Circles

by Marilyn Sachs

  Her mother leaned over the chest in her bedroom and examined her face in the mirror. She smiled at her face, and Beebe thought to herself, Yes, he’s kissed her, and she liked it.

  Chapter 6

  New moon tonight! Odd name, Mark thought, as he stood shivering on the top of Mount Tarn one cold, windy, early morning in late November with six other members of the City Astronomers, their telescopes pointed up at the sky.

  New moon, when the face of the moon is hidden from the earth, and its light no longer obscures the night sky. It should be called dark moon or no moon because new moon sounds as if it describes a brand-new, freshly scrubbed moon beaming brightly down from the sky.

  “There’s one,” Dr. Ridler cried, pointing up to a brilliant streak of light.

  “It’s early,” said Jack Rogers, shining a flashlight on his watch. “It’s not even one-thirty.”

  “Was it reddish?” another member asked. “Do you think it was an Andromedids meteor?”

  “Yes! Yes!” Dr. Ridler’s voice was unequivocal. “The meteor was red, and so was its train.”

  “Darn it!” said Helen Jackson. “I was busy fiddling with my mount—it’s so stiff. I need to oil it. I hate missing an Andromedids meteor. Of course, I did see the great Leonids meteor shower back in 1966. The sky was so beautiful, I still cry when I think of it. The estimate was one hundred and fifty thousand per hour visible to the naked eye, but it was much more than that. I felt, when I saw it—this is the most beautiful sight I have ever seen in my whole life, and ever will see.”

  “It’s going to return again in 1999,” Mark said. “Maybe it will be just as wonderful then.”

  “Maybe,” Helen Jackson said doubtfully. She was an old woman in her seventies, and Mark wondered if she thought she might not be around to see it.

  He moved his telescope to get a better look at Saturn. How lovely it was with its three circling rings— the outer ring, plaited like a woman’s braid; the middle ring, brightest and most interesting to him; and the inner ring, dim and transparent.

  There. He found it. He marveled at its beauty as he always did. The night was so dark and clear that Saturn seemed particularly sharp and spectacular.

  Helen Jackson was speaking earnestly to somebody about the superiority of the equatorial telescope mounting with a clock drive over an altazimuth mounting. He stayed out of the discussion since he had made his own mounting, a simple Dobsonian, and he knew it was too modest to mention.

  A gust of wind blew his hair, and he could feel his ears stiffening with cold. He should have worn a hat. His fingers too, tightening on the scope, felt almost frozen. But he was happy, happier than he had been in a long time. The night sky in San Francisco had been foggy, or hazy when not foggy, and this was the first night since he had moved to his father’s apartment that the sky had been so clear and bright.

  Was that a Terby White Spot on the middle ring of Saturn? Yes, he thought it was. Quickly he checked his watch—1:53. Then he looked again. Yes, it was still there.

  “There’s a Terby White Spot on the B ring of Saturn,” he called out, and some of the members quickly turned their scopes to check.

  “Yes, there it is,” Helen Jackson cried. “Very clear. What time did you catch it?”

  “One fifty-three,” he answered proudly as the group joined him in exclamations of admiration.

  There was so much to look at tonight—the bright yellow star, Capella; the cluster of the Pleiades; the big constellation of Taurus with its red eye; and then, far, far, far off in the heavens, the faint spot of the Andromeda galaxy, like a little smudge, over two million light-years away—another galaxy like our own, another place with planets, suns, meteors, and maybe people standing on a mountain with telescopes pointed at our galaxy, and thinking about that tiny spot that they could barely find in the lenses of their telescopes.

  Mark straightened up and took a deep breath of the cold air. He felt dizzy, felt himself suddenly a part of the movement in space, in time, in something beyond his own comprehension. Here was our own planet, circling the sun, and our own moon, circling our planet. Here were other planets circling the sun with their own moons circling them. And then our sun, and other stars moving too, circling the center of our own galaxy, as out there in the Andromeda galaxy and in all the other unknown galaxies, everything and everybody circling, endlessly circling.

  How small he was, Mark thought, and unimportant in the whirling enormity of space. It was frightening to be so small and helpless, and heading ... he didn’t know where ... in circles that never met.

