I looked at him closely.
“Say that again Jim.”
“That way we’ll know the kind of person we’re hiring.’”
Five years earlier, he hadn’t known what I was.
I hadn’t either. For in the shifty world of identity, what does being half of something mean?
“Are you sure you’ll know?”
“Certainly. You don’t have to go to church every Sunday. We’re talking about character.”
Indeed we were. A church-related liberal arts college. A Victorian Literature professor. And a Modernist, whose father was Jewish, like Bloom, hired because he looked the part.
And because he had learned his lines.
Terry Barr‘s stories have appeared in numerous publications like The Rain, Party, & Disaster Society, Blue Bonnet Review, Red Fez, Full Grown People, Red Truck Review, and Tell Us a Story. He lives in Greenville, South Carolina, with his family, and teaches at Presbyterian College.
A Quiet Courage 