This Body (18 page)

Quince had hung up the phone and gone out on the balcony to smoke. Katharine watched her light up and suddenly felt the old
loathing. She wanted to snatch the cigarette out of Quince's mouth and shake her until her earrings rattled like Yahtzee dice
in a cup. She wanted to thrust Quince back in time three years and three hundred miles north, where, after a lifetime of smoking,
Katharine's mother lay in bed waiting to die. “I'm so sorry to put you through all this,” her mother is saying, while holding
up a cigarette for Katharine to light. “It's my only pleasure left in life, and I'm not going to give it up. You can understand
that, can't you?”

Katharine realized that her previous indifference to Quince's smoking had nothing to do with being a sister as opposed to
a mother; she simply hadn't cared enough. A stake drove down, a root tendril dug in, and Katharine felt pinned.
There is no escape. You care; they can hurt you
.

Act 2, Scene 7

Do not give dalliance too much the rein.

— P
ROSPERO
,
The Tempest
, 4.1.51–52

It was after nine o'clock on Friday evening. Norma, Max's assistant, had said good-bye and closed up a few minutes before.
Katharine was tired, and the incessant headache made her eyes scream. But the exhibit was definitely coming together. They
knew generally which photos they wanted, in what sizes, and in what broad categories. They had even discussed the layout of
various flyers and brochures. Katharine was sure of a quote she wanted both on the brochure and enlarged at the entrance to
the exhibit. She had found it among Thisby's photos. “If you expect to be supplied with beautiful and reassuring pictures
which do not raise any problems in your minds … don't rely on me.” Someone named Louis Aragon had said it at a 1959 meeting
of the Young Communists in France, and it obviously had affected Thisby strongly.

“Let's have dinner to celebrate,” Max suggested. “Hungry?”

Katharine wasn't, but the thought of another evening alone made her lie. “Sure. But I've got to go home first, if you don't
mind. I'd like to change.” She had been sweating through her clothes every day — this day was no exception — and the odor
of perspiration that she still didn't recognize as her own irritated her.

“Okay, I'll follow you, and then we can go together in my car.”

She left Max in the living room looking at some of Thisby's more whimsical photographs that Katharine had hung up. She walked
into the bedroom and saw that her answering machine was blinking. She pressed
PLAY
.

“It's Hook. What the fuck's goi —”

Katharine punched the
NEXT MESSAGE
button. He had been calling for the past couple of days, and she had either hung up or erased his messages. She tried not
to think about him, and concentrated on the next message.

“Hi, Thisby. This is your mother. Would you have Quince call me?”
Beep
.

“Thisby, is Quince with you?”
Beep
.

“Damn it, girls. I think one of you could at least call me if Quince is staying there again tonight.”
Beep
.

“Thisby, Quince, don't make me go through this again. I don't think I could survive it.”

Katharine called to Max in the living room. “I'm almost ready, but I need to make a telephone call first.”

“Take your time. I'm fine.”

She called, and the receiver was picked up in the middle of the first ring.

“Quince?” Anne's voice sounded balanced between anger and concern.

“No, it's Thisby.”

“Where in the hell is Quince?” The white heat of Anne's anger sparked over the concern. “She was supposed to be home hours
ago. I swear, Thisby, if you think for one minute I'm going to stand by and watch you try and turn Quince against me, then
you've got another thing coming —”

“Wait a minute. I just got home. I don't know where she is. She went to work this morning and then was supposed to go home
afterward. I haven't been here all day. Her stuff is gone.”
Goddamnit. Why am I responsible for this one?
She rubbed her forehead, her eyes shut. “With that puppy, she can't be far.”

“What puppy?”

“Oh, shit.”
Oh, shit
. “She didn't tell you?” Massaging a temple, she tried to think.
Jesus. I guess I'm in it whether I want to be or not
. “Listen, don't panic. I think I might know where she is. I'll call as soon as I know. I promise.”

Katharine went hurriedly back into the living room. “I'm sorry, Max. I've got to take a rain check on dinner tonight. Something's
come up.”

“Problem?”

“My little sister is missing. I've got to go see if I can find her.”

“Need any help?”

“No. No, thanks. I might have to play the ref even after I find her. Thanks anyway.”

In the elevator, just before the doors opened at the lobby, Max said, “We did good today. You work on the brochure and then
call me.” He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.

Katharine was surprised, but was more surprised that she responded by quickly turning her head so his lips matched her own.

She drove to the veterinary clinic and parked in front. There wasn't a light on in the lobby, but Katharine could see a crack
of light underneath the door leading to the back room.

Katharine pounded on the door and yelled, “Quince, it's Thisby. Open up!” There was no response, but Katharine banged and
called again. The crack of light widened and rose up the doorjamb until Quince was silhouetted in the doorway.

“Would you open the goddamned door?”

Quince, looking thinner and more forlorn than usual, let her in. They walked silently into the back room. Quince had made
a makeshift bed on the floor with her clothes and towels from the clinic. The puppy was hunkered down on a towel placed next
to Quince's jacket pillow.

“Why didn't you go home?”

“I just couldn't leave the puppy. Conrad said he'd take him, but he knows only me.”

“Okay, but why didn't you just take him home with you?”

Goddamn you, you've ruined my whole night.

“They'd never let me keep him. You know how Dad —”

“You didn't even ask?”

“No. But I know they'll say no. They —”

“What did you say to me last night? Something about time to storm. Why does it pertain only to me?”

“But what if they say no? What if —”

“For Christ's sake, Quince. What were you going to do? Be a runaway? Spend the rest of your life living here instead of going
home?”

“No.”

