The time traveler's wife by Audrey Niffenegger Page A
Authors: Audrey Niffenegger
Tags: Fiction, General, Reading Group Guide, Science-Fiction, Romance, Fantasy fiction, Fiction - Fantasy, Fantasy, Domestic Fiction, Fantasy - General, Time travel, American Science Fiction And Fantasy, Fiction - Romance, Married People, Librarians, American First Novelists, Women art students, Romance - Time Travel
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sensitive to even
small lies, and now the only alternatives are to refuse to say anything, which
will make her frantic, or to lie, which she won't accept, or to tell the truth,
which will upset her and do strange things to her relationship with her mother.
Clare looks at me. "Tell me," she says.
Clare: Henry looks miserable. "I can't,
Clare."
"Why not?"
"It's not good to know things ahead. It
screws up your life." "Yes. But you can't half tell me."
"There's nothing to tell."
I'm really beginning to panic. "She killed
herself." I am flooded with certainty. It is the thing I have always
feared most. " No. No. Absolutely not."
I stare at him. Henry just looks very unhappy.
I cannot tell if he is telling the truth. If I could only read his mind, how
much easier life would be. Mama. Oh, Mama.
Henry: This is dreadful. I can't leave Clare
with this. "Ovarian cancer," I say, very quietly. "Thank
God," she says, and begins to cry.
Friday, June 5, 1987 (Clare is 16, Henry is 32)
Clare: I've been waiting all day for Henry. I'm
so excited. I got my driver's license yesterday, and Daddy said I could take
the Fiat to Ruth's party tonight. Mama doesn't like this at all, but since
Daddy has already said yes she can't do much about it. I can hear them arguing
in the library after dinner.
"You could have asked me—"
"It seemed harmless, Lucy...."
I take my book and walk out to the Meadow. I
lie down in the grass. The sun is beginning to set. It's cool out here, and the
grass is full of little white moths. The sky is pink and orange over the trees
in the west, and an arc of deepening blue over me. I am thinking about going
back to the house and getting a sweater when I hear someone walking through the
grass. Sure enough, it's Henry. He enters the clearing and sits down on the
rock. I spy on him from the grass. He looks fairly young, early thirties maybe.
He's wearing the plain black T-shirt and jeans and hi-tops. He's just sitting
quietly, waiting. I can't wait a minute longer, myself, and I jump up and
startle him.
"Jesus, Clare, don't give the geezer a
heart attack."
"You're not a geezer."
Henry smiles. He's funny about being old.
"Kiss," I demand, and he kisses me.
"What was that for?" he asks.
"I got my driver's license!"
Henry looks alarmed. "Oh, no. I mean,
congratulations."
I smile at him; nothing he says can ruin my
mood. "You're just jealous."
"I am, in fact. I love to drive, and I
never do."
"How come?"
"Too dangerous."
"Chicken."
"I mean for other people. Imagine what
would happen if I was driving and I disappeared? The car would still be moving
and kaboom! lots of dead people and blood. Not pretty."
I sit down on the rock next to Henry. He moves
away. I ignore this. "I'm going to a party at Ruth's tonight. Want to
come?"
He raises one eyebrow. This usually means he's
going to quote from a book I've never heard of or lecture me about something.
Instead he only says, "But Clare, that would involve meeting a whole bunch
of your friends."
"Why not? I'm tired of being all secretive
about this."
"Let's see. You're sixteen. I'm thirty-two
right now, only twice your age. I'm sure no one would even notice, and your
parents would never hear about it."
I sigh. "Well, I have to go to this party.
Come with and sit in the car and I won't stay in very long and then we can go
somewhere."
Henry: We park about a block away from Ruth's
house. I can hear the music all the way down here; it's Talking Heads' Once In
A Lifetime. I actually kind of wish I could go with Clare, but it would be
unwise. She hops out of the car and says, "Stay!" as though I am a
large, disobedient dog, and totters off in her heels and short skirt toward
Ruth's. I slump down and wait.
