Looking Through Windows (24 page)

Outside of classes, she maintained a disciplined schedule of riding Meg early before classes, and then working out at the student athletic complex in the evenings. Combined with her studies, this level of activity ensured that she was tired enough to sleep most nights. There were nights, however, that found her sleepless and achingly lonely. At those moments, her self-control dissolved with her tears. She had played her last days with Emily over and over in her mind, searching for any clue that might indicate why she had left. She could find no answers, and that unknown was the hardest part of all.

She had avoided conversation with her parents, letting her answering machine take messages and calling at times when she knew she would get their machine. She realized she couldn't keep this up much longer. She had to tell them soon, but somehow, irrationally, it seemed that if she could just avoid telling them Emily was gone, then it would not be so concrete, so final.

"Hi."

Ann was startled by a voice next to her as she jogged on the indoor track one evening. It was Maggie, jogging alongside. "Hi," she returned.

"That lab today was really complicated," Maggie complained, keeping pace with Ann.

Ann glanced sideways at Maggie. "Not really. You just had to stir the ingredients before you heated the mixture, not after."

"Oh." Nothing for a few steps. "Um, I was wondering if, uh, if you would mind helping me study for our first exam?"

Ann groaned internally. She really wasn't in the mood to be sociable or to carry on conversations with anyone these days. "I don't know… I've got a pretty full schedule," she hemmed.

"I'm sorry," Maggie stammered. "It just seems so easy for you…"

"I could probably spare an hour to go over some things with you," Ann relented.

Maggie's face lit up with a smile. "Thank you. Tell you what, I'll repay you with food. My roommate is Italian, and she's a wonderful cook. Could you come to our apartment tomorrow evening at six?"

Ann smiled in spite of herself. "Tomorrow at six."

The next evening, Ann drove slowly down Chestnut Street, looking at the house numbers. Seeing 348, she pulled over and parked. The house was a large brick affair with a separate outside staircase hanging rather precariously on one side, leading up to Maggie's third floor apartment. She passed a grill smoking in a bare spot on the brick patio that had been cleared of snow. Tucking the bottle of wine she had brought under one arm with her book bag slung over her shoulder, Ann clung to the handrail as she climbed the rickety stairs. Before she had a chance to knock, the door was opened.

"You found it!" Maggie greeted her with a smile.

"Yes, but I'm not sure I would have braved it if I had known I would be taking my life in my hands," Ann said ruefully, looking back down the stairs.

Maggie laughed. "It hasn't fallen in yet."

"Oh that's reassuring." Ann remembered the wine. "Here, I wasn't sure what was on the menu. It's white zinfandel."

"Uh, I usually drink beer."

"She wouldn't know a white zinfandel from a white Russian," said a voice from the far end of the kitchen.

Ann stepped forward and looked toward the voice. "Hi," she said to the small woman at the stove, her long, dark hair pulled back into a loose ponytail.

"Come in, Ann. I'm Cris." Ann shook the proffered hand. "The corkscrew is in the drawer by the sink and a glass of white zin sounds great," Cris instructed, busy making a salad and stirring a large steaming pot.

Ann found the corkscrew and poured two glasses of wine while Maggie squeezed a slice of lime through the mouth of a fresh bottle of Corona.

"Can I help with anything?" Ann asked.

"No. Just have a seat and keep me company," Cris said. "Maggie, when was the last time you checked the chicken?"

"Oh my gosh!" Maggie exclaimed, jumping up and running down the stairs to the grill burning on the brick patio below.

Cris shook her head. "That's why I do the cooking."

Ann looked toward the door Maggie had just run through, one eyebrow raised. "That's kind of what she's like in chemistry," she observed dryly.

 "You have no idea how brave you are to be her lab partner," Cris laughed. "I think her last partner's eyebrows are just beginning to grow back."

Ann smiled. She found herself liking Cris despite her continued irritation at allowing herself to get roped into this study session.

"It's okay," Maggie gasped, coming back into the kitchen out of breath. "They're almost done."

"At least let me set the table," Ann insisted.

Cris agreed, and directed her to the appropriate cupboards and drawers. Soon they were seated, enjoying a meal of grilled marinated chicken, pasta salad and sweet peas.

"Oh, that was good," Ann said contentedly, as she pushed her plate away.

 "Let's put the dishes in the sink and I'll make dessert while you two study," Cris said. "Maggie, would you get the blender please?"

Ann frowned in puzzlement as Maggie took first the motor, then the pitcher of the blender out of the refrigerator. Cris caught this also, and put her hand over her eyes, shaking her head.

"What?" Maggie asked, not seeing what was wrong.

Cris looked at Ann and explained, "I asked her to chill the blender."

Ann started giggling, and Maggie still didn't understand what she had done that was so funny.

"You don't have to chill the motor," Ann was finally able to explain, wiping tears of laughter off her cheeks.

"Well, how was I supposed to know?" Maggie pouted.

"Oh, sweetie," Cris consoled her with a kiss and a quick hug. "You're one of a kind." Ann quickly looked away.

"Just make the dessert," Maggie grumbled, but with a grin twitching one corner of her mouth. "Come on in the living room, and we'll get this chemistry out of the way."

Ann got her books, and went through their class notes with Maggie, trying to help her understand the chemistry equations.

"You mean it's just math?" Maggie asked indignantly when she finally grasped the concept.

"Yes," Ann said emphatically as she collapsed her head on her forearms on the coffee table.

"This sounds like a good time for dessert," Cris announced, bringing three plates loaded with pieces of chocolate mousse, topped with whipped cream. "Maggie, would you get the coffee, please?"