  Dr. Ridler was laughing. “Pegasus really does look like a horse,” she was saying, “but not one you’d want to bet on in the Kentucky Derby.”

  Somebody laughed, and Mark turned back to his telescope, moving it in the direction of Pegasus. Yes, it was frightening to be such a small and unimportant speck in this whirling, endlessly circling universe—but wasn’t he lucky that he was?

  * * * *

  The phone was ringing. It penetrated his dream, and he turned over on the other side, pulled his blanket over his head, and went on dreaming.

  Later, when he woke up and made his way into the kitchen, he found his father reading the Sunday paper over a cup of coffee. The clock above the refrigerator said ten-thirty. His father looked up and grinned at him.

  “Late night?” he asked.

  “Very late!” Mark said, grinning back. “I didn’t get home until after four.”

  “Man,” said his father, “I hope it was worthwhile.”

  “It sure was.” Mark dropped a couple of pieces of bread into the toaster, and took a container of milk out of the refrigerator.

  His father continued to grin. “I hope somebody’s talking to you about taking care of yourself.”

  Mark felt his ears grow warm. He poured himself a glass of milk, not facing his father, facing the kitchen sink, and said quickly, “It wasn’t that kind of evening, Dad. I told you I was going with the City Astronomers up to Mount Tam to look at the stars.”

  “Well, that’s what you said. “ His father’s voice was heavy with laughter and disbelief.

  “But I meant it.” Mark finished pouring his milk and turned towards his father. “You saw me take my telescope, and I told you I was being picked up by somebody in the club.”

  “Sure, sure!” His father waved a hand. “But I didn’t know who was picking you up, and who you were going to be watching with. Listen, Mark, I can remember myself doing a little stargazing with a girl when I was your age. Not that I—not that either of us knew anything about the stars—but we sure learned a lot about other things. So come on, Mark, don’t tell me there aren’t any cute girls in this group of yours.”

  Mark set the glass of milk on the table, opposite his father. “Well, there is one nice-looking woman—Dr. Ridler. She’s a dentist, and she’s about your age. And then, there’s Ms. Jackson, not so good-looking but pretty smart. She’s in her seventies. She’s the one who picked me up. She’s built a couple of telescopes, and knows a lot about mountings. The rest of the group are men. I guess I’m the youngest.”

  “Your mother called,” his father said. “She said you should call her as soon as you get up. Then I want to ask you something.”

  Mark went off to the hall and called his mother. She picked it up after half a ring.

  “Hello,” she said eagerly. “Hello.”

  Mark felt guilty. He hadn’t called her for nearly a week, and he pictured her sitting there, waiting for the phone to ring, waiting for him, and waiting.

  “Hi, Mom,” he said. “I was going to call you today. I was out stargazing last night, and I got in late, but I was going to call you as soon as I got up.”

  “I just didn’t want to miss you, honey,” said his mother in her important, hurried voice. “We’re having Jeddy’s party today instead of next weekend so I just hope you can make it. I tried to call last night—we changed the date yesterday because his scout group is going on an overnight next weeken
d, and I didn’t know until yesterday so ...”

  “Jeddy’s party?” Mark said.

  “For his birthday,” his mother explained. “It’s really next Sunday, of course, but he’ll be with his scouts. Oh, Mark, I sure hope you can make it. He’ll die if you’re not there. All of his friends are coming.”

  “Well, sure,” Mark said. “Sure, I can make it.” He had forgotten Jeddy’s birthday. But as long as his mother or Jeddy didn’t know ... “The only thing is, I haven’t bought him a present yet. I was going to get some parts for a telescope but I didn’t know the party would be today.”

  His mother’s voice dropped. “Well, I picked up a couple of things yesterday. You can give him either a red sweat suit or a new mitt.”

  “I was going to build a telescope with him,” Mark said. “I promised I’d build a telescope with him.”

  “Well, maybe next year,” said his mother. “He’s only interested in baseball these days anyway. Why don’t you give him the mitt? I’ll wrap it up for you, and you get over here as soon as you can. It’s going to be a lunch party. It will start at one.”

