Absolute Zero
Brodie Banks stopped to exhale. Her breath hovered in a formless cloud of mist, dissipating quickly in the dry, frigid air as she adjusted her long woolen scarf. The slim butch woman's eyelids fluttered momentarily as she gazed up at the thick blanket of rolling gray clouds overhead. It snowed the night before and the temperature plummeted, glazing the ground beneath her feet with a glittering crust of ice. Crunch, crunch! The world stretched before Brodie, dreamlike, closing the distance between her and an eerily static thicket of trees; the outer reaches of Seaton Dells.
There once was a trail here somewhere, but slowly over time, nature had taken its course and reclaimed the land. Seaton Dells was never a popular spot to visit according to the locals, although it was beautiful—breathtaking—as far as Brodie was concerned. The land made up part of an almost 3,000 acre tract of dense woods, freshwater ponds and streams, and dolomite cliffs that once belonged to the local forest preserve district. But the lack of visitors restored the sprawling landscape to an unparalleled natural beauty. Lately, it had been Brodie's refuge; a place to search for peace and solace. Alone.
Brodie paused for several seconds to admire the dense, dark canopy of trees when she entered the woods. She stood in the nave of this winter cathedral, taking it all in. A twisted network of bare branches reached towards the heavens, and somewhere she could hear a hollow ghostly wail. Brodie pulled a bit of her scarf up to cover her mouth and nose, shuddering against the intense chill.
The butch woman paused for another few seconds, propping herself against the trunk of a stately old birch tree. Brodie's once slim, athletic frame was noticeably pale and gaunt. Her very short tapered brush cut turned silver gray seemingly overnight. It's been three, maybe four days since the last time she'd eaten anything, but Brodie didn't care. Not anymore. It seemed like a lifetime had already passed since she last saw Grace, her partner of over 10 years. But what was the point of sitting down to a meal these days with no one to share it with?
Brodie Banks was a Phys Ed. and Wellness professor at Darby College in Hanover. For 27 years she called the idyllic campus her home and the small student body and faculty her second family. They'd been very good to her. They did what they could to soften the blow and ease the pain that, in a matter of moments, transformed her into a bottomless withered vessel of misery and inner frost.
"Hello, Brodie. Why don't you have a seat? Here, take the high back and make yourself comfortable."
Brodie closed the office door behind her. The Phys Ed. professor's spindly frame settled tentatively into the only other chair in the department head's office.
Amos Stanieck cut a tall, strapping figure of a man. He was in his early 60's and had been teaching at Darby College for longer than anyone else in the athletics department. "I know you've been extremely busy today, and I wanted to respect your valuable time—" The man's voice was cut short by a volley of raps against the office door. "Ah, Dr. Geddes, thank you for coming. I understand Dr. Kjellstrom is busy tending to...the matter at hand." He said. He was referring to the chaplain, Dr. Norbert Kjellstrom. Brodie knew the man, but she rarely spoke to him besides the usual greetings and small talk.
Brodie stared straight ahead. "Afternoon, Helen." She delivered this neutral greeting, wondering what this was all about. Her hazel eyes watered, becoming glazed behind the frames of her glasses. Dr. Geddes softly returned the greeting. The woman stood beside her now, next to the desk.
"Brodie—how long have we known each other?" Amos snatched up a pile of papers on his desk, shuffling them mindlessly before tossing them aside.
"For almost thirty years now..." Brodie's voice trailed off as she struggled to fight the feeling of dread rising from the pit of her stomach. Her colleagues could scarcely hide their strained expressions. And why did they mention Dr. Kjellstrom? Something wasn't right.
Amos turned to the bookshelf behind him. "Care for a drink?" He reached for one of three crystal decanters and produced a small glass from the bottom desk drawer. "If you ladies would forgive me, but...I certainly could use one."
"No, no thank you." Dr. Geddes replied.
Brodie also declined. "You said something about Norbert Kjellstrom. Did something happen recently?"
Amos eyed his seated colleague in grim silence for several seconds, thinking about what he was going to say. He liked Brodie and thought she was a damn good teacher. He wanted to choose his words carefully, but...what was he supposed to say? "Helen, would you like to tell her, or—"
"I think that would be for the best." Dr. Geddes replied. There was no denying the somber tone of her voice, and that God awful feeling of dread grew in the pit of Brodie's stomach. "Something about Grace, then." Brodie's voice had an obvious edge. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She felt trapped.
