Theodore hadn’t invited her to join him on this trip.
“Ah. Well, in that case. But, look. Why not let me take you out to dinner tonight? We’ll go to a Polynesian restaurant and indulge in drinks with flowers in them.”
For just a moment she was tempted. Then she thought of Theodore; he’d think she was a traitor. “No, thanks, Faraday,” she responded. “I have other plans. In fact, I was just getting ready to leave.”
“Too bad. Another night, perhaps?”
“Perhaps.”
He went off down the hall. The building was silent. Marilyn stretched to ease her aching neck and shoulders, and stood for a moment, looking out. Night had fallen, but the university lights backlit the sleet as it gyred in the wind. Nature liked spirals. The sleet sparkled in the night, each tiny bead alive and dancing.
In contrast, Marilyn felt heavy and leaden as she pulled on her camel hair coat and her wool cap and gloves. Wrapping her wool muffler around her neck, she crossed it over her chest, buttoned her coat to the neck, hefted her bags, locked her office, and trudged down the hall and out the door to the parking lot.
Marilyn had listened to the weather report that morning, and dressed with according caution. It was the end of March, so one could expect a day that started off in relative warmth to end that way, but winter was not through with them yet. She could see that not all of her colleagues had been prepared for the barometric plunge.
At the far end of the lot, Cynthia Wang, the new biology assistant, was whooping with laughter as she slipped and slid across the slick pavement. Her gentleman friend reached out to help her, and they both went down in a flurry of legs. Marilyn waited to see whether someone was hurt. Should she help them up? But Cynthia and her friend rolled on the ice, hysterical with laughter. So, Marilyn thought, they’d be all right.
She
had been smart enough to wear her thick-soled, high-ankled, leather walking boots to work, and as she settled in her old Subaru, she tried to feel appropriately self-satisfied. Instead, she felt melancholy. She couldn’t remember when she’d last laughed as she slipped across the ice. Had she, ever?
If you’re born a cockroach, you will not evolve into a butterfly. Marilyn had always found great comfort in the reliability of nature. Early on she’d found her niche, and her life had been tranquil because of it.
But sometimes—
Theodore had left today, to attend a weeklong conference on genetics and the sea. She wouldn’t miss him very much. She always rather enjoyed it when he was gone. She ate odd meals at odd hours: two hard-boiled eggs with lots of salt and four pieces of toast smothered with expensive Dutch raspberry jam, that sort of thing. At night she watched television for irresponsible hours, and not just the news and the Discovery Channel, but old, unabashedly romantic black-and-white movies that often reduced her to inexplicable tears.
She’d been weeping more and more, ever since, a few days ago, she’d inadvertently overheard her son and her husband fighting. Teddy had stopped by, as he often did, to join them for drinks and a brief discussion of the latest scientific news or office politics. Marilyn had stepped into the kitchen to put together a tray of cheese and crackers. Did they want pickles? she wondered. Salami? She’d hurried down the hall to ask them, but froze at the sound of her son’s voice. It was low and angry.
“I don’t understand why you don’t arrange to take Mom with you!”
Silence. Marilyn knew that Theodore was lighting his pipe, an activity that enabled him to gather his thoughts.
“Why should I take her with me?” Theodore asked in a reasonable voice.
“Because it’s in Hawaii. Because Hawaii’s beautiful. Because you are being given free accommodations in a world-class hotel. Because you and Mom haven’t been on a vacation together for years.”
“May I remind you, this is not a
vacation
for me.”
“Oh,
“Ah. Well, in that case. But, look. Why not let me take you out to dinner tonight? We’ll go to a Polynesian restaurant and indulge in drinks with flowers in them.”
For just a moment she was tempted. Then she thought of Theodore; he’d think she was a traitor. “No, thanks, Faraday,” she responded. “I have other plans. In fact, I was just getting ready to leave.”
“Too bad. Another night, perhaps?”
“Perhaps.”
He went off down the hall. The building was silent. Marilyn stretched to ease her aching neck and shoulders, and stood for a moment, looking out. Night had fallen, but the university lights backlit the sleet as it gyred in the wind. Nature liked spirals. The sleet sparkled in the night, each tiny bead alive and dancing.
In contrast, Marilyn felt heavy and leaden as she pulled on her camel hair coat and her wool cap and gloves. Wrapping her wool muffler around her neck, she crossed it over her chest, buttoned her coat to the neck, hefted her bags, locked her office, and trudged down the hall and out the door to the parking lot.
Marilyn had listened to the weather report that morning, and dressed with according caution. It was the end of March, so one could expect a day that started off in relative warmth to end that way, but winter was not through with them yet. She could see that not all of her colleagues had been prepared for the barometric plunge.
At the far end of the lot, Cynthia Wang, the new biology assistant, was whooping with laughter as she slipped and slid across the slick pavement. Her gentleman friend reached out to help her, and they both went down in a flurry of legs. Marilyn waited to see whether someone was hurt. Should she help them up? But Cynthia and her friend rolled on the ice, hysterical with laughter. So, Marilyn thought, they’d be all right.
She
had been smart enough to wear her thick-soled, high-ankled, leather walking boots to work, and as she settled in her old Subaru, she tried to feel appropriately self-satisfied. Instead, she felt melancholy. She couldn’t remember when she’d last laughed as she slipped across the ice. Had she, ever?
If you’re born a cockroach, you will not evolve into a butterfly. Marilyn had always found great comfort in the reliability of nature. Early on she’d found her niche, and her life had been tranquil because of it.
But sometimes—
Theodore had left today, to attend a weeklong conference on genetics and the sea. She wouldn’t miss him very much. She always rather enjoyed it when he was gone. She ate odd meals at odd hours: two hard-boiled eggs with lots of salt and four pieces of toast smothered with expensive Dutch raspberry jam, that sort of thing. At night she watched television for irresponsible hours, and not just the news and the Discovery Channel, but old, unabashedly romantic black-and-white movies that often reduced her to inexplicable tears.
She’d been weeping more and more, ever since, a few days ago, she’d inadvertently overheard her son and her husband fighting. Teddy had stopped by, as he often did, to join them for drinks and a brief discussion of the latest scientific news or office politics. Marilyn had stepped into the kitchen to put together a tray of cheese and crackers. Did they want pickles? she wondered. Salami? She’d hurried down the hall to ask them, but froze at the sound of her son’s voice. It was low and angry.
“I don’t understand why you don’t arrange to take Mom with you!”
Silence. Marilyn knew that Theodore was lighting his pipe, an activity that enabled him to gather his thoughts.
“Why should I take her with me?” Theodore asked in a reasonable voice.
“Because it’s in Hawaii. Because Hawaii’s beautiful. Because you are being given free accommodations in a world-class hotel. Because you and Mom haven’t been on a vacation together for years.”
“May I remind you, this is not a
vacation
for me.”
“Oh,
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