The Geographer's Library

The Geographer’ s Library
“Oh, the usual. Music. I tried to have the older students do counterpoint.
I played the first French Suite and then ‘When I’m Sixty-four,’ for that clarinet
part in the last verse, you know?”
I didn’t. “Sure.”
“Judging from the essays, I’m not sure how well it took.” She looked in the
rearview mirror and ran her fingers through her hair, pulling the strands
apart. “Oh, well. By the way, do you know where you’re going?”
“No. No sense of direction. I get lost in parking lots.” She giggled—score
one for the home team. “Tell me.”
“Okay, you’re going to turn on 87, which is up—” She suddenly got
excited and put her hand on my arm. “Oh, pull over, pull over here in front of
St. Stephen’s.”
A large stone church loomed on our right; in front of it, two men in cassocks
and parkas were pounding posters on stakes into the lawn. The men
were opposites in nearly every way: one was fat, florid, jolly-looking, and
white; the other was trim, neat, sober, and black. The black priest held the
stake in place while the white one drove it into the ground, puffing with exertion.
When I pulled over, they both stopped and looked up: priests in headlights.
Seeing Hannah, the fat white man carelessly dropped the hammer and
stepped over to the car.
“Well, look who’s here. Hello, Hannah. What a nice surprise. Where are
you off to this evening? Luke, look who’s here,” he called to the other priest.
“It’s Miss Rowe.”
The second man walked over and gave a courteous smile and nod to Hannah,
who returned the greeting in kind but spoke to the other one.
“We’re on our way to dinner. This is my friend Paul,” she said. “This is
Reverend Hampden.” He took off his mitten and laid his flabby hand in mine
like a dead carp, not even returning my grip, then hastily regloved his hand.
“And this is Reverend Makgabo.” He returned a firm handshake and even a
“Nice to meet you.” I couldn’t place the accent.
“So where are you kids off to this fine, fine evening?” asked Hampden.
“The Trout.”
“Ah, lovely, lovely. Wonderful choice. Tell me, Paul, are you from our neck
of the woods?”
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