Free Rameau's Niece by Cathleen Schine Page A

Edward." She looked at him and thought how large he loomed in her life, filling it with interesting talk and real understanding and tender exchanges and good sex and irritating habits and jokes and obscure quotations. He helped her in her work and liked her and cherished her. She wanted nothing else. It didn't seem right. "It doesn't seem right. To be satisfied. Don't you want more?"
    "'I exist as I am—that is enough; if no other in the world be aware, I sit content; and if each and all be aware, I sit content.'"
    "Oh, Edward, for heaven's sake. You go ahead and sit content. And get obscenely fat on oysters like Walt Whitman. Is that who you quoted? Well, he's dead now. And I'm not."
    "Margaret, bless you, you've gone mad at last. How I've longed for this moment. A mad wife! Lock her in the attic. Chain her! Feed her oysters—
against her will.
Ravage her till dawn. Till noon! Quite my ideal, a mad wife."
    Oh well, Margaret thought, as Edward pulled her to him. Dissatisfaction can wait.

    Edward sometimes brought students home for dinner, and Margaret had always welcomed these gatherings, for they pitted her against amateurs only, an enemy far more frightened of her than she was of them. At one of these pleasant, unthreatening dinners, Margaret listened with some interest as a student of Edward's, a boy from Oregon, described his father's mink farm, and as she listened she watched the other student guest. She was from some suburb of Boston, pretty, a little shy, and she had not taken her eyes off Edward all evening.
    I used to be a girl from some suburb of Boston, pretty, a little shy, and I used to gaze with longing at my professors, Margaret thought. Have you come here to haunt me?
    Edward smiled indulgently at the girl, but then Edward smiled indulgently at the world. Still, Margaret thought. And she turned away from the girl with a sinking feeling, as a man turns hopelessly from his fate, and then stared at Edward without realizing it, until he turned and smiled at her and reached for her hand and squeezed it.

M ARGARET HAD BEEN talking to Till for almost forty minutes, which for her pretty much obviated any need to see Till for at least two months, when it occurred to her that people like Till and Edward didn't let that happen. They never allowed the comfort of the telephone to overwhelm the pleasure of companionship, never let the phone keep them from their duty to appreciate all around them, to celebrate the existence of their friends by glorying in their company, never sunk to that enervated state in which one wondered if going out to keep a date might horribly disturb the aimless tranquillity of one's day.
    "Have you and Lily gotten together again?" Till asked.
    "No."
    "Oh. You seemed to hit it off. Are you planning to see her soon?" Till said.
    "I don't know," Margaret said. "What about you? Do you want to have lunch again? I think I'm becoming an eccentric. I think I have to become a better socialized person."
    "No, no," Till said in a determined voice. "You and Lily have lunch without me. That will be better."
    "Ah. You think I should strike out on my own, blaze new trails. But I never know what Lily is talking about. Still, there's something sweet about her, don't you think?"
    Till said, "Like fruit."
    "Fruit?" Margaret had not thought of fruit. But there was something so charming about Lily, an utterly benign person chattering happily about the oppressive, phallocentric monstrosity that was modern existence. What a mess, she seemed to be saying. Isn't it grand?
    "So you like Lily?" Till said.
    "Don't you? She's your friend."
    "You know that Lily and I lived together for four years?"
    Margaret was puzzled. Of course she knew that. They had been roommates after she and Till had been roommates, and had shared an apartment for one year after school.
    "Anyway," Till went on, "when will you two get together? I think this week would be fine. Do you want me to call her for you? I have to call her anyway. If you like