Part 17 (2/2)

'Oh so do you mean-'

'You're right, it would be educational.'

'Why are you laughing, Patrick? What's so funny?' Lexie glared at me. 'I heard they got terrorists in Europe, the Taliban and stuff. It's a very dangerous place. But it's like I always said you never cared about me or the children.'

'Lexie, you may take the kids to London. If you email me your schedule general travel plans, which airlines you'll be using, details of where you'll stay in the UK with dates, addresses, cell phone numbers, all that stuff there won't be any problem.'

'What's the catch?'

'There is no catch. I'm trying to be calm and reasonable about an awful situation. You said you wanted to be civilised. So have you changed your mind and do you want a fight? Do you want me filing for divorce? Do you want a sheriff on your Limey lover's doorstep serving papers? Do you want to file for divorce yourself? Or shall we keep the situation open for the moment while we're both so busy, anyway and see how things work out? I'll continue paying maintenance for Joe and Polly into your account. You must let me know if you need more.'

'Patrick, you're impossible. You always were contrary. I'm sure you always will be. Why do you always put me in the wrong?'

'Lex, I don't have time for this.' I got up from the couch. 'I'll see you off the premises. I suggest you ride the elevator at this time of night. But if you want to use the stairs, I'll find a flashlight.'

'I don't do elevators, you know that, but if you don't care about your children's mother getting mutilated, raped and murdered in a dark and dangerous stairwell-'

'Come on, Lex.' I shrugged into my jacket. 'I'll walk you down the stairs. We could both use the exercise.'

Or you could, anyway.

'Oh, don't let me put you out.' She glanced toward the coffee table, saw the DVD case. 'I hope that isn't p.o.r.n?' she said suspiciously. 'Stephen says men in your situation often use a lot of p.o.r.n. It's disgusting, jacking off to p.o.r.n.'

I flipped the case so she could view the artwork.

'Lexie, as you see, it's Unforgiven.'

ROSIE.

You can't miss Pat, I told myself.

Look, you did as Malcolm Crawley said. You went for it, reached out to him. See where it got you nowhere. All he sent was a three line reply.

What was the matter with the man, could he not read between those lines?

It would seem not.

'Darling, what's the problem?' f.a.n.n.y asked me every time we met. 'You can tell Aunt f.a.n.n.y, can't you?'

'I don't have a problem, f.a.n.n.y.'

'You mean it's a man.'

PATRICK.

Okay, I admit it.

I was figuring out how I could get to Europe, too. I told myself it should be possible. My students, graduate students and technicians were the best. Ambitious, dedicated and hard-working, they didn't need me breathing down their necks 24-7. As long as they and I could video-conference, I didn't have to be in Minnesota.

I made more calls. I put out more antennae. I considered leaving academia, applying for a bunch of jobs in industry which all paid twice my salary. I offered to give a course of lectures at some British universities, the ones that had a range of research programmes in my field. I applied for my first pa.s.sport, expedited service. If nothing else, I thought, when I got to page through all those wise, improving sentiments, I'd elevate my mind.

I didn't dare to hope things would work out. Or not for weeks, or even months. But London University's Queen Alexandra College replied within three days. A professor from Australia who'd been due to visit was sick, had died, whatever. So my own proposal was most timely, there was funding, they would be delighted, it would be an honour, the department would be very happy, there were three post-doctoral students who would be most anxious to discuss and all that stuff.

When I saw the dean and told him JQA would not be picking up the tab, he said it would be very good to foster some new links with major UK universities, in fact he had been going to suggest it, but I had beat him to it.

'You have a conference in Colorado in the summer, don't you, Patrick?' he continued. 'Where you're planning on presenting some of your new findings and developments in thought-to-text?'

'Yes, Dean, that's right.'

'I get this feeling you'll soon be in demand all over. You'll get invitations to be a visiting fellow inside, outside of the States.'

'Perhaps.'

'Tell me, did you get your pa.s.sport yet?'

FROM: Patrick M Riley SUBJECT: London TO: Rosie Denham SENT: January 14 09.34 Hi Rosie Happy New Year!

Thank you for the message you sent a couple weeks ago.

I'm due to give some lectures at London University's Queen Alexandra College starting Wednesday February 6th. I'll be in the UK around three weeks. So if you're in London, maybe we could meet for coffee some time?

I hope your new job is working out.

Sincerely Pat ROSIE.

I felt myself turn into one big grin.

What's all this sincerely rubbish? What's so wrong with love? Perhaps he doesn't love me? Then why's he coming to London?

Like he says, he's going to give some lectures at Queen Alexandra College. Maybe, said a voice inside my head. But he's really coming to see you.

I wanted to believe it.

FROM: Rosie Denham SUBJECT: London TO: Patrick M Riley SENT: 15 January 15.25 My job is going well. I'd love to meet. Actually, my laptop's on the blink, so maybe you could sort it?

All best wishes Rosie X FROM: Patrick M Riley SUBJECT: Laptop TO: Rosie Denham SENT: January 16 17.45 What's this on the blink? You mean it's ****ed? Okay, I'll check it out. I'll see you February, looking forward to it.

Pat I wonder if it's possible to be unhinged by joy?

I also wondered about going to meet him at Heathrow. Maybe not, I thought don't want to look too keen and needy.

'Perhaps,' the voice of conscience whispered, 'you shouldn't meet at all?'

The voice of conscience could shut up.

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