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

students' business, but I was worried about her and I went to the registrar's office to get her
phone number. She doesn't have a phone, it turns out."
I nod. I had already noticed that.
"So I thought, that was that," he says. "Husband, you say. Sometimes you get a man who
pull his wife out of school, even in this day and age."
I say nothing. He'd be surprised if he knew what goes on in this day and age.
He gives me the photograph back. "Shame," he says, shak-ing his head.
"Do you know anything about her?" I ask. "Any friends you might have seen her with?
Acquaintances?"
"No. I never saw her outside of the classroom or my of-fice."
I thank him and leave. The professors of her other two classes aren't in, so I scribble
something on the backs of two business cards and push them under the doors. As I drive ba
to the office I turn on the radio; someone is explaining how to put on snow-chains.
There are two messages waiting for me at the office. A company I've worked for before
asks me to run a credit check, and a friend wants to go see a movie tonight.
I should call both of them back. Instead I take out a legal pad and write down columns o
numbers. Stroller, car seat, crib, play-pen. So much for clothing, so much for medical
expenses. College, and classes in Classical Literature with Professor Burnford. I'm staring
the pad of paper when the phone rings.
I let the machine catch it. "I'm sorry I was angry with you the other day," a voice says, m
to my surprise. "We should talk. Please call me."
It's my mother. She's wrong, though; we have nothing to talk about.
"Your test results came back," the doctor says. "They're positive."
I take a deep breath. "That was quick," I say.
"Oh, we're very efficient these days," she says. She smiles; I guess she's trying to put m
ease. "We don't have to kill rabbits anymore."
For some reason this makes me think of Dr. Burnford, shouting at his student about rabb
and fertility symbols.
"Can I ask-" The doctor pauses. "Is this welcome news?"
I've checked the box marked "Single" on the intake form. "I don't know," I say slowly. "
was a one-night stand, really. A friend came into town unexpectedly. I don't-"
The vastness of what I've gotten into hits me; I have to stop and take another breath. I'm
going to break down in front of this woman, though; I'm not going to treat her the way my
clients sometimes treat me, as if she's a wise-woman capable of solving all my problems. I
start I'll end up telling her about the screaming fight with my mother, about all my doubts, a
God knows what else. "I'd just like some time to think about it," I say.
 The doctor nods. She puts me up in those awful cold stir-rups and examines me, and the
when I'm dressed, gives me some vitamins and a list of foods I should and shouldn't eat, an
pamphlet on abortion. "Do you need to talk to some-one?" she asks. "I can recommend a go
counselor."
I can't remember the number of times I've said the same thing to my clients. I've always
prided myself on my ability to manage my own life, to stay out of the kinds of messes my
clients seem to get into. I shake my head.
Dora Green is waiting for me in front of my office. I nod to her and unlock the door. ' 'I
wanted to know if you made any progress," she says.
I feel very weary. It's far too early for her to expect results. I motion her inside the offic
and sit at my desk. "I'm sorry," she says, taking the chair opposite me. Today she's wearing
green print dress that's even busier than her skirt, more leaves and flowers and what looks
little animals peering through the foliage. "I should have waited."
"Your daughter seems to have moved, and she's stopped going to classes," I say. "Other