a short story in texts
by Gwyn Cready
'Field Equations,' a short story in texts, by Gwyn Cready. Copyright 2009.
Dark hair. Wry eyes. Mayo not mustard. Everything he liked. Except for that damn ring.
'Nice.' He pointed. 'Is that, um, a diamond?' She laughed. 'You gonna eat all those?'
He offered the bag. She ate a chip reverently and licked a finger. 'Whaddya say, Joe?'
She reached for the clipboard. Her skin shone tan against the paper. 'Are you ready?'
He shifted. He didn't like surveys, but, hell, fifty bucks and food? Who'd pass it up?
'Name?' 'Maybe I should ask you that?' 'Maybe you shouldn't ask me anything, Joe.'
'Right.' He cleared his throat. 'Joe Kydd. Two Ds. Seriously, though. Your name...?'
She tucked a curl behind her ear. 'Esme. For this survey, at least.' The ring sparked.
For this survey. Great. You have amazing powers over women. Should bottle it, really.
He dropped his gaze and looked at the paper. Not as nice as looking at her but easier.
'Do any of these numbers mean anything to you?' Her finger traced the paper's length.
'Um, some.' 'Which?' '1955. It's a year.' She scribbled something. Possibly 'Idiot.'
'Any others?' He bridled. 'Well, 8-Pi-G is part of Einstein's Field Equations.'
"Ah," she said, "the metrics of spacetime?" He lifted his brow, impressed. "Yes."
"And the rest?" she asked. "The rest is...' "Unintelligible?" He growled. "Yes."
'What about this?' She pointed to a line, and for an instant their fingers touched.
He tried to decipher the mishmash of symbols, but the roar in his ears made it hard.
'Sorry.' 'That's okay, Joe.' Sure, be nice to the idiot. Maybe I'll get a lollipop.
'I guess I should've tried a little harder in school.' Bingo. A smile. He smiled back.
He never alluded to his Yale PhD, but tonight he wished he wasn't so reticent.
A siren echoed on the empty street outside, and the blue-black summer sky twinkled.
'Does your husband mind you working this late?' She met his eyes and her lips curved.
'Joe, if you want to know if I have a husband, I think you're better off just asking.'
His mouth dried. 'Do you?' She took a deep breath, as if doing her own field equation.
'I don't--well, do, sort of. He lives in 1706 and wouldn't care what happens to me.'
Whoa! Part of him wanted to run, but another saw the hurt in those cool green eyes.
'He doesn't sound like a very good husband.' 'He wasn't.' She gazed out into the dark.
Joe wanted to take her in his arms, tell her men were jerks, but knew she'd hate it.
'Um, 1706?' He kept his voice light. Perhaps he'd misheard. 'A rich man,' she said.
'Ah.' Joe had a two-bedroom condo, a Subaru and a dog. He'd prefer an easier rival.
'And powerful. A cousin of the queen. I made a mistake. He pounced. The ring is his.'
Joe stared at it now, full force. The diamond was huge, in a centuries-old setting.
Was she crazy? His neighbor, Tom, was crazy, but she exuded something very different.
'I-I- Then why do you wear it?' Her hand bent sadly. 'I honor my promises,' she said.
Whoever he was, wherever he lived, Joe wanted to find the man and throttle him. Still...
'1706?' he repeated. She looked at the survey. 'Joe, do you believe in time travel?'
'Are you asking me?' 'Yes, I'm asking you.' 'No, are you asking or the survey?'
She laughed again. Why did he feel so outclassed here? Like an incoherent slob?
She pursed those full, wide lips and lifted her gaze. 'Would the answer change?'
Would it? Logic said no. Time travel was impossible. Yet, in his profession he knew...
'Is that why you recruited physicists?' 'I didn't, Joe.' 'The signs say 'physicists.''
'Sign, Joe. There was only one.' She gave him an uncertain smile. 'I wanted you.'
His heart thrummed, and he inhaled. Esme-for-this-survey-at-least wanted him. 'Oh?'
'I made a mistake. A long time ago. I wish I could make it so it never happened.'
'Can a lawyer help?' 'No, Joe. I mean I wish I could make it so it never happened.'
'Oh...OH.' She looked at the paper, and his heart fell. She wanted his mind, not him.
She saw his look. 'The equations I can do, Joe. I've been all over, ahead and back.'
He felt dizzy. 'Then what do you want?' he said. Everything depended on her answer.
'I want someone to understand and maybe, you know, want it. Can you do that, Joe?'
Understand? He laughed. He could try. But want? Oh, yeah, he could definitely do that.
THE END Go to http://www.cready.com/field.html to read the entire story again.
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gwyn@cready.com
