“The First Time He Said That Word,” by Robert Fromberg (Fiction ’83)

Fiction alum Robert Fromberg was recently featured in Bullshit Lit. Read an excerpt of “The First Time He Said That Word” below:

The First Time He Said That Word

Wait, what is that expression on his face as he settles into the highbacked seat at the head of the conference table? We struggle to define it. We settle on this: self-satisfied yet expectant, as though the first pitch of the season has not been thrown, but he already sees himself being carried off the field on the shoulders of his teammates after winning the World Series, really singlehandedly, but good of his teammates to keep him company and offer their whoops, their hollers, their shoulders.

And what is he wearing? Around his neck and over his sports jacket, we see a scarf. A sharp one, we must admit, $340 worth of muted colors and wool as smooth as a puppy’s belly. But a scarf at a business meeting? Absolutely unheard of in the history of business meetings, at least any we have attended. But if anyone can pull it off, he can.

Do you want to know what mastery looks like? It looks like a short man relaxing in a highbacked conference room chair without his head being thrust awkwardly forward because it rests too low on a curved seatback designed for a taller person. We fellow smaller men around the table have tried and failed to accomplish this for years, while we women have never enjoyed the luxury of allowing ourselves to lean back in a conference room, and if any people of color or nonbinary sexual orientation were among us…well, none are. No wonder we attend to this man, no wonder we align (one of his favorite words) our followership with his leadership.

We all know something is coming. What? we ask ourselves, knowing it is beyond our station to answer such a question. When? we ask ourselves, knowing that our role is only to wait. We slide back from the edge of our seats. Such an act we are putting on in this conference room, pretending we are not as excited as a group of people in a conference room could be.

There! A pause between sentences. A slight lift of his eyebrows. A leaning forward from his relaxed position against the chairback. As if he is a general in an air-conditioned room far from the front line preparing to order an invasion, a director on a 1950s film set ready to shout “action,” a 21-year-old protester who later in life will become an ad man pulling back his arm before tossing a Molotov cocktail. We glance toward one another to see if we all have caught the signal. We have.

Read this piece in its entirety here: https://www.bullshitlit.com/post/the-first-time-he-said-that-word-by-robert-fromberg