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They had a large colorful platter shaped like a fish, which the household invariably used to serve fish. Rupert liked it so. Scotty piled the creamy smooth salad in it and added chopped scallion, lettuce leaves, capers, radishes, and other garnishes in such a way that it looked like a Japanese painting of a real fish. Je
Je
After lunch, Je
“Did you record all of them on this page?” he asked. “These columns seem to show different numbers.”
“Yeah, but there were some that didn’t fit. I must’ve screwed up some way. Sorry. The ones I couldn’t figure out’re in here.” She held up the vial and Cooksey peered at the indeterminate black mass within. “‘Didn’t fit’ meaning that you couldn’t classify them as eithergemellus orinsularis?”
“Yeah. And I couldn’t find them in the key, either.”
“That’s odd. Well, let’s have a look, shall we?”
He sat at the microscope and placed a wasp on the stage. He peered for some time and then examined another and a third, muttering to himself. He rose and pulled a reprint file down and studied several reprints. He consulted the key, looked in the microscope, checked another reprint. Mutter, mutter, and then, “Well, I’ll be blowed!”
“What? Did I make a mistake?”
He looked her in the face, and she saw that his eyes were shining. He was beaming like a two-year-old with a fresh cookie. “Oh, not at all. Oh, no! I believe you’ve discovered a new species ofPegoscapus. ”
“Is that good?”
“Good? It’s splendid! Epochal! I myself have been studying these little blighters for over twenty years and I’ve only discovered one new species.”
It had never occurred to Je
“Whatever we bloody well please!” crowed Cooksey.
“Really? You mean just make something up?”
“Indeed. Of course there are certain traditions. Species are usually named for some aspect of the organism, like its shape or habit, or its native heath, or to honor someone in the trade. InPegoscapus alone, as you know, we find Hoffmeyer and Herre so distinguished. I myself named myTetrapus after my late wife.”
At this, something seemed to deflate in Cooksey, the light that had just shone from his eyes dimmed, and he appeared to shrink a little. Je
Into the silence now she blurted, “What was her name?”
“Portia,” said Cooksey dully.
“Like the sports car?” asked Je
She watched him as the laughter poured out, tears squirted from his eyes, and his knees wobbled. “Oh God Oh Christ,” he expostulated at intervals, and after a while she started laughing, too, just to join in and for happiness and delight that her own dumb remark (because, although she had known a girl named Chrysler once, obviously a high-class guy like Cooksey wouldn’t have married a girl named after a car) could have caused such a gush of exhilaration.
Cooksey was still in the paroxysm, eyes tight shut and completely out of control now (Oh Christ Oh God); he bounced off the microscope table and would have collapsed on the floor had she not caught him in her arms. She sank down with him under the table, cradling his upper body. He smelled of tobacco and guy. Je
After some time and a few long whooping breaths, he opened his eyes and looked at her. His cheeks were slick with tears. “Oh, God,” he said. “How utterly disgraceful. Please forgive me.”
“It’s cool. I guess it was pretty fu
“No. It was a sort of private joke and it just…I suppose it rather unleashed some…things. It’s hard to explain. I imagine one had to be there.” He made no move to rise but continued, “We were at a conference in Bellagio; it’s a lovely place in Italy, with a palace they use as a conference center. And one of the participants was a young woman named Maserati. I think she actually might have been related to the famous automobile dynasty, but in any case, she was quite pretty in an Italian way, and she appeared to set her cap for me, I can’t imagine why, and of course I was flattered. I’m such a fool at that sort of thing. There’s a good deal of naughtiness that goes on at such affairs, and Portia and I hadn’t been together all that long. Well, Portia was mad with jealousy and being Portia she made no bones about how she felt and we had a row, and in the midst of it, all I could think of to say was ‘How could anyone who has a Portia desire a Maserati,’ and it just stopped her cold, and then I said ‘and she probably leaks oil as well,’ and we both went absolutely mad with laughter. I imagine it was the tension breaking, because it was a very poor sort of joke. Anyway, every time we saw the wretched woman after that, we were positively weak with it, spurting wine through our noses and so on.”
A long sigh and a brief silence ensued. “I suppose I’ve been half dead myself since she died. And then when you said that, it just took me over. I hope I didn’t frighten you with that display.”