Read Online In the Shadow of Shakespeare by Ellen Wilson - Free Book Online Page B

good.  We’re working on Shakespeare down at the Lion, and at school
too.”
     “And
how are those teenagers liking it?”
     “I
think I tricked them into…appreciating the bard.” 
     “I
could never seem to get the high school kids interested in those plays.  Oh,
and I tried everything.  I was sort of different that way back
then.”  Mrs. Johnson adjusted the nozzle on the hose, making the water
turn into a soft drizzle.
    Alice
jingled the keys in her pocket.  “I guess I’ll go in now.  I’m
awfully tired tonight.” 
     “Oh,
I should think.  You are such a busy woman.  And your husband
too.  Why, just yesterday he flew out of here like a bat out of
hell.” 
     “He
had a conference to go to.  He must have been late.”
    Mrs.
Johnson just nodded.
     “I’ll
see you soon.”  Alice walked in the entry way. 
    The
apartment seemed unbearable still.  She went in the living room and opened
a window.  Inhaling deeply, she savored the spring air.  She flopped
down in the easy chair, and kicked off her shoes.  The answering machine
light was blinking. She sighed.  It might be Albert.  She got
up and pressed the button.
     “Hello. 
This is Jack McGill, I’m a botany professor here at the university.  I
understand you had a chat with my graduate assistant, Anita Bernadino, about a
rose?  I have been examining the specimen, and I would like to discuss it
with you.  I thought – cough – because I had a lot of information
to discuss, it would be a good idea for us to meet.  The rose is quite
rare.  Please call.  Thank-you.”
    A
lot of information?  Quite Rare?   Alice glanced at her watch,
quickly dialed the number which McGill had listed.  It was after hours,
but sometimes these professors worked late.
     “Botany
department.”
     “Jack
McGill please.”
     “May
I ask who is calling?”
     “This
is Alice Petrovka.”
     “Oh
yes, Ms Petrovka.”
    Alice
waited not more than a few seconds.
     “Hello? 
Mrs Petrovka?”
     “It’s
Ms.”
     “Oh,
yes, yes, sorry.  This is Jack McGill.  I would like to speak to you
about the rose?  Would you like to meet for lunch tomorrow?  Say
around noon? 
    Alice
hesitated. Tomorrow was Sunday.  All she wanted was to lie in her bed and
lounge half the day away reading a good book.  Anything but Marlowe
or Shakespeare.
     “Okay. 
Where?” 
     “Do
you know the Lion Theatre?”
     “Yes.” 
     “There
is a little café over in that part of town, that has the best soup and
sandwiches.”
     “Margrites?”
     “You
know of it?”
     “Yes. 
Eat there all the time.”
     “Okay
then.  See you at twelve?”
     “See
you then.”
    She
hung up the phone.
     ***
    She
would recall that the moon was hanging in the clouds.  It was a full moon,
shining white and yellow like a pearl in the clouds. Candles lined the room and
they flickered across the walls and across his face as he looked down at
her.  There was a roaring in her ears as he disrobed, pulling the white
shirt over his head.  He lay beside her.
    A
tear ran down the contour of her face, settling in the corner of her mouth.
     “Nay,”
he whispered, kissing her cheek.  “Don’t cry.”
    He
kissed the salt from her lips; tasted her neck, her nipple.  Lower, there
was a rush like a river.
    The
sound of the sea was a gentle rocking rhythm.  And as the waves crashed on
the shore, theirs was a momentum – then an explosion – the swollen eastern tide
bursting upon itself, flooding, then receding.  She gripped him tightly as
the water ran between them; circling their legs as tears from the sky.  A
wave of love soothed her, retreating into her heart and she was gently lulled
into sleep.
    She
awoke feeling like a stranded starfish in a long dried tidal pool.  Her
arms and legs were splayed out before her and there was a scent of sea in the
air.  Sex. There was an inescapable soreness between her
legs.    Opening her eyes, she blinked, struggled to