iancaldwell&dustinthomason.theruleoffour-第44部分

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　always　refused；　at　first　because　I　took　pride　in　the　monastic　quality　my　life　had　assumed；　then　later　because　I　saw　something　derelict　in　the　way　they　seemed　to　be　ignoring　their　work。　The　night　Paul　went　to　get　ice　cream　with　Gil　instead　of　doing　more　research　on　the　Hypnerotomachia；　I　imagined　for　the　first　time　he　wasn't　pulling　his　own　weight　in　our　partnership。
　〃You've　lost　your　focus；〃　I　told　him。　My　eyes　were　getting　worse　because　I　had　to　read　in　the　dark；　and　it　couldn't　have　e　at　a　worse　time。
　〃I've　what？〃　Paul　said；　turning　around　before　climbing　to　his　bunk。　He　thought　he'd　misheard。
　〃How　many　hours　are　you　spending　on　this　a　day？〃
　〃I　don't　know。　Maybe　eight。〃
　〃I've　put　in　ten　every　day　this　week。　And　you're　the　one　going　to　get　ice　cream？〃
　〃I　was　gone　for　ten　minutes；　Tom。　And　I　made　a　lot　of　progress　tonight。　What's　the　problem？〃
　〃It's　nearly　March。　Our　deadline　is　in　a　month。〃
　He　let　the　pronoun　pass。　〃I'll　get　an　extension。〃
　〃Maybe　you　should　work　harder。〃
　It　was　probably　the　first　time　anyone　had　ever　spoken　those　words　in　Paul's　presence。　I'd　seen　him　angry　only　a　handful　of　times；　but　never　like　that。
　〃I　am　working　hard。　Who　do　you　think　you're　talking　to？〃
　〃I'm　close　to　figuring　out　the　riddle。　Where　are　you？〃
　〃Close？〃　Paul　shook　his　head。　〃You're　not　doing　this　because　you're　close。　You're　doing　it　because　you're　lost。　That　riddle　shouldn't　be　taking　you　this　long。　It　shouldn't　be　that　hard。　You've　just　lost　patience。〃
　I　glared　at　him。
　〃That's　right；〃　he　said；　as　if　he'd　been　waiting　to　say　it　for　days。　〃I've　almost　worked　out　the　next　riddle；　and　you're　still　working　on　the　last　one。　But　I've　been　trying　to　stay　out　of　this。　We　work　at　our　own　paces；　and　you　don't　even　want　my　help。　So　fine；　do　it　alone。　Just　don't　try　turning　this　back　on　me。〃
　We　didn't　speak　again　that　night。
　　
　Had　I　listened；　I　might've　learned　my　lesson　earlier。　Instead；　I　went　out　of　my　way　to　prove　Paul　wrong。　I　began　working　later　and　waking　earlier；　making　a　habit　of　rolling　my　alarm　back　fifteen　minutes　each　day；　hoping　he　would　notice　the　steady　imposition　of　discipline　on　the　untended　quarters　of　my　life。　Each　day　I　found　a　new　way　to　spend　more　time　with　Colonna；　and　each　night　I　tallied　my　hours　like　a　miser　counting　coins。　Eight　on　Monday；　nine　on　Tuesday；　ten　on　Wednesday　and　Thursday；　almost　twelve　on　Friday。
　What　do　a　blind　beetle；　a　night…owl；　and　a　twist…beaked　eagle　share？　Horned　beetles　are　hung　around　the　necks　of　infants　as　a　remedy　against　disease；　Pliny　wrote；　gold　beetles　make　a　poisonous　honey；　and　are　unable　to　survive　in　a　locality　near　Thrace　called　Cantharolethus；　black　beetles　congregate　in　dark　corners；　and　are　found　mostly　in　baths。　But　blind　beetles？
