iancaldwell&dustinthomason.theruleoffour-第70部分

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lled。　In　a　windswept　platinum　hairdo；　candy…apple　lipstick；　and　a　dress　that　billows　even　without　a　subway　grate　to　blow　it　skyward；　she　is　the　spitting　image　of　Marilyn　Monroe。　The　costume　ball　has　begun。　In　a　room　full　of　pretenders；　these　two　take　the　crown。
　The　reception　Parker　gets；　though；　is　deadly。　Silence　falls　over　the　room；　from　stray　corners　es　hissing。　When　Gil；　from　the　landing　of　the　second　floor；　is　the　only　one　able　to　quiet　the　crowd；　I　sense　that　the　honor　of　arriving　last　was　supposed　to　have　been　his；　and　that　Parker　has　shown　up　the　president　at　the　president's　own　ball。
　At　Gil's　insistence；　the　climate　in　the　room　slowly　cools。　Parker　makes　a　quick　detour　in　the　direction　of　the　bar；　then　brings　Veronica　Terry　and　his　glasses　of　wine；　one　in　each　hand；　toward　the　dance　floor。　When　he　approaches；　there's　a　swagger　in　his　step；　it　never　registers　in　his　expression　that　he　is　already　the　least　popular　person　in　the　room。　Once　he　es　close　enough；　I　realize　how　he　pulls　it　off。　He's　traveling　in　a　cloud　of　cocktail　fumes；　already　drunk。
　Katie　edges　a　shade　closer　to　me　as　he　nears；　but　I　make　nothing　of　it　until　I　notice　the　look　that　passes　between　them。　Parker　gives　her　a　meaningful　stare；　snide　and　sexual　and　assertive　all　at　once；　and　Katie　tugs　at　my　hand；　pulling　me　away　from　the　dance　floor。
　〃What　was　that　all　about？〃　I　ask；　when　we're　out　of　earshot。
　The　band　is　playing　Marvin　Gaye；　guitars　licking；　drums　thumping；　the　leitmotiv　of　Parker's　arrival。　John　Kennedy　is　grinding　with　Marilyn　Monroe；　the　strange　spectacle　of　history　humping；　and　all　the　other　couples　have　given　them　a　wide　berth；　the　quarantine　of　social　lepers。
　Katie　looks　upset。　All　the　magic　of　our　dancing　has　evaporated。
　〃That　prick；〃　she　says。
　〃What　did　he　do？〃
　Then；　all　at　once；　it　es　out：　the　story　I　wasn't　around　to　hear；　the　one　she　hadn't　intended　to　tell　me　until　later。
　〃Parker　tried　to　third…floor　me　at　bicker。　He　said　he'd　blackball　me　unless　I　gave　him　a　lap　dance。　Now　he　thinks　it's　a　joke。〃
　We're　standing　in　the　middle　of　the　main　hall；　close　enough　to　the　dance　floor　to　see　Parker　with　his　hands　on　Veronica's　hips。
　〃That　son　of　a　bitch。　What'd　you　do　about　it？〃
　〃I　told　Gil。〃　When　she　speaks　his　name；　her　eyes　travel　to　the　stairs；　where　Gil　is　making　conversation　with　two　juniors。
　〃That's　all？〃
　I　expect　her　to　invoke　Donald's　name；　to　remind　me　where　I　should've　been；　but　she　doesn't。
　〃Yes〃　is　all　she　says。　〃He　kicked　Parker　out　of　bicker。〃
　I　know　she　means　I　should　let　this　go；　that　this　wasn't　how　she　wanted　me　to　find　out。　She's　been　through　enough　already。　But　my　temperature　is　rising。
　〃I'm　going　to　say　something　to　Parker；〃　I　tell　her。
　Katie　looks　at　me　sharply。　〃No；　Tom。　Not　tonight。〃
　〃He　can't　just　act…〃
　〃Look；〃　she　says；　cutting　me　off。　〃Forget　about　it。　We're　not　going　to　let　him　ruin　our　night　together。〃
　〃I　was　only　trying　to…〃
　She　puts　a　finger　over　my　lips。　〃I　know。　Let's　go　somewhere　else。〃
　She　looks　around；　but　there　are　tuxedos　in　every　direction；　conversations　and　wineglasses　and　men　with　silver　trays。　This　is　the　magic　of　Ivy。　We　are　never　alone。
　〃Maybe　we　can　use　the　President's　Room；〃　I　say。
　She　nods。　〃I'll　ask　Gil。〃
　I　notice　the　trust　in　her　voice　when　she　says　his　name。　Gil's　been　decent　to　her；　better　than　decent；　possibly　without　even　meaning　to。　She　came　to　him　about　Parker；　when　I　was　nowhere　to　be　found。　He's　the　first　person　she　thinks　of　now；　for　something　small。　Maybe　it's　meaningful　to　her；　that　they　talk　over　breakfast；　even　if　he　almost　forgets　it。　Gil　has　been　a　big　brother　to　her；　the　way　he　was　to　me　freshman　year。　Anything　good　enough　for　him　is　good　enough　for　us　both。
　〃No　problem；〃　he　says　to　her。　〃There　won't　be　anyone　in　there。〃
　So　I　follow　Katie　downstairs；　watching　the　shifts　in　her　musculature　beneath　the　gown；　the　way　her　legs　move；　the　tightness　of　her　hips。
