The housekeeper and the professor - By Yoko Ogawa Page 0,48

hand had grown numb.

"Now what are you going to do?" he asked quietly.

"Well ... ," I said, "next ... , uh, I have to fry the pork." The Professor's sudden appearance had disrupted my usual routine.

"You're not going to cook the eggs now?"

"No, it's best to let them sit, so the spices blend in."

We were alone, Root was off playing in the park. The afternoon sun divided the garden into patches of shadow and dappled light. The air was still, and the curtains hung limply by the open window. The Professor was watching me with the intense stare he normally reserved for math. His pupils were so black they looked transparent, and his eyelashes seemed to quiver with each breath. He was gazing at my hands, which were only a few feet away, but he might have been staring off into distant space. I dusted the pork filets in flour and arranged them in the pan.

"Why do you have to move them around like that?"

"Because the temperature at the center of the pan is higher than at the edges. You have to move them every so often to cook them evenly."

"I see. No one gets the best spot all the time—they have to compromise."

He nodded as if I had just revealed a great secret. The aroma of cooking meat drifted up between us.

I sliced some peppers and onions for the salad and made an olive oil dressing. Then I fried the eggs. I had planned to sneak some grated carrot into the dressing, which now proved impossible with the Professor watching me. He said nothing, but he seemed to hold his breath while I cut the lemon peel in the shape of a flower. He leaned in closer as I mixed the vinegar and oil, and I thought I heard him sigh when I set the piping hot omelet on the counter.

"Excuse me," I said at last, unable to control my curiosity. "But I'm wondering what you find so interesting."

"I like to watch you cook," he said again. He unfolded his arms and looked out the window for the spot where the evening star would appear. Then he went back to his study without a sound. The setting sun shone on his back as he walked away.

I looked at the food I had just finished preparing and then at my hands. Sautéed pork garnished with lemon, a salad, and a soft, yellow omelet. I studied the dishes, one by one. They were all perfectly ordinary, but they looked delicious—satisfying food at the end of a long day. I looked at my palms again, filled suddenly with an absurd sense of satisfaction, as though I had just solved Fermat's Last Theorem.

The rainy season came to an end, Root's summer vacation began, and still the Professor struggled with his proof. I was eagerly looking forward to the day he would ask me to mail it to the magazine.

The weather had turned hot. The cottage had neither airconditioning nor a cross breeze. Root and I tried not to complain, but we were no match for the Professor's stoicism. At noon, on the hottest day, he would sit at his desk with the doors closed, never removing his jacket—as if he were afraid that all the work he'd done on the proof would crumble if he slipped out of his coat. The notes on his suit had wilted, and he was covered in a painful-looking heat rash, but when I came in with a fan, or suggested a cold shower, or more barley tea, he would chase me out in exasperation.

Once his summer vacation started, Root would come with me to the cottage in the morning. Given my recent run-in with the widow, I thought it best not to increase the amount of time he spent with me at work, but the Professor wouldn't hear of it. He was absolutely convinced that a child on vacation had to be where his mother could watch over him. Root, however, much preferred to be at the park playing baseball with his friends or at the pool, so he was almost never with us.

On Friday, July 31, the proof was finished. The Professor didn't seem very excited, nor did he seem especially exhausted. He calmly handed me the pages, and I ran to the post office to be sure to catch the mail before the weekend. I watched as they stamped the envelope and put it in the bin; then, feeling both excited and relieved, I wandered