"Dr. Geddes called me over to Kimzey this morning." Amos paused. He reached for the decanter and replaced it back on the bookshelf with the others. "Simply put, there was an accident in Hanover, on 12th Street near the J.C. Penney downtown." Amos stared directly at his bespectacled colleague, and there was another seconds long pause. "Shit...might as well come out and say it." He sighed audibly. "Grace was on her way to campus and her car was—ah—broadsided..."
The corners of the butch woman's mouth twitched spasmodically. She glanced down at her lap for a moment, not knowing how to answer—or if she should at all. A hand closed over her shoulder, delivering a sympathetic squeeze from Dr. Geddes. "The other driver ran the stop sign." She said plaintively. "Grace was pronounced dead at the scene."
And just like that, Brodie Banks felt the world crumbling and slipping away in a cloud of ash. The corners of her mouth twitched again, and she suddenly let loose with a ferocious cry, startling Dr. Geddes who stumbled back a couple paces, bumping against the wall. "I ah—discussed the matter with Dr. Kjellstrom. That is why he isn't here. He...suggested that it would be best if I relayed the news to you myself...in light of your...living arrangement."
Dr. Grace Kruse, English professor, shared space with Dr. Geddes and four others in Kimzey Hall located next to the Condon Arts Center. For over 10 years, Brodie and Grace had been lovers, sharing a large two story house together in Hanover. Dr. Geddes leaned in to extend her hand across the desk to Amos. "I need to get back to Kimzey...there's some administrative things that need my attention, you understand."
Amos Stanieck replied with a stoic nod. The man's mouth stretched thin as he took the woman's hand and exchanged their goodbyes. "If you need anything, Brodie...someone to talk to..." Dr. Geddes' voice trailed off. It was clear that Brodie wasn't listening.
It was at that explosive, traumatic moment when Brodie realized the strange similarity of time and water; that it can pass slowly, one drop at a time, even freeze, or rush by, sweeping everything away. The arrow of time is measured and constant; a comforting reminder of a world both ordered and deliberate. But now the arrow meant nothing. It was now a weapon of destruction and torture, gouging the seated professor as shock provided a momentary reprieve from physical pain. Amos sensed the shock and emptiness that gutted his bespectacled colleague. He wanted to say something. He knew he needed to say something, but what?
"Brodie, you're one of the kindest, most dedicated instructors on this entire campus...we can't turn back time. It is what it is." The man's mouth stretched in a grim line across his face. "I saw Grace yesterday. Just said 'Hello' and that she was running late for class..." The man stopped. He knew he was rambling and it wasn't helping the situation.
Brodie sat there, unresponsive. The otherwise masculine features of her face distorted in a mask of horror and what Amos guessed was agony. The man was telling the truth, and although he always tried to be diplomatic, the man rarely minced words. Amos and the rest of the Phys Ed. department were used to Brodie and they were aware of her "unconventional"—their words, not hers—relationship with Dr. Kruse. Same sex relationships were unheard of, and it would go without saying that it was forbidden. It could easily have ended her career, and depending on where she traveled, she knew it could just as easily land her in jail. But thankfully, Brodie and Grace got along very well with their colleagues, and as far as she knew, there had been no complaints from the students.
"She—she was still at home when I left this morning..." Brodie whispered, and Amos had to strain to hear his colleague. Several more seconds of mournful silence passed between them. Brodie removed her glasses, and with a visibly shaking hand, held them in front of her face. Her colleague offered her several tissues. She took them and gently rubbed at some imaginary spot on the lenses before putting them back on. "I—I don't know what to say...I can't..."
"You don't have to say anything." Amos replied. "But I think it would be best for you to head home. Dr. Kjellstrom and Dr. Geddes will be by later this evening to check on you." He stood up and offered his hand. Another few seconds passed and Brodie reluctantly took it. "I'll walk you down to your office."
*****
An errant gust of icy wind blew through the canopy of naked trees, and Brodie felt the sting of tears welling up in her eyes, blurring her vision. She stopped to lean against the trunk of an ancient oak. She'd pulled off her mittens and jammed them into her coat pockets. The tips of her fingers gripped against the crevices that ran through the bark. Her eyes followed along the chaotic pattern to the base and the snow covered ground of the forest floor. Her eyelids fluttered and a tear escaped, streaking down her hollow cheek until it was lost somewhere in her scarf.
