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Kristina sat back. ‘Gosh, how did your mother do it?’
‘I don’t know. I think she was done by her fifth kid. I was pretty much looked after by my sisters.’
‘Still, though - nine kids.’
‘Eleven,’ Spencer corrected her. ‘Twin boys died of pneumonia when they were babies.’
‘Oh, no.’
‘Yeah.’
They were silent for a while.
‘Eleven names your mom had to think of,’ Kristina said thoughtfully. ‘I had difficulty thinking of one.’
Spencer studied her face before he asked, ‘Did you have… reason to think of one?’
‘No, no,’ she said quickly. ‘But you know, people - boyfriends, girlfriends talk. I thought of Orlando. Or Oscar.’
‘These are not budgies, Kristina, these are babies. Oscar? Orlando?’
‘See what I mean?’
‘Don’t feel bad,’ Spencer said. ‘When I was born, my mother forgot she’d already named one of her sons Patrick O’Malley, so she named me Patrick O’Malley.’
Kristina laughed.
‘I didn’t think it was so funny. Finally one of the kids told her. Not my brother Patrick, mind you. So she renamed me Spencer. Spencer Patrick O’Malley.’
‘After the actor?’
‘Yeah, Mom really loved Spencer Tracy.’ He paused. ‘I would’ve preferred Patrick.’
Kristina, licking the tips of her fingers, stared at Spencer.
‘I like Spencer.’
Tilting his head, Spencer said softly, ‘Well, thank you.’
‘What’s your mom doing now?’
‘Being a grandma. Eight of the nine children are married.’
‘They have lots of kids?’
‘You could say that. Twenty-one already. You know, be fruitful and multiply.’
‘God almighty. You really took to heart the multiply part.
Are you…’ She paused. ‘… one of the married ones?’
Why had Spencer steered the conversation this way? But once steered, he wasn’t going to be rude to this beautiful, curious, fresh-faced girl with black pools for eyes.
‘I was one of the married ones,’ he said slowly and quietly.
‘Ahhh,’ she said with an understanding look. ‘Didn’t work out, huh?’
‘You could say that. She died in a car accident.’
Kristina put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
He waved her off. ‘It’s okay. It was tough at first. I’m learning to live with it now, you know. It’s been a few years.’
‘How many?’
‘Five.’
‘Is that why you left Long Island?’
‘Kind of,’ he replied.
They sat. The waitress had brought the check, but they still sat there. Kristina made no move to go.
‘So what was her name, your wife’s?’ asked Kristina.
‘Andrea. Andie.’
‘That’s a nice name. Was she pretty?’
Pausing for a few moments, Spencer reached into the back of his jeans and pulled out his wallet.
‘Aren’t you guys required to carry a weapon?’ Kristina asked, trying to look behind him.
‘Not off duty,’ Spencer said, showing her a picture of his Andie. ‘Here.’
Kristina stared at the picture. ‘She looks so young,’ she said. ‘She looks kind of like… me.’
‘Really?’ said Spencer. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’ Was that just a coincidence that his Andie looked a little like this girl? Yes. Yes it was.
While Spencer was paying, Samantha, the owner of EBA, came over to Kristina, patted her on the head, and said, ‘Great game last week, Krissyface. How many points?’
‘Forty-seven,’ said Kristina. ‘Fifteen rebounds.’
‘It’s almost not fair, is it? Those poor girls at Cornell, they just never win.’
Smiling and getting up, Kristina said, ‘They’ll never win. As long as there is breath in my body.’
‘Atta girl!’ exclaimed Samantha.
On the way out, Spencer whispered to Kristina, ‘I gotta come and see you play.’
‘Please do. We’re playing -’ She stopped. ‘A week after Thanksgiving. Friday and Saturday. Come then.’
Sticking out her hand, Kristina said, ‘It was real nice to meet you, Spencer. Thanks for the muffin.’
Spencer shook her hand gently. ‘Anytime, Kristina.’
She looked at the clock outside Stinson’s. It read 3:45. Shaking her head, Kristina said, ‘Want you to know, I blew off basketball practice for you.’
‘Hmmm,’ Spencer said. ‘Was I worth it?’
She smiled, waving to him as she hurried away.
After she turned the corner, Spencer stayed put for a minute, and then walked and turned the corner himself, wanting to catch another glimpse of her.
