this afternoon."
"I'm sorry if I offended you, Ralph, but what exactly
is it that bothered you?"
"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. I'm
not going to play games with you. I'm calling to remind you that I have
wide-ranging influence in this business. And you're too young to retire
completely."
I tried to make a light-hearted response, but it came out
tight and high-pitched.
"This
sounds like, if-I-ever-want-to-work-in-this-town-again ... "
"Take it however you want to," he said, and hung
up.
CHAPTER 7
I've never been a morning person, but after a fitful night
it was even harder than usual to get up on Thursday morning. Leder's call shook
me more than I thought it deserved. After all, what could he do to me? Poison
my name with all the police departments in Boston and vicinity? Call all the
schools and cancel my guest appearances?
More importantly, did this mean he killed Eric Bensen? No, I
decided, he couldn't afford to give himself away like that if he were the
killer. On the other hand, he couldn't afford not to.
To make the night a complete failure for rest, I kept
dreaming of Al. In one vision we were at a flower show in the middle of winter
and someone shot him three times right in front of me. In another scene, Al was
being buried under the old high school building.
I forced myself out of bed at six o'clock. I had coffee and
a muffin from a batch I'd baked in an attempt to wean myself from stopping at
Luberto's Bakery every day.
By seven thirty, I was parking in the faculty section of the
lot behind the high school. The refrain Cheer
Re-vere High was running through my head, but this building, built long
after I'd left, held no nostalgia for me.
It was another clear, sunny fall day, and I watched the
students as they lingered outside.
After wrestling with Al's death, Peter's unwanted attention,
Matt's apparent disinterest, and Leder's threatening phone call, I found it
relaxing to focus on something simple, like nuclear physics.
I met Peter at the main office where I signed in on a
clipboard.
I'd chosen a black raw silk suit, black flats, and a hot
pink blouse. From previous experience with high school visits, I knew at least
I'd blend in with the many girls who'd be all in black. I wore my standard
jewelry for such occasions, a pendant with a hologram, a three-dimensional
image of Albert Einstein. My lapel ornament for the day was a tiny bronze
likeness of Dante, the pin I'd received as Italian Club secretary in 1958.
Though I knew I'd never be able to stand full-time teaching,
I always loved giving talks at schools. An occasional speaker had all the
advantages of a guest and none of the disadvantages of maintaining discipline
and handling administrative headaches.
"Doctor Gloria Lamerino and I were classmates," I
heard Peter say as he introduced me. You'd never guess I'd practically hung up
on him twelve hours earlier.
I started my talk with a favorite quote from Enrico Fermi: "Before
I came here I was confused about this subject. Having listened to your lecture
I am still confused, but on a higher level."
The quote brought the hoped-for laugh and the whole hour
went rather well, with thoughtful questions from Peter's students. One asked
why scientists did research that might be used for destructive purposes.
Another wanted to know about the current status of nuclear power. Several asked
me what I thought would be done about the problem of nuclear waste. I did my
best to be honest without using the hour as a forum for my political leanings,
which were slightly to the left on almost all matters except technology, where
I tipped to the right.
By the end of
class I was promising to send the students lists of resources for their papers.
They knew I'd be back next month to present Galileo Galilei, the sixteenth
century Italian scientist. I teased them with the question of whether Galileo
really did investigate gravity by dropping balls of different weights from
"I'm sorry if I offended you, Ralph, but what exactly
is it that bothered you?"
"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. I'm
not going to play games with you. I'm calling to remind you that I have
wide-ranging influence in this business. And you're too young to retire
completely."
I tried to make a light-hearted response, but it came out
tight and high-pitched.
"This
sounds like, if-I-ever-want-to-work-in-this-town-again ... "
"Take it however you want to," he said, and hung
up.
CHAPTER 7
I've never been a morning person, but after a fitful night
it was even harder than usual to get up on Thursday morning. Leder's call shook
me more than I thought it deserved. After all, what could he do to me? Poison
my name with all the police departments in Boston and vicinity? Call all the
schools and cancel my guest appearances?
More importantly, did this mean he killed Eric Bensen? No, I
decided, he couldn't afford to give himself away like that if he were the
killer. On the other hand, he couldn't afford not to.
To make the night a complete failure for rest, I kept
dreaming of Al. In one vision we were at a flower show in the middle of winter
and someone shot him three times right in front of me. In another scene, Al was
being buried under the old high school building.
I forced myself out of bed at six o'clock. I had coffee and
a muffin from a batch I'd baked in an attempt to wean myself from stopping at
Luberto's Bakery every day.
By seven thirty, I was parking in the faculty section of the
lot behind the high school. The refrain Cheer
Re-vere High was running through my head, but this building, built long
after I'd left, held no nostalgia for me.
It was another clear, sunny fall day, and I watched the
students as they lingered outside.
After wrestling with Al's death, Peter's unwanted attention,
Matt's apparent disinterest, and Leder's threatening phone call, I found it
relaxing to focus on something simple, like nuclear physics.
I met Peter at the main office where I signed in on a
clipboard.
I'd chosen a black raw silk suit, black flats, and a hot
pink blouse. From previous experience with high school visits, I knew at least
I'd blend in with the many girls who'd be all in black. I wore my standard
jewelry for such occasions, a pendant with a hologram, a three-dimensional
image of Albert Einstein. My lapel ornament for the day was a tiny bronze
likeness of Dante, the pin I'd received as Italian Club secretary in 1958.
Though I knew I'd never be able to stand full-time teaching,
I always loved giving talks at schools. An occasional speaker had all the
advantages of a guest and none of the disadvantages of maintaining discipline
and handling administrative headaches.
"Doctor Gloria Lamerino and I were classmates," I
heard Peter say as he introduced me. You'd never guess I'd practically hung up
on him twelve hours earlier.
I started my talk with a favorite quote from Enrico Fermi: "Before
I came here I was confused about this subject. Having listened to your lecture
I am still confused, but on a higher level."
The quote brought the hoped-for laugh and the whole hour
went rather well, with thoughtful questions from Peter's students. One asked
why scientists did research that might be used for destructive purposes.
Another wanted to know about the current status of nuclear power. Several asked
me what I thought would be done about the problem of nuclear waste. I did my
best to be honest without using the hour as a forum for my political leanings,
which were slightly to the left on almost all matters except technology, where
I tipped to the right.
By the end of
class I was promising to send the students lists of resources for their papers.
They knew I'd be back next month to present Galileo Galilei, the sixteenth
century Italian scientist. I teased them with the question of whether Galileo
really did investigate gravity by dropping balls of different weights from
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