Red Leaves was a home for pregnant teenagers where Kristina had done work-study since her freshman year.
‘They usually don’t. But Evelyn - you know -’
‘Yeah, I know of Evelyn. What about her?’
‘She’s real pregnant -’
‘Oh?’ said Jim. ‘That’s not unusual for Red Leaves House, is it?’
‘And depressed,’ continued Kristina nearly without stopping. ‘She needed me, so I-I stayed over.’
‘Stayed overnight?’
‘Sure. I’ve stayed overnight there before.’
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah.’
His tone was still skeptical, but relief showed on his face. Kristina laughed and said, ‘God, you look like I just told you you won the lottery.’ She ruffled his hair without breaking her stride.
‘No,’ he said, his face becoming impassive. ‘This is much better.’
Kristina was almost shaking with anxiety. Thank God they were walking and Jim couldn’t see her legs trembling. She took his hand. They were just past Baker Library and near Tuck Mall, down which they all lived. She wanted Jim to leave her there and not follow her to Main Street.
‘You’re cold,’ Jim said.
‘No, why do you say that?’ Kristina said, taking her hand away and wiping sweat off her face again. ‘I’m like hot lava.’
‘Your legs, they’re twitching.’
Kristina was wearing black spandex shorts and a Dartmouth-green T-shirt. ‘You’re right, I’m freezing,’ she said.
Eyeing her carefully, Jim said, ‘Hey. What’s going on with you?’
‘Nothing,’ she said quickly, smiling as widely as possible. ‘Nothing at all.’
She saw that he didn’t believe her, his suspicious expression deepening. ‘Come on, have lunch with me,’ Jim said.
‘Can’t, Jimbo, sorry. Gotta do the work before Thanksgiving. Have way too much stuff to do.’
Sighing, he said, ‘Oh, well, I’ll come with you to the office then. I’ve got some work to do there myself.’ Jim was the editor of the Dartmouth Review.
‘Oh, God!’ Kristina exclaimed. She was at the end of her rope. ‘Jim, please! I just need a couple of hours. I just need to think and sit, and just be alone to put together my thoughts. Okay?’
He stopped walking, and she stopped with him but continued to walk in place.
‘Will I see you later?’ he said.
‘Jimbo,’ Kristina said, mustering a tone of tenderness. Mixed with her frustration and anxiety, his nickname came out quick and husky, caressed and spit out at the same time. She cleared her throat. ‘Jim, of course you will. We’re studying at four, remember? I’ve got basketball practice at two. I’ll see you, okay?’
‘Why don’t you just move in to Leede Arena?’ Jim said grumpily. ‘You’re always there.’
‘Jimmy, I have to go to practice. You know that. I didn’t become All-Ivy on talent alone.’ She grinned.
‘Is your work suffering?’ His tone was still sour.
‘Well, I’m not making Dean’s List this semester, if that’s what you’re asking.’
He nodded, and then almost as an afterthought said, ‘You know, I looked everywhere for you last night. Everywhere.’
She didn’t say anything, and he continued, ‘Even in the library stacks.’
Reaching out, Kristina touched his face. ‘I’m sorry. I should’ve told you I was at Red Leaves.’
‘I wish you would’ve. I couldn’t fall asleep till, like, one. Kept calling your room.’
‘One, huh?’ Kristina managed a smile. ‘That’s about two hours past your bedtime, isn’t it?’
‘Ha-ha,’ said Jim.
‘Gotta go, Jim,’ Kristina breathed out. ‘I’ll see you later.’
He leaned over and kissed her, and she kissed him back and walked away, stepping up her pace until she was running. The laces on her torn Adidas were loose, and Kristina stopped for a second to tie them, dropping the backpack she was carrying. She ran from McNutt Hall to Collis Café before she noticed. She ran back, picked it up, and sprinted under the Dartmouth-green awnings of Main Street straight toward Peter Christian’s, the basement joint.
Oh dear, here we go, Kristina thought, as she took three deep breaths and stepped inside the darkened restaurant.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ Kristina said, plopping herself down across from Howard, who smiled politely.