Kristina’s heart was beating so fast she wanted to skip to its pounding along Main Street. Blew off basketball practice looking into the blue-eyed, full-lipped face of a man with no hair who looked at her in a way she hadn’t been looked at for a long time. Spencer Patrick O’Malley. ‘Spencer Patrick O’Malley,’ Kristina whispered his name to herself, and began running to Tuck Mall, her backpack in her hands.
When Kristina got back to Hinman Hall, where she lived, her room was unlocked and empty. Aristotle wasn’t there, nor was Jim. She dropped the backpack on the floor and picked up a hairbrush. But her hands were numb from the cold; they wouldn’t obey her. Kristina felt bad she had been such a mess for Spencer.
Some first impression. Spencer himself hadn’t shaved, true, but he was just so cute it didn’t matter.
Sitting down on the bed, Kristina waited for a few minutes. Her hands were tingling, and she put them between her knees to keep them warm. She knew she wouldn’t wait long.
There was a knock on the door. Albert peeked in.
‘There you are,’ he said, opening the door further and letting in the dog. Aristotle bounded in, jumped on the bed, and then on Kristina. She petted him without taking her eyes off Albert.
‘I walked him.’
‘Thanks. Where’s Conni?’
‘She is incommunicado this afternoon. Don’t tell me she’s baking me a cake?’
‘I won’t tell you,’ Kristina said absently. She was still thinking of Spencer.
Albert continued to stand in the doorway. She wanted to ask him to come in and close the door, but Jim was going to be coming by any minute.
‘Going with Conni to Long Island for the holiday?’ Kristina asked Albert.
‘Yup. Same as last year. Want to come with us? Or are you going with Jim?’
‘Oh, yeah, sure…’ Kristina trailed off.
He took a step toward her. ‘So come with us,’ he said.
Sitting on the bed, Kristina shook her head, never taking her eyes off him. Albert had wanted to be a gymnast when he was younger but had grown too fast, gotten at once too broad and too angular. Now he wanted to be a Zen Buddhist. His long, dark hair was slicked back in a ponytail. He had a small gold loop ring in the left ear.
‘Listen,’ Kristina said. ‘I gotta tell you some -’
‘How did it go?’ Albert interrupted her.
For a moment, Kristina didn’t know what he was referring to.
‘Howard,’ he said impatiently. ‘How did it go with Howard?’
‘Good.’ Kristina paused. ‘Everything’s done.’
‘And?’
‘And nothing,’ she said, rubbing her hands together to warm them up.
Albert came closer to her. ‘Was he okay with it?’
‘Yeah, he was okay with it,’ Kristina replied. ‘He did ask me if the divorce was my idea.’
Albert laughed loudly. Kristina for once thought his laugh sounded gaudy. ‘Did you tell him the truth?’ he asked.
‘The truth?’ said Kristina. ‘Exactly what is that?’
‘A conformity to fact or actuality,’ replied Albert.
‘Ahh, of course,’ said Kristina. ‘Well, I told him it was my idea. Is that a conformity to fact?’
‘It’s good enough, Rocky,’ Albert said, smiling and coming closer to the bed. ‘It’s good enough.’
Kristina loved it when he called her by the old familiar nickname, but she put out her arms to stop him from coming too close. She didn’t want to stop him, but it was broad daylight.
‘Listen,’ he said. ‘I have an idea for Thanksgiving. What would you think of -’
He stopped abruptly. Jim Shaw was standing in the doorway.
‘Jimbo,’ Kristina exclaimed weakly. ‘Hey. Ready?’
Albert nodded to Jim, who curtly nodded back.
‘I’m ready,’ said Jim, and then stood motionless and silent at the door.
Tense, Kristina petted Aristotle and then broke the awkward silence, ‘How’s your birthday been so far, Albert?’
‘Good,’ he replied. ‘It’ll get immediately worse once I taste Conni’s cooking.’
‘You call it cooking?’ asked Kristina, trying hard to lighten the mood.
‘At least she’s making you something,’ Jim said in a voice tinged with hostility, and then the three of them just stood there again.
‘Well, I’m sure it’ll be very nice,’ said Albert with an edge to his voice. Kristina was surprised to hear it. Albert never had an edge to his voice.
‘Krissy, let’s go,’ said Jim.
