Part 10 (1/2)

”That's so sad,” Claire said absently, without looking at me. ”You must be John.”

”So people keep telling me. Jack.” He pointed to himself. ”And Josie.”

Claire grinned an attractive gap-toothed grin. ”Well, Jack and Josie, I'm afraid you're the only two young people in a room full of old folks.”

”Eugene said something about a son,” I said.

She grimaced. ”Dear G.o.d, is Eugene trying to set you up with Martin? That's like him.” She rolled her eyes. ”Poor, deluded Eugene. He does keep hoping.” She winked at me. ”Let's just say you're not his type, dear, and let it go at that. And even barring that-but never mind.” She shook her head. ”I'm still not sure that physicists should be allowed to breed. Although you two seem to have turned out all right,” she said, looking at Jack.

”We're painfully average,” I said.

”I'm not sure about that,” she said, ”but you're identifiably human.”

”We have to go. Our father is waiting for us.” I pushed Jack into the crowd. When we were well away from her I said, ”My G.o.d, is there anyone here who isn't going to hit on us? Maybe you're right. Maybe I should try and land Searles.”

”It's all about s.e.x, Josie.”

”What is?”

”Everything.”

Raeburn was talking heatedly about something when we got back. Eugene was still standing next to him, and a small crowd of men had gathered around the two of them. ”He is the personification of everything that's wrong with modern theoretical physics,” Raeburn was saying. ”What can possibly be left of quantum mechanics after it's filtered through a brain raised on thirty-second promotional spots? A music video, that's what. Lots of flas.h.i.+ng lights and flashy clothes. A pseudorevolution led by pseudoscientists who study the laws of the universe because 'black holes are s.e.xy.'”

Jack nudged me.

”I'm not saying Ben's a brilliant theorist,” Eugene said pla-catingly, ”but he's a wonderful teacher. Even you have to admit that, Joseph.”

”I have to admit nothing of the kind. He's engaging. He's popular. But does that make him a wonderful teacher? It might make him prom king, but-”

”You're only jealous because you didn't get to stand up onstage wearing the crown, Joseph.” Claire appeared at Raeburn's elbow and put a consoling hand on his arm. ”Don't worry, darling. I promise I'll ask you to the next Sadie Hawkins dance.”

Everybody laughed. Even Raeburn. I s.h.i.+fted awkwardly on my too-high heels and wondered if all of his colleagues were blind not to have seen the flash of rage on his face when Claire spoke. Jack was watching Claire with open admiration. I decided that I didn't find her amusing.

”Really, though,” Claire continued. ”You're taking this all too seriously, Joseph. You're still the acknowledged mad genius around here. Rest on your laurels, why don't you, and leave poor Ben alone. He's a nice kid.”

Raeburn smiled tolerantly. ”Poor Claire, led through the nose by the ever-louder ticking of your biological clock.”

”Careful, Joseph,” Claire said. Her lips were tight. ”Your desperation is showing.”

Eugene looked around nervously, seemed to see me, and coughed. ”Well, then, Miss Josephine. Why don't you tell us what grand plans you have for the future?”

”I haven't really thought that much about it,” I said. ”Maybe I'll be a physicist.”

Jack stared at me.

”Like your father?” Claire said. ”Oh, that's sweet.”

Raeburn smiled and managed to look proudly at me. Well, at least now we're both lying, I thought, and smiled back.

Later Jack and I smoked a joint behind the greenhouse, s.h.i.+vering and up to our ankles in snow but away from the lights and the people. I'd had quite a bit to drink by then, and the cold, fresh air was good after the heat and noise of the party. The store of sociability I kept in reserve for these occasions was exhausted. My nerves were jangling. I wanted to be stoned. I wanted to go home.

”What was that c.r.a.p about wanting to be a physicist?” Jack said. ”You're no more a physicist than I am.”

”I don't know. That Claire person was getting on my nerves.”

He half-laughed. ”She's a sharp one, all right. Think you'll be that sharp when you're fifty-two?”

”How do you know she's fifty-two?”

He shrugged. ”She and I had a little chat while Raeburn was talking about what a firm grasp of string theory you have. Already knowing what an impressive junior physicist you are, I didn't feel a need to listen.” The joint crackled as he drew on it. He pa.s.sed it to me. ”That old b.a.s.t.a.r.d deserves what he gets, all that pompous garbage about pseudoscientists, and black holes being s.e.xy. What a f.u.c.king sn.o.b.”

I said nothing. Just took a long drag on the joint and waited for it to hit.

Jack kicked at the ground furiously. Then he looked at me and gave me a wan smile. ”I could kill him, Jo. Trotting us out like show ponies whenever the mood strikes him,” he said. ”I could kill him.”

”Well, don't,” I said. ”I don't know how we'd get out of that.”

Jack didn't answer.

Somebody was trying to get my attention. I was standing in a corner, trying to be furniture; I was thoroughly stoned and not a little drunk, and it took a moment before I understood that the voice was speaking to me. I turned around. A man with sandy hair tied back in a ponytail and wire-rimmed gla.s.ses stood at my shoulder. He was young, not that much older than Jack, and he didn't look entirely comfortable in his tuxedo.

”Your hair is about to catch fire,” he said and pointed to a small table next to me. On the table was a short, fat candle with three wicks, all of which were burning simultaneously. My hair, free of its braid for the night, had drifted perilously close to the flames.

”Oh,” I said stupidly.

The man said, ”Oh, indeed,” and moved the candle. The sober part of my brain sent up a signal flare and I realized who he was.

”You're Ben Searles,” I said.

”I am. Have we met?”

”Last year.” I remembered to stick my hand out so that he could shake it. ”I'm Josie Raeburn.”

”Joe Raeburn's daughter.” He gave me a careful look. ”I heard you and your brother were going to be here tonight. I should have recognized you.”

”How? It can't be from the photo on the Christmas card. They aren't even in the mail yet.”

He smiled. ”There's a family resemblance. But I'm glad to hear about the card. I was starting to think I was being snubbed.” He looked a little strained. ”You know, your father is a brilliant scientist. I actually wrote a paper on some of his work when I was a student. Condensed matter theory. Terrible paper on an interesting subject. I hear you're planning to go into the family business.”

”What? Oh,” I said. ”No. That's a rumor. I'm not sure how it got started.”

”So what do you want to do?”

”I was thinking about cosmetology.”

”Ah. Fringe astrophysics,” he said. ”Studying cosmets.”

I stared.

”Joke?” he said.