"Lisa Goldstein - Rites of Spring" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goldstein Lisa)

snowballs. Someone slips on the grass and goes down; his friends laugh. I'm not foolish eno
to think that I'll run into Carolyn Green, but just in case I stop several people and show them
her picture. No one recognizes her.
I go to the student store to buy a pair of gloves, and then return to the registrar's office. I
in luck-Ms. University Policy has left, probably for lunch, and a young woman who looks l
a student has come in to replace her. Her eyes widen as I show her my license, and before I
even finish my story she is calling up Carolyn's name on the computer.
"Here-I'll give you a print-out of her schedule," the young woman says. "And here's her
address, at the top."
The address is the one Ms. Green gave me, but the list of classes could be useful. I than
the woman and leave.
The first class on Carolyn's schedule is Classical Literature, taught by Professor Burnfo
Once again I am amazed at how strange people are, how complex. Who would have though
that the woman in the photograph would be interested in such a thing?
I find the building where Carolyn studies Classical Litera-ture and go inside. Professor
Burnford's office is on the third floor; a sign on the door says that his office hours are from
12:00 to 2:00. It's five to 12. I lean against the wall to wait.
A few minutes later the professor comes toward me, fol-lowed by a student who tries in
vain to keep up with his long strides. Burnford says something over his shoulder to the stu-d
following him. "Rabbits!" I hear him say as he reaches the door. "Rabbits are fertility
symbols!"
Burnford nods to me as I step forward, and without stop-ping he says, "I can see you aft
talk to Joe here. Late Etruscan burial customs, isn't it?"
It isn't, but before I get a chance to tell him so he's un-locked his door and ushered poor
inside. I wait a bit more, and then wander down the hallway and read the notices and cartoo
posted on office doors. It's all fairly interesting, in a sort of anthropological way. I never
finished college myself.
Five minutes later Professor Burnford's door opens and Joe emerges, looking wrung ou
He does not meet my eyes as he leaves.
"Sit down," Burnford says as I enter. His hair, eyes and skin are very nearly the same sa
color, and he wears a sand and black hound's-tooth coat. I wonder if he matched his coat
deliberately to his face or if it's just a coincidence.
"I hope you don't mind if I eat my lunch while we talk," he says. He opens a brown pap
bag and takes out a plastic-wrapped peanut butter sandwich. "I have no time otherwise."
The mention of lunch, and the smell of peanut butter, make my stomach turn again. The
doctor's appointment is tomor-row, I think.
"I'm sorry," he says, taking a bite of the sandwich. "I don't remember your name."
"I'm not a student here, Dr. Burnford," I say. I take out my license and show it to him. "I
looking for one of your students. Carolyn Green, or Carolyn Hayes."
He nods, his mouth full of peanut butter.
"Do you know her?" I ask.
"Of course I know her. Brilliant girl. You don't get too many under-graduates that good
ancient Greek."
Brilliant? I show him the photograph. "Yes, that's her," he says, taking it from me. "Don
know who the man is, though."
"That's her husband," I say. "Jack Hayes."
"Husband?" He puts down his sandwich, for which I am grateful, and wipes his mouth w
a napkin. "So that's what happened to her. I'm sorry to hear it."
"What do you mean?"
"She stopped coming to class a few months ago. I don't usually stick my nose in my