‘This is not too bad,’ he said, speaking precisely and slowly, looking at his watch. ‘It is only fifteen minutes.’ He put two sugars into her coffee and added some milk. As always Kristina thought it was strange and incongruous to hear him speak such perfect English. She leaned over to kiss him.
‘Why are you so wet?’ he asked, wiping his cheek.
‘We were playing basketball. I get all sweaty.’ She smiled, taking a napkin and running it over her face. Howard just looked at her.
Kristina took a sip of coffee and grimaced. ‘The coffee is cold,’ she said, putting her cup down. She didn’t want Howard to see her fingers trembling.
‘You sound like you have a cold,’ he said.
‘Howard.’ Kristina was amused. ‘Are you making a play on words?’
‘Why are you surprised by that? I do have a sense of humor,’ he said seriously.
‘I know you do, Howard,’ said Kristina, gently patting his arm from across the wooden table. ‘I know you do.’
‘You do have a cold, don’t you?’
‘Yes, yes I do.’ She didn’t really, but she knew it was important to Howard to show concern.
‘Where is your coat? You are wearing shorts?’
‘Forgot my coat.’ She shrugged as if it didn’t matter.
‘You still do it.’
‘Do what?’
‘Refuse to dress properly for wintertime.’
‘I find it invigorating.’
‘Viruses, they can be very invigorating. Strep throat. Pneumonia.’
‘Never had any of those things,’ Kristina said. He was nagging at her, playing mother, but it was all right. ‘Always been healthy as an ox.’
They waited to talk properly until after they ordered. Kristina wanted to order a salad with the delicious spicy mustard dressing, but it was her first meal of the day - the saltine crackers notwithstanding - and she didn’t want to be having mustard and vinegar for breakfast. She ordered carrot cake instead.
She tried to will herself to be less nervous. But she was wired. Last night she hadn’t had much sleep. And this beautiful morning, she had been up at seven. The bare-treed Vermont hills had sparkled in the sunlight, but now there was only anxiety as she thought about an upset Jim and the patient Howard - solid and polite, looking out at her from his black-rimmed glasses, with his gentle, unsmiling eyes.
‘How’ve you been?’ she asked, trying to calm down.
‘Good, Kristina, things are quite good. Busy.’
‘Well, busy is good,’ she said. He didn’t reply. ‘Isn’t it? Busy, it’s very good. You must be so… pleased… that you’re, you know, busy.’ She knew she was rambling. God! ‘Many interesting cases?’
He considered her for a moment. ‘How interesting can corporate law be? So let’s see these papers, Kristina.’
Kristina nervously took the manila envelope out of her backpack. Passing it to him, she said, ‘Everything looks okay.’
Howard paused before opening it. ‘Is everything okay? I am not so sure.’
Kristina chose to misunderstand him. ‘No, really. Everything is letter-perfect.’
With a glance through the documents, Howard laid them aside. ‘We never got a chance to speak about this. Has something happened?’
Something had happened. Kristina’s grandmother had died. But Howard didn’t know that. Nor would he.
‘I just think it’s for the best, that’s all,’ Kristina said, playing with her fork. She tasted the cream cheese icing of the carrot cake. It was good, but she just wasn’t hungry anymore.
‘Is it really for the best?’
r />
‘Sure. Of course.’
‘Why? Why all of a sudden did you want a divorce?’
He was wearing a suit, and he looked so nice and familiar a pang of sadness hit her. She thought, does this mean I’m not going to see him again? I’m so used to knowing he’s there.
Shrugging, Kristina put down her fork. The coffee was cold, the cake was cheesy, and her stomach was empty. ‘It wasn’t all of a sudden. I thought it was time.’
‘Why?’
‘Howard, because I’m turning twenty-one, because I want to get on with my life. I mean, what if I want to marry someone?’ She paused. ‘What if you want to marry someone?’
‘Is there someone you want to marry, Kristina?’
‘Not yet. But who knows?’ She smiled. ‘Mr Right might be just around the corner.’
‘Hmm. I thought Jim was your Mr Right.’
Kristina coughed. ‘That’s what I meant. Jim.’ She was glad they were talking. Her hands calmed down. She wasn’t as hot anymore.
