Kristina felt very cold. She went to the Dartmouth chapel and sat in the warmth for a few minutes, thinking of Evelyn, and of babies, and of Albert. She wanted to put a candle up for the little ones, but there was no place to do that. She left.
Kristina spotted Albert near Kiewit. Her mood darkened. He stood in the snow talking to a friend. Kristina sped up reluctantly. Her legs sped up, but her mind was slowing down. Albert began to walk northward to Frat Row. Kristina sped up some more, slightly dragging her right leg behind her.
‘Albert!’ she finally yelled, out of breath in the falling snow. ‘Wait up!’
He turned around and came toward her. Kristina was panting when she caught up to him and found herself with nothing to say. They stared silently at each other.
‘Jim stay the night last night?’ Albert finally asked, and Kristina felt his palpable question reverberate through her cold bones. She hated it when Albert was this way.
‘No, he didn’t,’ she told him, rubbing her hands together. ‘We broke up.’
He was quiet. ‘You did? Why? It wasn’t working out?’
‘Yeah, well, we weren’t working out like you and Conni.’
‘Who said anything about me and Conni working out?’ He fell quiet. ‘I’m just glad about you and Jim, that’s all.’
‘I bet you are.’
‘I am. So what now? Should I break up with Conni?’
‘Break up with her?’ Kristina was aghast. ‘What for?’
‘So that we could go to Canada. And other things.’
‘Look, stop pushing this Canada thing on me. I told you, I can’t go. Why are you so persistent?’
‘I’m not persistent. So what are you going to do, then?’
‘About what?’ Kristina said sullenly.
‘About you and Jim.’
‘Nothing. Maybe start seeing someone else.’ She saw a look of pain fly through his eyes. Barely audible, Kristina said, ‘Albert, please.’ The heaviness inside her chest wouldn’t lift; her heart squeezed and shut and hurt. She breathed out heavily and asked, ‘Did you take Aristotle out this morning?’
‘Yes,’ Albert said. ‘He loved the new snow.’
‘Bet he did.’ She realized Albert was the one who had covered her on the floor.
Leaning closer to Kristina, Albert said, ‘Remember last year? When we took Aristotle to Fahrenbrae and got snowed in for three days? How much we ran around then. How much we loved the snow. I drank and you made me coffee, and late at night, we would take off our clothes and run naked down the Vermont hills, screaming all the way. You always won -I always got cold first. And back at the cabin, you’d blow on my frozen feet and wrap blankets around them. Remember that, Rock?’
‘Sure, I remember, Albert,’ Kristina replied, beaten, exhausted. ‘I haven’t denied my feelings. They never change.’ Shivering, she rubbed her throbbing arm. The cold was making it feel better. ‘Let’s go back. I’m cold.’
Leaning closer to her and lowering his voice, Albert said, ‘I’ll win now, being out in the cold with you. I’ll win for once.’
She didn’t back away but didn’t respond in kind either. ‘Come on,’ she repeated. ‘I’m freezing.’
He said, ‘I was going to go and see Frankie.’
‘Oh,’ Kristina said. ‘Want me to come?’
‘No,’ Albert said quickly. ‘I won’t be long. I think he wants to talk to me alone. Man to man.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ Kristina said. ‘Well, you better run along then, if Frankie wants a man.’
Albert eyed Kristina. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he asked, reaching out to brush the snow off her hair.
‘Nothing, Albert,’ Kristina said. ‘Nothing.’
‘Go back,’ he said gently. ‘You’re freezing.’ She saw his black eyes filling up with her. ‘Poor you,’ he added tenderly. ‘We gotta go and get you your coat.’
‘Don’t poor me. I’m fine.’
‘Fine,’ he said, a little cooler. ‘I’ll see you later then?’
‘No! I mean -I guess. I mean -I want it to be over between us, Albert,’ Kristina blurted out.
‘I got it, I got it,’ he said coldly. ‘Who are you trying to convince?’
‘Me,’ she said without hesitation. ‘But this time I mean it. I want you to go your own way and me mine.’
‘That’s the way we planned it, Rocky,’ Albert said, his eyes blazing at her. His skin became flushed; he actually looked warm.
‘Don’t Rocky me,’ Kristina snapped. ‘I want to have a life, don’t you understand?’