　I　found　more　time　by　not　walking　out　to　Cloister　for　meals：　every　round　trip　to　Prospect　Avenue　cost　me　half　an　hour；　and　eating　in　pany；　rather　than　alone；　probably　cost　another　half　as　well。　I　stopped　working　in　the　President's　Room　at　Ivy；　both　to　avoid　seeing　Paul　and　to　save　the　minutes　I　would　otherwise　have　spent　in　transit。　I　kept　phone　calls　to　a　minimum；　shaved　and　showered　only　as　necessary；　let　Charlie　and　Gil　answer　the　door；　and　made　a　science　of　the　economies　I　could　produce　by　giving　up　the　humble　reliables　of　my　life。
　What　do　a　blind　beetle；　a　night…owl；　and　a　twist…beaked　eagle　share？　Of　creatures　that　can　fly　and　are　bloodless；　Aristotle　wrote；　some　are　coleopterous　or　sheath…winged；　like　the　beetle；　of　birds　that　fly　by　night；　some　have　crooked　talons；　such　as　the　night…raven　and　owl；　and　in　old　age　the　upper　beak　of　the　eagle　grows　gradually　longer　and　more　crooked；　such　that　the　bird　slowly　dies　of　starvation。　But　what　do　the　three　of　them　share？
　Katie；　I'd　decided；　was　a　lost　cause。　Whatever　she'd　been　to　me；　she　became　someone　else　for　Donald　Morgan。　How　I　saw　so　much　of　them；　when　I　left　my　room　so　little；　must've　had　its　answer　in　my　thoughts　and　dreams；　where　they　were　constantly　making　fools　of　themselves。　In　corners　and　alleys；　in　shadows　and　clouds；　there　they　were：　holding　hands　and　kissing　and　making　sweet　talk；　all　of　it　for　my　benefit；　flaunting　the　way　a　shallow　heart　is　quickly　broken　but　just　as　quickly　fixed。　There　was　a　black　bra　of　Katie's　that　she'd　left　in　my　room　long　ago；　which　I'd　never　remembered　to　return；　and　it　became　a　sort　of　trophy　to　me；　a　symbol　of　the　part　of　herself　she'd　left　behind；　which　Donald　couldn't　have。　I　had　visions　of　her　standing　naked　in　my　bedroom；　souvenirs　of　the　day　we'd　enjoyed　our　own　pany　so　much　that　she　forgot　herself　around　me；　forgot　that　I　was　someone　else；　and　let　her　inhibitions　go。　Every　detail　of　her　shape　stayed　with　me；　every　freckle　on　her　back；　every　gradation　of　shadow　beneath　her　breasts。　She　danced　to　the　music　that　came　over　my　alarm　clock；　running　one　hand　through　her　hair；　keeping　one　hand　over　the　invisible　microphone　in　front　of　her　mouth；　and　I　was　the　only　audience。
　What　do　a　blind　beetle；　a　night…owl；　and　a　twist…beaked　eagle　share？　They　all　fly…but　Pliny　says　that　beetles　sometimes　burrow。　They　all　breathe…but　Aristotle　says　that　insects　do　not　inhale。　They　never　learn　from　their　mistakes；　for　Aristotle　says　that　many　animals　have　memory　。　。　。　but　no　other　creature　except　man　can　recall　the　past　at　will。　But　even　men　fail　to　learn　from　the　past。　By　that　yardstick；　we　are　all　of　us　blind　beetles　and　night…owls。
　On　Thursday；　the　fourth　of　March；　I　reached　the　high…water　mark　of　my　time　with　the　Hypnerotomachia。　That　day　I　spent　fourteen　hours　rereading　sections　of　six　Renaissance　natural　historians　and　making　twenty…one　single…space　pages　of　notes。　I　went　to　no　classes；　ate　all　three　meals　at　my　desk；　and　slept　exactly　three　and　a　half　hours　that　night。　I　hadn't　seen　Frankenstein　in　weeks。　The　only　other　thoughts　that　had　crossed　my　mind　were　of　Katie；　and　those　just　pelled　me　to　make　an　even　greater　shambles　of　my　life。　The　sheer　mastery　of　myself　was　addictive。　Something　must've　been；　because　I'd　made　almost　no　progress　on　the　riddle。
　〃Shut　the　books；〃　Charlie　finally　said　that　Friday　night；　taking　a　stand。　He　pulled　me　by　the　collar　in　front　of　a　mirror。　〃Look　at　yourself。〃
