Chapter 14 #2
They stumbled out of Thayer the next day.
It was sometime in the afternoon and it had rained; the Yard glittered.
Emily showed Gen the red-figure vessels in the Sackler Museum and a silver coin from Knossos stamped with the Minotaur’s maze.
They stopped at a café for hot cocoa so rich that they didn’t believe they could finish their cups, but of course they did.
Outside, mist rubbed away anything in the distance.
Gen stopped in front of Emerson Hall, her head tilted as she read the inscription on the philosophy building’s facade, above its columns: What is man that thou art mindful of him, with no punctuation.
Gen said, “They left off the question mark.”
“That inscription wasn’t supposed to be there at all. It was supposed to say, Man is the measure of all things . Protagoras said it. Or, I mean, he said something else, more complicated.”
“Tell me the complicated way.”
“He said—but in Greek—‘Man is the measure of all things, of the things that are, that they are, and of the things that are not, that they are not.’?”
“Definitely too much to fit on a building.”
“Maybe a really big building.”
“If it went all the way around the top, people could circle the building and read it in a never-ending loop.”
“Dizzying.”
“Appropriate.”
“I like the short version better,” said Emily. “The rest is just elaboration.”
“Not really. The first part is about how we create and define the existence of everything by judging it. The second part is about how we uncreate things, how we decide what doesn’t exist, or that some things don’t exist because we don’t know them.
But I guess your mind can supply the rest of the quote, because you do know it. ”
“Do you believe the first part is true? Like if I say the hot cocoa was good and you say it was bad, both of us are right?”
“About cocoa, maybe. Not about everything. Not everything is relative. Some things are good or bad. Right or wrong. Is that why Man is the measure of all things didn’t make it onto the building?”
“The college president thought the inscription should be about God.”
It began to drizzle. Gen said, “That missing question mark bugs me.”
“Maybe it’s like the missing part of Protagoras’s quote. It’s there, but invisible, because your mind can supply it.”
“Only if you’ve read the Bible. Feels unfair. Pretty rude to non-Christians.”
“Why do you want the missing question mark?”
“With it,” said Gen, “the psalm seeks an answer from God, so what it really wants to know is What is outside of me, bigger than me, that would choose me, that would care about me? It’s wondering about the nature of God, and a relationship. Otherwise, it’s just Let’s talk about me. ”
“Humans, humans, humans.”
“Men, men, men.”
“You should go to college here,” Emily said.
“You could transfer. People do that.” Even as she spoke, she knew how rare transfer students were.
They usually came from abroad or from eccentric colleges, not state schools like OSU.
A sophomore in her Latin class had transferred from Deep Springs, a tiny college in California that had only thirty students and they all knew how to butcher a cow.
Gen shook her head. “A place like this isn’t for me.”
“It could be.”
Gen looked tired. “I don’t want it to be.
Being able to play with words doesn’t mean I belong here.
Look, you wanted me to talk like you, so I did for a minute, and it was okay and kind of fun but honestly?
I think the inscription answers its own question because apparently the nature of humanity is showing off what a nice building you can have with the right amount of money.
I like OSU. Notice that we are not talking about you transferring to OSU. ”
The drizzle turned into rain. Emily felt guilty—caught, even. She opened her mouth, then shut it.
“It’s okay,” Gen said. “We don’t have to go to the same college. It’s great that you’re here. The chance of a lifetime.”
“So are you.” Emily said it apologetically.
Gen brushed rain from Emily’s face. “Aren’t you cold?”
“Yes.”
“I’m starving.”
“Me too.”
“Is it time yet for dinner with your friends?”
“We can make it time.”
They arrived before anyone else at the sushi restaurant that the Ryall twins had chosen. Emily ordered edamame, which, when it arrived at the table, made Gen’s eyes widen. “These are soybeans,” Gen said.
“Well, yes.”
“The menu could just say soybeans.” Gen split open a pod to reveal its bright green beans. “Weird.”
“Why?”
“It’s weird to be served something that grows on our farm. Ohio doesn’t even grow them for eating. They’re for oil.” Gen looked at the menu again. “The markup is crazy. This little plate is three dollars. Soybeans go for six dollars a bushel .”
“We can order miso soup instead.” Normally Emily would be anxious about wasting food, especially at a restaurant, but she had saved for this weekend.
“Do you like this place?”
“I’ve never been here before, but—”
“Heyyyy,” said Elizabeth Ryall. She kissed Emily on the cheek before taking the chair next to Gen. Rory flanked Gen’s other side. Florencia swept rain from her black hair and said to Gen, “I worried that Emily might keep you to herself all weekend.”
“Hi,” said Violet, her posture perfect, and shook Gen’s hand.