Howard leaned forward and, lowering his voice, which was already calm and low, asked, ‘Was this your idea?’
Kristina sat back from the table. They were sitting in the corner behind the stairs; the cellar was dimly lit and gloomy.
‘Howard, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I asked if it was your idea.’
‘I know what you asked. I just don’t know what you mean.’
‘Kristina, it is a yes-or-no question.’
‘You think everything is a yes-or-no question,’ she said, on edge.
‘Pretty much everything is,’ he said easily. ‘Let us try it again. Kristina, was this your idea?’
She felt impelled to answer him. ‘Mine, like how?’
‘Yours, like did you think of this all by yourself, or did someone else suggest we go ahead and get divorced?’
Incapable of answering him, Kristina said, ‘Who else could possibly -’ and then stopped. Howard was looking at her squarely in the face, and since she knew exactly what he meant, she thought it pointless to pretend any further. So she lied. ‘Yes, Howard. It was my idea.’
Howard stared at her impassively, but there was something heartfelt behind the serious brown eyes.
‘Eat your cake,’ Howard finally said in a gentle voice.
‘Who cares about the cake?’ she said sourly.
‘I care about the divorce.’
Kristina sighed deeply. ‘Howard,’ she said, ‘I know. But believe me. Everything’s gonna be okay.’
‘Kristina, I find that impossible to believe.’
‘Why?’
‘Kristina, your father asked me to take care of you.’
‘He didn’t ask you, Howard, he told you.’
‘Wrong. We made a deal.’
‘Yes, and I think you’ve kept your end of the bargain. But one, I’m turning twenty-one tomorrow. And two, Father is dead now. It’s time, Howard.’
‘A deal is a deal. We didn’t stipulate age or his death in our agreement.’
‘Oh, Howard.’ Kristina sighed and then said quietly, ‘Give up.’
‘I cannot,’ he said.
‘Please don’t worry about me. Things are going to be just great, I promise.’ Kristina wanted to believe that.
He looked away from her and, nodding, said, ‘All of a sudden.’
‘Not all of a sudden! Five years. Come on. It’s better this way. I was nothing but a means to an end to you.’
Kristina saw hurt on his face. Her words must have made him feel terrible. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘You know what I mean. You’re a good person, you deserve better.’ She hoped she was saying the right things, but she was restless. She fidgeted with her napkin, then drummed her dirty fork against the wooden table. ‘Come on, you’ve gone above and beyond your deal to take care of me. And if you had these doubts, why didn’t you say something in September when I first told you I was filing?’
Now it was Howard’s turn to sigh. ‘You came to me and asked for an extra thousand dollars. I felt I had a right to know why you needed it. If you had had the money yourself, would you have even told me, or would I just have been contacted by your attorney?’
‘Howard. I don’t have an attorney. I hired some shyster for a thousand non-contested bucks. He didn’t even know how much the court fees were. First he said a hundred, then three hundred. I mean, the whole thing - that’s why I wanted you to look everything over.’
‘Nothing I can do about it now,’ said Howard, pushing the manila envelope aside. He cleared his throat. ‘It is very important to me that you are all right. That you are safe,’ he said.
‘Howard, I’m all right, I’m safe.’ Smiling, Kristina added, ‘The only time I’m not safe is when the other team tries to foul me on the court.’
‘How often does that happen?’
‘All the time.’
‘Still love playing?’
‘Kidding me? It’s what keeps me going. I scored record points in our exhibition game against Cornell last week.’ She grinned proudly.
‘I still do not know how this happened - you playing basketball.’
Shrugging, Kristina said, ‘How does anything happen? Divine providence. That school you sent me to. It was the only decent sports team they had.’
‘Oh, no,’ Howard said, rubbing his head. ‘Not philosophy again.’
Kristina, her mouth full of carrot cake, told him what the British philosopher Bertrand Russell said once of his lifetime pursuit. ‘As I grew up, I became increasingly interested in philosophy, of which my family profoundly disapproved. Every time the subject came up, they repeated with unfailing regularity, “What is mind? No matter. What is matter? Never mind.” After some fifty or sixty repetitions the remark ceased to amuse me.’