‘With who? You and Jim are over, you say me and you are over. With who, Kristina?’
She didn’t rise to the bait. ‘A life away from you. Is that even possible?’
‘No,’ he said, bluntly, resigned. ‘It’s not. I realized it long ago. Why won’t you realize it?’
‘Because it’s not true,’ she said desperately.
Stepping closer to her until he was just inches away from her face, Albert said quietly, ‘Look at your beautiful lips. God, I want to kiss you. Right now.’
‘Stop it,’ she said weakly. ‘Enough, Albert.’
‘Okay, listen, if you don’t want to come to Canada, come with us to Long Island, Rock. I don’t want you to spend Thanksgiving here by yourself. Come on. It’ll be fun.’
‘You don’t mean it. Fun for who? For Conni, who knocks frantically on my door? For me? For you, who’ll sit there for four days watching me? Thanks, but no thanks. I had a home once. I don’t want other people now wishing pity on me, wishing turkey on me. Mr and Mrs Tobias, or Mr and Mrs Shaw and all their children, sitting and asking me questions and passing me the turkey, the pumpkin pie, the apple pie. Well, I don’t want their charity. And I don’t want yours.’
As if not hearing her, Albert said huskily, T wish for you, Kristina. There is nothing else I wish for on this earth.’
‘That’s what we are,’ Kristina said. ‘Impossible wishes.’
‘I wish we could live in Edinburgh. Never leave the bed-and-breakfast, never leave our bed.’
Unable to help himself, Albert reached out and intensely stroked Kristina’s cold cheek. ‘God, Kristina, God,’ he said. ‘Come with us. It’s better than being here.’
‘See, that’s where you’re wrong,’ she said, not moving away from his hand. She never did move away. He knew that, and she knew it.
‘Please. Come.’
‘No.’
‘Please.’ He was still stroking her.
Finally, Kristina moved. Now was as good a time as any. ‘Tell me, is it true? - Conni told me last week that you guys were thinking of getting engaged this Thanksgiving?’
‘No, it’s not true,’ Albert said instantly and then, ‘Conni was thinking of getting engaged this Thanksgiving.’
She looked incredulously at him.
‘That’s the truth,’ he said. ‘We talked about it, but she was the one to bring it up.’
Laughing, Kristina said, ‘God, Albert, you just never stop, do you? Never. Lying. Not even to me.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said gravely.
‘I see.’ Her breath left her body in a puff of vapor. ‘It was my understanding,’ she said, ‘that engagement implied a degree of mutual attachment.’
Albert just stared at Kristina bleakly, blankly, darkly. He was stepping from one foot to the other to keep warm.
She, however, stood immobile. ‘How were you going to do that, Albert? Take me to Canada and get engaged to Conni all during the same holiday?’
‘I wouldn’t have gotten engaged to Conni.’
‘You would’ve postponed it a week or so? Or is her whole family planning a special Thanksgiving engagement turkey feast?’
‘I don’t know what they’re planning.’
‘Yeah, okay.’ She stepped away from him. He didn’t follow.
‘Poker night tonight, Rock,’ he said to her. It was almost a plea. ‘Us four and Frankie. Penny ante.’
 
; Kristina didn’t answer, and he called out, ‘Please come. We need you.’
Saying nothing, Kristina turned her back to him and started walking toward Tuck Mall.
‘We’ll have to get you your coat back,’ Albert yelled after her.
Kristina waved at him without turning around.
Aristotle wasn’t in Kristina’s room. It was snowing hard, and she hoped he wasn’t outside. She just wanted to get her dog and bring him upstairs and lie down with him for a few minutes.
She went down to the second floor to Conni’s room. The door was open. Kristina glanced in. The room was clean as usual. The alarm clock’s digital blue display read 3:10.
Kristina eventually found Conni studying near the glass windows of the Hinman lounge. What surprised Kristina was seeing Frankie Absalom, studying next to her. They were completely absorbed. Neither looked up.
Kristina stood and stared in confusion. Hadn’t Albert said Frankie was waiting for him at Epsilon House? And if not Frankie, then who? Kristina emitted a low laugh. Was Albert running around on Conni?
Maybe Frankie had forgotten he had invited Albert to come over. Kristina pulled back her hair and walked up to them.