“Edamame, yum.” Rory helped herself.
“So,” said Elizabeth, accepting a menu from the waiter, “what have you two been up to?”
“Oh, I think we know,” said Rory.
“I don’t see any toro on this menu,” Elizabeth said to the waiter. “Do you have toro?”
“We have tuna.”
“Okay, but that’s not the same thing, is it? Can you ask the chef?”
“Tuna’s perfect,” said Florencia, and asked the waiter for a few minutes. When he left, she told Elizabeth, “If it’s not on the menu, it’s not on the menu.”
“I always order off menu.”
“How about not this time,” said Violet.
“We went to a museum,” Emily told them, hoping that the skeptical expression on Gen’s face would fade. “And walked around the Yard.”
“You should take Gen to the Vineyard,” said Rory.
“Ror, don’t be stupid! The Vineyard, in this weather?” To Emily, Elizabeth said, “You have to come when it gets warm. We have a house there with a private beach.” Elizabeth smiled around the table. “You’re all invited. You too, Gen. We have lots of room.”
“Thanks,” said Gen. “Is the Vineyard…a winery?”
The twins laughed.
“Look,” Emily said, “I don’t know what it is either.”
“Martha’s Vineyard is an island off the Cape,” said Violet. “Like Nantucket.”
“It is not like Nantucket,” said Rory. “Nantucket is provincial .”
“What’s your concentration?” Elizabeth asked Gen.
“What?” said Gen.
“Your major,” said Emily. “Instead of majors, Harvard has concentrations.”
“Is this like calling soybeans edamame?”
“No,” said Rory patiently. “ Edamame is Japanese for soybean.”
“But we’re not in Japan. We don’t speak Japanese.” Gen glanced around. In a more tentative tone, she added, “Or…do you?”
“I know a little,” said Violet. “My father was ambassador to Japan.”
“We call it edamame,” said Elizabeth, “out of respect for Japanese culture.”
Gen looked at the menu. “But this menu calls rice rice and mackerel mackerel .”
“You didn’t tell us Gen was so pugilistic,” Rory said to Emily.
“Can we order?” said Florencia.
“Yes,” said Emily and Violet.
“Gen hasn’t answered my question,” said Elizabeth.
“I don’t know what I’m going to major in,” said Gen.
“But what do you want to do ?” said Elizabeth.
“I want to run.”
“For what? Congress?”
“I’m ready to order,” said Gen.
“Gen’s an athlete,” said Emily.
“You look it,” Rory told Gen.
“Rory!” said Elizabeth.
“What? She does . Since when is it a bad thing to look like an athlete?”
“People’s bodies aren’t topics of conversation,” said Violet. “Are we next going to talk about how I do or don’t look Black?”
“No,” said Elizabeth, shocked.
“Of course not,” said Rory.
“That’s different,” said Elizabeth. “Listen,” she said to Gen, “we didn’t mean to offend you. We’re just surprised.”
Gen lifted her brows. Coolly, she said, “By what?”
Rory said, “We thought you’d be more like Emily.”
Emily felt, for a moment, everyone’s regard.
Their faces became mirrors, reflecting Emily back to herself: her smooth beauty, blond hair, greenish eyes, quiet poise.
But she didn’t feel quiet or beautiful. She wanted to do something ugly.
She had anticipated this weekend, had made it perfect in her mind, and it had seemed that way at first, but then her happiness had evaporated.
Now she felt like she had at her birthday dinner, except that instead of being afraid of her father she was afraid of herself.
Someone was going to say something unforgivable, and it might be her. “What do you mean, more like me?”
“Rory, can you stop ?” said Florencia.
“Why does everyone always yell at me,” said Rory plaintively, “when Elizabeth is just as bad?”
“Tell me what you mean,” said Emily.
“Let it go,” said Gen. “Please.”
“You told me you were into girls,” Rory said to Emily, “so I assumed that meant girls like you. You know—”
“You’re looking for the word femme, ” said Violet.
Rory raised her hands defensively. “And I was wrong!” To Gen, she said, “I like you. You’re great.”
“Thanks.”
“Also hot. In your own way. Not that I mean anything by it.”
“I wouldn’t think that you did.”
“Would you like to order?” said the waiter.
“Yes,” everyone said. Emily pointed blindly at something on the menu.
Florencia and the twins ordered vast quantities of sushi.
Violet ordered a dish called chawanmushi and Gen ordered noodles.
For a while, it seemed like everything was okay.
They talked about classes and which house they wanted to live in next year, and Gen didn’t comment on how they called dorms houses .
Elizabeth and Rory described summers on the Vineyard, their childhood of sand dollars and the velvet of the pool after spending all day in the salty waves.