  “Okay, Mom, great. Thanks, Mom. I’ll get moving right away. See you soon.”

  His father smiled and nodded at him when he returned to the kitchen. “Everything okay?” he asked. “She only said you should call her back. She never wastes any words on me.”

  “Sure, Dad, everything’s fine. She wants me to come out today because—”

  “Oh, no,” said his father. “I was hoping you’d spend the day with me.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad, but it’s Jeddy’s birthday.”

  “Birthday?” his father repeated. “Jeddy’s birthday?”

  “Of course, it’s really next Sunday,” Mark said quickly, knowing that his father had also forgotten, and not wanting to show that he’d noticed. “But he’s going on an overnight with the scouts next weekend so Mom decided to have the party today.”

  “Oh right,” said his father. “It’s next week. That’s why I was surprised.”

  “She wants me to come over right away. The party’s starting at one. I was wondering if you’re going to need the van today. It will take me three times as long if I go by BART.”

  “I was hoping you’d spend the day with me,” said his father. “With me and Barbara and her daughter. We’re going to drive out to Tiburon, have lunch, and maybe take the ferry over to Angel Island if there’s time. She and her daughter like to hike around Angel Island.”

  “It sounds great, Dad, and I’d really love to go, but it is Jeddy’s birthday party. I’ve never missed one of his birthday parties, and Mom says ...”

  “Sure, sure,” said his father. “That’s more important. Maybe I’ll give you some money for Jeddy, and you can tell him he can buy anything he likes with it.”

  Mark didn’t say anything. His father always sent money and told them to buy what they liked, but Mom never let them spend it all. Usually she gave them just a little bit of it and spent the rest on clothes or things they needed.

  “Do you think he’d like that?” his father asked.

  “I don’t know, Dad,” Mark told him. “Maybe he’d like you to buy him something.”

  “Like what?” his father said helplessly. “What’s he interested in? Is he like you? Does he like astronomy and telescopes?”

  “No,” Mark said. “Right now, all he’s interested in is baseball.”

  “Great, great,” said his father. “I’ll take him to some games next year. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll write him a letter. You can take it with you, and I’ll tell him we’ve got a date—more than one date—we’ll work it out. And tell him I’ll definitely take him to opening night—to a tailgate party—that’s what I’ll do. Tell him—never mind—I’ll tell him myself.”

  “He’ll like that,” Mark said as his father stood up. “He’ll really like that. But Dad I guess that means you’ll need the van today.”

  “No, not necessarily,” his father said. “Barbara’s got a car—one of those little subcompacts. Maybe we can take her car, and then you can have the van.”

  “Well, I don’t want to create any problems.”

  “She’s not like that, Mark,” his father said earnestly. “She’s a real up-front kind of woman. I never felt so comfortable with anybody before. I mean she’s real smart but she doesn’t throw it around, and she’s kind of like a kid. I guess she’s had a rough time of it. Her husband died—he had leukemia—and she’s been on her own ever since with a daughter to take care of. She’s no whiner, but I can see she hasn’t had an easy time of it, and everything we do, every place we go, it’s new to her.”

  “You sound like you like her a lot,” Mark said uneasily.

  His father nodded. “I do, Mark,” he said. “I like her a lot. I don’t know what she thinks about me. I mean, I know she likes me. I know she has a good time with me. She looks at me sometimes when I’m talking to her, and there are lights in her eyes. I swear, Mark, there are lights in her eyes, and her cheeks get pink. She’s so ... so ... sweet. I never met anybody like her.”

  He’s got it bad, Mark thought, and there was a hurt place inside of him. Was it for his mother? Or was it for himself because no girl had ever looked at him with lights in her eyes?

  His father had stopped talking and was standing there, lost in some kind of reverie that did not include Mark.

  “So about the van?” Mark resumed.

  “Oh, right, right. Just wait a minute, Mark. I’ll give her a ring.”

  Mark busied himself over his breakfast. He smeared some peanut butter on his toast and ate standing up. He could hear his father’s voice from the hall.

