have to run until then, do you understand?”
“Yes,” Ellie said firmly, “and I told you I didn’t care.”
After neither of them spoke for a long moment she stood and slipped into her robe. “I’ll fix you something to eat. There’s some tuna salad in the refrigerator.”
She walked slowly into the kitchen and began removing dishes from one of the cabinets. “You are hungry, aren’t you?”
Roebuck grinned at her and nodded, feeling rather foolish not because he was standing before her stark nude but, oddly enough, because he had doubted her to begin with.
“Have I got time to take a shower?” he asked.
Ellie nodded. “Time for anything you want.”
Beneath the soothing hot needles of shower water Roebuck relaxed completely for the first time. He reached out, turned the water on even hotter and stood with his head back, enjoying the pinpoint pressure of the fine spray, breathing in the steam that was rising around him. There was a strange security here, not only of the secret confines of the sliding glass shower doors but of the steady, beating sound. The entire outside world, sight, sound, smell, touch, all was cut off, held back by the warm, rushing, roaring privacy here.
It was with reluctance that he turned off the water, toweled himself dry and slipped into his shorts. The outside room was cool as he walked quickly to the chair where his clothes were laid out and hurriedly put on his pants and undershirt.
“The food’s ready if you are,” Ellie said.
She had two plates with sandwiches and potato chips on them laid out on the small kitchen table. There was a bowl of tuna salad in the center of the table, and two glasses of milk. It looked delicious to Roebuck.
“Would you rather have something else to drink?” Ellie asked as they sat down.
Roebuck shook his head. “Milk is the most wholesome thing there is.”
They began to eat slowly, occasionally looking across the table at each other.
“How long have you lived here?” Roebuck asked.
“Oh, maybe a year. How come you ask?”
“Curiosity. A scientist is curious. Were you born around here?”
“In Iowa, about a hundred years ago.”
“Why’d you leave?”
Ellie shrugged. “I don’t know, really. I quit high school after two years to go to work, but I decided I didn’t like work. The only job I could get was in a dairy, washing milk bottles. I quit after three months. They were going to get an automatic washer anyway.”
“I can’t see you washing bottles.”
“Me either. Right after I quit, my older brother and I both left home.”
“The brother in California?”
Ellie nodded. Her face glowed as she talked of her brother. “Ralph is a guitar player—he’s played in a lot of night spots in California. And he’s a poet, too. Now and then he sends me copies of those little poetry magazines he gets published in.”
Roebuck took a bite of tuna salad sandwich. “That’s great, a poet,” he said with his mouth full.
Ellie leaned back in her chair and a dreamy look passed over her eyes. “We used to have an act together for a while, in Iowa. I’d sing while he played the guitar. I liked it but I just wasn’t good enough. I knew it after a while, when the bookings thinned out and I heard people talk. But Ralph is great! You should see him, crooning, crooning away, making love to his guitar under the hot lights in front of all those people.” She smiled. “That’s how he put it once in one of his poems, and that’s how I used to talk when I was younger, like a damn poet. You outgrow that, I guess.”
“Most of us do,” Roebuck said, and Ellie caught the sadness in his voice.
“Have you outgrown that poetic stuff?” she asked candidly.
“Most of it,” Roebuck answered, taking a swig of milk. He decided it was time to get on another subject. “I’ve got an idea, Ellie.”
She let her chair tilt forward and sat listening.
“Why don’t you come with me when I leave?”
Mild surprise showed on
“Yes,” Ellie said firmly, “and I told you I didn’t care.”
After neither of them spoke for a long moment she stood and slipped into her robe. “I’ll fix you something to eat. There’s some tuna salad in the refrigerator.”
She walked slowly into the kitchen and began removing dishes from one of the cabinets. “You are hungry, aren’t you?”
Roebuck grinned at her and nodded, feeling rather foolish not because he was standing before her stark nude but, oddly enough, because he had doubted her to begin with.
“Have I got time to take a shower?” he asked.
Ellie nodded. “Time for anything you want.”
Beneath the soothing hot needles of shower water Roebuck relaxed completely for the first time. He reached out, turned the water on even hotter and stood with his head back, enjoying the pinpoint pressure of the fine spray, breathing in the steam that was rising around him. There was a strange security here, not only of the secret confines of the sliding glass shower doors but of the steady, beating sound. The entire outside world, sight, sound, smell, touch, all was cut off, held back by the warm, rushing, roaring privacy here.
It was with reluctance that he turned off the water, toweled himself dry and slipped into his shorts. The outside room was cool as he walked quickly to the chair where his clothes were laid out and hurriedly put on his pants and undershirt.
“The food’s ready if you are,” Ellie said.
She had two plates with sandwiches and potato chips on them laid out on the small kitchen table. There was a bowl of tuna salad in the center of the table, and two glasses of milk. It looked delicious to Roebuck.
“Would you rather have something else to drink?” Ellie asked as they sat down.
Roebuck shook his head. “Milk is the most wholesome thing there is.”
They began to eat slowly, occasionally looking across the table at each other.
“How long have you lived here?” Roebuck asked.
“Oh, maybe a year. How come you ask?”
“Curiosity. A scientist is curious. Were you born around here?”
“In Iowa, about a hundred years ago.”
“Why’d you leave?”
Ellie shrugged. “I don’t know, really. I quit high school after two years to go to work, but I decided I didn’t like work. The only job I could get was in a dairy, washing milk bottles. I quit after three months. They were going to get an automatic washer anyway.”
“I can’t see you washing bottles.”
“Me either. Right after I quit, my older brother and I both left home.”
“The brother in California?”
Ellie nodded. Her face glowed as she talked of her brother. “Ralph is a guitar player—he’s played in a lot of night spots in California. And he’s a poet, too. Now and then he sends me copies of those little poetry magazines he gets published in.”
Roebuck took a bite of tuna salad sandwich. “That’s great, a poet,” he said with his mouth full.
Ellie leaned back in her chair and a dreamy look passed over her eyes. “We used to have an act together for a while, in Iowa. I’d sing while he played the guitar. I liked it but I just wasn’t good enough. I knew it after a while, when the bookings thinned out and I heard people talk. But Ralph is great! You should see him, crooning, crooning away, making love to his guitar under the hot lights in front of all those people.” She smiled. “That’s how he put it once in one of his poems, and that’s how I used to talk when I was younger, like a damn poet. You outgrow that, I guess.”
“Most of us do,” Roebuck said, and Ellie caught the sadness in his voice.
“Have you outgrown that poetic stuff?” she asked candidly.
“Most of it,” Roebuck answered, taking a swig of milk. He decided it was time to get on another subject. “I’ve got an idea, Ellie.”
She let her chair tilt forward and sat listening.
“Why don’t you come with me when I leave?”
Mild surprise showed on
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