it all. The other guys followed suit and the Iranian woman gulped hard.

“Ha! You know this Dr. Randolph? I will crush him.” She squeezed the plastic cup. “I know how to grind him to pieces.”

“Yes! He will lose his job, his respect and every part of his life. He looked like a dog when I left him. And now we will drink!”

In the next second, the Iranian woman had grabbed Jimbo by the belt buckle and was struggling to bring him to her. The other men reached out to steady Jimbo, but he had lost his balance on the step and did an awkward belly flop into the woman. She folded at the middle and sat through the wide guardrails, slipping through and over the parapet. She fell down and down, with a whimper of astonishment until she hit bottom.

A cry went up and the three men sat down where they were in unison. Throngs of students rushed to the railing and gazed down, into the deep dark, save the eyes of a broken body.

A few minutes later campus security arrived ad a counselor came to sit with the boys as they made their statements. An ambulance drove up slowly and the corpse of the Iranian woman was respectfully lifted off the concrete onto a stretcher.

During exam week, Jorie was propped against a tree outside the stuffy library, checking through her notes one last time. A woman talking on a cell phone climbed over the hill and they met eyes. When the call ended Lynn came over.

“It wasn’t a prank, you know. She was inflamed. He just happened to be in the wrong place, you know?”

“Clearly. Makes you wonder what if she’d gone back to her room and just cooled down.”

Jorie looked at her. “Well, if they hadn’t stopped her, she would have walked straight back. And she would have gone to bed, woken up with her first hangover and gotten over it. Too much too soon.”

“Oh, way too much. And if Amber hadn’t been pouring so much wine, none of it would have happened.”

“Amber!” Jorie looked puzzled. “The Iranian said someone was ‘assaulting’ her, if I recall. She was out of her mind.”

Lynn turned on her. “Are you na�ve or what. You’re even more out of your mind right now! Well, I’ll spell it out for you. Amber and Dr. Randolph probably were touching her.”

“That’s just it. They were stinking drunk. We all were. Didn’t you feel something on your legs? Amber had her foot in Dr. Randolph’s crotch. And he was under the table, for god’s sake. I knew it and thought it was funny. Right there in front of everybody. I didn’t say anything. I let the Iranian woman be scandalized and stayed quiet. You were looking to get rid of her, too. And Madge! It was a slow conspiracy. We all added to her horror. So much for solidarity of women in Science! Jimbo only had the final accidental push.”

Jorie stood up, slamming her book shut. “Well that’s not very nice of you to say. What is that supposed to mean!”

Type analysis of Characters:

First of all, I'd like to say that this story was surprisingly (to me) misinterpreted in a UBC workshop. I think some readers have been so indoctrinated about "cultural appropriation" that it affected their ability to approach the story as a unique work and could not refrain from being influenced by negative stererotypes. This was never my intention. In fact, it was quite the opposite. I have always been fascinated by Stephen Crane's short story, "The Blue Hotel" and saw a similar way to bring in an outsider who is stuck in her own stereotypes of the West, but ultimately, the twist at the end serves to throw those back in Western culture's face. Also, I randomly chose an Iranian woman to represent someone from a conservative Muslim culture who might be free enough to come to Canada to study but the character in no way represents a typical Iranian woman -- how could she? We are all unique individuals and I feel especially priviledged to know three exceptional Iranian women on campus. That said, I will now look at the characters.

I feel the Iranian woman is in her Shadow function all through the story and its getting worse as the story proceeds. I struggled to decide which type best suits her, but came to INTJ -- because she introverts her dominant N function and shows the world her rational side as well as seeming to come to quick judgements of situations. In the Shadow, she becomes more and more Extraverted, has more Feeling outbursts, and makes a scary change to an SP --she lets go of her values, identity, structure when she feels every thing is out of control and sees herself as crossing a dangerous line when talking and drinking with the young men.

The young women are mostly the same, grouped together by their own SP tendencies.

Madge is the Guardian, SJ, the caregiver, very conscious of her duty and responsibility.