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WHEN he found a pipe bomb wired under his Volvo Simo Philadelphia. Hed been w on transf an old armory in a rundown area into a school and had just ordered the tractor to rip out and replace six thousand square feet of expensive case?ment windows. Probably the mans profit on th<tt>?t>e job, he figured. Oher hand, the bomb might have e from any one of a half-dozen small suppliers who were not allowed to bid the project because they couldnt make a performance bond. Or, he told himself, it could have been the ghost of Louis Kahn, mad with jealousy. The Volvo had been leaking oil and hed gotten into the habit of bending down to check the pavement for oil traces after hed been parked for ah of time.The bomb was tied ly to the tailpipe. The bomb squad came, big burly men in aprons like goalies wear with the differehat these were made of Kevlar. They had a barrel-shaped truck draped in wire mesh. "Aremely well-done bomb," a sergeant told him, after the device was safely iruck. Simon had turhe job over to one of his partners and given himself a sabbatical, his first in fourteen years. Iy, it wasnt the bomb but the prospect of listening to his wifes voice for another hour, another minute.
When she was a child Sarah would occasionally stick a 9D battery in Simons ear and he would then make a sound like a fire engine, or, alternately, a garbage truck. When the women were living with him Simon and one or another of them would sometimes go together to the A & P, at the appropriate hour, just to watch the fire?men buy supper for the firehouse. The double-jointed engine was double-parked outside the store with a fireman in the cab, waiting, and inside four or five tall healthy young men in dark blue FDNY t-shirts would be arguing about what to put in the spaghetti sauce. &<tt></tt>quot;Im up to here with mushrooms," Shorty would say, fiercely, and anuy would lobby for hot Italian sausage. The firemen were good-looking, Simon no?ticed, appeared strong and trustworthy and very det. He wondered about the fireman-population, where all this ded goodness came from. The firemen gazed at Veronica or Dore and then looked away, abashed. Later Veronica, or Dore, would say, "Dont be jealous, Simon." Then, after a pause, "Were not harpies." Did she mean that the firemeoo young or rather in some sense sacrosanct? He had given Sarah a fire engine she could sit in when she was four and she had put out maing fires with it.
Bridges should not be painted blue, Simon thought, the horrible Izod blue of the Ben Franklin bridge in Philadelphia ever in his mind. crete, he felt, wonderfully useful and wonderfully ugly, should never be seen in publiless covered with ivy, or, better still, aper. Steel retty, he did not know why. Brick was good and wood best, for all purposes uhe sun. As a student he had submitted a project to redo Rockefeller ter in pickled pine. He had also, on formal occasions, worn a dog collar instead of a tie, most sportif.
Hed dreamed that he was supposed to be on tele?vision for five hours and had prepared nothing. The television people, young men with clipboards, were friendly, were standing around waiti<s>藏书网</s>ng for him to get dressed and proceed to the studio. They seemed fi?dent that he could do what he had tracted to do. There were some notes in another building, a building far from the building in which he was getting dressed, which might help him if he could reach them in time. His gray pin-striped coat was binding his arms like a straitjacket and Simon struggled against it as the clodicated that time assing. When he had missed the opening of the program -- he had removed and re?placed the jacket several times, each time with enormous exertion -- the television people became un?friendly and began making supercilious remarks. He had the sehat he could still salvage the situation if he could get to the building where his notes rested in a manila folder. Yes, hed be late, but the notes were of value, inplete to be sure but enough to allow him to bullshit his way through the performahe sed, third, fourth, and fifth hours, or, now, the third, fourth, and fifth hours, because time assing and he had, somehow, put on his blue Oxford shirt over the gray pin-striped jacket, which was, he uood, wrong --
"SIMON, youre famous!" Veronica says. Shes waving a copy ressive Architecture.
"You saw the piece."
"Looks beautiful. Big building."
"Four million something."
"Its got a very fancy outside."
"Some of thats fiberglass. We had to take molds to reproduce a lot of the capitals, that stuff on top of the ns. It drives you crazy because youve got to add a fire-retardant to the gel coat and that ge the color and youre trying to match the color of the exist?ing building."
"Do architects make a lot of money?"
"You go broke," he says. "You do very well. The more time you put into a job, the less money you make. My partners kept me solvent."
"Whats it feel like to be famous?"
"Feels very much like not being famous."
"Are you going to fall in love with one of us?"
Shes serious.
"How could I not?"
"It could all e to nothing," she says.
Theyre in the back of the house, sitting at the bar i, looking out of the windows. Its getting warmer, Simon thinks.
"Youre what, fifty-three?"
"Yes."
"Thats pretty old."
"And life is short."
"When I<q>.９9ｌｉb?</q> was in high school," Veronica says, "they dedicated the yearbook every year to the guys from our school who had been killed inam. They had pic?tures, every year, of the latest bunch. Every year for four years. So youre married, huh?"
"Yes. More or less."
"I was married. Wasnt so bad, wasnt so great. We used to screw every m before he went to work."
"Every damn m?"
"Well not every m Simon dont be so literal-minded."
"In the m I got the ched jaw," Simon says. "I khat something had happehe night before."
"Like what?"
"A fight."
"You couldnt remember?"
"I was drinking. I cooked a lot in the evening and when I cooked I drank. Mingling two pleasures."
"Are you a good cook?"
"Getting there. Give me aen years."
"Look! In the sky!"
A silver blimp, then another, like two silver buildings majestically horizontal.
"When I got married," she says, "I married this guy who was a Catholic. So we had to get a priest to do the job. So I called this priest and explaihe situation. I said I was not a Catholid the priest says, Well, we work with you on that. Then I told him I was still married to anuy, the guy I was married to before I met this guy. And the priest says, Well, we work with you on that. So I just thought Id tell him that I was born without a vagina, that I just had this sort of marble i where the vagina was supposed to be, to see if he would say, Well, we work with you on that. "
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