iancaldwell&dustinthomason.theruleoffour-第42部分

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　Tom…
　Couldn't　sleep。　Gone　to　Ivy　for　more　work。　Call　when　you're　up。
　…P。
　
　Back　in　the　bedroom；　Paul's　bunk　is　empty。　Looking　at　the　whiteboard　again；　I　spot　the　numbers　above　the　text：　2：15。　He's　been　gone　all　night。
　I　raise　the　receiver　again；　about　to　dial　the　President's　Room；　when　I　hear　the　voicemail　tone。
　Friday；　the　automated　voice　says　when　I　punch　in　the　digits。　Eleven　fifty…four　P。　M。　
　What　follows　is　the　call　I　missed；　the　one　that　must　have　e　while　Paul　and　I　were　at　the　museum。
　Tom；　it's　Katie。　A　pause。　I'm　not　sure　where　you　are。　Maybe　you're　already　on　your　way　over。　Karen　and　Trish　want　to　serve　birthday　cake　now。　I　told　them　to　wait　for　you。　Another　pause。　I　guess　I'll　see　you　when　you　get　here。
　The　phone　is　hot　in　my　hand。　The　black…and…white　photo　I　bought　for　her　birthday　looks　dull　in　its　frame；　a　cheaper　thing　than　it　was　yesterday。　To　name　a　photographer　other　than　Ansel　Adams　and　Mathew　Brady；　I'd　had　to　ask　around。　I　never　learned　enough　about　Katie's　pastime　to　feel　confident　about　her　taste。　Thinking　it　over；　I　decide　not　to　bring　the　photo　with　me。
　　
　On　the　walk　to　the　Prince　office；　I　keep　a　brisk　pace。　Katie　meets　me　at　the　entrance　and　leads　me　toward　the　darkroom；　locking　and　unlocking　doors　as　we　go。　She's　dressed　the　same　way　she　was　at　Holder：　in　a　T…shirt　and　an　old　pair　of　jeans。　Her　hair　is　pulled　back　crookedly；　as　if　she　wasn't　expecting　pany；　and　the　neck　of　her　shirt　is　bent　out　of　shape。　I　can　see　a　gold　necklace　crossing　her　collarbone　on　one　side；　and　near　the　thigh　of　her　jeans　my　eyes　linger　on　a　tiny　hole　where　the　white　of　her　skin　peeks　through。
　〃Tom；〃　she　says；　pointing　to　someone　at　a　puter　in　the　corner；　〃there's　someone　I　want　you　to　meet。　This　is　Sam　Felton。〃
　Sam　smiles　as　if　she　knows　me。　She's　dressed　in　field　hockey…issue　sweatpants　and　a　long…sleeve　shirt　that　says　IF　JOURNALISM　WERE　EASY；　NEWSWEEK　WOULD　DO　IT。After　reaching　for　a　button　on　the　microrecorder　beside　her；　she　pulls　the　bud　of　an　earphone　out　of　one　ear。
　〃Your　date　tonight？〃　she　says　to　Katie；　just　to　make　sure　she　heard　right。
　Katie　says　yes；　but　doesn't　add　what　I　expect：　my　boyfriend。
　〃Sam's　working　on　the　Bill　Stein　story；〃　she　says　instead。
　〃Have　fun　at　the　ball；〃　Sam　tells　me；　before　reaching　for　the　recorder　again。
　〃You're　not　ing？〃　Katie　asks。
　I　gather　they　also　know　each　other　from　Ivy。
　〃I　doubt　it。〃　Sam　motions　back　at　the　puter；　where　rows　of　words　scramble　across　the　screen；　an　ant　farm　behind　the　glass。　She　already　reminds　me　of　Charlie　in　his　lab：　inspired　by　how　much　remains　to　be　done。　There　will　always　be　more　news　to　write；　more　theories　to　prove；　more　phenomena　to　observe。　The　delicious　futility　of　impossible　tasks　is　the　catnip　of　overachievers。
　Katie　gives　a　sympathetic　look；　and　Sam　returns　to　transcribing。
　〃What　did　you　want　to　talk　about？〃　I　ask。
　But　Katie　leads　me　back　to　the　darkroom。
　〃It's　little　hot　in　here；〃　she　says；　opening　a　door　and　forcing　back　a　thick　set　of　black　curtains。　〃You　might　want　to　take　off　your　coat。〃
