Naked, on the Edge (19 page)

Class ended with the usual assignment, Hannah's challenge to younger minds. "Study those around you. See what we are. Observe and remember. Until tomorrow."

And the students were gone then as quickly as water from a draining tub.

Joe sat unmoving at his desk, leg crossed, pen tapping his closed notebook. Hannah collected her books, scooted her podium over to the wall so the janitors could better clean, and took a last sip of the coffee from her earth toned “Love Your Mother” mug.

Joe did not move. Hannah patted her hair and smoothed the tight bridge of her

nose, then looked at him directly. He was smiling his beautiful smile. Her heart clenched at the beauty.

"Did you have a question?" she asked.

"I wanted to thank you for letting me be part of the rescue last weekend, Miss Livick," Joe said. His pen continued to tap.

"We couldn't have done it without you," Hannah said.

"Of course you could have. It'd have been a little more dramatic, but you could have."

"It was your idea."

"And you agreed to take me up on it."

“So we both should be congratulated."

“Congratulations to us. And to those we saved."

Hannah sat on the top of a front desk and crossed her arms. There was more to come here, she just had to wait.

"We should celebrate." Joe stopped tapping the pencil. He uncrossed his legs. "How should we celebrate our success?"

"I don't have balloons or confetti in my desk, nor any champagne. I supposed we could shout, “Hip, hip, hooray?”

Joe shook his head. His dark hair rippled. "I was thinking more in line of a dinner. Do you have plans tonight? We could have dinner and toast our beliefs."

Yes, I have plans, damn, she thought. But I'll work around them. No problem.

"That would be nice. Do you want to invite some of the others?" she asked. "Susan and Thomas and Barbara helped us set those animals free."

Joe stood up and put his notebook into his satchel.

The pen he slid through the thick hair to rest on his ear.

"I thought just us."

"Just us. Well," said Hannah. She looked at the window. "Timothy, come on, boy.”

The cat turned his head and blinked. He was clearly too comfortable to move.

"Timothy, it’s time to go."

Timothy shut his eyes and rolled over, exposing his stomach to the warmth of the light.

"Jerk," laughed Hannah. She went to the window and picked up the cat. He drooped in her grasp, a furry soft-sculpture with twitching whiskers. "Into the case with you." Then she looked at Joe. "He'd get up under the gas pedal if I didn't contain him. They may deserve the same rights as humans, but I don't think they're quite as smart."

“Ah."

"That was supposed to be a joke."

"Oh. Ha." Joe walked over to Hannah and the cat carrier, stuck a finger through the slat and scratched the cat. He brushed Hannah's retreating hand as he did.

"So, you can make it tonight?"

"Sure. And there is a wonderful restaurant, the Garden Gourmet, out on Booker Street. What do you think?"

"Actually, I have a lot of food at my place. Would you mind eating there? It's not a bad apartment. I'll actually run the vacuum for you. My roommate is gone for a few days, and I don't often have a chance to cook for someone else."

"Oh, sure. That's fine."

"Seven?"

"Could we make it eight? I have to meet Karla at six and then I need some time to get ready, feed the cats, all that," said Hannah.

"Eight's good. You won't change your mind, now? You won't call and say you've come down with something?"

He smiled, one eyebrow going up.

"I don't break promises."

"I knew that. After we eat, maybe we can take Timothy to the park. So bring him."

Hannah bit the inside of her cheek to keep the insipid grin she felt building from showing on her face.

"Sure," she said.

Joe gave her a wink and strode from the classroom.

Hannah hugged the cat tote to her chest, held her breath, and waited until the unsummoned thumping between her thighs eased.

K
arla was late getting home from work. Hannah sat in her car in front of Karla's house, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel as Timothy whined in irritation from his cat tote.

"I'm sorry," she said. "We'll be home soon. Be patient."

On the back seat of Hannah's Bug was a box load of Voices for the Voiceless brochures that she had run off at Kinko's just an hour earlier. Karla was attending a state senator's re-election campaign rally this weekend, and planned on getting a copy of the Voices mandate into every flesh-pressing palm. No doubt it would either catch the attention of the press or of security, giving Karla the brief limelight she sought.

Tonight, Karla was going to work on her presentation and make a couple conference calls with folks across the state. And Hannah had agreed to babysit Allen.

"Come on come on come one," Hannah said.

"Damn it."

Karla's blue two-door pulled up behind Hannah's car and stopped. Karla climbed from the driver's seat, looking weary. Allen hopped from the passenger's seat and bounced around to Hannah's window. Hannah rolled the window down.

'Hey, sweetie!''

'Hey, Hannah!" said the boy. "I got an A on a science test today! It was all about earthworms. Do you know an earthworm swallows dirt and then poots it

out the other side? It makes the soil rich for growing vegetables and flowers and stuff."