Steadying his gaze, almost smiling, Howard said, ‘Have I ceased to amuse you?’
‘Not yet, Howard,’ she said, smiling.
They both fell quiet.
‘Have time for your major?’
‘Two majors. Yeah, I got nothing but time,’ Kristina said. Unlike Jim, who was double-majoring because he was on track for a career and a life, Kristina was double-majoring because she was bored stiff, because she wanted to fill her wandering mind with other people’s meaningful thoughts, so that her own little by little would leave her, would fly and be gone, so that there was not one minute of the day when she had an idle mind or idle hands to do the devil’s handiwork.
‘How is Jim?’
‘Good. He’s the editor of the Dartmouth Review this year.’
‘Ahhh.’ Howard smiled lightly. ‘Does he give you good marks?’
‘No,’ she said, mock-petulantly. ‘He’s tougher on me than on anyone. He says the Review is too much hard work. He’s looking forward to graduating.’
‘What does he want to do after he graduates?’
‘Go to law school.’ She tried to keep the proud edge out of her voice, but failed. ‘He wants to be a Supreme Court Justice.’
Howard seemed utterly unimpressed. ‘That’s nice. What about you?’
‘Me? Grad school.’ That’s all Kristina had been thinking about lately. ‘What else is there to do?’
Howard smiled. ‘I do not know. Get a job?’
‘Howard, please. This is a liberal arts college. What do you think we’re qualified to do? All we are is good readers. We’re not bad on the Mac either, but that’s it.’
‘Eventually, you will have to get a job.’
She snorted. ‘Please. What for? And in what? With my majors, what am I good for?’
‘I do not know,’ Howard said slowly. ‘What do other philosophy and religion majors do?’
‘They teach, of course,’ Kristina responded happily. ‘They teach philosophy and religion.’
Howard smiled. Kristina smiled back. She was going to miss him.
Kristina sensed that Howard wanted to ask her something. His lips pursed and he took on the concentrated look he got whenever he was f
aced with difficult questions. There were so many difficult questions. Howard usually avoided them, but today he wrestled with himself. In the end, tact won. In the end tact always won. Kristina wanted to surprise Howard just once and answer his unspoken questions, but today there was no point. Grandmother was dead. Howard and she were now officially divorced. And tomorrow was her twenty-first birthday.
‘How is, what is his name… Albert?’
‘He’s fine,’ Kristina said quickly. ‘They’re all fine.’
‘What does he want to do when he graduates?’
‘I’m not sure.’ She shrugged, feigning indifference. ‘Says he wants to be a sportswriter.’
‘A sportswriter?’
‘Yeah, too bad he can’t write.’
‘I see.’
‘Or a fisherman.’ Kristina shook her head.
Howard asked slowly, ‘Can he fish?’
‘I think so,’ said Kristina, trying to sound jovial.
‘He went to an Ivy League school to be a fisherman?’
‘A very good fisherman,’ Kristina said, wanting to change the subject.
Howard was quiet. ‘Are you going to marry Jim?’
She smiled ruefully. ‘I don’t know if he wants to marry me.’
‘Of course he does.’
Kristina shook her head. ‘No. I don’t think so.’
Howard was watching her carefully.
‘You worry too much,’ said Kristina.
‘I worry about you,’ he answered.
‘Look at me,’ she said brightly. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Yes,’ he said, sounding unconvinced. He stood up. ‘Let’s go.’
‘I can’t spend the day with you, Howard,’ Kristina said apologetically.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I am flying out tonight. I have not even booked my room at the Inn. There is a blizzard warning for tomorrow.’
‘What else is new?’ said Kristina.
Putting on his coat, he asked her, ‘Have you got any plans?’
‘For the blizzard? None.’
‘I meant for the holiday.’
‘I know what you meant,’ Kristina said. She smiled. ‘I think I might go down to Delaware with Jim.’ That wasn’t exactly true, but she hadn’t told Jim yet. She needed to stay in Hanover - the Big Green was playing UPenn at home on Saturday - but who the heck wanted to stay at Dartmouth for Thanksgiving? She just didn’t want Howard thinking she had no plans.