Clare: As soon as I walk in the door I know
this party is a mistake. Ruth's parents are in San Francisco for a week, so at
least she will have some time to repair, clean, and explain, but I'm
small lies, and now the only alternatives are to refuse to say anything, which
will make her frantic, or to lie, which she won't accept, or to tell the truth,
which will upset her and do strange things to her relationship with her mother.
Clare looks at me. "Tell me," she says.
Clare: Henry looks miserable. "I can't,
Clare."
"Why not?"
"It's not good to know things ahead. It
screws up your life." "Yes. But you can't half tell me."
"There's nothing to tell."
I'm really beginning to panic. "She killed
herself." I am flooded with certainty. It is the thing I have always
feared most. " No. No. Absolutely not."
I stare at him. Henry just looks very unhappy.
I cannot tell if he is telling the truth. If I could only read his mind, how
much easier life would be. Mama. Oh, Mama.
Henry: This is dreadful. I can't leave Clare
with this. "Ovarian cancer," I say, very quietly. "Thank
God," she says, and begins to cry.
Friday, June 5, 1987 (Clare is 16, Henry is 32)
Clare: I've been waiting all day for Henry. I'm
so excited. I got my driver's license yesterday, and Daddy said I could take
the Fiat to Ruth's party tonight. Mama doesn't like this at all, but since
Daddy has already said yes she can't do much about it. I can hear them arguing
in the library after dinner.
"You could have asked me—"
"It seemed harmless, Lucy...."
I take my book and walk out to the Meadow. I
lie down in the grass. The sun is beginning to set. It's cool out here, and the
grass is full of little white moths. The sky is pink and orange over the trees
in the west, and an arc of deepening blue over me. I am thinking about going
back to the house and getting a sweater when I hear someone walking through the
grass. Sure enough, it's Henry. He enters the clearing and sits down on the
rock. I spy on him from the grass. He looks fairly young, early thirties maybe.
He's wearing the plain black T-shirt and jeans and hi-tops. He's just sitting
quietly, waiting. I can't wait a minute longer, myself, and I jump up and
startle him.
"Jesus, Clare, don't give the geezer a
heart attack."
"You're not a geezer."
Henry smiles. He's funny about being old.
"Kiss," I demand, and he kisses me.
"What was that for?" he asks.
"I got my driver's license!"
Henry looks alarmed. "Oh, no. I mean,
congratulations."
I smile at him; nothing he says can ruin my
mood. "You're just jealous."
"I am, in fact. I love to drive, and I
never do."
"How come?"
"Too dangerous."
"Chicken."
"I mean for other people. Imagine what
would happen if I was driving and I disappeared? The car would still be moving
and kaboom! lots of dead people and blood. Not pretty."
I sit down on the rock next to Henry. He moves
away. I ignore this. "I'm going to a party at Ruth's tonight. Want to
come?"
He raises one eyebrow. This usually means he's
going to quote from a book I've never heard of or lecture me about something.
Instead he only says, "But Clare, that would involve meeting a whole bunch
of your friends."
"Why not? I'm tired of being all secretive
about this."
"Let's see. You're sixteen. I'm thirty-two
right now, only twice your age. I'm sure no one would even notice, and your
parents would never hear about it."
I sigh. "Well, I have to go to this party.
Come with and sit in the car and I won't stay in very long and then we can go
somewhere."
Henry: We park about a block away from Ruth's
house. I can hear the music all the way down here; it's Talking Heads' Once In
A Lifetime. I actually kind of wish I could go with Clare, but it would be
unwise. She hops out of the car and says, "Stay!" as though I am a
large, disobedient dog, and totters off in her heels and short skirt toward
Ruth's. I slump down and wait.
Clare: As soon as I walk in the door I know
this party is a mistake. Ruth's parents are in San Francisco for a week, so at
least she will have some time to repair, clean, and explain, but I'm
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