Stanton laughed heartily even though he was the only one to do so. When he recovered he said, “Okay, where the hell is the waiter? Let’s eat!”
Outside the restaurant the group paused.
“We could walk around the corner and get ice cream at Herrell’s,” Stanton suggested.
“I couldn’t eat another thing,” Kim said.
“Me neither,” Edward said.
“I never eat dessert,” Candice said.
“Then who wants a lift home?” Stanton asked. “I’ve got my car right here in the Holyoke Center garage.”
“I’m happy with MTA,” Kim said.
“My apartment is just a short walk,” Edward said.
“Then you two are on your own,” Stanton said. After promising Edward he’d be in touch, Stanton took Candice’s arm and headed for the garage.
“Can I walk you to the subway?” Edward asked.
“I’d appreciate that,” Kim said.
They headed off together. As they walked, Kim could sense that Edward wanted to say something. Just before they got to the corner he spoke. “It’s such a pleasant evening,” he said, struggling a bit with the p. His mild stutter had returned. “How about a little walk in Harvard Square before you head home?”
“That would be great,” Kim said. “I’d enjoy it.”
Arm in arm they walked to that complicated collision of Massachusetts Avenue, the JFK Drive portion of Harvard Street, Mt. Auburn Street, and Brattle Street. Despite its name it was hardly a square but rather a series of curved facades and curiously shaped open areas. On summer nights the area metamorphoses into a spontaneous, medieval-like sidewalk circus of jugglers, musicians, poetry readers, magicians, and acrobats.
It was a warm, silky, summer night with a few night-hawks chirping high in the dark sky. There were even a few stars despite the glow from the city lights. Kim and Edward strolled around the entire square, pausing briefly at the periphery of each performer’s audience. Despite their mutual misgivings about the evening, ultimately they were enjoying themselves.
“I’m glad I came out tonight,” Kim said.
“So am I,” Edward said.
Finally they sat down on a low concrete wall. To their left was a woman singing a plaintive ballad. To their right was a group of energetic Peruvian Indians playing indigenous panpipes.
“Stanton is truly a character,” Kim said.
“I didn’t know who to be more embarrassed for,” Edward said. “Me or you with the way he was carrying on.”
Kim laughed in agreement. She’d felt just as uncomfortable when Stanton was toasting Edward as when he’d toasted her.
“What I find amazing about Stanton is that he can be so manipulative and charming at the same time,” Kim said.
“It is curious what he can get away with,” Edward agreed. “I could never do it in a million years. In fact I’ve always felt I’ve been a foil for Stanton. I’ve envied him, wishing I could be half as assertive. I’ve always been socially self-conscious, even a little nerdy.”
“My feelings exactly,” Kim admitted. “I’ve always wanted to be more confident socially. But it just has never worked. I’ve been timid since I’ve been a little girl. When I’m in social situations, I never can think of the appropriate thing to say on the spur of the moment. Five minutes later I can, but then it’s always too late.”
“Two birds of a feather, just as Stanton described us,” Edward said. “The trouble is Stanton is aware of our weaknesses, and he sure knows how to make us squirm. I die a slow death every time he brings up that nonsense about my being a shoo-in for the Nobel Prize.”
“I apologize on behalf of my family,” Kim said. “At least he isn’t mean-spirited.”
“How are you related?” Edward asked.
“We’re true cousins,” Kim said. “My mother is Stanton’s father’s sister.”
“I should apologize as well,” Edward said. “I shouldn’t speak ill of Stanton. He and I were classmates in medical school. I helped him in the lab, and he helped me at parties. We made a pretty good team. We’ve been friends ever since.”
“How come you haven’t teamed up with him in one of his entrepreneurial ventures?” Kim asked.
“I’ve just never been interested,” Edward said. “I like academia, where the quest is for knowledge for knowledge’s sake. Not that I’m against applied science. It’s just not as engaging. In some respects academia and industry are at odds with each other, especially in regard to industry’s imperative of secrecy. Free communication is the life-blood of science; secrecy is its bane.”
“Stanton says he could make you a millionaire,” Kim said.
Edward laughed. “And how would that change my life? I’m already doing what I want to do: a combination of research and teaching. Injecting a million dollars into my life would just complicate things and create bias. I’m happy the way I am.”
“I tried to suggest as much to Stanton,” Kim said. “But he wouldn’t listen. He’s so headstrong.”
“But still charming and entertaining,” Edward said. “He was certainly exaggerating about me when he was giving that interminable toast. But how about you? Can your family truly be traced back to seventeenth-century America?”
“That much was true,” Kim said.
“That’s fascinating,” Edward said. “It’s also impressive. I’d be lucky to trace my family back two generations, and then it would probably be embarrassing.”
“It’s even more impressive to put oneself through school and become eminently successful in a challenging career,” Kim said. “That’s on your own initiative. I was merely born a Stewart. It took no effort on my behalf.”
“What about the Salem witchcraft story?” Edward asked. “Is that true as well?”
“It is,” Kim admitted. “But it’s not something I’m comfortable talking about.”
“I’m terribly sorry,” Edward said. His stutter reappeared. “Please forgive me. I don’t understand why it would make any difference, but I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
Kim shook her head. “Now I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable,” she said. “I suppose my response to the Salem witchcraft episode is silly, and to tell you the truth, I don’t even know why I feel uncomfortable about it. It’s probably because of my mother. She drummed it into me that it was something I wasn’t supposed to talk about. I know she thinks of it as a family disgrace.”
“But it was more than three hundred years ago,” Edward said.
“You’re right,” Kim said with a shrug. “It doesn’t make much sense.”
“Are you familiar with the episode?” Edward asked.
“I know the basics, I suppose,” Kim said. “Like everyone else in America.”
“Curiously enough, I know a little more than most people,” Edward said. “Harvard University Press published a book on the subject which was written by two gifted historians. It’s called Salem Possessed. One of my graduate students insisted I read it since it won some kind of history award. So I read it, and I was intrigued. Why don’t I loan it to you?”
“That would be nice,” Kim said just to be polite.
“I’m serious,” Edward said. “You’ll like it, and maybe it will change the way you think about the affair. The social/political/religious aspects are truly fascinating. I learned a lot more than I expected. For instance, did you know that within a few years of the trials some of the jurors and even some of the judges publicly recanted and asked for pardon because they realized innocent people had been executed?”
“Really,” Kim said, still trying to be polite.
“But the fact that innocent people got hanged wasn’t what really grabbed me,” Edward said. “You know how one book leads to another. Well, I read another book called Poisons of the Past that had the most interesting theory, especially for a neuroscientist like myself. It suggested that at least some of the young women of Salem who were suffering strange ‘fits’ and who were responsible for accusing people of witchcraft were actually poisoned. The suggested culprit was ergot, which comes from a mold called Claviceps purpurea. Claviceps is a fungus that tends to grow on grain, particularly rye.”