the cab's windshield wipers kept a rapid beat, as if to
compensate for the lack of activity within. The driver, stiff and impassive,
guided the vehicle smoothly. In the back seat Nick and Meg sat silently side by
side, her face turned to the window and the dabbled world passing beyond.
Meg's breath
had fogged the window, and she wiped it clear with her fingertips. "City
looks pretty when it rains," she said.
Nick nodded, then
realized she wasn't looking his way. "Yeah," he said finally. He
inhaled, surrounded by her scent — a light perfume. His heart began to
drum loudly, and he worried he'd never be able to say anything intelligible
now, even if he wanted to.
Meg turned to
him. "You like Georgetown?"
"Yeah."
He looked out the window, finding it easier to talk with her out of his field
of vision. Why was she having this effect on him? "You get onto the
back streets, walk by some of the old houses … they're beautiful. The red
brick, the landscaping. I almost bought, a few times, but … " He
kicked himself. You started it, now finish it. " … But it
seems sort of wasteful somehow: a house, a yard, when there's only me."
God, what a
sap . Must be the drinks.
"You go to
school here?" Meg asked.
"No. Michigan.
Yourself?"
"NYU
undergrad, Wharton grad, remember?"
The résumé. "Oh … yeah." Good, Nick. Real good.
They rode in
silence, both staring straight ahead, as if mesmerized by the rhythm of the
wiper blades, until Nick said, "I'm sorry I won't get much of a chance to
work with you … after the Yünnan Project audit, I mean." That
didn't sound like a come on, did it? The way she looked at him, he
wondered.
"Me
too," Meg said.
Nick's mind
whirred, but he could think of no follow up. His foot began to tap rapidly of
its own accord. Finally the cab pulled onto Wisconsin.
"Driver,"
Meg said after a couple of minutes, "could you drop me off over on the
right … end of the block."
Meg reached for
her purse as the cab pulled to the side of the street.
"Forget it,
Meg, I've got it."
She removed a
few crumpled bills, but Nick held out a hand to block her. Their hands brushed
briefly — electric. "Really," he insisted, "it wasn't out
of my way."
Meg tipped her
head. "Thanks." She opened the door and popped her umbrella. From the
street she yelled a last "thanks" then shut the door.
Nick had the
cab wait a few moments, until Meg entered the apartment house, then slumped
back in his seat, intoxicated and knowing it was more than the alcohol.
8
Nick's eyes
opened, just a slit, long enough to catch an irritating flash of light from the
bedroom window. He clamped his eyelids quickly shut against the cruel invasion.
Morning,
already. It seemed he'd just gone to sleep. He moaned, then pressed the
heels of his hands hard against his eye sockets. Suddenly he bolted upright and
reached for the alarm clock.
Five-forty. Five
minutes left to sleep. Not a crisis.
Nick snapped
off the alarm, circumventing the impending irritation, then relaxed and let his
head sink back to the pillow, shut his eyes. He groaned once, for nobody's
benefit but his own .
It had been a
crazy three weeks. Carolyn had warned him, but — He had had no idea. Meetings
took up most of his day, then, finally, at six when the bulk of the employees
left for home, he would begin his real work — the pile in his in-box that
just kept growing and growing throughout the day .
He had
finished, on schedule, the report to the Department of Education on the
National Direct Student Loan Program. It had meant working through that first
weekend and a string of near all nighters, but he flopped the report on
Carolyn's desk the morning it was due. She called him that afternoon, extremely
complementary. Nick remembered her words: "You deserve the rest of the
day, and the weekend, off, you really do, unfortunately, some things have come
up … "
More projects,
more impossible deadlines, always a staffing shortage. Four hours of sleep a
night, if he was
compensate for the lack of activity within. The driver, stiff and impassive,
guided the vehicle smoothly. In the back seat Nick and Meg sat silently side by
side, her face turned to the window and the dabbled world passing beyond.
Meg's breath
had fogged the window, and she wiped it clear with her fingertips. "City
looks pretty when it rains," she said.
Nick nodded, then
realized she wasn't looking his way. "Yeah," he said finally. He
inhaled, surrounded by her scent — a light perfume. His heart began to
drum loudly, and he worried he'd never be able to say anything intelligible
now, even if he wanted to.
Meg turned to
him. "You like Georgetown?"
"Yeah."
He looked out the window, finding it easier to talk with her out of his field
of vision. Why was she having this effect on him? "You get onto the
back streets, walk by some of the old houses … they're beautiful. The red
brick, the landscaping. I almost bought, a few times, but … " He
kicked himself. You started it, now finish it. " … But it
seems sort of wasteful somehow: a house, a yard, when there's only me."
God, what a
sap . Must be the drinks.
"You go to
school here?" Meg asked.
"No. Michigan.
Yourself?"
"NYU
undergrad, Wharton grad, remember?"
The résumé. "Oh … yeah." Good, Nick. Real good.
They rode in
silence, both staring straight ahead, as if mesmerized by the rhythm of the
wiper blades, until Nick said, "I'm sorry I won't get much of a chance to
work with you … after the Yünnan Project audit, I mean." That
didn't sound like a come on, did it? The way she looked at him, he
wondered.
"Me
too," Meg said.
Nick's mind
whirred, but he could think of no follow up. His foot began to tap rapidly of
its own accord. Finally the cab pulled onto Wisconsin.
"Driver,"
Meg said after a couple of minutes, "could you drop me off over on the
right … end of the block."
Meg reached for
her purse as the cab pulled to the side of the street.
"Forget it,
Meg, I've got it."
She removed a
few crumpled bills, but Nick held out a hand to block her. Their hands brushed
briefly — electric. "Really," he insisted, "it wasn't out
of my way."
Meg tipped her
head. "Thanks." She opened the door and popped her umbrella. From the
street she yelled a last "thanks" then shut the door.
Nick had the
cab wait a few moments, until Meg entered the apartment house, then slumped
back in his seat, intoxicated and knowing it was more than the alcohol.
8
Nick's eyes
opened, just a slit, long enough to catch an irritating flash of light from the
bedroom window. He clamped his eyelids quickly shut against the cruel invasion.
Morning,
already. It seemed he'd just gone to sleep. He moaned, then pressed the
heels of his hands hard against his eye sockets. Suddenly he bolted upright and
reached for the alarm clock.
Five-forty. Five
minutes left to sleep. Not a crisis.
Nick snapped
off the alarm, circumventing the impending irritation, then relaxed and let his
head sink back to the pillow, shut his eyes. He groaned once, for nobody's
benefit but his own .
It had been a
crazy three weeks. Carolyn had warned him, but — He had had no idea. Meetings
took up most of his day, then, finally, at six when the bulk of the employees
left for home, he would begin his real work — the pile in his in-box that
just kept growing and growing throughout the day .
He had
finished, on schedule, the report to the Department of Education on the
National Direct Student Loan Program. It had meant working through that first
weekend and a string of near all nighters, but he flopped the report on
Carolyn's desk the morning it was due. She called him that afternoon, extremely
complementary. Nick remembered her words: "You deserve the rest of the
day, and the weekend, off, you really do, unfortunately, some things have come
up … "
More projects,
more impossible deadlines, always a staffing shortage. Four hours of sleep a
night, if he was
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