house with his wife. So it’s clear he’s not leaving her.”
“He was never going to leave her, Denise.”
“You know,” Denise said, smiling ironically and clucking her tongue, “I could never quite believe that.”
Kathy looked at her friend, beautiful in the night air but truly nothing like she seemed, somehow more like a child driving a beautiful car. She had no idea of how the world went. Kathy spoke the truth that came into her mind: “You have to stop loving him.”
“Oh, I don’t love him,” Denise said, shaking her head.
Kathy paused a moment and shouts came all around them, those calling out the falling stars and those of boys in a baseball game. Kathy felt a little angry, cheated. “You don’t?”
Denise leaned her head against her palm. “I must have, at some point, but I think it’s not about that. You know, I can’t even picture more than his face.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It isn’t love.” Denise grinned and looked away, saying, “It’s something else.”
Kathy, confused at her friend’s obscure heart, tried to be incisive.
“Maybe no one else ever had the last word before.”
Denise turned and looked at her, perhaps a little hurt. “No,” she said. Kathy wanted to retract her words, but Denise had clearly forgotten them already. She looked upward and merely repeated, “It’s something else. I have to get the feeling back. I can’t explain.”
Kathy loved something about this woman, although she couldn’t have said what. Her neuroses were so common, and it could anger anyone to watch her wasting herself on men, dressing in so matronly a way in her gloves and pearls, hiding her brilliance inside that ridiculous hairdo just to be admired. Yet Kathy loved her, perhaps because she was loyal, or because she was inscrutable like this, valuable and odd.
Denise gestured and said, “Look, the sultan wants to see the comet.”
The monarch stood regally, as Professor Swift tried to adjust the royal telescope nearby, which was old and full of brass dials and screws. He fiddled with it for a while, peering through the eyepiece now and then, and finally turned to the sultan and announced that the thing was rusted firmly in one position. The local boy was called over from his baseball game to help.
“Are you pregnant, Kathy?”
Kathy laughed, not looking at her but picking at her dress.
Denise stammered, her fingers tapping nervously, “I… I just… you seem…”
“You can go back and tell Eli I’m just anxious tonight. It’ll pass.”
“I only…”
“No, I’m not. It’s okay.”
Her friend smiled. “Okay.”
The two women moved closer, shivering slightly as the night grew colder, feeling the lightless hulk of the island behind them. Around them were the scuttling students, the redhead tossing a baseball, the boy working on the telescope, the girl propped on a lambskin, the waves and the stars.
Denise spoke again. “You don’t want one, do you?”
Kathy said nothing, and did not move. She felt Denise’s gaze burning the side of her face, and it made her smile, but she didn’t feel the need to explain. Denise had this habit of saying everything she was thinking at the moment she was thinking it, unable to wait. Here, in the cool, quiet air, the words were wasted. Kathy thought it funny that she had often heard Denise complain about this very same trait in her mother yet didn’t see it in herself. Kathy smiled at her odd friend, pleased and annoyed.
“They’re doing that all wrong,” Denise said finally, standing up and pointing to the men and the boy at the telescope. She dusted off her pants and said quietly, “I’ll be back later.” Then she was gone.
Bats were crossing invisibly again. Kathy ducked; everyone on the overlook was ducking, so used to a sky that couldn’t touch them. Bats—hidden children spoiling the view, blind, careless, knocking down the lamps, the pictures, the portents.
Kathy looked back to see her husband, only to
“He was never going to leave her, Denise.”
“You know,” Denise said, smiling ironically and clucking her tongue, “I could never quite believe that.”
Kathy looked at her friend, beautiful in the night air but truly nothing like she seemed, somehow more like a child driving a beautiful car. She had no idea of how the world went. Kathy spoke the truth that came into her mind: “You have to stop loving him.”
“Oh, I don’t love him,” Denise said, shaking her head.
Kathy paused a moment and shouts came all around them, those calling out the falling stars and those of boys in a baseball game. Kathy felt a little angry, cheated. “You don’t?”
Denise leaned her head against her palm. “I must have, at some point, but I think it’s not about that. You know, I can’t even picture more than his face.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It isn’t love.” Denise grinned and looked away, saying, “It’s something else.”
Kathy, confused at her friend’s obscure heart, tried to be incisive.
“Maybe no one else ever had the last word before.”
Denise turned and looked at her, perhaps a little hurt. “No,” she said. Kathy wanted to retract her words, but Denise had clearly forgotten them already. She looked upward and merely repeated, “It’s something else. I have to get the feeling back. I can’t explain.”
Kathy loved something about this woman, although she couldn’t have said what. Her neuroses were so common, and it could anger anyone to watch her wasting herself on men, dressing in so matronly a way in her gloves and pearls, hiding her brilliance inside that ridiculous hairdo just to be admired. Yet Kathy loved her, perhaps because she was loyal, or because she was inscrutable like this, valuable and odd.
Denise gestured and said, “Look, the sultan wants to see the comet.”
The monarch stood regally, as Professor Swift tried to adjust the royal telescope nearby, which was old and full of brass dials and screws. He fiddled with it for a while, peering through the eyepiece now and then, and finally turned to the sultan and announced that the thing was rusted firmly in one position. The local boy was called over from his baseball game to help.
“Are you pregnant, Kathy?”
Kathy laughed, not looking at her but picking at her dress.
Denise stammered, her fingers tapping nervously, “I… I just… you seem…”
“You can go back and tell Eli I’m just anxious tonight. It’ll pass.”
“I only…”
“No, I’m not. It’s okay.”
Her friend smiled. “Okay.”
The two women moved closer, shivering slightly as the night grew colder, feeling the lightless hulk of the island behind them. Around them were the scuttling students, the redhead tossing a baseball, the boy working on the telescope, the girl propped on a lambskin, the waves and the stars.
Denise spoke again. “You don’t want one, do you?”
Kathy said nothing, and did not move. She felt Denise’s gaze burning the side of her face, and it made her smile, but she didn’t feel the need to explain. Denise had this habit of saying everything she was thinking at the moment she was thinking it, unable to wait. Here, in the cool, quiet air, the words were wasted. Kathy thought it funny that she had often heard Denise complain about this very same trait in her mother yet didn’t see it in herself. Kathy smiled at her odd friend, pleased and annoyed.
“They’re doing that all wrong,” Denise said finally, standing up and pointing to the men and the boy at the telescope. She dusted off her pants and said quietly, “I’ll be back later.” Then she was gone.
Bats were crossing invisibly again. Kathy ducked; everyone on the overlook was ducking, so used to a sky that couldn’t touch them. Bats—hidden children spoiling the view, blind, careless, knocking down the lamps, the pictures, the portents.
Kathy looked back to see her husband, only to
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