“I can prove to you, if you wish, with historical evidence that Jesus Christ never existed to begin with. Man has invented religions to get over his fear of the unknown.”
She placed her hand on his mouth and said, “Please, I am a believing Christian. Can you respect my feelings a little?”
When she got angry, when she pursed her lips and her face looked like that of a child about to cry, when she stared at him with her beautiful eyes as if he had disappointed her, she became irresistible, and he would take her in his arms and shower her with kisses. That usually led to a new round of lovemaking.
Their love was wonderful, but troubles loomed when Carol lost her job. A new white manager was appointed at the mall where she worked and he fired her and another black colleague for no obvious reason (unless it was their color?). For ten months Carol fought obstinately to find a new job but she couldn’t. The two lovers found themselves in unexpected financial straits. Graham had no savings at all. He spent money right away, as if he were getting rid of a burden or shame. Like most people advanced in years, he spent sleepless nights worrying about suffering a debilitating illness, so he chose a very expensive insurance coverage whose monthly premium ate up a considerable portion of his university salary. At the same time, Mark’s tuition and his basic expenses were high while Carol’s unemployment compensation was negligible. Faced with that, Graham reined in his expenses to overcome the crisis: he stopped taking Carol out to eat and he also did not buy the clothes that he needed for winter. For the first time in many years he stopped buying the expensive Dutch tobacco that he loved very much and replaced it with a cheap local substitute that had an overpowering smell as if it were burning wood. He did all of that gladly, without grumbling or unease. To the contrary, he was more cheerfully playful with Carol and said to her more than once to console her, “I don’t have a problem. So long as we can have the young one’s tuition and our food, nothing worries me. I’ve accustomed myself to live on very little. The most beautiful days in my life were those I spent on the street, homeless.”
Carol, however, did not accept the crisis so simply. She felt guilty because she had brought him this hardship. She told herself that she had been unfair to him. His salary had been enough for him, and now, together with her son, they had become a burden on him. Why should he suffer when Mark’s father didn’t want to support his son? She felt very bitter that she had lost her job, not because she was negligent or inefficient, but just because she was black. Graham was surprised one day when he found her hanging a large wooden sign at the entrance to the living room, with the inscription:
You Are White You Are Right
You Are Black Stay Back
Graham was disturbed and asked her why she had written the sign. She smiled sadly and said, “Because it’s the truth, John. I put it up there so I would never forget.”
She became irritable and moody. She would be silent for a long time then suddenly cry, for no reason. Sometimes she was aggressive and combative and fought with John for the most trivial reasons. He met her rage with the understanding and tolerance of someone in love. At the peak of her anger when she yelled at him and waved her hands hysterically, he would resort to silence and smile affectionately. Then he would get close to her, embrace her, and whisper, “I don’t want to talk about details. I love you and I apologize for all that angers you, even if I am not responsible for it.”
ON SUNDAYS HE USUALLY SLEPT in, but for one reason or another that morning he got up early and didn’t find her next to him. He looked for her throughout the house, and when he didn’t find her he was worried that she had gone out without telling him. Where had she gone and why hadn’t she left him a message? She had left early knowing that, as usual, he wouldn’t get up before noon. What was she hiding? Did she go to Mark’s father to ask him to support his child? She had told him once that she wanted to do so, but he had objected strenuously. He said she had to maintain her dignity. But he knew that he objected out of jealousy. He was afraid that her love for her old mate might be rekindled. He was a younger man and the two of them had a long history. Had she gone to him? He would never forgive her if she had.
Mark had got up, so Graham prepared breakfast for him, made him a large cup of hot chocolate, and turned on the cartoon channel. Then he went back to his room, closed the door, and lit his pipe, but he couldn’t help himself. So he went back and asked Mark, “Did you see your mom going out?”
“I was asleep.”
“Do you know where she went?”
“Don’t worry about Mom, John. She’s a strong woman.”
John Graham laughed at his precociousness and hugged Mark and kissed him and sat next to him to play with him. A little while later he heard the door open, squeak, and close slowly. Soon Carol appeared at the door of the room. She was frowning and looked engrossed in distant thoughts despite her elegant appearance, which confirmed his suspicions. Graham led her gently but firmly to their room. He closed the door, doing his best to control his anger. “Where’ve you been?”
“Is this an official interrogation?”
“I’d like to know.”
“You don’t have the right.”
She was speaking in a hostile tone and at the same time avoiding looking at his face. He threw his stout body into the chair and took a few moments to light his pipe and exhale a thick cloud of smoke. Then he said calmly, “Carol, I am the last person on earth who seeks to possess the woman he loves. But I think, inasmuch as we live together, it is only natural for each of us to know where the other is going.”
“I am not going to ask for your written permission to go out,” she cried, apparently determined to escalate the disagreement as far as it would go. She was carrying the Sunday
She started to rush out of the room but just one step away from the door she stopped suddenly, frozen in place. She didn’t go out and didn’t turn back toward him, as if she had responded to that established mysterious rhythm that grew between people who had been married for a long time. She just stood there, as if waiting for him or summoning him. He got the signal: he rushed toward her and embraced her from the back, then turned her around and hugged her, whispering, “Carol, what’s the matter?”
She didn’t answer. He started kissing her passionately until he felt her body soften little by little as if opening up before him. He led her gently toward the bed, but he felt her tears wetting his face and he asked her in alarm, “What happened?”
She moved away from him and sat on the edge of the bed. She was exerting an extraordinary effort to control herself but finally collapsed and began to sob uncontrollably. Speaking in a disjointed manner, she said, “I went to a job interview. I told myself I’d tell you only if I get the job. You’ve had enough disappointment on my account.”
He raised her hands and began kissing them. Her mellow voice reverberated, as if coming from the depths of sadness. “I can’t take this anymore. With all my experience, what more do I need to prove to get a job.”
A profound silence descended upon them. Then she whispered as she buried her head in his chest and succumbed to a new fit of crying, “Oh, John, I feel so humiliated.”
Chapter 16
The reverence with which Professor Dennis Baker is regarded could be attributed to various reasons: his strong personality, his integrity, his devotion to science, the way he treats his students and colleagues lovingly and fairly, his simple austere appearance, and his constant silence, which he only breaks to say something necessary and useful. But more important than all of that: his scientific achievements. Baker presents himself as a “photographer of cells,” words that encapsulate the hard work and effort that he has exerted over the past forty years to transform the photographing of cells from a mere ancillary method in scientific research into an established independent science that had its own tools and rules. Baker invented methods and techniques in photographing cells that were patented in his name. He published so many papers over the years that including his CV in the
