“HOW DID SHE SEEM?” Corinne asked on the way home.
“She was good.”
“Argumentative? Angry?”
Miri nodded. “A little.”
“That’s better than depressed. She’s eating again. Not a lot. And only a few things. But that’s progress. Green grapes, iceberg lettuce and bananas. Like a chimpanzee.” Corinne gave a sharp laugh. “Oh, god—I don’t know why I said that. Please don’t mention that I said that, about the chimpanzee.”
Miri wanted to say she liked chimpanzees, but she didn’t.
Elizabeth Daily Post
Editorial
REASON HAS ITS LIMITATIONS
APRIL 14—The inflamed mob action which has been taking place in Egypt, Tunisia, Iran and elsewhere should point a major lesson to democratic western policy makers—the futility of placing too much faith in logic and reason when dealing with angry, impassioned peoples. Something similar can be seen even here in a few of the more violent and irrational proposals made to combat Newark Airport Expansion.
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Steve
On April 15 Steve got an acceptance letter from Syracuse. Phil got in, too. Just the way they’d planned. Instead of celebrating, Steve went down to Williamson Street and walked around where Kathy died, all the time talking to her, trying to explain what was going on. Or maybe he was trying to explain it to himself. How someone his age, someone beautiful, someone he had dreamed about, someone he had kissed, could have stepped onto a plane one January afternoon and be dead an hour and a half later. How could that happen? How could that be real? So, thanks, but no thanks, Syracuse. He was never setting foot on that campus again, never setting foot in that town, in the whole of upstate New York.
Phil was waiting for him when he got home, sitting outside in his car. “I figured you’d come home sooner or later.”
Steve shoehorned himself into Phil’s MG, an early graduation present from his parents. “I’m not going to Syracuse,” Steve told him.
“Me neither,” Phil said. “So which one do you want to go to—Rutgers or Lehigh?”
Steve shrugged.
“I say Lehigh,” Phil said. “Put some distance between us and our families.”
“Okay.”
“We have to send back our forms with a check.”
“Okay.”
“Tomorrow, right?”
“Sure. Tomorrow.”
“I’m counting on you,” Phil said.
“Don’t count on me too much.”
“What do you mean? We’re in this together.”
“I got to go,” Steve said, getting out of Phil’s car.
He supposed by now his mother had told his father he’d gotten into all three schools he’d applied to. But maybe not. Because his mother and father didn’t seem to be speaking these days. Life at home was no fun, to put it mildly. Natalie was lucky she was at that rest home. He hoped she was getting plenty of rest. Because there was nothing restful about living here. Only Fern carried on as if everything were okay. Maybe that was her way of dealing with it. Pretend everything is fine. Same as always. Too bad he couldn’t do that.
Inside, his parents and Fern were waiting for him in the kitchen. “Congratulations!” they called out. Was this a surprise party? Were his friends hiding in the other room? He looked around, but no, it was just the family. What was left of the family. He supposed he should be grateful. A surprise party was the last thing he wanted. Besides, all his friends would be celebrating with their families tonight, except for the ones who didn’t get into their first-choice schools.
“Look at your cake!” Fern sang. “It’s your favorite. All chocolate. From Allen’s Bakery.”
“We’re proud of you, son,” his father said, throwing an arm over his shoulder.
His mother embraced him. “I never doubted you’d do well.”
“Can we eat the cake now?” Fern asked, practically drooling over it.
“After Steve has his supper,” his mother said. “I’ll heat up the plate I saved for you.”
“No, I’ll have cake for my supper,” Steve said, making Fern clap her hands.
His mother started to protest but his father said, “You’re not going to be there next year to make sure he has supper before dessert. You might as well get used to it.”
At which point his mother burst into tears and left the room.
“She’s just emotional about you leaving home,” his father said, trying to reassure him.
“Good Natalie’s not here,” Fern said. “She doesn’t eat cake.”
Elizabeth Daily Post
DESK-FAX SERVICE COMES TO AREA
APRIL 28—Western Union has introduced an electronic service which provides the busy businessman with a push-button telegraph office right on his desk. The device is the Desk-Fax, a machine which sends and receives telegrams by literally taking a picture of them.
Transmission is possible up to nine miles. The quality diminishes over longer distances because of the limitations of telephone lines.
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