“Too bad, darling. Anything you need. Aspirin?”
“No, thanks.”
“Don’t you have anyone to take you home? Where do you live, sweetheart? I should remember; I addressed the invitation. You are Meg Kellaway, aren’t you?”
“Yes. It’s okay. I live nearby, in Gilmore Hall.”
‘Then it’s no trouble for someone to walk there with you. How about Don Rigden? He’s a friend of yours.”
“No. Not Don. I’m fine by myself. Really.” She picked up her coat. “Could you tell me something, please? Who was it that arranged for me to come to the party?”
Bernice helped her put on the coat. “I wouldn’t bother your head about that, if I were you.”
“I’d like to know. It wasn’t Don, was it?”
“No, honey. It was a female.”
Outside, Meg walked for maybe two minutes through the cloisters toward her dormitory. Then she stopped and sat on a bench against the wall of the Student Union, where she was alone and could think.
Sarah told Ed, “I want you to take me home with you tonight.”
“Just like that?”
“Ed, you’ve got to believe this. I’ve thought about it rationally. I’m twenty-three years old. That may seem young to you, but I’m old enough to know that this is not infatuation. And I’m not without experience. Nor am I drunk. I had one glass of wine and a tomato juice all evening.”
“Hold on, little lady. I didn’t suggest you were drunk.”
“But you might. I can’t leave anything to chance. I mean it, Ed. I really mean to share your bed tonight. No, don’t start shaking your head. I’m not greedy for sex. I just want to know for certain that you care that much about me.”
“Sarah, caring is one thing—”
She pressed her fingers against his mouth to stop him from speaking. “Will you hear me out, please? In the short time I’ve known you, I’ve told you just about everything important that ever happened in my life, but I know practically nothing about you — if you were married, divorced, widowed; if you have kids; what your childhood was like. I haven’t asked. I won’t ask. If you want to tell me, you will. All I want from you tonight is comfort, Ed. The comfort that will come when you let me through this invisible wall between us.”
“You’ve got to put this out of your mind, Sarah.”
“There you go again, blocking me out. How do I get through to you?”
“You have. You’ve made your intentions pretty clear.”
“But you still treat me like I’m lying on your damned couch!” She pressed her face against his chest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s okay. It’s true. I use analytical techniques to keep that wall between us.”
She stepped in front of him. They were under a tall tree at the edge of the East Lawn. “Why? Do you think my feelings about you are symptoms of some neurosis? Am I just a crazy with a crush on my analyst?”
“I’ve never suggested that. You’re not crazy and I’m not your analyst.”
“We’re just two people who met?”
“I’ll go along with that.”
“Then would you treat me like a person, please? You have to admit I learned to control my fantasy. I haven’t acted strangely this evening. All I’m asking is to be treated like a normal woman who has found the man she loves.” She put her hands inside his jacket and around his back, pressing herself against him. “If you prefer, you could come to my place.”
Quietly, but firmly, he said, “No.”
She held him closer. “Sex isn’t important. It’s you I want.”
“This can only hurt us both, Sarah. Let’s leave it, huh?”
“If you wanted just to look at my body, maybe run your hands over it...”
Sharply he said, “Don’t treat me like some impotent old man.” He pushed her arms away. “Come on, we’re going back inside.” He took her arm, but there was no affection in the contact.
Sarah could not accept this. She had staked so much hope on this evening. Nothing had gone right. But if she had to fight, so be it. “I could ruin your career — do you know that? I’m famous, Ed. I say what I like to the papers and they print it. I could think up juicy stories about you and me, like how you forced me to believe I was a spider.”
“Now you are talking like a neurotic.” He walked faster. She was almost running to keep up.
“I mean it. I can get tough if you force me.”
“It won’t achieve what you want. Neither will the threat.”
She realized they were heading in the direction of the parking lot behind the Senior Common Room. He intended to leave the party now.
“Why, Ed? Why won’t you be kind to me?”
“You don’t understand.”
“For God’s sake, help me.”
He stopped. They were about thirty yards from the cars. Someone was watching them from there, hands in pockets, kicking the gravel.
“You see who that is?” asked Ed.
“Greg Laz? What does this have to do—”
“Why do you think he’s waiting there?”
“I don’t care. I’m not interested in Greg Laz.”
“He’s waiting for me,” said Ed, and he spoke slowly, as if to a child. “I’m going to get into his automobile and he’s going to drive me home to the apartment. My apartment and his. We live together, Greg and I. Do you understand?”
It was impossible. She couldn’t accept it. She couldn’t speak.
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” said Ed. “I’m not ashamed of my personal life, but I do keep it private, because other people react in ways they sometimes regret later. You’re obviously shocked, and I’m sorry. I really thought until a moment ago that you need never know.”
Suddenly it was cold and she wanted him to go. She took a step back from him.
“Sarah, will you be okay? We could give you a lift home.”
Her belly started shaking and she took deep breaths. She was laughing in a strange, low voice.
He moved toward her, but she turned and ran back across the lawn, laughing hysterically.
Ed stood watching until she was lost in the darkness. Then he walked the rest of the way to the car.
“Shall we go?” asked Laz.
“We should never have come.”
She used her key to open the doors of the Department. There was no need for lights. She preferred the dark and she knew her way around. She opened the door of Bernice’s office and took the key of the araneology lab off its hook above the filing cabinet. She glanced through the window to see if anyone was around, but they were all on the opposite side of the campus, where the dancing was still going on. Without stealth, she walked past the bulletin boards and schedules until she reached the door she wanted. She let herself in, leaving it open.
Then she began walking slowly between the benches, starting at the front end and progressing to the back, like an inspection officer reviewing the troops. Yet when Sarah had reached the last bench, she went back again, repeating the exercise in reverse. She was silent, absorbed in her thoughts. Again she turned and made the labyrinthine journey. She continued this way for a long time. No one observed her except possibly the inmates of the glass cases.
When she halted, it was at the case containing the Brazilian mygalomorph they called Pelé. The spider was in its nest, out of sight. Beside the case was a smaller cabinet containing Pelé’s rations — large, live moths. She slipped back the lid enough to scoop one into her hand. Then she opened the top of Pelé’s case and let the fluttering moth fall to the sand at the bottom.
She waited. The moth moved over the sand. After six minutes there was a movement under the stones forming the entrance to the nest. A pair of striped legs probed the outside. The spider emerged.
Sarah raised the top again and put her right hand in the case. She gripped Pelé’s abdomen and lifted the spider out. The moth flew up and away.