C4 antho - Chamber Four

Peacocks ~101~
I had little sympathy for rich Barnard girls. I myself had
worked six days a week as bundle girl at Abraham & Straus
through my years at City College; I’d studied for exams during
my lunch hour.
October 17, 1953. I have never been one to cry but these
days I am crying all the time. Today I was reading
Wordsworth and I felt such a strong yearning for the kind
of quiet he said is necessary for one truly to perceive the
world. I wish I could be happy with what I have in front of
me: the leisure to read and write and think. But it is my
curse to want more, to yearn for something higher, something
I can’t even name.
* * * *
One afternoon, Eric stopped me in the hallway with a
brush of his hand. “Did she ever mention another man? A
lover?”
“No. Never.”
“But you and she were friends.”
Friends? I recalled Rebecca’s blank, incredulous voice.
* * * *
Three mornings a week, I watched Vera so Eric could
teach his seminar. I bundled up the children so they could
play outside after a snowstorm. I made play dough for them
out of flour and salt. But like a drinker who wakes each
morning with the best intentions to stop and loses his resolve
by lunch, I left the apartment every afternoon with my flashlight
to read more from Rebecca’s journals.