Stir-Fry by Emma Donoghue Read Free Book Online

pension and all?”
    Ruth leaned back and laughed softly. “God, they breed them right where you come from. The pension was the whole point. My mother nearly had a canary when I told her I was packing in the job. I kept insisting it was a dead end, and all she’d say was, ‘But your pension!’”
    “So then you came here.”
    “To wake myself up. It was a sort of … quest, you know?” The pen was still dry; she put it down.
    “Never been on one myself. And did it work?”
    Ruth wrinkled her forehead. “Only sort of. Not the way I had expected, but other ways. All I found out was some people stuff; nothing I could get a grip on.”
    “Well, so long as you’re awake, does it matter how you were woken?”
    The dark eyes lifted and crinkled at the corners. “I suppose not.” But the books drew her lashes down again. “I’d rather it was a way that would win me a first this June, that’s all.”
    “Is that a hint? Should I leave you in peace?”
    Ruth leaned her head on her hand briefly; when she looked up, the lines were smoothed away. “Please don’t. In fact, while the sun’s out, why don’t we stack these tomes of wisdom up here—no one’s likely to steal them—and go soak up some vitamin D by the lake.”
    Their voices lifted as they moved away from the desks. “I didn’t expect you to be so easily corruptible,” Maria reproached her, holding open the swinging door. “You’re meant to be a scholarly role model for me, as well as mother figure and general mentor.”
    Ruth made a loud retching noise, startling a librarian just below them on the escalator. “Why me? Jael’s older, she can be your mother figure.”
    “Nah, she can’t cook.”
    A heavy sigh from Ruth, as they crossed through the grimy glass tunnel into the arts block. “Everyone could cook if they wanted to, only they pretend it’s a special gift so a few poor suckers have to do it all the time.”
    “I honestly can’t. Food doesn’t like me.”
    Ruth’s eyes lit up. “Wouldn’t it be gas if you went home for Christmas and dazzled your entire family with pineapple curry and crème caramel!”
    But Maria had dropped back to peer at a typewritten notice on the wall. “Hey, do you think I have the makings of a part-time library administrative assistant? Sorry, I missed that last bit.”
    “I was saying I bet I could teach you to cook.”
    “I swear, my mother’s been trying for years, and I’m a culinary cretin. All I ever liked doing were cake mixes, because you can blame them if anything goes wrong.”
    “What could go wrong?” Ruth held the heavy door open for Maria to walk into the sun. It dazzled them, held them on the spot a moment. Then the students following behind jostled them; they shaded their eyes and moved across the courtyard.
    “Well, once I did a sponge cake,” continued Maria, “only I forgot the egg, so it came out all pale. I was too mortified to admit my mistake, so my father thought it was the fault of the manufacturers and got Mam to write them an outraged letter.”
    “Did you get your money back?”
    “Worse,” said Maria. “They sent us twelve packets of the cursed stuff by return post.”
    The lake glittered sharply in the afternoon light; theyheaded for the wooded east side, away from the sprawled couples on the southern bank.
    For five or ten minutes they soaked in the white sunshine, without a word. Maria kept waiting for it to feel awkward, but it never did. She sat cross-legged on the concrete edge of the lake and watched an ant haul a piece of crisp into a crack. Red leaves were scattered all along the concrete footpath; as they dried, their sides arched backward, making them sharp as arrows.
    “Hey, I’ve thought of another reason why Jael couldn’t be my mentor,” Maria said at last. “She intimidates me.” She threw a handful of the leaves at a nearby duck; they fell short and basked on the surface of the water.
    Ruth was leaning against a tree trunk. She nodded, without