But I don’t know the name of Amira’s mother. And she is talking to her friend in a language I don’t speak. There are four days left of school, three minutes until the bell rings. I put my earbuds in and listen to an episode about something called the “mesh.” It’s a better term than “web,” they think.
A man calls in from Dallas. What do you mean interconnected? he says. There is a pause and then the ecologist speaks: There is a species of moth in Madagascar that drinks the tears of sleeping birds.
TWO
Someone’s setting firecrackers off already. It’s not even noon. The dog is being driven crazy by the sound and can only be soothed by a thousand rounds of slobber frog.
Finally, I have to stop, because my hand is slick with spit. I go to the bathroom to rinse it off. There’s some antibacterial soap Ben bought last week at the dollar store. It’s a bright pink. Don’t use antibacterial soap! Catherine told me, because lalalalalalalalala.
Ben is cleaning out the hall closet while Eli and I sprawl in front of the air conditioner. It’s Monopoly day. Yesterday was Monopoly day too. We are saving money this summer by doing less camp. So here I am, waiting some long minutes while my son debates about buying St. James Place.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
The dog growls softly on the couch. Eli buys up all the railroads. Ben skates across the floor in socks to bring us red, white, and blue Popsicles.
Voted, that we are the saints.
* * *
…
All Eli wants to do is watch videos about robots. But they are always a disappointment. Here is some professor from MIT explaining how this crablike thing has learned to seek light and avoid obstacles. “Go!” he tells it, and it winds through a maze to find the tiny bulb at the end.
And Mrs. Kovinski has turned her TV to full volume so she can blast away every thought in my head. She watches only two things: soap operas and the nonstop news channel. I turn on some music, drown it out a bit. How handsome am I, right? How handsome?
* * *
…
It’s harder to get away in the summer. But still I go on a few trips with Sylvia. One thing that’s becoming clear on our travels: people are really sick of being lectured to about the glaciers.
“Listen, I’ve heard all about that,” says this red-faced man. “But what’s going to happen to the American weather?”
* * *
…
One morning a student tells me failure is not an option and is angered when I laugh. I assume a cheerful manner. I tell her, Hey, me too, I used to have plans! Biggish ones, medium at least. She stares at me. Sorry? she says. After she goes, I slip into the bathroom, make sure I don’t have lipstick on my teeth.
Sometimes now with students there are these moments when it feels like a sudden cold wind blew through. So lately I’ve been checking that my sweater is buttoned right, that my T-shirt isn’t too weird. I’m like a woman carrying a full cup into a room of strangers, trying not to spill it.
Coulda, shoulda, woulda.
When I get home, I drop the mail on my desk without looking at it. This is my favored routine. But for some reason in the morning, Ben spots how big the pile is. He comes into the kitchen, holding a stack of things.
“What do you think will happen if you don’t open the bills? Do you think someone will come and take them away?”
Survival instructors have a saying: Get organized or die.
I have to go to work, says he, says me, says everybody.
“They keep leaving Chinese newspapers on my steps and I’m not Chinese,” Mrs. Kovinski yells down the hallway.
Using the following scale, CIRCLE a number to indicate what you miss about when you were younger and how much you miss it.
1 = Not at all, 9 = Very much.
Family
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
Not having to worry
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
Places
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
Someone you loved
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
Things you did
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
The way people were
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
Feelings you had
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
The way society was
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
Pet or pets
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
Not knowing sad or evil things
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
* * *
…
I’m starting to understand why all those people want to go to Mars. The guest today on the show is explaining that many scientists are in a state of barely suppressed panic about the latest data coming in. Their previous models were much too conservative. Everything is happening much faster than expected. He signs off with a small borrowed witticism.
“Many of us subscribe to the same sentiment as our colleague Sherwood Rowland. He remarked to his wife one night after coming home: “The work is going well, but it looks like it might be the end of the world.”
* * *
…
What scares you most about the mission?
I won’t be afraid of anything if I’m chosen.
What will you miss the most on Earth?
I will miss swimming the most.
* * *
…
In Maplewood, we sit on the porch, looking at their yard. Catherine’s mother says she’s thinking of planting a lilac bush. Her father says the last one died, you have to pick a hardier variety. It is possible they are having a fight, but it is so quietly done that I can’t be sure of it.
There is nothing to do but walk around here, so I decide to ignore my twinging knee. We walk down the street beneath the flowering trees. No one else is out except the gardeners. Legions of them on the lawns, working quietly. There is one house where a famously liberal rich person lives. On this lawn, the gardeners are allowed to play their Mexican music.