 "This is incredible," Ann mumbled, with her mouth full of her first bite.

"Thanks," Cris grinned, pleased with the compliment.

"Are you a student, Cris?" Ann asked as she set her empty plate down and sat back with her coffee cup nestled in her hands.

Cris nodded. "I'm working on my Master's in English and teaching some of the undergrad courses."

"How long have you two known each other?" Ann asked casually.

Maggie and Cris looked at each other and clasped hands. "We met last year when I took one of Cris's English composition classes, but we've been together for about four months," Maggie answered.

Cris noticed Ann's expression and asked, "Are you okay with this, Ann?"

She hastened to reassure them. "Yes. Absolutely."

"Ann, I didn't make any assumptions about you when I asked you to help me study and come to dinner tonight," Maggie said. "I just thought you seemed nice, and…"

"Back on the subject of you," Cris said, looking at Ann. "Are you with anyone, dating anyone? Male or female?"

Ann realized she had never answered a question quite like this before. What was her status? Well, the answer was the same for both men and women at the moment. "No, I'm not," was all she said.

"You're kidding," Maggie said. Cris gave her a jab with an elbow.

"Ann, do you want to tell us about it?" Cris asked quietly. Maggie looked back and forth between Ann and Cris. She knew she had missed something, but she had learned to trust Cris's perceptions of people.

"I… I'm not sure what to say or how to start," Ann said, staring at her coffee cup, blinking back tears. "Last fall, I got to know one of the language instructors – you can't tell anyone about this," she pleaded, suddenly remembering how much trouble this could cause for Emily.

Maggie and Cris both nodded their agreement to keep Ann's secret. Ann found herself pouring out the entire story. She had to stop her narrative a few times when she got too choked up to talk. No one said anything for a while when she had finished. Ann realized how much she had dumped on people she barely knew.

"I'm sorry," she stammered, "you didn't need to hear all that."

"But you needed to let it out," Cris said wisely. Her dark eyes searched Ann's face empathetically. "You're still in love with her, aren't you, even after she took off with no explanation?"

"I'm trying not to be." Ann smiled weakly.

"And this was the first time you've been involved with a woman?" Cris asked.

Ann nodded.

"What now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Could you be open to another relationship with a woman, or was this a one-time thing?"

Ann stood suddenly and began pacing. "I don't know." She ran her hand through her hair. "Maggie, you said you hadn't made any assumptions about me when you asked me over, but… something about me must be different. I hope I don't offend you when I say this, but I don't think you would have done that a year ago. This is one of the things I've been struggling with ever since I fell in love with Emily. I don't know if I'm gay; I don't know what the hell I am. In my previous relationships, I always knew something was missing, something I couldn't quite put my finger on, something just beyond my reach. I never knew what it was, but I knew I wanted more. Being with Emily fulfilled that yearning. But I don't know if I could feel that way with anyone else."

"Looking through windows," Cris said.

"I'm sorry?"

"It's from an Emily Dickinson poem:

'I had been hungry all the years;

My noon had come to dine;

I, trembling, drew the table near,

And touched the curious wine.

'Twas this on tables I had seen,

When turning, hungry, lone,

I looked in windows, for the wealth

I could not hope to own.'

The poem goes on to say, after she's experienced what she was hungry for,

'Nor was I hungry; so I found

That hunger was a way

Of persons outside windows,

The entering takes away.'

Ann thought about this for a while. "A few weeks ago, I would have told you that I was no longer hungry, that the yearning had been satisfied. Now, I don't know anything."

Chapter 46

"
A
nn!" Through the scarf wrapped around her head to ward off the bitter February cold, Ann didn't hear at first. "Ann!"

She turned to see Mrs. Gundlach waving at her from her car along the curb. "Ann, how are you?" the kindly woman asked as Ann came over to the open window.

Ann smiled. "I'm fine. How are you and Mr. Gundlach?"

"Ach," she clucked, "we are lonely since Emily is gone. We got used to having young people in the house again. We miss you, too." Her face lit up. "Why don't you come to dinner tonight? Please come," she asked before Ann could think up an excuse.

By the time they parted, Ann had agreed to be there by five-thirty. As she continued walking home, Ann chastised herself for not being able to avoid the invitation. She genuinely liked the Gundlachs, but she wasn't sure she could handle being in that house with all its memories. Nevertheless, at half past five, she was ringing the bell. Mr. Gundlach welcomed her with a hug and took her coat as Greta nearly tripped her trying to wriggle in to say hello. They went into the warm kitchen where Mrs. Gundlach was just taking a baking sheet of dinner rolls out of the oven.

"It smells wonderful!" Ann exclaimed as she helped put bowls and platters on the table. As they ate, she steered the conversation toward safe topics – school, the Gundlachs' children and grandchildren, but inevitably, Emily came up.

"Have you received any word from her?" Mrs. Gundlach asked.

"No, not yet," Ann hoped she sounded nonchalant. "Have you?"

"Only a postcard," Mr. Gundlach said, getting up to get it.

The photo was a majestic view of the Swiss Alps. Emily's small, neat writing told of an uneventful flight, beautiful scenery and nice people. Ann's heart felt an ache that was becoming all too familiar.

"She must be writing you a long letter," Mrs. Gundlach said kindly. Ann's eyes started to sting with tears, and she got up to clear the table. Mrs. Gundlach cut large pieces of apple pie for each of them. The conversation moved on, and Ann was able to regain her composure.

Ann took her leave as soon as she could without being rude. She thanked the Gundlachs and promised to return soon. Before she got to her vehicle, her face was wet with tears she could no longer hold in check.