The Geographer's Library

The Geographer’ s Library
and played darts until ten-thirty, when we drove home again. She did this
adorable shoulder dip just before she threw a dart, like she was trying to
shimmy arms-first out of a tank top. She stopped putting her hand over her
mouth when she laughed; I stopped looking down when I told a joke. By the
time we got home, we were treading a little less carefully with each other,
though she clouded over as we headed back into Lincoln and, pleading
desouzaphobia, insisted that I park along the adjoining street and we go the
long way around the house, avoiding the sight line of Orchard Street and
Mrs. DeSouza’s front windows, to get into her apartment. I thought nothing
of it. I was in no condition for critical thought.
i thought we didn’t sleep, but apparently we had: her radio alarm
clicked on and pulled me awake. Hannah groaned. “Drinking on a Sunday
night. Why’d you make me do it? Go redeem yourself and bring me three
Advils from the bathroom cabinet and a tall glass of orange juice from the
kitchen.” She gave me a playful kick in the back of the legs while I rubbed
my eyes.
When I came back to the bedroom, she was in her robe and running a
shower. “I need to be at school in about an hour. What’s your schedule like
today?”
“I have a meeting at around two, but nothing until then. Why?”
“Just curious.” She walked over and stood against me, smiling while I
untied her sash. “We don’t have that much time, you know.”
“You around tonight?”
“Indeed I am. Who’s asking?”
“I’ll bring dinner. Something special.”
“I can hardly wait. What time?”
“Seven? Seven-thirty?”
“Either. Whenever. I’m already excited.” She pushed my hand away and
tied up her robe. “Right now, though, you’re going to leave so I can become a
clean teacher again. Okay? I’ll see you tonight.”
I pulled on my coat and kissed her for a long time at the door. She ran a
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