"Uh, yes, I think I remember something like that," said Hannah. She smiled at the child's enthusiasm. Whenever she imagined herself as a mother, she envisioned her child beautiful and innocent, like Allen. Karla came up and draped her arm around Allen's shoulder. "Hi, sorry I'm late. It's been a day and a half, I can't even get into it."

''Don't worry about it," said Hannah. "Do you have Allen's things ready for tonight?"

"Yep," said Karla. "Allen, here's the key. Go get the overnight bag out of the front hall."

Allen raced up the sidewalk, unlocked the front door, and disappeared inside the house.

"You're a saint for agreeing to keep Allen," said Karla. "It's not that he gets underfoot, really, but sometimes I just need to be alone to keep my thoughts straight. This campaign is so important, Hannah."

"I know. You don't need to convince me," said Hannah. "Come on, Allen, hurry up."

"Give me a call if you need anything," said Karla.

"We'll be fine," said Hannah.

Allen bounded out of the house and hopped into the passenger's seat of the Bug. Karla gave him a quick kiss through the open window, then went to the house.

Hannah smiled at Allen and said, "You know, there's a really good movie on down at the Tripoli."

S
he'd given Allen a quick meal at her apartment; homemade macaroni and cheese, some carrot sticks, and orange juice. Then, at 7:20, she'd driven him to the Tripoli Theater, which had an 7:30 Disney double feature. They'd parked, and Hannah had walked Allen to the box office.

“My mom never lets me go to movies on school nights," Allen had said in the car, his eyebrows drawn up, as though he was afraid the confession might make Hannah change her mind.

“And you can't spend the night at friends houses on school nights, either," Hannah had answered. "But tonight is different. It's special."

She'd bought the boy a ticket, had glanced around to quell the nagging sense that it might not be a good idea to send a child to a theater alone, had seen nothing in the movie-going crowd but parents and children, and so, relieved, had kissed the boy on the head, pressed ten dollars into his hand for snacks, and said, "Be watching for me at nine-thirty, sharp. Stay inside the theater but watch out the door. I'll pull up to the curb right here in front.”

“Okay.”

“And don't talk to strangers."

Allen giggled. It was clear he'd heard this many times before. "I won't, Hannah." And he'd stood on the sidewalk, waving, until she was out of sight.

I
have an hour and a half for dinner, Hannah thought as she drove back to her apartment to take one last look at herself in the mirror and to collect Timothy. An hour and a half isn't bad. Dinner, some conversation, maybe time to work up another get-together.

She turned on the radio and hummed along, even though she didn't know the song.

J
oe's apartment was pure college-man. Hannah walked in, holding Timothy in his tote in one hand and some daisies she'd picked up at the grocery store on the way over. Nostalgia washed over her; memories of her own shared flat when she'd been an undergraduate, a place she'd shared with buddy and fellow history major Charlotte Reeder. The furniture was salvage, the music loud and fast and current. Even the smells were familiar - spoiled food cleaned up but not completely, trash taken out just moments earlier, cigarettes and incense, sweat and air freshener, youth and vigor.

"Great place," Hannah said, standing on the living room mat just inside the door. In his tote, Timothy whined.

Joe laughed. "Oh, well, thanks. It's not quite what I'd call great, but I like it. It's home. I vacuumed."

"Thanks."

Hannah glanced at Joe. His gaze was steady and a bit disconcerting. It made her heart kick in expectation.

"Dinner is still brewing," said Joe. He reached for the tote and popped open the lid. Timothy's furry face appeared at the top. "Hey, guy, how you doing in there, kitty?"

Timothy whined again and caught the edge of the tote to pull himself out.

"Is it all right if I let him roam around?" asked Hannah.

"Sure," said Joe. "As long as we can keep an eye on him. There are a lot of little nooks and crannies that a cat could get stuck in."

Timothy gratefully stretched when his paws hit the worn carpet, and he began to sniff the perimeter of the room. His whiskers stiffened and twitched.

"Sit, please," Joe offered. Hannah sat on the faded plaid sofa, Joe sat beside her. "Now, do tell how you got interested in teaching. It has to be one of the hardest jobs of all." He put his hand on the back of the sofa, near Hannah's hair. She wished he would touch it.

"I'm from a long line of educators," Hannah said. "My mother, who died a while back, was a high school principal. And my father ...." Hannah took a deep breath. Her father. Shit on it all.

"What about him?"

"He's an elementary school teacher. Third graders."

"Why did you make a face when you mentioned him?"

"Ever the psychology major, aren't you Joe?"

Joe grinned. "I suppose. So tell me."

"Oh, let me just say that the two of us don't exactly see eye-to-eye on a number of matters."

"Such as?"