Enchantment by Orson Scott Card Read Free Book Online Page A

she had delivered this speech often enough that it no longer seemed to conceal wounded feelings. She really didn’t mind that much that Vanya didn’t write.
    Piotr nodded and smiled mechanically. Esther knew from years of experience that Piotr only barely tolerated small talk, and when the small talk had already been said many times before, it was all he could do to keep from getting up and stalking out of the room and doing something productive. But for Vanya’s sake he smiled. He nodded.
    “But he must write to
you
, Piotr,” said Ruthie. “About his research.”
    Piotr. What a name for a Jew. Of course he had his Jewish name, taken when he converted, but his academic reputation had been established under the name Piotr Smetski, and he wasn’t about to make people switch to calling him Ruven Shlomo.
    “No, not often,” said Piotr. “I’ll have plenty of time to hear about it when I look at drafts of his dissertation.” He smiled wryly.
    As they talked for a few minutes about the work Vanya would have to do when he came home, Esther tuned out their conversation and thought about Vanya, about how strange it was that this other woman, this girl-child, should speak of her son so possessively, should speak of his future as if it were her own future. When I held him in my arms, when I whispered his true name into his ear for only God and me to hear and understand, I did not do it just to hand him over, a scant two decades or so later, to this American girl, this doctor’s daughter, this child of money, of imitation country clubs. There was majesty in the child, and only banality in this marriage.
    Fool! she said to herself. Marriage is about banality. Its
purpose
is banality, to create an environment of surpassing safety and predictability for young children to grow up in, the foundation of life, the root of inner peace. What do I want for him, a troublesome, restless woman? A
queen
? She almost laughed at herself.
    “Was that funny?” asked Ruthie, feigning perplexity.
    “I’m sorry,” said Esther. “My mind wandered for a moment, and I was thinking of something else. What are we talking about?”
    “Whatever it is, it looks like what
you
were thinking was more entertaining,” said Ruthie. “Tell us!”
    “Yes, please,” said Piotr, his irony only barely concealed; what he meant was, please save me from having to talk to this person. Was this girl so stupid she couldn’t hear it? Piotr, you must not be snide in front of her. We’ll be listening to her for many years, unless Vanya acquires a sudden rush of wisdom.
    “It’s hard for me sometimes,” said Esther. “Listening to English. I have to work so hard.”
    “I wish my Russian were a little better,” said Ruthie.
    “You have no Russian,” said Piotr, surprised. “Have you?”
    “I can say
palazhusta
.”
    “Pozhalusta,”
Piotr corrected her. “Please.”
    Ruthie laughed. “See? Even that I can’t get right. I’m afraid our children won’t be bilingual.”
    But at the mention of children, she got a faraway look and glanced toward the window.
    Something wrong with talking about children. Esther felt an alarm going off inside her. Suddenly the girl doesn’t want children. This is how God orders things. In all the old stories, when a man married a woman he had no right to marry, the marriage was barren. In the old days, the woman tried but couldn’t conceive or bear a child. These days, though, the woman can
decide
to be barren. But it amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it? Vanya must not marry this girl. If only he would listen to his mother.
    “The way children talk these days,” said Piotr, “you’ll be lucky if they’re lingual at all.”
    Esther leaned forward a little in her chair. Ruthie at once focused on her. She might not realize it consciously, but the girl knew she had let something slip, and she knew Esther had picked up on it. That was the way communication was among women, most of the time; few women realized it,