“Oh, he’s been here since the 1970s. He’s a bit of an eccentric. Knows everything about Roman civilization. I think he prefers it to ours. Doesn’t speak to anyone. Eats alone every day. I don’t wonder. I sometimes think he must feel himself a bit on display here. There hasn’t been another black faculty member since the guys he was hired with left years ago.”

“Not any?” I said.

“Not a one,” countered Helen. “They claim to have tried, but nobody wants the long hours and low pay. Plus a school like this one—so old-fashioned, all boys—think about it. What is the appeal, anyway?” She gave me a wry look and tucked into her food again. I laughed a little and found my gaze drawn back to Washington’s solitary figure.

He ate with a series of precise movements, occasionally turning the pages of a thick book he was reading. His hands were large and curiously elegant; they smoothed the paper as though it were velvet. He looked self-contained and sure, except for the nervous jiggling of one foot under the table. His hair was graying at the temples: it stood out against the warm dark brown of his skin. Helen was still talking, so I pulled my gaze away politely.

She slid a piece of paper with her address on it toward me. I took it, smiling, and said, “Thanks, I look forward to getting together with you all.”

“Us too. Well, got to shove off, get ready for my next class. See you around?”

“Definitely.”

I finished my lunch—the meat loaf wasn’t actually that bad—and noticed as I got ready to leave that Jerome Washington was still sitting there and that I had to walk right by his table to get to the cart where we deposited our trays. I stopped as I passed his table and lowered my tray onto it. “Excuse me?”

He looked up, startled and a bit wary. “Yes?”

I stuck my hand out and he took it, a little tentatively, letting go quickly. I continued, feeling suddenly awkward. “I’m Jana Hansen. Just started here this year. I’ve seen you around, but we haven’t had a chance to speak. I wanted to introduce myself.”

“Oh, of course. I’m Jerome Washington. You’re settling in well, I trust?”

“Pretty well, yes.”

“Well, I’m sure I’ll see you at staff meetings and the like. It’s nice to meet you.”

He kept looking at me until I nodded and walked away. I felt thoroughly awkward, uncertain why it was that I’d needed to introduce myself, to make myself known to him. I just had. I’d wanted him to see me, even though he didn’t know who I was. To show him that I was on his side. A gesture, perhaps. That seems about all I can manage these days.