thing is, you’re probably thinking that no one
deserves to have all this. You think you have to make a choice. You
think you have to give up something. But you don’t have to give up
anything, Henry, and anyone who tells you otherwise is a fucking
rabbit. Don’t listen to them. You can have it all. You
deserve
to have it all. You love your job. Do you love
your job?”
“I love my job,” Henry says. The Crocodile smiles at him
tearily.
It’s true. He loves his job.
When Henry came home, it must have been after midnight, because
he never got home before midnight. He found Catherine standing on a
ladder in the kitchen, one foot resting on the sink. She was
wearing her gas mask, a black cotton sports bra, and a pair of
black sweatpants rolled down so he could see she wasn’t wearing any
underwear. Her stomach stuck out so far, she had to hold her arms
at a funny angle to run the roller up and down the wall in front of
her. Up and down in a V. Then fill the V in. She had painted the
kitchen ceiling a shade of purple so dark, it almost looked black.
Midnight Eggplant.
Catherine has been buying paints from a specialty catalog. All
the colors are named after famous books,
Madame Bovary
,
Forever Amber
,
Fahrenheit
451
,
Tin
Drum,
A Curtain of Green
,
Twenty Thousand Leagues
Beneath the Sea
. She was painting the walls
Catch-
22
, a novel she’d taught over and over
again to undergraduates. It always went over well. The paint color
was nice too. She couldn’t decide if she missed teaching. The thing
about teaching and having children is that you always ended up
treating your children like undergraduates, and your undergraduates
like children. There was a particular tone of voice. She’d even
used it on Henry a few times, just to see if it worked.
All the cabinets were fenced around with masking tape, like a
crime scene. The room stank of new paint.
Catherine took off the gas mask and said, “Tilly picked it out.
What do you think?” Her hands were on her hips. Her stomach poked
out at Henry. The gas mask had left a ring of white and red around
her eyes and chin.
Henry said, “How was the dinner party?”
“We had fettuccine. Liz and Marcus stayed and helped me do the
dishes.”
(“Is something wrong with your dishwasher?” “No. I mean, yes.
We’re getting a new one.”)
She had had a feeling. It had been a feeling like déjà vu, or
being drunk, or falling in love. Like teaching. She had imagined an
audience of rabbits out on the lawn, watching her dinner party. A
classroom of rabbits, watching a documentary. Rabbit television.
Her skin had felt electric.
“So she’s a lawyer?” Henry said.
“You haven’t even met them yet,” Catherine said, suddenly
feeling possessive. “But I like them. I really, really like them.
They wanted to know all about us. You. I think they think that
either we’re having marriage problems or that you’re imaginary.
Finally I took Liz upstairs and showed her your stuff in the
closet. I pulled out the wedding album and showed them photos.”
“Maybe we could invite them over on Sunday? For a cookout?”
Henry said.
“They’re away next weekend,” Catherine said. “They’re going up
to the mountains on Friday. They have a house up there. They’ve
invited us. To come along.”
“I can’t,” Henry said. “I have to take care of some clients next
weekend. Some big shots. We’re having some cash flow problems.
Besides, are you allowed to go away? Did you check with your
doctor, what’s his name again, Dr. Marks?”
“You mean, did I get my permission slip signed?” Catherine said.
Henry put his hand on her leg and held on. “Dr. Marks said I’m
shipshape. Those were his exact words. Or maybe he said tip-top. It
was something alliterative.”
“Well, I guess you ought to go, then,” Henry said. He rested his
head against her stomach. She let him. He looked so tired. “Before
Golf Cart shows up. Or what is Tilly calling the baby
deserves to have all this. You think you have to make a choice. You
think you have to give up something. But you don’t have to give up
anything, Henry, and anyone who tells you otherwise is a fucking
rabbit. Don’t listen to them. You can have it all. You
deserve
to have it all. You love your job. Do you love
your job?”
“I love my job,” Henry says. The Crocodile smiles at him
tearily.
It’s true. He loves his job.
When Henry came home, it must have been after midnight, because
he never got home before midnight. He found Catherine standing on a
ladder in the kitchen, one foot resting on the sink. She was
wearing her gas mask, a black cotton sports bra, and a pair of
black sweatpants rolled down so he could see she wasn’t wearing any
underwear. Her stomach stuck out so far, she had to hold her arms
at a funny angle to run the roller up and down the wall in front of
her. Up and down in a V. Then fill the V in. She had painted the
kitchen ceiling a shade of purple so dark, it almost looked black.
Midnight Eggplant.
Catherine has been buying paints from a specialty catalog. All
the colors are named after famous books,
Madame Bovary
,
Forever Amber
,
Fahrenheit
451
,
Tin
Drum,
A Curtain of Green
,
Twenty Thousand Leagues
Beneath the Sea
. She was painting the walls
Catch-
22
, a novel she’d taught over and over
again to undergraduates. It always went over well. The paint color
was nice too. She couldn’t decide if she missed teaching. The thing
about teaching and having children is that you always ended up
treating your children like undergraduates, and your undergraduates
like children. There was a particular tone of voice. She’d even
used it on Henry a few times, just to see if it worked.
All the cabinets were fenced around with masking tape, like a
crime scene. The room stank of new paint.
Catherine took off the gas mask and said, “Tilly picked it out.
What do you think?” Her hands were on her hips. Her stomach poked
out at Henry. The gas mask had left a ring of white and red around
her eyes and chin.
Henry said, “How was the dinner party?”
“We had fettuccine. Liz and Marcus stayed and helped me do the
dishes.”
(“Is something wrong with your dishwasher?” “No. I mean, yes.
We’re getting a new one.”)
She had had a feeling. It had been a feeling like déjà vu, or
being drunk, or falling in love. Like teaching. She had imagined an
audience of rabbits out on the lawn, watching her dinner party. A
classroom of rabbits, watching a documentary. Rabbit television.
Her skin had felt electric.
“So she’s a lawyer?” Henry said.
“You haven’t even met them yet,” Catherine said, suddenly
feeling possessive. “But I like them. I really, really like them.
They wanted to know all about us. You. I think they think that
either we’re having marriage problems or that you’re imaginary.
Finally I took Liz upstairs and showed her your stuff in the
closet. I pulled out the wedding album and showed them photos.”
“Maybe we could invite them over on Sunday? For a cookout?”
Henry said.
“They’re away next weekend,” Catherine said. “They’re going up
to the mountains on Friday. They have a house up there. They’ve
invited us. To come along.”
“I can’t,” Henry said. “I have to take care of some clients next
weekend. Some big shots. We’re having some cash flow problems.
Besides, are you allowed to go away? Did you check with your
doctor, what’s his name again, Dr. Marks?”
“You mean, did I get my permission slip signed?” Catherine said.
Henry put his hand on her leg and held on. “Dr. Marks said I’m
shipshape. Those were his exact words. Or maybe he said tip-top. It
was something alliterative.”
“Well, I guess you ought to go, then,” Henry said. He rested his
head against her stomach. She let him. He looked so tired. “Before
Golf Cart shows up. Or what is Tilly calling the baby
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