==========================
THE PROFESSORS' WIVES' CLUB
by Joanne Rendell (fiction)
Published by New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
ISBN: 9780451224910
Copyright (c) 2008 by Joanne Rendell
(Part 2 of 2)
======================================
It would all be okay, she assured herself. In just a short while
everything would be fine, and seeing Jack's hazel eyes every day
would soon be a thing of the past. In a matter of weeks she would no
longer have to hear his rants about the "imbeciles" in Manhattan U's
finance office, or watch him pontificate to colleagues about the
benefits of the proposed parking lot. No longer would she have to
creep around the apartment as he pawed over books on Edgar Allan
Poe, books that had little to do with his scholarship but, for
reasons unfathomable to Mary, had consumed all his time and energy
in recent months. Most of all, once she was gone, she would never
feel the rage of his fist against her skin ever again.
Before she could make herself feel better with thoughts of the deep
russet walls and ivory linen drapes that awaited her in a small
light-filled apartment in San Francisco, the garden gate rattled
noisily. She looked up with a start. Her throat tightened. It wasn't
him, was it? He hadn't spotted her, had he? "Please, no," she begged
silently as she tried to see who was coming in. The last thing she
wanted was a round of his pathetic apologies accompanied by one of
his hastily bought bouquets of lilies. (Why lilies? she wondered in
anger. She'd never liked lilies, never.) She really couldn't stomach
all that now. Not while her eye still throbbed ferociously behind
her glasses.
As the gate clanged shut, Mary let out a small sigh of relief. It
wasn't him. Instead, a woman dressed in an orange knit cap and a
long dark winter coat maneuvered her way into the garden. Her coat
fell open around her protruding pregnant belly, and she was holding
a bottle of water in one hand and pushing a stroller with the other.
Spotting Mary at the other end of the garden, the woman lifted her
hand and gave a friendly wave before sitting on the bench nearest
the gate. She then took a sip of her water, shook open a newspaper,
and lifted a foot onto a chunky plastic wheel and began wobbling the
stroller back and forth. From where Mary was sitting, the child
inside was just a pair of pink cheeks poking out from a rainbow-
covered fleece blanket.
Mary had seen this woman in the garden before. Last summer when the
little girl was just beginning to walk, Mary had watched the two of
them giggling and squealing together under the shade of the large
maple. When they finally got breathless from their game of
raspberries, both mother and daughter lay on their backs and smiled
happily at the fluttering leaves above them.
There were other women who came to the garden regularly. The
beautiful young woman with the bright red hair who sometimes painted
on an old wooden easel. The woman always dressed in the immaculate
work suits who would sit on the bench, throw her head back, and
stare peacefully up at the sky. Like Mary, they all came alone and
left alone. None of them knew one another, as far as Mary could
tell. Years ago Mary had nicknamed this place the Widow's Garden.
And even now, with these women passing anonymously in and out, the
garden still seemed like a refuge for sad, lonely wives waiting for
hu*****ands who would never return.
Looking at the pregnant woman across the garden, Mary smiled to
herself. The women she saw here weren't really sad or lonely widows.
These women were probably more like Sarah, her own strong,
successful, and independent daughter. No doubt they had good lives,
happy lives, fulfilled lives. They just came to the garden for a
little peace and quiet. They came for a break in their busy, bright
days.
Sucking in a long, slow, but determined breath, Mary reached down
and gathered up her old briefcase, which was overflowing with dog-
eared term papers. Soon she would be like those women, she assured
herself. No longer scared and sad, wishing she were somewhere else
and living some other life. Soon she'd be happy too.
But, for the time being, she had a job to do. Unlike hotshot Dean
Jack Havemeyer, Professor Mary Havemeyer still had classes to teach,
and at this very moment a group of sophomores would be clogging the
corridor outside Seminar Room D. Thinking about their wide-eyed
young faces, Mary felt an unexpected warmth tingle in her chest. It
was a long, long time since she'd won the Pulitzer for her novel,
and now she was just some fiftysomething professor who taught
creative writing and was tough on time wasters. However, her classes
were always oversubscribed. The kids had probably never read her
prizewinning novel, "Casey's Echoes." Yet they seemed to like her;
they seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say, and in
spite of everything, that made her feel good on this chilly April
morning.
As she stood up, she tentatively touched the cheek below her
throbbing eye. She had no idea how she would explain the glasses to
the students, or why she, a stickler for timekeeping, was over ten
minutes late. But one thing was clear: She was going to get through
today. And through tomorrow. And the rest of week. And the rest of
the month. She was going to make it through to June, when Sarah, her
daughter, would get married.
After that she would be free. She would be out of here and away from
Jack. At long last.
====作者Joanne Rendell简介==================
Joanne Rendell was born and raised in the United Kingdom. She has a
PhD in literature and is married to a professor at New York
Univerity. She currently lives in faculty housing in New York City
with her family. "The Professors' Wives' Club" is her first novel.
