| OCR Text |
Show Woodworth/76 sounding like she doesn't want to talk to him, wishes he hadn't called. She still wants to run, but this phone, Ruth's phone, Ned's phone, is holding her here. He asks her to meet him tomorrow, at noon, at a restaurant on Charles Street, and she says she can't, remembering that she will have to work through lunch tomorrow so the full-time people can go to lunch. But she doesn't tell him why, and he says, "ok", and waits until she asks him, "What about Saturday?" and then, remembering that he is married, "Do you think you can?" and he says, "Yes, around 1:00," and they agree to meet in front of the Government Center subway stop at 1:00. Marty stands, and looks at the phone. The water is running in the kitchen, and she can hear the sound of dishes being rinsed. No voices. They will stay there for a while now, Ruth sitting with her dinner still in front of her, Ned running plates, glasses, tableware, under the water, and stacking them in the dish washer. Then one or both will come into the living room, looking for her, wanting to know who was on the phone, what is on television. Wanting her to stay between them, to prove that, as long as there is still a child, still one testament to their sexuality, to their marriage, to their ability as parents, then things are all right. She can see her mother at the table as she sneaks up the steps, into Jake's room, and sits on the floor behind the bed with its drooping green spread. Jake's room, unscathed by renovations, never used for guests. The stuffed bears still sit, propped against each other on the window seat. A glass ashtray on the bureau, filled with matchbooks from the Boston restaurants their parents had taken them to as a reward for good report cards. There may even still be pajamas with space ships on them in the drawers, |