  “... too bad but he really has to go to Jeddy’s birthday party. If he can take the van he could get there a lot faster.... Oh, great ... you’ll pick me up then in about twenty minutes, and you’ll bring your daughter too? Great! I really want to meet her. Okay ... okay ... I’ll tell him.”

  Mark started washing his dishes as his father came back into the room. “You can have the van, Mark. She’s going to pick me up. Her kid’s coming too. She said to tell you she’s sorry she won’t get to meet you, and she hopes she will soon.”

  “I hope to meet her too,” Mark said politely.

  “Maybe I can invite her over to dinner next weekend. Maybe we can invite them both over. Maybe Saturday, after work. No. That would be too pressured. How about if we invite them both over next Sunday? I can cook my famous steak a la Driscoll, and you—what can you make?”

  “How about a salad? And I can also make chocolate chip cookies.”

  “Great, great! So what do you say, Mark? How about Sunday?”

  “Sure, Dad. I’m free Sunday.”

  “If her daughter’s anything like her, I bet you’ll really like her.”

  “Right, Dad.” Mark was thinking maybe he’d call Cindy as soon as he got to San Leandro. Maybe she’d be home tonight. He could get together with her after the party, and they could talk about what’s been happening. Maybe catch up on each other’s life. She was always interested in what he had to say. She was always a real good listener, but he couldn’t remember— maybe he just hadn’t noticed—but he couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen lights in her eyes.

  Chapter 7

  “Thank you,” Beebe said, and tried not to laugh. Jim was helping her off the ferry as if she were some kind of cripple. He was using two hands to help ease her over the small crack between the boat and the dock. Her mother had already been safely transported onto land, and stood smiling indulgently behind him.

  “All set?” Jim asked, bending over her, examining her face to make sure she hadn’t suffered any damage.

  Her mother laughed out loud. “Stop babying her, Jim. She’s as tough as you are.”

  He straightened up. Tall man, Beebe thought approvingly, and good-looking, too, for his age.

  “And stronger than she looks,” her mother continued. “You should see her tote four bags of groceries at one time. Show hi
m your muscles, Beebe.”

  “Oh, Mom!” Beebe protested, but she pushed the sleeve of her sweater all the way up her arm and clenched her fist. Jim put a finger out to touch the muscle.

  “Oh, my God!” he cried, shrinking back in mock terror and smiling a crooked smile that made Beebe laugh. He really was a nice man.

  “I’m not used to girls,” he said, taking each of them by an arm and steering them towards the island. “Especially little, strong ones.”

  “And we’re not used to boys,” Beebe’s mother said. “Especially big, noisy, male chauvy ones.”

  “Who’s a male chauve?” Jim asked, giving her arm a shake. She said something back, and for a few moments Beebe felt like the extra spoke on the wheel. But only for a few moments. Jim quickly turned his attention to her. “My daughter is twelve,” he said. “I don’t see her as much as I’d like.” He hesitated for a moment, and then said slowly, “I guess I don’t know her as well as I do Mark. He’s my big boy, and I guess I even know Jeddy, the little one—he’s nine— better than Marcy. I guess I just understand boys better.”

  “That’s perfectly natural,” Beebe said kindly. “I suppose a woman will always understand a girl better than a boy, and vice versa.”

  Jim’s face was thoughtful. “The funny thing was—I felt a lot closer to my mother than to my father. There were only two of us, my sister and me, but I never felt close to him.”

  “Did your sister feel closer to your father?” Beebe asked.

  “No, she didn’t. She hated all of us,” Jim said, grinning.

  “She was probably jealous,” said Beebe’s mother. “I’ll bet your mother babied you. I know my mother babied both my brothers, but she expected me to act like a grown-up by the time I was six years old. I was always jealous of my brothers.”

  “Well, didn’t you baby Beebe?” Jim asked.

  “Baby Beebe? No, I don’t think I did,” said her mother. “Did I, Beebe? Did I ever baby you?”

  Beebe found it a difficult question to answer. Her mother had certainly always been there, was always interested and involved in her life, always ready to listen and advise—but, in a funny way, her mother had always expected her to act like a grown-up too. “No,” she agreed. “No, you never did baby me.”