My Life in Heavy Metal Read Online Free PDF Page B

believing until belief was no longer a choice but a condition. He found, in her absence, that his children frightened him. He drifted about their busy conversations, offering an observation or pun, enough to keep himself from drawing the suspicion of despair.
    Ken was a Ph.D. student who knew enough anthropology to pretend at understanding, and they spent dinner chattering about Malraux and Veblen and Dube. Rodgers had emptied his wineglass twice. He said too much when he was drunk, or uneasy, and now he was both.
    â€œYou took the job?”
    â€œOh yes. Of course. I packed my books and papers and drove to Newton and taught two classes a week. A hundred and ninety-five dollars I was paid, plus faculty privileges.”
    â€œOne ninety-five?”
    â€œPlus faculty privileges. That was the royal business in those days. They had a faculty commissary and an indoor swimming pool. It was all very exciting. Someone had hired me on. That first job, you know. You’re just happy to be there. You take nothing for granted. You haven’t learned that yet.” Rodgers reached for his wine.He couldn’t figure out whether the young man was compelled or merely indulging him. He had never been good on reactions. Those he had left to Connie.
    â€œNewton was wild back then. Everything ran by consensus. The students were always protesting something, running around naked. Anyway, one night, about two months after I got there, the phone rang. It was late Saturday and I’d been to a party and, actually, I was stoned. Stoned out of my mind, actually.” Rodgers lowered a make-believe sledgehammer onto his head. “That was another thing about Newton. There was some very good grass around. It just seemed to be around. I figured it was Connie calling. But the voice on the line was one I’d never heard before, this deep, official voice. ‘Hello, Alex,’ he said. ‘This is Joseph Van Buskirk. I’m terribly sorry to be calling you so late.’ I thought to myself: Who is Joseph Van Buskirk? The name sounded so familiar. ‘As I say, Alex,’ this Van Buskirk said to me, ‘I hate to disturb you at home.’ ‘It’s okay,’ I told him. My mind was racing:
Van Buskirk, Van Buskirk.
Then it hit me: the president of the university! President Van Buskirk! This real Wall Street type. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to need your help, Alex, in an extremely unpleasant task. One of your students, Mary Martin, has been in a car accident. There’s really no choice in this.’ ‘No choice in what?’ I said, and he said, ‘We need you to identify the body.’
    â€œMy God. I mean, this was some strong grass I had smoked. Very strong. I could have handled a discussion with Connie. I maybe wanted to talk to her. But this was crazy. The president said, ‘The problem is that we can’t notify the next of kin, Alex, without someone to identify the body. We didn’t want to ask one of her friends, you see. These situations can be very rough emotionally. There was no one else to call, really. She’s just a first-year. You’re her adviser. She’s even in one of your classes.’

    â€œâ€˜The morning class,’ I said.
    â€œHe jumped right on that. ‘You know her, then? You’d be able to identify her?’
    â€œâ€˜I know what she looks like.’
    â€œâ€˜Good,’ the president said. ‘I’ll be by in fifteen minutes.’
    â€œJesus. What does that mean? He’ll be by? Does he have her in the trunk? No, that means he’s going to have to drive me somewhere. I’m going to have to get into the car with him and we’re going to have to drive somewhere. To a funeral parlor. I’m going to have to drive to a funeral parlor with him. To identify the body. I mean, this is how my mind is operating. All very scrambled. I’m trying to figure out whether I’m going to be able to keep it