"Cool! I loved them!"
"Then, for some unknown reason, Fordham decided to give him a degree in philosophy after four years of driving the good fathers there to distraction with his contrarian ways. After that he took the opportunity to see the world."
Rune said, "So you did go to Paris. I've always wanted to see it. Rick and Ilsa ... Casablanca. And that hunchback guy in the big church. I felt so sorry for him. I--"
"Didn't exactly get to France," Richard admitted. Then slipped back into his third-person narrative. "What he did was get as far as England and found out that working your way around the world was a lot different from vacationing around the world. Being a punch press operator in London--if you can get to be a punch press operator at all--isn't any better than being one in Trenton, New Jersey. So, the young adventurer came back to New York to be a chic unemployed philosopher, going to clubs, playing with getting his M.A. and Ph.D., going to clubs, picking up blondes without names and brunettes with pseudonyms, going to clubs, working day jobs, getting tired of clubs, waiting to reach a moment of intersubjectivity with a woman. Working away."
"On his novel."
"Right. On his novel."
So far he seemed to be pretty much on her wavelength--despite the car and the moods. She was into fairy stories and he was into philosophy. Which seemed different but, when she thought about it, Rune decided they were both really the same--two fields that could stimulate your mind and that were totally useless in the real world.
Somebody like Richard--maybe him, maybe not-- but somebody like him was the only sort of person she could be truly in love with, Rune believed.
"I know what's the matter," she said.
"Why do you think something's the matter?"
"I just do."
"Well," he said, "what? Tell me."
"Remember that story I told you?"
"Which one? You've told me a lot of stories."
"About Diarmuid? I feel like we're a fairy king and queen who've left the Side--you know, the magic land." She turned around. Gasped. "Oh, you've got to look at it! Turn around, Richard, look!"
"I'm driving."
"Don't worry--I'll describe it. There're a hundred towers and battlements and they're all made out of silver. The sun is falling on the spires. Glowing and stealing all that energy from the sun--how much energy do you think the sun has? Well, it's all going right into the Magic Kingdom through the tops of the battlements ..." She had a sudden feeling of dread, as if she'd caught his mood. A premonition or something. After a moment she said, "I don't know, I don't think I should be doing this. I shouldn't've crossed the moat, shouldn't've left the Side. I feel funny. I almost feel like we shouldn't be doing this."
"Leaving the Side," he repeated absently. "Maybe that's it." And looked in the rearview mirror again.
He might have meant it, might have been sarcastic. She couldn't tell.
Rune turned around, hooked her seat belt again. Then they swept around a long curve in the expressway and the country arrived. Hills, forests, fields. A panoramic view west. She was about to point out a large cloud, shaped like a perfect white chalice, a towering Holy Grail, but Rune decided she'd better keep quiet. The car accelerated and they drove the rest of the way to Berkeley Heights, New Jersey, in silence.
"He hasn't had a visitor for a month," the nurse was saying to Rune.
They stood on a grassy hill beside the administration building of the nursing home. Richard was in the cafeteria. He'd brought a book with him.
"That's too bad. I know it's good for the guests," the nurse continued. "People coming to see them."
"How is he?"
"Some days he's almost normal, some days he's not so good. Today, he's in fair shape."
"Who was the visitor last month?" Rune asked.
She said, "An Irish name, I think. An older gentleman."
"Kelly, maybe?"
"Could have been. Yes, I think so."
Rune's heart beat a bit faster.