McTavish at my class today. He sat at the back with his notebook balanced on his lap. Although I hated it, the students seemed more relaxed with him in the room. I played nice with them. Even went so far as to praise the one I’d belittled last week. Well done! I said after she described the rhyme scheme for a Shakespearean sonnet. You’ll be prepared for graduate school by the end of this term. Now, if you can identify the type of rhythm Shakespeare utilizes, I’ll give you a cherry lollipop. McTavish grimaced. He didn’t appreciate my sarcasm. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” I said. This is a specific kind of question that Shakespeare asks. It’s a strategy that authors use when the answer is obvious. Now, what kind of question is it? The class blanked. To myself I said, Apparently the answer’s not so obvious in this room. McTavish straightened and wrote in his notebook. I sighed. Okay, I said to the class. When you ask someone a question to which you already know the answer, what kind of question is it? A student put up her hand and, in the voice of a child looking over the edge of the high diving board, said, Interrogation? I gritted my teeth. Nice try, I said, but this isn’t CSI. McTavish: scritch-scritch-scritch. I imagined he was playing Hangman, filling in SUSPENSION letter by letter, a stick man in a wheelchair dangling from a gallows. Another student put up his hand. Manipulation? he said. It starts with an R, I said. Do you give up? No, McTavish said, holding out his hand. They can get it. Give them a bit more time. I’m trying to move the lesson along, I said. They can get it. There’s time. I exhaled. Okay, I said. Does anybody have an idea? It starts with an R? That’s right. What’s the second letter? An H. H…rhombus? That’s not it. Rheumy? That’s not spelt with an H, is it? I looked at McTavish. Raised my eyebrows desperately. What’s the third letter? Through my clenched teeth: An E. So it’s not rhombus. What other words start with RHE? Hang on, let me get my dictionary. It’s rhetorical! I said. McTavish pursed his lips. A rhetorical question! That is the kind of question Shakespeare is asking! “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” It’s a rhetorical question! A question to which the answer is obvious! The students looked at their books. Many of them puzzled. One of them put up his hand. How is it obvious? he said. I shut my eyes and said, Read the next line. Oh. Oh yeah! I looked at McTavish. His notebook was closed. I’m expecting a report from him soon.
Maggie came here yesterday. Asked me why I hadn’t called. Asked me why my bookshelves were empty and why there were boxes all over the floor. Are you moving? she said. In a manner of speaking, I said. Where are you moving? I don’t know. I haven’t found a place yet. Then why are your books all packed up? I have only two weeks left. Two weeks left to what? To get out. Her jaw straightened. They’re kicking you out? I shrugged. Are you surprised? I said. She exhaled. Shook her head and looked at me with her mouth open and her brow uneven. Jesus, Dexter! Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve come over and helped, I could’ve brought your things over to my house. Come on, Maggie. You don’t want me living there. I’ve asked you how many times if you wanted to live with us. You said no. That’s not the impression I got last time we spoke. Well, this is different now. Why’s it different? You’re being kicked out, you need a place to live. It doesn’t alarm you that I’m being kicked out? She blinked. I imagine you were just being yourself and these people don’t know how to handle you. And you do? She hesitated. Look, if you need a place to live, you can come and live with Randal and me. I don’t know. Where else are you gonna go, Dexter? You can’t live by yourself. How do you know? You told me yourself. Look at your hands, look at your shoulders. You’re just shaking. If you tried to cook you’d probably burn yourself. Thanks. Well, it’s true, isn’t it? How am I going to get around? Maybe you can call a taxi or something, or one of those Handi-Dart buses can take you to the school. Those are for grade school kids. I’m sure there’s some way of getting around. I licked my lips. Gripped the arms of my chair and adjusted myself. If I come to live with you, I said, are we gonna be able to stand each other? We’ll find out, she said. You’re okay with me being around Randal? We’ll talk about that. When do you have to be moved out? By the fourteenth. Okay. I’ll be back on the weekend and we’ll move the boxes out of here. Well, we don’t have to do it so quickly. I’d like to stay here a little longer. Well, the weekend’s the only time I have to help you move. This upcoming weekend’s best, because I have to go to Regina the weekend after. Well, can we just take my books and things to your house, and I can stay here until the fourteenth? Why do you wanna stay here, Dexter? I like it here. You’re being kicked out. Yeah? Maggie groaned. Do you think Randal will like that I’m moving in with you? I said. Maggie rolled her eyes. He never stops talking about you, she said. He’ll probably be ecstatic.
I rolled with Maggie to the Residence entrance. She suggested that because of my tremors I get a motorized wheelchair. I said I probably will someday. After she left I saw Esmeralda in the hallway. That’s your sister? she said. The one that’s had two mid-life crises? Yep, I said, and she’s about to have a third.