　I　do；　and　she　hangs　it　from　a　hidden　hook　by　the　door。　I've　avoided　the　inside　of　this　room　since　I　met　her；　terrified　of　ruining　her　film。
　Katie　walks　over　to　a　clothesline　strung　along　one　wall。　Photographs　are　clipped　to　it　with　clothespins。　〃It's　not　supposed　to　get　above　seventy…five　in　here；〃　she　says；　〃or　the　soup　reticulates　the　negatives。〃
　She　might　as　well　be　speaking　Greek。　There's　an　old　rule　my　sisters　taught　me：　whenever　you　go　on　a　date　with　a　girl；　always　meet　at　a　place　you　know　well。　French　restaurants　aren't　impressive　when　you　can't　read　the　menu；　and　highbrow　movies　backfire　when　you　don't　understand　the　plot。　Here；　in　the　darkroom；　the　possibilities　for　failure　seem　spectacular。
　〃Give　me　a　second；〃　she　says；　shuttling　from　one　side　of　the　room　to　the　other；　quick　as　a　hummingbird。　〃I'm　almost　done。〃
　She　opens　the　cover　to　a　small　tank；　brings　the　film　inside　it　to　a　spigot；　then　places　it　under　running　water。　I　start　to　feel　crowded。　The　darkroom　is　small　and　cluttered；　counters　overrun　with　pans　and　trays；　shelves　lined　with　stop　bath　and　fixer。　Katie　seems　to　have　almost　perfect　dexterity　here。　It　reminds　me　of　the　way　she　did　her　hair　at　the　reception；　tying　it　around　pins　as　if　she　could　see　what　she　was　doing。
　〃Should　I　turn　out　the　lights？〃　I　ask；　starting　to　feel　useless。
　〃Not　unless　you　want　to。　The　negatives　have　fixed。〃
　So　I　stand　like　a　scarecrow　in　the　center　of　the　room。
　〃How's　Paul　holding　up？〃　she　asks。
　〃Okay。〃
　A　respectful　silence　ensues；　and　Katie　seems　to　lose　the　thread　of　the　conversation；　attending　to　another　set　of　photos。
　〃I　stopped　by　Dod　just　after　12：30；〃　she　begins　again。　〃Charlie　said　you　were　with　Paul。〃
　There's　an　unexpected　sympathy　in　her　voice。
　〃It　was　good　of　you　to　stay　with　him；〃　she　says。　〃This　must　be　terrible　for　Paul。　For　everyone。〃
　I　want　to　tell　her　about　Stein's　letters；　but　realize　how　much　explaining　it　would　take。　She　returns　to　my　side　now　with　a　handful　of　pictures。
　〃What　are　these？〃
　〃I　developed　our　film。〃
　〃From　the　movie　field？〃
　She　nods。
　The　movie　field　is　a　place　Katie　brought　me　to　see；　an　open　plot　in　Princeton　Battlefield　Park　that　seems　to　extend　farther　and　flatter　than　any　stretch　of　land　east　of　Kansas。　A　single　oak　tree　stands　in　the　middle　of　it　like　a　sentinel　who　won't　leave　his　post；　echoing　the　last　gesture　of　a　general　who　died　beneath　the　tree's　branches　during　the　Revolutionary　War。　Katie　first　saw　the　spot　in　a　Walter　Matthau　movie；　and　ever　since　then　the　tree　has　been　an　enchantment　for　her。　It　became　one　in　a　small　string　of　places　she　visited　over　and　over　again；　a　rosary　of　sights　that　anchored　her　life　the　more　she　returned　to　them。　Within　a　week　of　her　first　night　at　Dod；　she　took　me　to　see　it；　and　it　was　as　if　the　old　Mercer　Oak　were　a　relative　of　hers；　all　three　of　us　making　an　important　first　impression。　I　brought　a　blanket；　a　flashlight；　and　a　picnic　basket；　Katie　brought　film　and　a　camera。