Brodie opened her eyes again, and now she knew she was in another world; a world of suffering. The wind blew across her face again, pricking her skin with a thousand icy needles. She pulled the scarf away from her mouth and gasped, feeling a frigid dryness surround her, filling up her lungs with a feeling of scorching sand. She let out a cough and continued on her way.
Love is two sided; they never warn you of loss. And on that terrible day when she lost Grace, Brodie's entire world collapsed. Amos Stanieck dutifully found a replacement to take over Brodie's classes. She was a graduate student from nearby Western Illinois University. Brodie emptied her mind when she cleared out her office several days later and left the Forslin Athletic Center behind. There were too many memories and she needed to get away; far, far away. But where would she go? Did it matter anymore? As far as Brodie Banks was concerned, when Grace died, her soul died too. In one fateful day, she'd lost everything. Her time to be alone had come.
Grace, my love...
My life,
My...everything!
They shared their first real kiss in the library next to Metcalf Hall. There was a forum assembly about James Joyce's Ulysses. Brodie struggled to recall exactly what went on during the forum. She remembered that Grace was one of the speakers, and although Brodie preferred sports over reading, she was enchanted with the young English professor's presence.
Dr. Grace Kruse was indeed a fine figure of a woman. She was blessed with a statuesque frame and thick, dark auburn hair. Her classic feminine features charmed the Phys Ed. professor from the moment she first set eyes on her. A sexy, youthful fragrance of jasmine and bergamot lingered in the air wherever she went, and Brodie was compelled to follow the radiant young woman through the bookshelves to the back of the library when the forum concluded.
A bank of empty study carrells lined the back wall. For several seconds the two women stood side by side at the large picture window overlooking the campus lawn. Brodie remembered it was during the fall semester, either late September or early October. The grounds between Metcalf and the library were littered with leaves of vivid crimson and gold.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?" Grace mused. Her lovely full lips spread into a wry grin as she continued gazing through the window. "Did you enjoy the forum? I know it went on a little longer than we planned. I saw you yawning in the back row." Grace laughed softly.
Brodie glanced down at her feet. "I'm sorry, Grace," she stammered. "I didn't mean to yawn like that. It's been a long day." A seconds long silence stretched between them. "The discussion was very interesting...something about metaphor—"
"The metaphoric language of self-pleasure brought on by fantasy in the Nausicaa episode of Ulysses. The idea that the mind of a man could be corrupted by the sight of a pretty girl is provocative." Grace no longer faced the window. She stared directly at the butch woman in front of her, practically boring holes into her with her eyes.
"I've never read anything by James Joyce." Brodie said. "But it sounds interesting."
"Oh, it is." Grace replied without breaking eye-contact. "It was widely regarded as obscene all because of a little harmless teasing."
Brodie became aware of an unexpected bloom of heat in her cheeks. "I—ah—would've hardly guessed that a little harmless teasing could be considered obscene."
"I think you've spent too much time in the gym and locker rooms." Grace said. With a coy, little laugh, she stepped backwards a few paces. The butch woman's heart skipped a beat and her breath caught in her throat when she saw what Grace did next. The beautiful dark haired professor boldly lifted the hemline of her dress, drawing it up past her knees to expose her panties and the lacy edge of her nylon stockings.
"Grace!"
"Oh, stop it, no one is looking. Nobody even knows we're back here."
Brodie cast a furtive glance over her shoulder. She stepped to one side, peering down endless rows of bookshelves. The intense quiet was almost deafening and somewhat eerie. Grace lifted the hemline a little higher. "Well?"
Brodie took in this titillating display and wished they were somewhere else; somewhere private like her bedroom. The slim butch professor's eyes were drawn instantly to the light colored and lace trimmed satin of Grace's panties. "You—ah—got me." Brodie stammered. "But I hardly think any of this is obscene..."
Grace released the hem of her dress, nearly breaking the hypnotic spell she'd cast over the bespectacled butch woman. She approached Brodie. Her tongue emerged slowly as she moistened her lips. "Then perhaps this..."