“You know I can't have animals in my building. Were you expecting me to hide a hundred-pound dog in my bathroom?”

“No.” Quince sat down next to the puppy and lightly rubbed his toes. He twitched.

Katharine tried to rub out the creases in her forehead. “Okay. Call Mom and Dad and tell them what happened. Tell them — tell
them it'll be just for a little while. You know, until the puppy can survive on his own.” Katharine saw the angry but miserable
look on Quince's face and sighed. “I know you want to keep him. I know that.” She saw Quince shutting down, closing off. “Okay.
Call Mom and Dad. Tell them what's happened. Tell them you're responsible for the puppy until he's big enough to be adopted
out. Then let them get used to him. Get them to see that you can take care of him all right. Figure out a way to keep him
out of the living room and the gardens. I can help you with that. I know a few tricks.”

Quince sneered and started to speak. Katharine realized her mistake and cut her off. “They're not ogres, Quince.”

“That's not what you used to say.”

“For Christ's sake, Quince. People change. All the time. They change.” Katharine felt that she was losing control of her act
— and didn't care. “Go on. They're waiting for a call, and each minute you wait will only make them more mad and less rational.”

“But so happy I'm alive, they'll say yes to anything?”

“Don't bet on it. And don't try and make them feel guilty about Snout. Guilt has a nasty backlash.”
I should know
. “And another thing” — she could not seem to stop herself, did not want to stop herself —“you've got to let them vent their
anger.” Katharine could feel the weight of parenthood settling back down on her shoulders. “You've gotta listen to all of
it. That's really your punishment. It's a pretty small sacrifice on your part, if you think about it. They'll feel better
afterward too, and there'll be less hard feelings. Trust me.”

“You're the professional?”

Katharine finally laughed. “Well, something like that.”

So Quince went in the other room and called. Katharine heard her apologize, and then there was a long pause, then more apologies
and soft agreements, and then a muffled explanation and more long pauses.

Parent time. There's nothing as screwy as parent time. There's nothing as wearing as parent time, and children are the time
bandits
. The shortest minute in the universe is when a baby is taking a nap, and you've got a million things to do. The longest minute
in the universe is waiting for a child to come home, sectioning off increments of time like rungs on a ladder. At this step,
I'll be mad. At this step, I'll be furious. Past this rung, I'll be ready to wring his neck. At this step, I'll be calling
the other parents. Here, I call the cops. The hospitals. Then he comes home with some excuse like, I forgot or There wasn't
a phone around or I was with some people who didn't want to stop or I didn't want to wake you or I told you I'd be this late
— you just weren't listening. And your anger is like a pearl, layers and layers of irritated secretions compressed into a
satiny orb. And you string these pearls around your neck to be burnished against your skin and sometimes to be unknotted and
flung back at the oyster child, pelting him with beads of anger as fresh as the day the pearl was created.
I remember
.

After a while Quince returned, smiling. “She says I can care for him until he gets bigger, and then we'll see. It worked.
I think. She was pretty mad, and I had to listen a long time. But she finally wound down, and I told her about Oberon. That's
his name. Oberon. Wait until she sees him. How can she resist? She's coming to pick me up. You don't have to wait.”

“I'll wait.”

“At least I had to hear from Dad only once,” Quince said as they packed up her stuff. “‘Sharper than a serpent's tooth it
is to have a thankless child.’”

Quince put Oberon in his box, and they waited just inside the front door for Anne.

When Anne arrived, she roughly hugged-strangled Quince and then peered into the box at the sleeping puppy. “You say he's going
to be a hundred pounds?” she asked incredulously.

“Well, not all at once.”

“Good heavens, I should hope not.”

They put Quince's stuff in the back of the Range Rover, and Quince waved happily to Katharine and climbed in.

Anne walked Katharine up to her car. “You got her to call, didn't you?”

Katharine nodded.

Anne's eyes narrowed as if she were trying to see what her daughter's ulterior motives were but couldn't quite figure them
out. Katharine watched her exercise control over her suspicious mind. “You surprised me. I never thought you'd …” Anne sagged
her weight against Thisby's car. “I'm … I'm sorry about what I said on the phone. It's just that tonight brought back so many
memories, and I just couldn't … I don't think I could have … Never mind. I can handle a puppy.” She straightened up. “Maybe
you're ready to hear this now. I don't know. I don't believe in giving my children everything, but I like to think I know
when it will hurt them not to be given something.”

Then you know a hell of a lot more than I do
.

Katharine lay in bed thinking about Max and perhaps kissing him again. The mere thought of it made her trill. She wondered
whether it was Thisby's body or her own mind responding. She hadn't noticed that she felt starved for sex, but maybe this
body was just a bit more demanding.
Is there such a thing as that
? She certainly knew or had read of people who desired sex more often than others, but she had always assumed it was their
mind that desired it. Maybe it was their body after all.

She thought of sex with Max and, if it was anything like kissing him, didn't find the idea objectionable.

Objectionable? That's the only reason you can think of why not to have sex? What about commitment? Your marriage vows?

She had never been unfaithful to her husband. He was her first and only sex partner. The last time she worried about the dangers
of sex was long before AIDS and even before herpes became a common problem. Her friends back then sometimes worried about
pregnancy, but since almost everyone was on the Pill, there wasn't even much of that. Guys would have been embarrassed to
put on a condom. The thought of using one to protect from much, much worse things than unwanted pregnancy paralyzed her. She
had heard that people were now carrying around in their wallets results of their HIV tests to share before initiating sexual
relations. So chastity was the best bet. Abstinence the safest sex. The safest sex …
single sex
.