‘Hey, guys,’ she said. They looked up and nodded unenthusiastically.
‘How are you feeling today, Krissy?’ Conni asked.
‘Fine, thanks,’ lied Kristina. ‘Have you seen Aristotle?’
‘I think I saw Jim with him on Main Street about an hour ago. Near the Review office. Where’ve you been all day?’
‘Oh, here and there,’ Kristina said vaguely. ‘Sleeping mostly. Frankie, aren’t you supposed to be with Albert?’
Frankie looked puzzled. ‘Huh?’
‘Frankie, don’t be so eloquent. Aren’t you supposed to be meeting Albert in your room right about now?’
‘Huh?’ Frankie repeated.
‘Frankie!’
‘Kristina, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I haven’t spoken to Albert since his birthday.’
‘I see,’ said Kristina.
Frankie went back to the books. Conni stared uncomfortably at Kristina, who managed a friendly smile, waved with her good arm, and left.
Kristina went back to her room, lay down on top of her bed, and then pulled up the blanket over herself. She tried to nap, but the heaviness inside her wouldn’t let her. She got up and tidied up a little, played a computer game, called Jim’s room, stared out the window, lay down again. Nothing. Her heart was a hard ball. She buried her head in the pillow and cried.
She couldn’t sleep. She wasn’t tired, she just wanted to feel better, and she thought sleep would bring her relief. But there was no sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, an image of her car crashing into the oncoming vehicle flew up in her eyes, crashing, turning over, thud. Crashing, turning over, thud. Crashing, turning -
She got up and called Spencer O’Malley at the Hanover police station. He’d already left for the day. She got his home number from information and called him there. He wasn’t in. She didn’t know what she would’ve said to him if he had been in; she just wanted to hear his kind voice.
Jim finally brought Aristotle back, but didn’t stay long. Kristina didn’t have the energy to make him stay. The dog would have to do for now. She let Aristotle jump on the bed and then curled up next to him.
She thought of walking the bridge later, but she had no Southern Comfort. She then spent part of the next hour rummaging through her closet, trying to find something to soothe her throat, to calm her shaking hand, to ease the throbbing in her shoulder and her ribs. To ease the aching in her heart. There was nothing.
Kristina remembered the Southern Comfort she’d gotten for her birthday. Where was that bottle now?
It was time for her to go downstairs for poker, but she didn’t care. Unlocking the door and letting it shut behind her, she made her way quickly down the stairs, and then just as quickly went back to get Aristotle, who was less than enthusiastic at the prospect of going out. But he went anyway, as if he understood that his mistress needed the company. She made her way down Tuck Mall in the white dark and then to Main Street. She headed to Murphy’s Tavern. There was no liquor store in Hanover. Stinson’s grocery store sold champagne and beer, as did the Grand Union, but who the hell wanted champagne and beer? One of the bartenders at Murphy’s, a real nice guy, would sometimes let her buy a bottle of Southern Comfort, if there were no cops around and she asked nicely.
Murphy’s was closed. Closed because of the snow. She looked down the street as if hoping an hombre with tequila in his belt would sidle up and offer her a shot.
She remembered Spencer lived on Allen Street, close to EBA, so she walked there, and stood in front of the two-story building, looking up at two lighted windows. She didn’t know if they were his windows, but they were the only lighted windows on the short block. His name was on the doorbell. She thought of buzzing 5. P. O’Malley, but didn’t.
‘Aristotle,’ she called to the dog, who was sniffing the clean snow in hope of something delicious. ‘Aren’t we something, out in this weather, cold and miserable. Well, you’re cold. I’m miserable. Are you miserable, too, Aristotle?’
The dog wagged his tail happily.
‘I thought so. You look miserable.’ She patted his back. ‘Come. Let’s go back.’
They walked slowly, snow kicking up at their feet. Kristina looked down at Aristotle’s bare paws. She looked at her own feet. She had unlaced sneakers on. ‘Now, that hardly seems fair,’ she said. The dog stopped walking at the sound of his name. Stopping too, Kristina kicked off her sneakers. She wasn’t wearing any socks. Bending down, she picked the shoes up and kissed Aristotle on the top of his wide blond head.
