The time traveler's wife Read Free Page A

ramen noodles."
    "Sounds salty. I'll look forward to
it." Our meal arrives. "Did you ever learn to cook?"
    "No, I don't think I would claim to know
how to cook. Nell and Etta always got mad when I did anything in their kitchen
beyond getting myself a Coke, and since I've moved to Chicago I don't have
anybody to cook for, so I haven't been motivated to work on it. Mostly I'm too
busy with school and all, sol just eat there." Clare takes a bite of her
curry. "This is really good."
    "Nell and Etta?"
    "Nell is our cook." Clare smiles.
"Nell is like cordon bleu meets Detroit; she's how Aretha Franklin would
be if she was Julia Child. Etta is our housekeeper and all-around everything.
She's really more almost our mom; I mean, my mother is...well, Etta's just
always there, and she's German and strict, but she's very comforting, and my
mother is kind of off in the clouds, you know?"
    I nod, my mouth full of soup.
    "Oh, and there's Peter," Clare adds.
"Peter is the gardener."
    "Wow. Your family has servants. This
sounds a little out of my league. Have I ever, uh, met any of your
family?"
    "You met my Grandma Meagram right before
she died. She was the only person I ever told about you. She was pretty much
blind by then. She knew we were going to get married and she wanted to meet
you."
    I stop eating and look at Clare. She looks back
at me, serene, angelic, perfectly at ease. "Are we going to get
married?"
    "I assume so," she replies.
"You've been telling me for years that whenever it is you're coming from,
you're married to me."
    Too much. This is too much. I close my eyes and
will myself to think of nothing; the last thing I want is to lose my grip on
the here and now.
    "Henry? Henry, are you okay?" I feel
Clare sliding onto the seat beside me. I open my eyes and she grips my hands
strongly in hers. I look at her hands and see that they are the hands of a
laborer, rough and chapped.
    "Henry, I'm sorry, I just can't get used
to this. It's so opposite. I mean, all my life you've been the one who knew
everything and I sort of forgot that tonight maybe I should go slow." She
smiles. "Actually, almost the last thing you said to me before you left
was 'Have mercy, Clare.' You said it in your quoting voice, and I guess now
that I think of it you must have been quoting me." She continues to hold
my hands. She looks at me with eagerness; with love. I feel profoundly humble.
    "Clare?"
    "Yes?"
    "Could we back up? Could we pretend that
this is a normal first date between two normal people?" "Okay."
Clare gets up and goes back to her side of the table. She sits up straight and
tries not to smile. "Um, right. Gee, ah, Clare, ah, tell me about
yourself. Hobbies? Pets? Unusual sexual proclivities?" "Find out for
yourself."
    "Right. Let's see.. .where do you go to
school? What are you studying?"
    "I'm at the School of the Art Institute;
I've been doing sculpture, and I've just started to study papermaking."
"Cool. What's your work like?"
    For the first time, Clare seems uncomfortable.
"It's kind of...big, and it's about.. .birds." She looks at the
table, then takes a sip of tea.
    "Birds?"
    "Well, really it's about, um,
longing." She is still not looking at me, so I change the subject.
"Tell more about your family."
    "Okay." Clare relaxes, smiles.
"Well...my family lives in Michigan, by a small town on the lake called
South Haven. Our house is in an unincorporated area outside the town, actually.
It originally belonged to my mother's parents, my Grandpa and Grandma Meagram.
He died before I was born, and she lived with us until she died. I was
seventeen. My grandpa was a lawyer, and my dad is a lawyer; my dad met my mom
when he came to work for Grandpa."
    "So he married the boss's daughter."
    "Yeah. Actually, I sometimes wonder if he
really married the boss's house. My mom is an only child, and the house is sort
of amazing; it's in a lot of books on the Arts and Crafts movement."
    "Does it have a