magazine. The atheist with a soul! Since when are you an atheist? I remember when you were contemplating the Kabbalistic meaning of potato kugel!”
“Where are you calling from, Roz? Are you still studying the fearsome people of the Amazon rain forest?”
“No. I’m here!”
“Where ‘here’?”
“Cambridge! I’m studying the fearsome people of Cambridge!”
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s a good thing I’m not the sensitive type, Cass. You’re supposed to be shouting out, ‘Yippee! Glory be! Hallelujah!’ Or whatever you atheists with souls call out in your ecstasy!”
Cass moves the phone receiver slightly away from his rattled ear. He’s becoming increasingly convinced that this is no dream.
“Well, contain your excitement, because I’m going to be in your Roz-starved arms in a few minutes! I’m calling from my car! I’m just passing Porter Square now. What do I do, make a right or a left?”
“Neither! Listen Roz, I can’t wait to see you, but I’m not even dressed and…”
“Not dressed? Okay, I just went through a red light!”
“And I’ve got an important meeting this morning.”
“I’ll drive you! I’m already in the car.”
“Roz, you can’t come now.”
“But I’m here, Cass! I’m literally here! You can’t stop me.”
How literally true Cass knows this to be.
The doorbell is ringing.
“Guess who-oo!” She’s laughing into the telephone. “You know, I thought of giving you some advance warning, but I know how much you love spontaneity and- Well, will you look at that? Here you are! Cass! Sweetie!”
Cass has opened the door in his blue terry-cloth bathrobe and slippers, and Roz has thrown her arms around him in a viselike grip, nuzzling him on the neck so that her last words come out muffled.
“Roz,” Cass is saying as he tries to loose himself from Roz’s amazing clutch. Or not so amazing. Roz has to be in tip-top shape for her field-work. Her sheer physical presence has certainly helped her to gain the respect of some serious hunter-gatherers, who had named her Suwäayaiwä, which translates, at least according to Roz, as “a whole lot of woman.”
“Roz.” Cass can’t help himself, he’s laughing along with her. “Come on, let go of me. You’re hurting. Let me get a good look at you.”
Those last are the magic words. Obediently, Roz drops her arms from around Cass’s neck and takes a giant step back on his front porch. She wafts her arms out into the air and executes a little pirouette, something you would think would make a woman of her height look silly, but Roz brings it off with panache. She’s always been quite the dancer. She had certainly led Cass a wild dance in their day.