The bell tower clock at Baker struck once. Kristina didn’t look up.
The Hinman lounge was empty when Kristina got there. She looked up at the digital clock that had been broken for months. It read 2:10. Is that 2:10 P.M. or A.M.? she thought. She helped herself to a beer, sat down, and waited.
In a little while they’d all arrived but Frankie.
‘It’s a mirage. Krissy’s early,’ said Conni.
‘I’m not early. You’re all late.’
‘We’re not late,’ said Jim. ‘Look at the clock.’
‘Yeah,’ Kristina said. ‘Two-ten. Where were you guys?’
‘Conni’s room,’ Jim replied.
Conni said, ‘We were figuring out a strategy to beat Frankie.’
Then Frankie walked in, took off his coat, and bellowed, ‘Where have you guys been? Conspiring against me?’
‘Ahh, he’s finally arrived,’ Conni drawled. ‘Could you have taken a little more time?’
They sat down at one of the round tables. Kristina sat across from Albert, who narrowed his eyes at her, and she pretended to ignore him.
‘Aristotle’s paws are wet and freezing,’ Albert said. ‘Where did you take him?’
‘For a walk in the snow. You know he loves the snow, don’t you, Albert?’ Kristina said, staring straight at him. ‘He just loves that snow.’
‘Let’s play!’ said Frankie. ‘Anything to drink?’
‘Nothing good, that’s for sure,’ replied Kristina, getting up. ‘Plenty of Miller Lite, though.’
‘Perfect. Hand me a beer, woman, and let’s get to it,’ Frankie said, stretching out his hand. Slapping it, Kristina handed him a beer.
Albert put a jar of nickels, pennies, and dimes on the table. They each took their five bucks’ worth and anted up two pennies. Albert dealt. He played straight poker with nothing wild. Frankie won that hand with three of a kind. Conni dealt next. Five-card stud and jacks were wild. Frankie won that one also, with a straight. Everybody liked Frankie but nobody liked to play cards with him because he always won. And he was so jovial about it, too, as if he couldn’t understand why their weekly games were such a big deal that they had to take his winning and laughing about it so seriously. He called them poor sports and sore losers, and they couldn’t even call
him a bad winner. He always put his winnings back. But it was the principle of the thing.
When they played, they were never jovial, and they never put their winnings back. Albert needed the money. Constance was raised to keep her winnings. Jim kept his because it was inconceivable that he should put back what was rightfully his. Kristina knew Jim loved to win. He was ruthless at Monopoly. And Kristina rarely won. Maybe twice in three years. To put the money back would have turned her victory into a defeat. Among the five of them, Kristina was well known for losing most often.
Unlucky in cards, Frankie would tell her, lucky in love. Jim would smile, back in the days when he did smile, and Kristina would think of Albert and want to say aloud, ‘Fucking lucky.’ But she smiled gracefully too, because to lose gracefully was an art. And she had mastered that art out of necessity. She was lucky in love and a gracious loser, and what else was there on snowy winter nights at Hinman Hall in the River Cluster at Dartmouth College?
The only one who seemed to be having a good time was Frankie. Loud-mouthed, gum-popping, laughing, winning Frankie. His cheeriness was not contagious to Kristina, who felt her oppressive malaise invading her fingers.
The rest of them sat holding their cards like armor. Usually the game was livelier. Kristina didn’t know what was bothering the other three, but she knew what was bothering her.
‘So, Albert,’ Kristina said, after ten hands were played. ‘How was your chat with Frankie this afternoon?’
Everyone looked up. It was surprising and strange to hear Kristina address Albert. It rarely happened. And now this odd question with unknown implications.
Frankie was looking into his cards, a big gum bubble bursting out of his mouth. ‘Two cards for me,’ he said, and took two cards from Albert. Frankie turned to glance at Albert’s impassive face. But Conni’s face wasn’t. And Jim was just pretending to be impassive.
‘What time is it?’ Jim asked.
Frankie looked at his watch. ‘Ten to eleven.’
‘Ah,’ Jim said, looking over his cards. ‘Make this my last hand.’
‘What’s the matter? A little past your bedtime?’ Frankie teased.
Jim didn’t reply.
Kristina persisted. ‘Frankie, how was your chat with Albert this afternoon?’