　The　pictures　are　an　artifact　I　don't　expect；　a　small　part　of　us　locked　in　amber。　We　work　through　them　together；　sharing　between　our　hands。
　〃What　do　you　think？〃　she　says。
　Seeing　them；　I　remember　how　warm　the　winter　was。　January's　fading　light　is　almost　the　color　of　honey；　and　here　we　are；　both　dressed　in　light　sweaters；　with　coats　and　hats　and　gloves　nowhere　to　be　seen。　The　grooves　of　the　tree　behind　us　have　the　texture　of　age。
　〃They're　wonderful；〃　I　tell　her。
　Katie　smiles　awkwardly；　still　unsure　how　to　take　a　pliment。　I　notice　stains　on　her　fingertips；　the　color　of　newsprint；　left　by　one　of　the　darkroom　agents　bottled　along　the　wall。　Her　fingers　are　long　and　thin；　but　with　a　workmanlike　touch；　the　residue　of　too　much　film　dipped　in　too　many　chemical　baths。　This　was　us；　she's　saying；　a　thousand　words　at　a　time。　Remember？
　〃I'm　sorry；〃　I　tell　her。
　My　grip　on　the　pictures　loosens；　but　she　reaches　for　my　fingers　with　her　other　hand。
　〃It's　not　because　of　my　birthday；〃　she　says；　worried　I've　missed　the　point。
　I　wait。
　〃Where　did　you　and　Paul　go　after　you　left　Holder　last　night？〃
　〃To　see　Bill　Stein。〃
　She　pauses　over　the　name；　but　presses　on。　〃About　Paul's　thesis？〃
　〃It　was　urgent。〃
　〃What　about　when　I　stopped　by　your　room　just　after　midnight？〃
　〃The　art　museum。〃
　〃Why？〃
　I'm　unfortable　with　the　direction　she's　taking。　〃I'm　sorry　I　didn't　e　over。　Paul　thought　he　could　find　Colonna's　crypt；　and　he　needed　to　look　at　some　of　the　older　maps。〃
　Katie　doesn't　seem　surprised。　A　hush　gathers　behind　her　next　words；　and　I　know　this　is　the　conclusion　she's　been　building　toward。
　〃I　thought　you　were　done　with　Paul's　thesis；〃　she　says。
　〃So　did　I。〃
　〃You　can't　expect　me　to　watch　you　do　this　all　over　again；　Tom。　Last　time　we　didn't　talk　for　weeks。〃　She　hesitates；　not　knowing　how　else　to　put　it。　〃I　deserve　better。〃
　A　boy's　way　is　to　argue；　to　find　a　defensible　position　and　hold　it；　even　if　it's　not　heartfelt。　I　can　feel　the　arguments　crowding　into　my　mouth；　the　little　spurs　of　self…preservation；　but　Katie　stops　me。
　〃Don't；〃　she　says。　〃I　want　you　to　think　about　this。〃
　She　doesn't　have　to　spell　it　out。　Our　hands　part；　she　leaves　the　pictures　in　mine。　The　hum　of　the　darkroom　returns。　Like　a　dog　I've　kicked；　the　silence　always　seems　to　take　her　side。
　The　choice　is　made；　I　want　to　tell　her。　I　don't　need　to　think　this　through。　It's　simple：　I　love　you　more　than　I　love　the　book。
　But　to　say　it　now　would　be　the　wrong　choice。　Part　of　this　isn't　about　answering　the　question　correctly：　it's　about　showing　that　I'm　correctible；　that　twice　broken；　I　can　still　be　fixed。　Twelve　hours　ago　I　missed　her　birthday　because　of　the　Hypnerotomachia。　My　promises　would　seem　empty　right　now；　even　to　me。
　〃Okay；〃　I　say。
　Katie　brings　a　hand　to　her　mouth　and　bites　at　a　nail；　then　catches　herself　and　stops。
　〃I　should　work；〃　she　says；　touching　my　fingers　again。　〃Let's　talk　more　about　this　tonight。〃
　I　stare　at　the　nub　of　her　nail；　wishing　I　could　inspire　more　confidence。
　She　pushes　me　toward　the　black　curtains；　handing　me　my　coat；　and　we　return　to　the　main　office。　〃I　need　to　finish　the　rest　of　my　rolls　before　the　senior　photograph