The Third Child by Marge Piercy Page A

other in on the fifty things that had happened since the evening before. “I feel as if I’m only half alive until you get here.”
    “We’re one being together. Each of us by ourselves is only half.”
    She liked that. It made her feel secure with him. How could you lose half of yourself?
    “I have a present for you tonight. A surprise.”
    She patted his pockets, teasing him with her hands. “What is it?”
    “First, did you get your regular e-mail from your mother today?”
    “Sure. Punctuality is next to cleanliness or whatever. She never keeps people waiting except to make a point—like, they aren’t important and she is.”
    “In photos she looks like a beautiful woman. Is she?”
    “Everyone says so. I thought so when I was little. Now I try to find something wrong, to make myself feel less clunky. But she’s perfect. Do you understand? Nothing ever out of place, no blemishes, nothing too big or too small. She’s always boasting that she’s the same size as she was when she married my father. She barely eats.”
    He took her face between his hands. “I know how insecure she makes you feel. Have you ever wondered what she says to your brothers and sister?”
    “Of course. I wonder every week.”
    “Maybe we can find out. Call up her last message for me on your computer.”
    She obeyed. He nudged her out of the seat then and faced her laptop. “DSL connection, so she’s on a network. Okay. Great. I can do it. Just give me some time.” He pulled a disc from his backpack and sat at the computer for half an hour, typing with his eyes locked on the screen. Shepicked up the book she was reading for French, a play of Sartre’s. There was a lot of slang and idiomatic French in it she had to look up or guess at. Emily and she had been working at it over supper, until Emily had to get dressed for her date. The French was hard and she almost forgot to watch him. They were expected to be able to translate a passage on demand in class Monday. When Em got home, she would give her the translation she was working on.
    “Okay, babes,” he said at last. “We’re in. But first I want to send all this to my computer so I can do it more easily for you next week.” The download onto a zip drive he had brought took a little more time, but he came and lay on the bed with her while the computer was talking to the zip drive. She loved the way he kissed, not in a hurry, not with his lips hard, not as if it was something to blast through to reach the real stuff, but almost an end in itself. That was part of what got her so excited with him, the kissing. She felt sometimes she could lie with him kissing for hours, for days. The first time had been so abrupt that it had been a pleasant surprise to find out how much he liked just plain kissing. They made love slowly these days, making it last.
    “Suppose you hadn’t gone to Wesleyan. Or suppose I’d gone to Penn like my sister, Merilee. Then we’d never have met.”
    “I believe we would have, sooner or later,” he said, brushing back her hair. “Okay, everything I need is downloaded.” He got up to disconnect his portable zip. Then he motioned her over. “Okay, truth time. Let’s see what she wrote to your brothers and your sister.”
    Dearest Rich, I’m so delighted that you are doing well with your developers, but it’s time to start lining up support for your first run. I suggest you attach yourself to Congressman Fuller’s reelection campaign. You can learn a lot and make some excellent contacts for your future. You can see what’s involved in a successful campaign, so that you won’t make some of the mistakes people running for office for the first time are prone to. Also you need to form relationships in your district, so that the right people know you. You have topersuade Laura to join important women’s organizations such as the Junior League. I’ll append a list of my suggestions, but it’s my fervent wish that she get going at once. Select a