in the direction of Robbie’s apartment now, the leaves rattling around their feet, a quarter moon flying through the wind-driven clouds overhead.
“You think so?”
“I do. And so does Coach Silverman.”
Wesley stopped, caught by surprise. “What do you know about me and Coach Silverman?”
“Personally? Not a thing. But you must know Josie’s on the team. Josie Quinn from class?”
“Of course I know Josie.” The one who’d sounded like a kindly anthropologist when they’d been discussing the Kindle. And yes, he had known she was a Lady Meerkat. Unfortunately one of the subs who usually got into the game only if it was a total blowout.
“Josie says Coach has been really sad since you and her broke up. Grouchy, too. She makes them run all the time, and kicked one girl right off the team.”
“That was before we broke up.” Thinking: In a way that’s why we broke up . “Umcdoes the whole team know about us?”
Robbie Henderson looked at him as though he were mad. “If Josie knows, they all know.”
“How?” Because Ellen wouldn’t have told them; briefing the team on your love-life was not a coachly thing to do.
“How do women know anything?” Robbie asked. “They just do.”
“Are you and Josie Quinn an item, Robbie?”
“We’re going in the right direction. G’night, Wes. I’m gonna sleep in tomorrow—no classes on Friday—but if you drop by Susan and Nan’s for lunch, come on up and knock on my door.”
“I might do that,” Wesley said. “Goodnight, Robbie. Thanks for being one of the Three Stooges.”
“I’d say the pleasure was all mine, but I have to think about that.”
.
Instead of reading ur-Hemingway when he got back, Wesley stuffed the Kindle in his briefcase. Then he took out the mostly blank bound notebook and ran his hand over its pretty cover. For your book ideas , Ellen had said, and it had to’ve been an expensive present. Too bad it was going to waste.
I could still write a book , he thought. Just because I haven’t in any of the other Urs doesn’t mean I couldn’t here.
It was true. He could be the Sarah Palin of American letters. Because sometimes longshots came in.
Both for good and for ill.
He undressed, brushed his teeth, then called the English Department and left a message for the secretary to cancel his one morning class. “Thanks, Marilyn. Sorry to put this on you, but I think I’m coming down with the flu.” He added an unconvincing cough and hung up.
He thought he would lie sleepless for hours, thinking of all those other worlds, but in the dark they seemed as unreal as actors when you saw them on a movie screen. They were big up there—often beautiful, too—but they were still only shadows thrown by light. Maybe the Ur-worlds were like that, too.
What seemed real in this post-midnight hour was the sound of the wind, the beautiful sound of the wind telling tales of Tennessee, where it had been earlier this evening. Lulled by it, Wesley fell asleep, and he slept deeply and long. There were no dreams, and when he woke up, sunshine was flooding his bedroom. For the first time since his own undergraduate days, he had slept until almost eleven in the morning.
V—Ur Local (Under Construction)
He took a long hot shower, shaved, dressed, and decided to go down to Susan and Nan’s for either a late breakfast or an early lunch, whichever looked better on the menu. As for Robbie, Wesley decided he’d let the kid sleep. He’d be out practicing with the rest of the hapless football team this afternoon; surely he deserved to sleep late. It occurred to him that, if he took a table by the window, he might see the Athletic Department bus go by as the girls set off for the Bluegrass Invitational, eighty miles away. He’d wave. Ellen wouldn’t see him, but he’d do it anyway.
He took his briefcase without even thinking about it.
.
He ordered the Susan’s Sexy Scramble (onions, peppers, mozzarella cheese) with bacon on
“You think so?”
“I do. And so does Coach Silverman.”
Wesley stopped, caught by surprise. “What do you know about me and Coach Silverman?”
“Personally? Not a thing. But you must know Josie’s on the team. Josie Quinn from class?”
“Of course I know Josie.” The one who’d sounded like a kindly anthropologist when they’d been discussing the Kindle. And yes, he had known she was a Lady Meerkat. Unfortunately one of the subs who usually got into the game only if it was a total blowout.
“Josie says Coach has been really sad since you and her broke up. Grouchy, too. She makes them run all the time, and kicked one girl right off the team.”
“That was before we broke up.” Thinking: In a way that’s why we broke up . “Umcdoes the whole team know about us?”
Robbie Henderson looked at him as though he were mad. “If Josie knows, they all know.”
“How?” Because Ellen wouldn’t have told them; briefing the team on your love-life was not a coachly thing to do.
“How do women know anything?” Robbie asked. “They just do.”
“Are you and Josie Quinn an item, Robbie?”
“We’re going in the right direction. G’night, Wes. I’m gonna sleep in tomorrow—no classes on Friday—but if you drop by Susan and Nan’s for lunch, come on up and knock on my door.”
“I might do that,” Wesley said. “Goodnight, Robbie. Thanks for being one of the Three Stooges.”
“I’d say the pleasure was all mine, but I have to think about that.”
.
Instead of reading ur-Hemingway when he got back, Wesley stuffed the Kindle in his briefcase. Then he took out the mostly blank bound notebook and ran his hand over its pretty cover. For your book ideas , Ellen had said, and it had to’ve been an expensive present. Too bad it was going to waste.
I could still write a book , he thought. Just because I haven’t in any of the other Urs doesn’t mean I couldn’t here.
It was true. He could be the Sarah Palin of American letters. Because sometimes longshots came in.
Both for good and for ill.
He undressed, brushed his teeth, then called the English Department and left a message for the secretary to cancel his one morning class. “Thanks, Marilyn. Sorry to put this on you, but I think I’m coming down with the flu.” He added an unconvincing cough and hung up.
He thought he would lie sleepless for hours, thinking of all those other worlds, but in the dark they seemed as unreal as actors when you saw them on a movie screen. They were big up there—often beautiful, too—but they were still only shadows thrown by light. Maybe the Ur-worlds were like that, too.
What seemed real in this post-midnight hour was the sound of the wind, the beautiful sound of the wind telling tales of Tennessee, where it had been earlier this evening. Lulled by it, Wesley fell asleep, and he slept deeply and long. There were no dreams, and when he woke up, sunshine was flooding his bedroom. For the first time since his own undergraduate days, he had slept until almost eleven in the morning.
V—Ur Local (Under Construction)
He took a long hot shower, shaved, dressed, and decided to go down to Susan and Nan’s for either a late breakfast or an early lunch, whichever looked better on the menu. As for Robbie, Wesley decided he’d let the kid sleep. He’d be out practicing with the rest of the hapless football team this afternoon; surely he deserved to sleep late. It occurred to him that, if he took a table by the window, he might see the Athletic Department bus go by as the girls set off for the Bluegrass Invitational, eighty miles away. He’d wave. Ellen wouldn’t see him, but he’d do it anyway.
He took his briefcase without even thinking about it.
.
He ordered the Susan’s Sexy Scramble (onions, peppers, mozzarella cheese) with bacon on
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