Part 18 (2/2)
His father stayed. Jimmy slept on the couch and got up with Jenn in the mornings, saw her off to school. He woke Robert with hot tea, saw that he dressed and went to work. ”You should go until you can't, son. Keep your mind on your work.”
3.
Mary and Grady began cla.s.ses the week Robert of Robert's bereavement. Mary wondered where the teacher her father had told to thank was. When she finally met him the following week she was horrified by his sickly appearance, but then he stood to teach, and although his legs shook under him and his hands trembled, he told stories, he presented compelling ideas, he filled the air with the myths and legends of literature. He was magic.
Mary began looking forward to his cla.s.s.
One evening Mary left her room and made for the kitchen. She stopped short, hearing her parents deep in conversation.
”Yeah, I had lunch with Robert,” her father was saying. ”I still can't believe it. Veronica's dead.”
”Why didn't he tell you sooner?” asked her mother.
”Who can blame him, Freddie? It wasn't working out, and I'm sure that's filled him with guilt. He's a mess. He looks terrible, just awful.”
”Small wonder.”
”No, I mean there's more. He's sick. AIDS, maybe. Or cancer.”
Mary, huddled outside the kitchen door, suddenly knew who they were talking about. Veronica was her dad's employee; she'd met her several times on daughter day: the woman was a perky bright sugar-freak who wore a perpetual smile and looked like she lived in a gym. And Robert? The only Robert she'd met recently was the professor who'd helped her out, the man who looked sick. AIDS maybe. Or cancer. A tear came to her eye. She made her way back to her room.
Grady looked over a paperback. ”Whatsa matter, darlin'?”
Mary sat on her bed opposite Grady. The room's configuration was disconcertingly like the dorm; at times, she woke up thinking she was back in North Carolina. ”It's the professor,” she said.
Grady looked confused. ”Which one?”
”The one you're reading the book for.”
”The skinny one?”
”The sick one.”
”What about him?”
”His wife's dead.”
Grady sat up, laid the book face down on her lap.
”He's so sweet, so cool in cla.s.s,” Mary said. ”I had no idea he's been going through something like that. It's sad.”
Mary slept neither well nor much that night. She couldn't get her mind off of Professor Lieber's misfortune, and the grandness of his tragedy made her feel small. She'd thought her own problems were rough. Sure, she had been in some hard places, still was, but nothing compared to Professor Lieber's current situation.
She thrashed around, twisted the sheets around her. Hot and constrained, she ripped them from her wet skin, wiped at her arms and chest, threw her feet over the bedside. She hammered her fists into the mattress, then rose, sighing, heading into the bathroom.
Her reflection was pale, almost evanescent. Although she'd gained ten pounds, she was pallid. She leaned over the sink, regarded her face, which people had said was gorgeous. She just didn't see it. It looked wan, disgusting, a membrane of skin stretched over too-thick bones.
And secreted inside her was a fetus, its conception a crime against her and, as her mother had made clear, her family's honor. Would her folks be relieved if she aborted it? She could tell them she'd miscarried.
Mary left her reflection, returned to bed, but her mind refused to shut off.
She tried on three outfits before striking the correct combination: navy slacks and a white blouse. She bundled her hair, swirled it atop her head, and spent an hour on her makeup.
Grady, who could be ready to go almost anywhere in five minutes flat, watched with a smirk. ”You gonna talk to him?”
”To who?”
”Professor Lieber? Or should I say, Robert?”
Mary glanced over, pausing with the lipstick over her lips. ”What are you talking about?”
”You barely slept last night.”
”The baby.”
”Liar. Someone's got a crush.”
3.
The cla.s.s ended, and Robert gathered up his materials. He felt watched and looked up. The McDylan girl and her blonde friend were whispering. The blonde eyed him, then walked out, and Mary hesitantly approached him. ”Hey, Professor Lieber.”
”Hey yourself. And you can call me Robert when I'm not addressing the cla.s.s. Professor makes me feel ancient.” He stopped picking up his papers when he noticed Mary staring at his shaking right hand.
”Okay, uh, Robert. Do you have a minute?”
”Sure. It's Mary, right?”
Mary nodded, smiling, watching the kids file out. ”My Mom and Dad were in the kitchen last night, and I overheard them, and I wanted to tell you how sorry I am, and to thank you for getting me-”
”Whoa, whoa,” said Robert, raising a trembling hand. ”I had lunch with your dad yesterday. I'm a.s.suming they were talking about the death of my wife.”
Mary nodded.
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