Free The Book Borrower by Alice Mattison

people on with coats.
    Deborah was also dismissing Mary Grace, trusting the nurse with her, which Ruben found unthinkable, and now Mary Grace in her cart was being wheeled out of the room, and Deborah announced that she would have a bowel movement and a nap in that order. The nurse scolded along behind them as they walked to the elevator. Would have thought people would have the sense!
    But then Deborah came unsteadily to the door of her room and called Ruben back. Ruben turned, smiling, as the nurse turned, too, stymied, dismayed.
    â€”What is it? said Ruben happily.
    â€”Teach my classes this week?
    â€”Oh, sure, said Ruben, because she and Deborah were casual outlaws together. What Patty Hearst would have been if she hadn’t been violent and had thought coherently about just causes! In the elevator she couldn’t imagine how she could teach Deborah’s two classes in addition to her own. And was annoyed with Deborah for not making an arrangement in ad-vance. She went home and stayed up reading instead of pre-paring so many classes.
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    Jessie stood on our front steps, alone. She stood still for several minutes, while I watched through the window. She thrust her hands into her coat pockets. The wind on her bare neck must have felt delightful for a moment and then cruel. It blew her skirt around her legs and hobbled her. Now I’ll start guessing: she thought about coming back inside, taking Sarah in her arms. A gesture that could be construed as an apology would not have come easily to my sister Jessie, but she could have found a way to joke about it and hang on to her dignity. It would have helped that our parents were asleep.
    Jessie was cold and sorry, but it was late, and maybe then she remembered the conversation about free love. She didn’t want more questions like that, and didn’t want to lie to Sarah, and couldn’t tell the truth—and so she set her shoulders and started down the street.
    Or was she waiting for me to come out? Did she know I was at the window?
    Jessie was too upset and awake to go to the room she rented. She went to a rooming house where a man she knew lived, knocked on his window, and in the end he sneaked her in and made love to her. He was called Maurice, and I don’t think he ever hurt her, physically or in any other way. I don’t think they were the least bit in love. They comforted each other—they were occasional lovers for months or years— when there was trouble. Who knows what Maurice’s particular troubles were? But there were plenty of Troubles at Large if he lacked personal ones. He drew her skirt up around her knees with respect and smoothed it before he entered her. She was grateful for his care. She was also sexually aroused. She cried. Jessie almost never cried, but sex moved her. How do I know all this? I know.
    â€œShall I steal a carrot for you?” Maurice once asked her. They were passing a pushcart and Jessie was hungry.
    She knew he didn’t mean it. He wouldn’t steal from a poor man. “Would it be all right if the peddler were rich?” she said.
    â€œIt would be all right for a responsible group to steal the carrot if the carrot was going to be put to good use.”
    â€œSay we were going to feed an irresponsible horse . . .”
    I think Maurice was the friend who drew Jessie to the meeting at which their group’s role in the strike was devised. He had light brown hair and a salt-and-pepper mustache. Once he recited the Ten Commandments to Jessie, then apologized because anarchists reject government. He admired her short hair, lifting her hat to kiss her scalp. Jessie was at ease in bed with a man by that time. At first it had been strange, despite her strong belief that it was a fine thing for men and women to come together without being held back by laws and scruples. And despite her desire. At first the sight of a man’s genitals would scare desire out of her. Not for