Read As She Climbed Across the Table for Free Online Page B

for a month.”
    “No.”
    “It’s only a month. They’re being kicked out and they didn’t find another place.”
    Was she offering me a chance to even the score, to refuse her something? Or was it a test, to see if her charm could still sway me?
    I felt my defenses leak away. It was a kind of masochistic thrill. Come back into my life, a part of me cried. Build an ant farm in the apartment, sprinkle German yeast. Anything. Just fill the lack there.
    “I don’t even know them,” I said.
    “They like you. They’ll do the dishes, clean, cook. They go out during the day. You’ll hardly see them.”
    “Go out where?”
    “They wander around. Evan teaches braille three times a week. They go to the library. They go to their therapist.”
    “Together?”
    “It’s a special thing. They get paid for it. Some woman is studying them, the way they are, like those twins that make up private languages.”
    “Are they lovers?”
    “I don’t think so. They seem very interested in women.”
    “Women?”
    “Not me, Philip. Just women, the idea of women.”
    I sighed.
    “Say yes. It’ll be good for all three of you.”
    “Bring them over and we’ll talk about it.” Come back to the apartment, I meant.
    “We’ll come by tonight.”
    “So you’re still working with them, on seeing particles.”
    “Not exactly. I’m not really focused on that right now. But they got very excited, so I still give them things to do.”
    “You’re more focused on Lack.”
    “Yes.”
    She got edgy. She didn’t like the change of subject.
    “How is Lack, then?” I asked.
    “That’s a silly question, Philip. Lack isn’t
how
.”
    “I thought your whole point was that he was. That he had a personality.”
    “Not a personality like ‘how are you?’ He doesn’t have good days and bad days.”
    “You sound a little frustrated.”
    “I don’t mean to lump you in with everyone else, but there’s a degree of sensational interest—”
    “He’s a fad.”
    “Yes.”
    “It makes you feel protective. Possessive.”
    She recoiled at the last word. I suddenly saw how tired and frightened she was, her eyes rimmed with red, her cheeks sallow. I thought of her sleeping on a cot in the subterranean gloom, kept awake by the beeping detectors.
    “Maybe I am,” she said quietly.

Agreeing to think it over was the same as saying yes, of course. It brought Alice temporarily into the apartment, anyway. She ferried the blind men in and out with their belongings, cardboard boxes of utensils and condiments, heaps of braille magazines, black suits in dry-cleaner plastic.
    Alice and I didn’t talk, though. We listened to Evan and Garth. “Correction,” Evan would say, “Tuesday, the appointment. The potluck dinner.”
    “There isn’t any appointment Tuesday,” Garth replied smugly. “It was moved to Wednesday. The application deadline was moved back a week. It has to be postmarked by midnight Thursday.” Smiling mysteriously, his voice full of pride, he delivered the payoff. “The potluck dinner stands alone.”
    Alice and I were left alone just once, and then our talk was wound down, entropic.
    “There are calls for you on the machine,” I said.
    “You mean the students with the tutorial thing?”
    “Yes.”
    “I called them.”
    Silence. “So they have to be driven everywhere,” I said. “The blind men.”
    “Only with their stuff. They take the bus.”
    “Or walk, I guess.”
    “Yes.”
    “The city is like a giant maze to them.”
    “Yes.”
    Silence. “You’re listed in the winter catalog for a course called ‘The Physics of Silence.’ ”
    “Yes.”
    “Lack, I guess.”
    “Yes.”
    Her
yes
was a wall. I had lived inside the circle of Alice’s silence, before. Now I stood utterly outside.
    When Evan and Garth were installed she vanished again. The blind men took over, began redefining the apartment. Everything was knocked over, handled, repositioned. Dishes started piling up precariously, unrinsed, scabby