the mirrored buffet.
Their fragrance was in the room. She waited as he locked the door and then he turned
to her and she kissed him, she was full of joy and happiness. Then he undressed her.
The bed was cold and they clung to each other until they were warm and the sheets
were warm.
The room had been rich once, beautiful, with wallpaper that had dark red roses aligned
up and down, and with an elaborate brass light fixture in the ceiling and a tall mirror
on the wall and a narrow door letting into the bathroom, you took a step up to enter,
and inside were the claw-footed bathtub and the free-standing sink with the two porcelain
faucet handles, and an oval mirror with tiny silver cracks around the edges.
She rose above him in the bed and kissed him and looked down into his face. He had
a good face. And brown eyes, looking at her. Oh God, she said.
I know. Don’t think about it.
I’m not thinking. I just was going to say—
I know.
She reached under the sheet and found him and made the adjustment, shifting a little.
Afterward lying in the bed in the old beautiful room, feeling warm and happy, she
said, Don’t go yet.
I have to. You know I do. I still have to drive home. It’ll be late as it is. And
I can’t tell what the roads will be.
Stay here. Stay overnight. Please.
How can I?
Call her. Say you’re snowed in, you can’t leave. You got delayed at the meeting and
didn’t get started when you thought you would.
The meeting was over this afternoon.
Make something up.
I can’t.
Of course you can. You do already. We both do.
I can’t tonight.
When will you? When is it going to be any different? Will it ever be?
Yes.
When?
I don’t know. I can’t say that.
Go on then. Leave if you’re going to. She turned away from him.
Don’t be like this.
You don’t know what it’s like, she said. You have no idea.
She lay in the bed and turned toward him again and watched him dressing in the dim
room, in the winter light from the street coming in at the window, his long legs,
his bare chest and back and arms before he covered them, dressing, and watched how
he stood while he tucked in his shirt, and then he came across the room and sat on
the bed and bent and kissed her and reached under the cover and touched her breast
again.
Are you going to say anything?
No, she said.
He kissed her cheek and went out of the room and she got up quickly and wrapped herself
in the bedcover and stood at the window and saw him far below picking his way across
the street in the darkening car-packed snow and then she watched him walk down the
block in the snow that was still falling and go around the corner out of sight to
his car, to drive home on the icy roads to his wife and children in the town where
he was principal in the high school.
She imagined his arrival at home, his wife’s worry and complaint, and his consoling
her, joking a little, making his excuses and explanations, and she could see them
then in the familiar pretty picture walking arm in arm, looking in at the sleeping
children, and entering their own bedroom, lying in bed with her head resting on his
shoulder and her hair spread out like a fan, and then she saw him kissing her and
doing what he had just done with her, and she realized she was crying again and after
a while she got up and went into the old tiled bathroom to rinse her face.
11
A FTER IT WAS announced at Annual Conference where they would be sent, Lyle drove his family the
two and a half hours from Denver out onto the high plains to look at the town. Main
Street with one traffic light blinking on and off at the corner of Second Street,
the business section of three blocks, the old brick buildings with high false fronts,
the post office with its faded flag, the houses on either side of Main Street, the
streets on the west side named for trees, those to the east named for American cities,
and Highway 34 intersecting Main and
Their fragrance was in the room. She waited as he locked the door and then he turned
to her and she kissed him, she was full of joy and happiness. Then he undressed her.
The bed was cold and they clung to each other until they were warm and the sheets
were warm.
The room had been rich once, beautiful, with wallpaper that had dark red roses aligned
up and down, and with an elaborate brass light fixture in the ceiling and a tall mirror
on the wall and a narrow door letting into the bathroom, you took a step up to enter,
and inside were the claw-footed bathtub and the free-standing sink with the two porcelain
faucet handles, and an oval mirror with tiny silver cracks around the edges.
She rose above him in the bed and kissed him and looked down into his face. He had
a good face. And brown eyes, looking at her. Oh God, she said.
I know. Don’t think about it.
I’m not thinking. I just was going to say—
I know.
She reached under the sheet and found him and made the adjustment, shifting a little.
Afterward lying in the bed in the old beautiful room, feeling warm and happy, she
said, Don’t go yet.
I have to. You know I do. I still have to drive home. It’ll be late as it is. And
I can’t tell what the roads will be.
Stay here. Stay overnight. Please.
How can I?
Call her. Say you’re snowed in, you can’t leave. You got delayed at the meeting and
didn’t get started when you thought you would.
The meeting was over this afternoon.
Make something up.
I can’t.
Of course you can. You do already. We both do.
I can’t tonight.
When will you? When is it going to be any different? Will it ever be?
Yes.
When?
I don’t know. I can’t say that.
Go on then. Leave if you’re going to. She turned away from him.
Don’t be like this.
You don’t know what it’s like, she said. You have no idea.
She lay in the bed and turned toward him again and watched him dressing in the dim
room, in the winter light from the street coming in at the window, his long legs,
his bare chest and back and arms before he covered them, dressing, and watched how
he stood while he tucked in his shirt, and then he came across the room and sat on
the bed and bent and kissed her and reached under the cover and touched her breast
again.
Are you going to say anything?
No, she said.
He kissed her cheek and went out of the room and she got up quickly and wrapped herself
in the bedcover and stood at the window and saw him far below picking his way across
the street in the darkening car-packed snow and then she watched him walk down the
block in the snow that was still falling and go around the corner out of sight to
his car, to drive home on the icy roads to his wife and children in the town where
he was principal in the high school.
She imagined his arrival at home, his wife’s worry and complaint, and his consoling
her, joking a little, making his excuses and explanations, and she could see them
then in the familiar pretty picture walking arm in arm, looking in at the sleeping
children, and entering their own bedroom, lying in bed with her head resting on his
shoulder and her hair spread out like a fan, and then she saw him kissing her and
doing what he had just done with her, and she realized she was crying again and after
a while she got up and went into the old tiled bathroom to rinse her face.
11
A FTER IT WAS announced at Annual Conference where they would be sent, Lyle drove his family the
two and a half hours from Denver out onto the high plains to look at the town. Main
Street with one traffic light blinking on and off at the corner of Second Street,
the business section of three blocks, the old brick buildings with high false fronts,
the post office with its faded flag, the houses on either side of Main Street, the
streets on the west side named for trees, those to the east named for American cities,
and Highway 34 intersecting Main and
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