18. Shutdown

The moment Marina walked through the double doors of the classroom on the first class after Mating in the 80s was done Claraberta handed her a dozen red roses. Marina was silent for a moment, speechless, and then she said, “These roses are for all of us. We did the play together. I am forever indebted to all of you.” She handed each of the women there a rose and kept one for herself. There were just enough, only 11 women had already arrived, first thing. “Too bad for the latecomers.” Ginny had returned to her class clown role and given up her enemy of the teacher role.
Marina set the women up in small groups to write their own versions of what might happen next for Iris, Carmela’s character in the play. What might happen to a woman after she overcame denial of her condition? She sat with Ginny and Lula for a few minutes until she felt certain Ginny was willing to invent the spelling for the words she didn’t know. Their table, the most beginning writers' table, was set up just beside the word wall where the women had collected the words they owned.
There was a pile of papers on her desk and Marina had avoided going through them all through the last two weeks, but now the play was done and she braced herself to go through the stacks of envelopes, materials catalogs, and pink phone message slips. For those she started front to back reading first the message that sat on top. Good thing she did. There was a message from this morning calling her to an emergency meeting of her program’s funding agency just minutes away. If she dashed out right now she would just make it. She left Claraberta in charge and ran out the door, made it down the street , around the corner and up eight blocks , out of the barrio and into City Center, up the elevator, into the carpeted plush lavender plastic veneered offices that All Read had moved into after getting its first multimillion grant last fall.
She walked into the conference room where workers from all the funded programs were gathered. Thirty or so people jammed a small meeting room meant to comfortably sit twelve. Mrs. Asher, Vivian to very few, sat at the head of the table, as always with her long gray hair coiled at the nape of her neck, uncharacteristically looking down at her hands folded in her lap. Marina had never seen the founder of All Read looking subdued. To Mrs. Asher's left was Glory Vincent, head of the board of directors, an education academic who had done vanguard research on participatory adult education and made a good living consulting to new programs all over the country and even the world. To her right was Soli, short for Soledad, Richter, her young assistant, who went from unpaid intern to running everything until the multimillion dollar grant was won.
Standing behind Mrs. Asher was her namesake. When the millions came along Vivian Long was hired as an experienced executive of bigger buck non-profits. Soli was bumped down to Field Director and given an office at Centro Libre, to keep her employed til she found another job. She had last month as Director of Literacy Programs at the City Central Board. Glory Vincent was a City Board consultant and had gotten her the job. Vivian oversaw the construction of the new offices, every detail: lavender carpet, lavender and gray cubicles, palest lavender vertical blinds, gray framed photographs of early literacy programs in settlement houses and down South during the civil rights movement. She even oversaw the decoration of Soli’s temporary office in Centro Libre and the installation of the embossed sign with her new title.
Glory was speaking and she paused to smile at Marina who squeezed herself between Peg Willett and Fara Martinez, who ran the Library Action and Afterschool Action programs, both funded by the multimillions.
“Maybe Peg, you can catch Marina up on what she’s missed when we break.” Glory paused. “This decision wasn’t reached without much agony. The reasons, as far as I am at liberty to disclose, I’ve just explained. Here is the bottom line, at close of business today, All Read will have ceased operations.” She paused again and waited for the gasp to work its way through every person in the room. Tears were running down Mrs. Asher’s face. Soli was holding her hand.
“We will be meeting with each program head to go over the details of how the operations will be transitioned to new fiscal agents. In essence the plan is for the programs to be taken over by the current host agencies. Library Action and After School Action, by the Education Administration, Women in Action by Centro Libre. Unfortunately there will be a transition during which the programs will effectively shut down, students will be on furlough and the workers will be laid off. If all goes as projected, staff will be rehired and in the interim are eligible for Unemployment Benefits.”
Peg Willett’s hand came up as soon as Glory paused. “Are our jobs guaranteed? Won’t the new employers have the discretion to hire whomever they like? Might they not have workers in line for reassigning from other cut-back programs what with the budget cuts across all programs in the city?”
Glory took a deep breath. For just a second she looked as short as she was before she inflated herself and squared herself and got big again. “You ask excellent questions. You are absolutely right. We will do everything we can to support your candidacies to the positions you are vacating…”
“Hardly vacating, that implies choice. We’re being vacated.” Fara stepped forward to speak. Even under normal circumstances she prickled with hostility. Marina stood close to her and touched Fara’s arm as she spoke. Glory grew taller. “Let’s not assume bad faith here. We won’t gain anything by going after each other. What’s happening hurts us all.”
Fara turned to her. “Don’t give me pollyanna bullshit now. We’re being screwed and there’s no sense pretending we’re not. Let Mrs. Asher count on the rest of you to go rabbity and speechless. I’m not blinded by their headlights.”
Mrs. Asher stood. “Fara’s right to be enraged. We, or should I say more exactly, I have let you down.”
Glory clutched her arm…”Be careful what you say, here…”
Vivian Asher shrugged. “I’m not going to be gagged by fear of lawsuits. I’m not going to go into details here. I’m only going to take responsibility. I am accountable because I was in charge. I am deeply sorry.” She turned on her heels and walked out of the conference room, down the hallway. Her shoulders heaved as she sobbed all the way to her corner office, and shut the door. Soli ran after her. Vivian the namesake walked out the other door, toward her own office on the other corner. Glory shook her head. “Peg and Fara and Marina, please wait here. One of us will meet with you shortly. The rest of you, your managers will provide you with all the information you need to file for benefits.”