The young woman gently clasped Brodie's arms as she leaned in to deliver a soft kiss. At first, their lips merely brushed together before making full contact. The kiss, though tentative, was soft and sweetly sensual. Their lips touched again, and their tongues met in a languid caress. After a minute or so, Brodie pulled away and adjusted her glasses. She drew a shallow, ragged breath as she tried to regain her composure.
"I—I surrender. You've made your point."
"You look shocked." Grace observed.
"I guess you could say that you've caught me off guard." Brodie replied.
"I've made my intentions very clear, Miss Banks."
Brodie pulled the younger woman towards her and the two exchanged several deep, soulful kisses. Her arms wrapped around Grace's svelte body, embracing her. A strange, fluttery sensation swelled in the pit of the older woman's stomach. Her tongue eagerly explored the English professor's mouth as they continued kissing.
When she opened her eyes again, Brodie let out an audible sigh. Her eyes, and her glasses, weren't playing tricks on her. Grace was still there, standing very close. There was a fire in the young woman's eyes as a soft smile crossed her lips. "Kiss me again," She said, "and I'll scream."
"I'll take my chances." Brodie said.
Later that same evening, Brodie Banks and Grace Kruse became lovers. And although the butch professor had some reservations about where their relationship might be headed, Grace seemed unconcerned. As a matter of fact, the beautiful young woman thought destiny had brought them together.
In bed, their nude bodies pressed together while the newly minted lovers shared several deep, heartfelt kisses. Brodie held Grace and buried her fingers in the young woman's thick auburn tresses. She planted another soft kiss on her lover's brow and suddenly her vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes.
Destiny...
*****
Another blast of frosted air brushed against Brodie's face and forced its way into her lungs. The butch woman coughed and readjusted her scarf, wrapping it twice around her neck to cover her mouth. It helped a little, but the intense chill had already penetrated through her coat and her teeth started to chatter. Her body tensed as she stopped to look up at the sky again. Snow began falling. The large, fluffy flakes, ethereal and fleeting, kissed Brodie's face before melting on contact. The butch woman shuddered and continued on.
The snow fell steadily, quickly accumulating on the lonely forest floor. The ground beneath Brodie's feet crunched and sparkled in the hazy gray light. Hall Creek was just ahead, and the bespectacled butch woman stood there, admiring the serene beauty of the towering dolomite cliffs that surrounded the terminus of the creek. Here was a freshwater pond, frozen over, and covered in a liberal dusting of fresh snow.
After taking several tentative steps, Brodie managed to reach the edge of the pond. A brilliant flash of something, like gold, caught her eye. Curious, she tried inching a bit closer to the pond's edge. A tangle of gnarled, bare branches from a nearby bush stretched partway over the surface of the pond. Brodie could see that something dangled from one of the branches, but she wasn't sure what it was. Slowly, carefully, the toe of Brodie's boot made contact with the frozen surface. She placed some of her weight on it now, bearing down, to test the thickness of the ice. It seemed solid and sturdy enough to hold her weight, so she shuffled closer to the overhanging branches.
The delicate chain of a long gold necklace dangled enticingly within reach. Brodie wondered how it ended up here. With the precision of a surgeon, she untangled the chain which had somehow wrapped itself around the branch. It was an especially beautiful looking specimen with a pendant inset with a youthful nude figure standing inside of a circle accompanied with an inscription: Qui Quareit Hospitum A Tempestate, Inveniet In Aeternum. The thing looked so out of place...ancient. Grace would have loved it, but none of that mattered anymore.
Brodie took her glasses off and carefully put them in her coat pocket. The snowfall picked up, and the large flakes melted instantly as they made contact with her face. She looked at the necklace with its unusual pendant and decided to keep it, although she wasn't entirely sure why. She didn't really own any jewelry herself except for a few wristwatches. But for some strange reason, the abandoned necklace fascinated her.
She recalled the kiss she shared with Grace during Homecoming week more than ten years ago. For the first time in months, she felt the sudden bloom of heat on her face; the comforting warmth of memories. It was the beginning of October in the early evening. Brodie sat on the sidelines watching the annual student-faculty basketball game in the main gym of the Forslin Athletic Center. When the game was over, the gym emptied quickly as everyone headed outside for the Homecoming bonfire and cookout. Brodie was tempted, but she was feeling tired and wanted to head home.
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