LEONAREl MICHAELS
543
grasses and flowers. I've never lived in California. I'm told the Bay
Area is a hotbed of allergies . Stanton loves it liere . He doesn't blame
me for ruining things, but I do feel guilty. In Africa, I had a persis–
tent fever . Poor Stanton quit the job because of me . He loved Africa,
too . He's so gbod . So healthy compared to me. He lifts weights. The
only time he ever hit me was when I contradicted him. He was say–
ing something . I can't remember what, but I contradicted him . He
hit me so hard that I lost a contact lense." She grinned, then
shrugged.
At the south gate of campus, we said goodbye, and
i
went to my
office. The phone rang as I set down my books and papers. Bluma's
voice said hello.
"The woman's mime is Anna Toiler. Her husband, Stanton, is
an engineer. They lived in Africa . He lifts weights."
"At least you talked to her."
"She likes to ride horses."
"If you don't mind my saying so, I think you have a character
disorder."
"Why?"
"What's all this garbage about horses? You were supposed to
tell her to stop picking her nt1se ."
"She thinks she has an allergy. The Bay Area is a hotbed of
allergies."
The door opened. Henry, whose office was down the hall,
peeked in . "You busy? I'll come back later." I waved him inside,
pointed to the chair beside my desk. He Was carrying an unlit
cigarette which rneant he wanted to settle and talk.
"Bluma, I have to hang up."
"You can't face the truth about yourself. Talking to you is a
futile activity." Her receiver knocked my ear.
As he sat, Henry lit his cigarette. The top of his spine pressed
the back of the chair. His torso sloped to the front edge of the seat,
catching it with his tail bone, arresting a slide to the floor. Neck
down he was slung like a sack of broken sticks, but his head was fixed
on his high, skinny neck, expression eagle-like, fierce and brainy .
"What's new exactly?"
"I have a student who tears at her neck and nose while I lecture.
Ever have one like that?"
"Many times."
"What did you do?"
"Nothing."
