These Dreams of You

~ ~ ~

Viv realizes it’s good she’s exhausted. Otherwise this is the sort of situation where she typically, to use her word, effervesces, and she senses that now effervescence is the wrong strategy; she still has signs of turquoise hair, effervescence enough. “Why have you come to London, then, Mrs. Nordhoc?” says the official.

“My husband and children are here,” says Viv. “My husband has business.”

“What sort of business?”

“He’s giving a lecture. Or. . ” Viv thinks. “. . he may already have given it by now.”

“Do you know where he’s lecturing?”

“The university.”

“Yes,” says the official, with a greater sigh than before, “we have a number of universities in London. It’s a big city.”

“I know.” Viv says, “I don’t remember which one.”

“Where is your family staying?”

“In a hotel.” When the woman across the desk says nothing, Viv tries to effervesce after all, laughing wearily, “There are a lot of hotels, aren’t there? Like universities.”

“I don’t suppose you know which hotel.”

“I. . ” Where she sits, Viv sways a bit from the exhaustion. “Can I call him?”