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Ignoring his sarcasm, she said, “Of course I want to—Did you say hear it?”
“I thought I would read it to you because it’s very sloppy. I was writing fast. Didn’t bother with capital letters, punctuation, stuff like that. Have a seat.”
She sank into the deep cushions in one of the wicker armchairs, slipped off her sandals, and tucked her legs beneath her. He rolled his chair near hers, engaged the brake, and adjusted the shade of a floor lamp so that the light was directed down onto the pages. Except for that small pool of light, the room was dark.
“I took your advice, Maris, and enhanced the girl’s role. She’s interwoven into other scenes, but this one between her and Roark takes place on the night following his snafu with Hadley.
“The professor rescheduled their appointment for after the Thanksgiving holiday. Roark returns to the frat house, pulls Todd off his sleeping loft, and, as you suggested, commences to beat the hell out of him. Some frat brothers break up the fight. Roark inflicts no more damage than a busted lip and a bloody nose. Todd apologizes.”
“He does?”
“He does. He says he thought it would be a good practical joke, but didn’t think through the ramifications of screwing Roark with Hadley. Says he hadn’t counted on Hadley being so severe when Roark turned up late. He had figured Roark would get the equivalent of a slap on his hand, and then Hadley would proceed with his consultation.”
“Is Todd sincere?”
“We have no reason to believe otherwise, do we?”
“No. I suppose not.”
“Okay, so Roark has accepted Todd’s explanation and apology, but he’s still mad as hell. Forlorn. In a crap mood. He calls up the girl and makes a date with her for that evening. He tells her that he really wants to see her, that he’s had a shitty day, stuff like that.”
“He’s in need of some TLC.”
“Exactly.” Scanning as he went, Parker flipped through the top several pages, letting them drift one by one to the floor at the side of his chair. “You can read this transition on your own. Oh, I’ve named the girl Leslie.”
“I like it.”
“To paraphrase, Roark takes her to a Sonic Drive-in. They have chili Tater Tots and cherry limeades.”
“Big spender.”
“Hey, give him a break, okay? He’s a kid on a budget. Besides, he happens to like chili Tater Tots and cherry limeades.”
“Sorry. Go on.”
“After they eat, Roark drives them out to the lake. He parks. He leaves the radio off. Somehow the silence seems appropriate. Let’s see… yeah, here. ‘The silence that enfolded him was as calming and comforting as a mother’s breast. His day had been a chain of chaotic events, a jarring series of starts and stops. Between outbursts of anger, he’d suffered bone-crushing disappointment in his friend, in himself.’ ”
“Good.”
“Thanks,” he returned absently as he continued to scan the pages. “Throug
hout the evening Leslie has been unusually subdued, not her effervescent self. Roark figures that his dour mood must’ve been contagious, that it had rubbed off on her. Over the Tater Tots they’d carried on a desultory conversation about blah, blah, blah. You can read this for yourself.”
He ran his finger down the page until he located the passage he sought. “Okay, listen.”
“I’m listening.”
“ ‘A full moon hovered just above the horizon and was reflected in the water at such a severe angle that its wavering spotlight spanned the entire breadth of the lake. But it shed a chill light. On the far shore, towering pines and denuded hardwoods were unmoving in the windless night, stark and still, like India ink etchings against the sky that had turned wintry just that day.’ ”
“I like it.”
“To encapsulate, their conversation has been forced, stilted. Leslie hadn’t asked Roark where they were going when they left the Sonic. On the drive to the lake, she hadn’t uttered a peep.… Jesus, did I write that?” He took a red pencil from his shirt pocket and made a slash through that line. “But by now her silence is beginning to wear on Roark’s nerves. He wants to know what she’s thinking.”
He began to read again from the text. “ ‘Roark withheld asking until his chest felt tight enough to crack. “What are you so quiet for?” His tone of voice should have pissed her off. It would have pissed him off if somebody who had been as glum as an undertaker all evening had implicitly accused him of being the source of some unacknowledged complication.
“ ‘But when Leslie turned toward him, he saw only kindness in her expression. Instead of rebuke, understanding. And Roark was suddenly struck by how beautiful she was.
“ ‘Oh, the first time he saw her he’d thought she was pretty. Eye candy. He and the guys he’d been carousing with that night had picked her out of a crowd of coeds. Among themselves they had appraised her, lewdly remarking on the physical attributes that men lewdly remark upon. She had scored high.