　〃I'm　fine…〃　I　began；　ignoring　the　lupine　thing　that　stared　back　at　me；　all　red　eyes　and　pink　nose　and　scruff。
　But　Gil　stood　at　Charlie's　side。　〃Tom；　you　look　like　hell。〃　He　stepped　into　the　bedroom；　something　he　hadn't　done　in　weeks。　〃Listen；　she　wants　to　talk　to　you。　Stop　being　so　stubborn。〃
　〃I'm　not　being　stubborn。　I've　just　got　other　things　to　do。〃
　Charlie　grimaced。　〃Like　what；　Paul's　thesis？〃
　I　scowled；　waiting　for　Paul　to　stand　up　for　me。　But　he　just　stood　there　behind　them；　silent。　For　more　than　a　week　he'd　hoped　that　an　answer　was　just　around　the　bend；　that　I　was　making　progress　against　the　riddle；　just　painful　progress。
　〃We're　going　to　the　arch　sing　at　Blair；〃　Gil　said；　meaning　the　Friday　a　cappella　concert　held　outdoors。
　〃All　four　of　us；〃　Charlie　added。
　Gil　gently　closed　the　book　beside　me。　〃Katie's　going　to　be　there。　I　told　her　you'd　e。〃
　But　when　I　flipped　the　book　back　open　and　said　I　wasn't　going；　I　remember　the　look　that　crossed　his　face。　It　was　one　Gil　had　never　given　me　before…one　he'd　always　reserved　for　Parker　Hassett　and　the　occasional　class　clown　who　didn't　know　when　to　stop。
　〃You're　ing；〃　Charlie　said；　stepping　toward　me。
　But　Gil　waved　him　off。　〃Forget　it。　Let's　just　go。〃
　Then　I　was　alone。
　　
　It　wasn't　stubbornness　or　pride；　or　even　devotion　to　Colonna；　that　kept　me　away　from　Blair　Arch。　It　was　heartache；　I　think；　and　defeat。　The　fact　is　that　I　loved　Katie；　and　also；　in　an　odd　way；　that　I　loved　the　Hypnerotomachia；　and　that　I'd　failed　to　win　either　of　them。　The　look　on　Paul's　face　as　he　left　meant　he　knew　I'd　lost　my　chance　with　the　riddle；　whether　I　knew　it　or　not；　and　the　look　on　Gil's　face　as　he　left　meant　he　knew　I'd　done　the　same　with　Katie。　Staring　at　a　group　of　woodcuts　in　the　Hypnerotomachia…the　same　ones　Taft　would　use　in　his　lecture　a　month　later；　the　ones　of　Cupid　driving　women　into　a　forest　on　a　burning　chariot…I　thought　of　Carracci's　engraving。　Here　I　was；　being　pummeled　by　the　little　boy　as　my　two　loves　looked　on。　This　was　what　my　father　meant；　the　lesson　he'd　hoped　I　would　learn。　Our　hardships　cannot　move　him。　Love　conquers　all。
　The　two　hardest　things　to　contemplate　in　life；　Richard　Curry　once　told　Paul；　are　failure　and　age；　and　those　are　one　and　the　same。　Perfection　is　the　natural　consequence　of　eternity：　wait　long　enough；　and　anything　will　realize　its　potential。　Coal　bees　diamonds；　sand　bees　pearls；　apes　bee　men。　It's　simply　not　given　to　us；　in　one　lifetime；　to　see　those　consummations；　and　so　every　failure　bees　a　reminder　of　death。
　But　love　lost　is　a　special　kind　of　failure；　I　think。　It's　a　reminder　that　some　consummations；　no　matter　how　devoutly　wished　for；　never　e；　that　some　apes　will　never　be　men；　not　in　all　the　world's　ages。　What's　a　monkey　to　think；　who　with　a　typewriter　and　eternity　still　can't　eke　out　Shakespeare？　To　hear　Katie　say　that　she　wanted　to　make　it　final；　that　she　and　I　were　finished；　would　stunt　all　my　sense　of　possibility。　To　watch　her　there；　beneath　Blair　Arch；　warming　herself　in　Donald　Morgan's　arms；　would　strip　the　pearls