THE PROFESSORS' WIVES' CLUB
by Joanne Rendell (fiction)
Published by New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
ISBN: 9780451224910
Copyright (c) 2008 by Joanne Rendell
(Part 2 of 2)
======================================
It would all be okay, she assured herself. In just a short while
everything would be fine, and seeing Jack's hazel eyes every day
would soon be a thing of the past. In a matter of weeks she would no
longer have to hear his rants about the "imbeciles" in Manhattan U's
finance office, or watch him pontificate to colleagues about the
benefits of the proposed parking lot. No longer would she have to
creep around the apartment as he pawed over books on Edgar Allan
Poe, books that had little to do with his scholarship but, for
reasons unfathomable to Mary, had consumed all his time and energy
in recent months. Most of all, once she was gone, she would never
feel the rage of his fist against her skin ever again.
Before she could make herself feel better with thoughts of the deep
russet walls and ivory linen drapes that awaited her in a small
light-filled apartment in San Francisco, the garden gate rattled
noisily. She looked up with a start. Her throat tightened. It wasn't
him, was it? He hadn't spotted her, had he? "Please, no," she begged
silently as she tried to see who was coming in. The last thing she
wanted was a round of his pathetic apologies accompanied by one of
his hastily bought bouquets of lilies. (Why lilies? she wondered in
anger. She'd never liked lilies, never.) She really couldn't stomach
all that now. Not while her eye still throbbed ferociously behind
her glasses.
As the gate clanged shut, Mary let out a small sigh of relief. It
wasn't him. Instead, a woman dressed in an orange knit cap and a
long dark winter coat maneuvered her way into the garden. Her coat
fell open around her protruding pregnant belly, and she was holding
a bottle of water in one hand and pushing a stroller with the other.
Spotting Mary at the other end of the garden, the woman lifted her
hand and gave a friendly wave before sitting on the bench nearest
the gate. She then took a sip of her water, shook open a newspaper,
and lifted a foot onto a chunky plastic wheel and began wobbling the
stroller back and forth. From where Mary was sitting, the child
inside was just a pair of pink cheeks poking out from a rainbow-
covered fleece blanket.
Mary had seen this woman in the garden before. Last summer when the
little girl was just beginning to walk, Mary had watched the two of
them giggling and squealing together under the shade of the large
maple. When they finally got breathless from their game of
raspberries, both mother and daughter lay on their backs and smiled
happily at the fluttering leaves above them.
There were other women who came to the garden regularly. The
beautiful young woman with the bright red hair who sometimes painted
on an old wooden easel. The woman always dressed in the immaculate
work suits who would sit on the bench, throw her head back, and
stare peacefully up at the sky. Like Mary, they all came alone and
left alone. None of them knew one another, as far as Mary could
tell. Years ago Mary had nicknamed this place the Widow's Garden.
And even now, with these women passing anonymously in and out, the
garden still seemed like a refuge for sad, lonely wives waiting for
hu*****ands who would never return.
Looking at the pregnant woman across the garden, Mary smiled to
herself. The women she saw here weren't really sad or lonely widows.
These women were probably more like Sarah, her own strong,
successful, and independent daughter. No doubt they had good lives,
happy lives, fulfilled lives. They just came to the garden for a
little peace and quiet. They came for a break in their busy, bright
days.
Sucking in a long, slow, but determined breath, Mary reached down
and gathered up her old briefcase, which was overflowing with dog-
eared term papers. Soon she would be like those women, she assured
herself. No longer scared and sad, wishing she were somewhere else
and living some other life. Soon she'd be happy too.
But, for the time being, she had a job to do. Unlike hotshot Dean
Jack Havemeyer, Professor Mary Havemeyer still had classes to teach,
and at this very moment a group of sophomores would be clogging the
corridor outside Seminar Room D. Thinking about their wide-eyed
young faces, Mary felt an unexpected warmth tingle in her chest. It
was a long, long time since she'd won the Pulitzer for her novel,
and now she was just some fiftysomething professor who taught
creative writing and was tough on time wasters. However, her classes
were always oversubscribed. The kids had probably never read her
prizewinning novel, "Casey's Echoes." Yet they seemed to like her;
they seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say, and in
spite of everything, that made her feel good on this chilly April
morning.
As she stood up, she tentatively touched the cheek below her
throbbing eye. She had no idea how she would explain the glasses to
the students, or why she, a stickler for timekeeping, was over ten
minutes late. But one thing was clear: She was going to get through
today. And through tomorrow. And the rest of week. And the rest of
the month. She was going to make it through to June, when Sarah, her
daughter, would get married.
After that she would be free. She would be out of here and away from
Jack. At long last.
====作者Joanne Rendell简介==================
Joanne Rendell was born and raised in the United Kingdom. She has a
PhD in literature and is married to a professor at New York
Univerity. She currently lives in faculty housing in New York City
with her family. "The Professors' Wives' Club" is her first novel.
选择“Disable on www.wenxuecity.com”
选择“don't run on pages on this domain”
