Tapestry of Fortunes A Novel - By Elizabeth Berg Page 0,147

in the shallow valley between his shoulder blades. Instead, I drink more wine.

“Would you like to go into the living room?” he asks, when he has finished rinsing the dishes. A shy formality.

“Yes.” He gets his wine, and I follow him into the living room.

“Sit anywhere,” he says.

I choose the chair, and he sits at the end of the sofa nearest it. “You know, the thing about the jobs I do … A lot of people think I’m lazy.”

I say nothing. This had occurred to me.

“But I want … time. That’s why I walk dogs. I don’t want to keep on moving up the ladder, trading in one car for another. I want to be appreciative of all that’s here, in a normal life. I want to keep finding out about the things I see around me.” He leans forward, looks at me intently. “How do birds know how to fly south?”

“I don’t know!”

“Yeah, most people don’t. Why don’t you know?”

“Well, I just … I guess I just take some things for granted.”

“But, Sam, listen to this: They have internal compasses, sensitive to the earth’s magnetic field. They calibrate them by sunlight and by the stars. Think of that! Next time you see a bird fly by, think of that! They’re everywhere, Sam, these wonders. Do you remember the last time you really wanted to know everything?”

The answer comes to me like a movie in my head. I am flatchested and pigtailed, bending over the edge of a lake and watching the lacelike line of froth advance and recede, trying to determine what makes the water green. The sun is warm on my back. I am entirely unself-conscious—my body is a sack of flesh and bones whose function is to take me where I want to go. On my dresser at home, I have rocks and various kinds of leaves, a jar with a cocoon inside that I inspect a thousand times a day. I am obsessed with discovering things, as though I’ve been let out of the hatch of a spaceship and told to come back with a full report. For some time, I have nourished a fantasy that a small group of very wise people dressed in close-fitting silver will show up in the middle of my geography class, saying, “We’ve come for Samantha.” And I believe I will rise and follow them, leaving behind forever the lunchbox I am embarrassed about because Veronica always buys the wrong one.

“I do remember when I felt like that,” I say. “I was young. A little girl. But strong! I was so busy. And then I woke up one morning feeling clumsy and worried to death about which shade of lipstick to wear. And then I woke up the next morning and I was married. And then in labor. And then I had the job of caring for a family, which satisfied me—which is a sin now—but which satisfied me because it seemed to be about everything.”

“You were happily walking dogs, so to speak.”

“Yes. Yes.” I think for a moment, then say, “So … you aren’t expecting anything, are you?”

“I’m just watching the show,” he says. “I think it’s so good. I don’t know why people walk out on it in all the ways they do.”

I kick my shoes off, pull my feet up under me. “Einstein didn’t wear socks.”

“I know.”

“That’s all I know about physics.”

“That’s almost enough.”

“Oh, God, King. You always make me feel so … Like I’m fine.”

“That’s because you are, Sam. How come you don’t know that?”

I am embarrassed by a sudden rush of tears. I wipe them quickly away, then laugh at myself. “Oh, jeez, look at this.”

“Maybe we should go out,” he says gently. “Want to see a movie?”

I nod. I felt it too, a sense that if we took one step further in this direction, we would fall off a cliff together. And I don’t know, I still feel made of glass.

28

“Construction?” I say. “You’re kidding!”

“No, I’m not,” Stacy, the woman at the employment agency, tells me. “They’re desperate, and I can’t find anyone else. It’s easy work, the guy says; he says anyone can do it. And it pays well.”

“But I don’t know anything about construction!”

“You don’t have to. He’ll show you what you need to do. You just put on some old clothes, bring some gloves, and he’ll take care of the rest. You want the job?”

“Well … Yes.”

Stacy tells me the address of the job site, and I go upstairs to change.