　When　the　lights　go　on；　I　see　the　room　where　Paul　and　I　worked　so　many　nights。　The　place　is　unchanged；　untouched　by　preparations　for　the　ball；　a　geography　of　notes　and　drawings　and　books　piled　into　mountain　ranges　that　thread　through　the　room；　as　tall　in　places　as　we　are。
　〃It's　not　as　hot　in　here；〃　I　say；　searching　for　something　to　tell　her。　They　seem　to　have　turned　down　the　thermostat　in　the　rest　of　the　building　to　keep　the　first　floor　from　overheating。
　Katie　looks　around。　Paul's　notes　are　taped　to　the　shoulders　of　the　fireplace；　his　diagrams　feather　the　walls。　We　are　surrounded　by　Colonna。
　〃Maybe　we　shouldn't　be　in　here；〃　she　says。
　I　can't　tell　if　she's　worried　that　we'll　intrude　on　something　of　Paul's；　or　that　Paul　will　intrude　on　something　of　ours。　The　longer　we　stand；　sizing　up　the　room；　the　more　I　can　feel　a　distance　forming　between　us。　This　is　not　the　place　for　what　we　need。
　〃Have　you　ever　heard　of　Schr？dinger's　cat？〃　I　say　finally；　because　it's　the　only　way　I　can　think　to　raise　what　I'm　feeling。
　〃In　philosophy？〃　she　says。
　〃Anywhere。〃
　In　my　lone　physics　class；　the　professor　used　Schr？dinger's　cat　as　an　example　in　wave　mechanics；　when　most　of　us　were　too　slow　for　v　=　…e2/r。　An　imaginary　cat　is　placed　in　a　locked　box　with　a　dose　of　cyanide；　which　will　be　given　only　if　a　Geiger　counter　is　triggered。　The　catch；　I　think；　is　that　it's　impossible　to　say　whether　the　cat　is　living　or　dead　before　you　actually　open　the　box；　until　then；　probability　requires　you　to　say　that　the　box　contains　equal　parts　living　and　dead　cat。
　〃Yes；〃　she　says。　〃What　about　it？〃
　〃I　feel　like　the　cat　isn't　dead　or　alive　right　now；〃　I　tell　her。　〃It's　nothing。〃
　Katie　puzzles　over　what　I'm　getting　at。　〃You　want　to　open　the　box；〃　she　says　at　last；　sitting　on　the　table。
　I　nod；　propping　myself　up　beside　her。　The　enormous　wooden　plank　accepts　us　silently。　I　don't　know　how　to　tell　her　the　rest　of　what　I　mean：　that　we；　individually；　are　the　scientist　on　the　outside；　that　we；　together；　are　the　cat。
　Instead　of　answering；　she　takes　a　finger　and　runs　it　behind　my　right　temple；　tucking　my　hair　behind　my　ear　as　if　I've　said　something　charming。　Maybe　she　already　knows　how　to　solve　my　riddle。　We　are　bigger　than　Schr？dinger's　box；　she's　saying。　Like　any　good　cat；　we　have　nine　lives。
　〃Does　it　ever　snow　like　this　in　Ohio？〃　she　says；　consciously　changing　the　subject。　Outside；　I　know；　it's　begun　again；　driving　down　with　more　power　than　before；　all　our　winter　in　this　one　storm。
　〃Not　in　April；〃　I　say。
　We're　side　by　side　on　the　table；　just　inches　apart。　〃Not　in　New　Hampshire　either；〃　she　says。　〃Not　in　April；　at　least。〃
　I　accept　what　she's　trying　to　do；　where　she's　trying　to　take　me。　Anywhere　but　here。　I've　always　wanted　to　know　more　about　what　her　life　was　like　at　home；　what　her　family　did　around　the　dinner　table。　Upper　New　England　in　my　imagination　is　the　American　Alps；　mountains　at　every　turn；　Saint　Bernards　bearing　gifts。
　〃My　little　sister　and　I　used　to　do　this　thing　in　the　snow；〃　she　says。
　〃Mary？〃
　She　nods。　〃Every　year　when　the　pond　near　our　house　would　freeze　over；　we　would　go　crack　holes　in　the　ice。〃
　〃Why？〃
　She　smiles；　beautiful。　〃So　the　fish　could　breathe。〃
　Members　pass　across　the　top　of　the　stairs；　little　pockets　of　heat　in　motion。
　〃We　would　take　the　ends　of　broomsticks；〃　she　says；　〃and　make　holes　all　the　way　across　the　lake。　Like　punching　holes　in　the　top　of　a　jar。〃
　〃For　fireflies；〃　I　say。
　She　nods　and　takes　my　hand。　〃The　ice　skaters　used　to　hate　us。〃
　〃My　sisters　used　to　take　me　sledding；〃　I　tell　her。
　Katie's　eyes　twinkle。　She　remembers　she's　got　something　on　me：　that　she's　a　big　sister；　and　I'm　a　little　brother。
　〃There　aren't　a　lot　of　big　hills　in　Columbus；〃　I　continue；　〃so　it　was　always　this　one。〃
　〃And　they　would　drag　you　up　the　hill　on　the　sled。〃
　〃Did　I　tell　you　this　already？〃
　〃That's　just　what　big　sisters　do。〃
　I　can't　imagine　her　pulling　a　sled　up　a　hill。　My　sisters　were　strong　as　pack　dogs。
　〃Did　I　ever　tell　you　about　Dick　Mayfield？〃　I　ask　her。
　〃Who？〃
　〃This　guy　my　sister　used　to　date。〃
　〃What　about　him？〃
　〃Sarah　used　to　kick　me　off　the　phone　every　time　Dick　would　call。〃
　She　hears　the　jab　in　it。　This；　too；　is　what　big　sisters　do。
　〃I　don't　think　Dick　Mayfield　had　my　number。