Ceremonies

'Well, I think you have. Of course-'

She stumbled slightly and felt his hand reach out to steady her. He seemed to hold her longer than was necessary.

'Of course, I don't know you very well,' she said, pulling away slightly. 'You may get bored. What are you going to do if you're unhappy out there?'

'Unhappy? What do you mean?'

'Can you just come back here to the city if it turns out you don't like it? I hope you haven't paid the whole thing in advance.'

'No, I haven't paid anything yet,' he said. 'But I told the Poroths I'd stay the summer, and they're expecting me to, so I guess I have a certain commitment.'

'Still, that's hardly the same as a contract.'

'Maybe,' he said, glancing at the figures behind them. 'But I feel my word to the Poroths is just as binding as a contract. It's the way those people operate. And anyway, I did sign something with the other couple, the ones subletting my apartment. They wanted the place till September, and I gave it to 'em. They wanted the whole thing in writing, and' – he shrugged – 'I gave it to 'em. So I just made my mind up: I'm going to stay the whole summer and that's all there is to it. You won't find me coming home crying!'

For a moment she thought she'd heard real self-pity in his voice, but then, screwing up his face, he made a mocking little sound like the sobbing of a baby, and she broke into laughter. Soon he was laughing with her – but only for a moment; clearly the doubts she'd raised were still on his mind.

'Jesus, I hope I don't get bored out there,' he said. 'I certainly don't expect to. My dissertation alone should keep me busy round the clock. If you could see the size of my reading list… 'He shook his head. 'God, I'm still so pissed about that book bag. There were things in there of my own, aside from all those papers. You wouldn't believe the catching up I've got to do. There's a course I'm teaching next fall that I'm completely unprepared for, a night class at Columbia-'

'I thought you taught at the New School.'

'Sure, but nobody's going to pay the rent on that. You've really got to scramble for the jobs these days. You've got to take whatever comes along and hope that someday someplace gives you tenure. Me, I admit it, I'm a bit of a hack. I'll go wherever you pay me and teach whatever they like.'

She felt a trace of envy. 'The pay must be good at Columbia.'

'Well, it isn't actually the college I'll be with, it's the General Studies program. But it's the best I can do right now. The course itself is partly my idea… '

The rest of his words were drowned out when, beneath their feet, the pavement trembled like the roll of a hundred drums. In an instant they were engulfed by a cavernously deep rumbling, as if something vast and invisible were bearing down upon their lives. Through the subterranean corridors below them an IND express hurtled noisily uptown, leaving only silence in its wake.

Silence… but broken by a certain sound behind them, a queer irregular thump-and-scrape from somewhere down the block.

'What will it be on?'

'Pardon?' He was peering over his shoulder, but quickly turned back to her; one didn't stare at cripples. In the distance the little figure with the cane, head bowed, continued its laborious progress up the sidewalk. The emptiness and the night seemed to press heavily upon it.

'Your course,' she said. 'What'll it be on?'

'I'm calling it "The Gothic Imagination." That's the kind of title they go for up there. I told them I'd start with Shakespeare and work right up to Absalom, Absalom, and believe it or not, they bought it. They must think-'

'Wait a second! Since when did Shakespeare write gothics?'

He paused. 'Well, there's always Hamlet. You know – ghost on the battlements, lost inheritance… But that was just part of the sales pitch. The same with the Faulkner; I threw them in for the names. The truth is, I'll mainly be reading a lot of crazy old horror stories, the sort of stuff I should have read ten years ago. I've been faking it all this time, and now's my chance to find out what I've missed.' He turned to look at her, smiling. 'Should be fun, eh?'

She felt a tiny urge to needle him, for there was something about his enthusiasm that irritated her – the same smug faith in good fortune, perhaps, which she occasionally recognized in herself. Or perhaps it was just that he seemed so blithely prepared to leave her.

'And what will you do out there,' she asked, 'if you get sick of ghost stories?'

'Oh, that shouldn't be a problem,' he said. 'I'm pretty good at keeping myself busy. One thing's for sure, I'm not going to spend the summer sitting on my ass. I'm going to get myself in shape, maybe even do a little jogging. Establish a routine and stick to it. Bran and yogurt at breakfast, dental floss at night, shoes on the shoe trees before going to bed… '

She noticed with some amusement that, as he spoke, he was swinging his arms more forcefully and holding his head up straighter.

'And in the evening,' he said, 'who knows? I might try to teach myself astronomy. That's something you can't do in the city – stargazing. I'm bringing out a book with all the maps. It'll be nice to learn what's actually up there.'

The two of them looked upward as they passed along the block, but by now the city sky was almost starless. The moon had vanished behind the buildings to the west; they saw it shining low over the cross streets and the vacant lots.

'If things get too boring,' he added, 'I suppose I can always get a lift into Gilead. What there is of it, anyway.' He shrugged. 'And, of course, if worst comes to worst, I can always try bird-watching, I hear that's fun, or go for walks in the woods. In fact – now, don't laugh! – I'm bringing out a whole slew of those little illustrated field guides. I mean, let's face it, I don't know a hell of a lot about campcraft – I'm like the guy in the joke: the last time I tried rubbing two sticks together was in a Chinese restaurant – but there are quite a few things I'd really like to learn: like mushroom hunting, and animal tracks, and the names of some of the flowers. Round-lobed hepatica, Dutchman's-breeches' – the names rolled off his tongue -'bachelor's button, touch-me-not… '

She nudged him with her elbow. 'You sound just like the nature counselor at B.C.Y. C'

'Oh, yeah?' He stopped and faced her. 'And what, pray tell, is B.C.Y.C.?'

'Beaver County Youth Camp.'

His mouth opened in a incredulous grin. 'Beaver County? Is that where you're from?'

'Uh-huh!' She burst into giggles.

He laughed, too, with something like relief. 'The girl from Beaver County… What a find!'It was as if a wall between them had been broken. They leaned against one another, rocking with laughter. 'And what a great title for a film! We'll get-'

Suddenly he caught his breath. She felt him stiffen.

'Jesus! How does that guy keep up with us?' He squinted into the darkness. 'I've never seen a cripple move so fast.'

She turned and looked, but the sidewalk behind them was empty, the streets hushed but for the wail of a distant police siren, rising and falling, rising and falling, like a hungry baby screaming unheeded in the night.

The time of idleness was drawing to an end. Away from the others, near the rosebushes at the side of the house, the Poroths lay drowsily in the long grass and the shadows from the kitchen light, resting beside one another. They were alone here but for a trio of their cats, two stretched in sleep between them, another curled purring on Deborah's stomach. With the murmur of voices so distant and the bonfire out of sight behind the house, Sarr felt sorely tempted to roll over and hold her in his arms – they were used to making love among the animals, outdoors as well as in – but he forced the desire from his mind. Not for another full day; not until the planting was complete. Sunday, though, was going to be special. Sunday after services…

'Just a few more hours of this, Lord be praised,' he said. 'But I can't say as I look forward to tomorrow night, with just the two of us.