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(Continued)
“Of course not,” he
growled, using all the strength in his legs to stand back up. He
walked to the front of the room and sat on the edge of the desk.
Sweat glistened on his brow. The stars swam around the room. He
looked at the faces, remembering some of them. He looked for
himself out there, too, but he wasn’t there. He cleared his
throat and opened his book. “Okay, so. Slaughter-House
Fifty-Seven.” Some more laughter from the room. “Uh, do we
think the time-travel device is cheating, just an easy gimmick
to make transitions in a story?” He listened to the words
coming out of his mouth, recognizing none of them.
***
After class the
red-haired woman, whose name was Marcia, said he really should
come to the pub with them. He looked like he could use a good
drink. She would drive him. In the car she asked if he was
troubled, and he said he just wasn’t sure who he was anymore.
She said she knew that feeling. Her husband had left her and her
grown kids were off on their own, and she was alone and trying to
make a new start. She thought she could take a few classes, meet
some new people. She was really interested in this literature - it
sure beat those torrid romances she was used to. As Paul listened
to her drone on he felt weaker on his left side, and began to tip
unwillingly until his head was on her shoulder.
“There,
there,” she cooed, putting her arm around him. “Everybody
needs someone.” With her hand she pressed his head to her
breast.
Most of the
class was already at the bar. They cheered when he entered. He was
leaning on Marcia for support. “Get that man a beer!” one of
the guys shouted.
At the table
Paul sipped dark beer and talked about Kurt Vonnegut like a
neighbor. He impressed himself with what he knew. Marcia sat next
to him and slipped her hand onto his knee. She did swirly-pokey
things with her long nails.
Someone
proposed a toast. As Paul held up his mug he saw deep in the brown
liquid his stars, which now appeared as merry glints in the eyes
of Kurt himself, accusing or enjoying this impostor whose saggy
face was reflected in the glass.
After his
second beer he felt quite sick. He stood and fell across the
table, spilling drinks and upsetting smokes and finding his elbow
in some salsa. One woman said, “You’re bleeding!” He
instinctively brought a hand to his nose before he realized she
was joking. Everyone laughed. The Merry Drunk Professor, what a
good sport! In a panic he fought his way past Marcia, who clung
desperately to his shoulder all the way to the men’s room like
someone from one of her romances. “I’ll be fine,” he told
her, weaving down the hallway and bouncing off the walls.
Once in the
bathroom he dabbed his face with cold water, cleaned his elbow,
looked at his face in the mirror. “This is still me,” he said
to the face. “I haven’t really changed. It’s me.” He tried
to convince himself. “But who?” the face replied.
Despite the
cold water the room began its crescendo spin, until Paul crashed
through a stall and vomited into the toilet. Marcia poked her head
in, hair electrified with excitement. “Should I send someone in?
Should I call an ambulance?”
“No. Listen.
I have someone. Call this number.” He repeated the only phone
number that was in his head.
“You have
someone?” She was ready to cry.
“Call it!”
“Okay.” She
ran off, breathless.
Paul didn’t
know who would be on the other end of that number. Who might show
up, Alice?
He lay on the
floor next to the toilet and closed his eyes to keep from
spinning. He became weightless and was sucked through the
exhaust fan into the cold vacuum of space, where there were many
more stars, and where his car keys and wallet floated just out of
his reach. He wanted to look in that wallet, to see... but when he
reached he found arms instead, and then the guys were helping him
sit up.
One of the
classmates slapped him on his numb cheek. “Hey. She’s here for
you, Professor.”
“Who is here?”
His voice was a slurry mess. What was more of a mess was that they
thought he was merely drunk, when that was just the half of it.
“The person
you wanted to call. She’s outside.”
(Turn
the page)
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