Lara Vapnyar - The Scent of Pine

“Just imagine how happy his mother was to get rid of him,” Inka said every time they had to turn his mattress over.

Back then, Lena was sure she would never be a mother. That she was unfit to be a mother. Even now, she had her doubts. She loved her children, there was no doubt about that, but they couldn’t make her happy. And if she were a truly good, devoted mother, shouldn’t the children be enough to make her happy, or at least contented?

She sighed and turned to the bleak hotel wall, hoping for a sound, solid sleep, so solid there would be no place for guilt and disappointment to creep in.

The next morning Lena overslept. There were two conference panels that she needed to attend. She dressed, packed her things so she could leave for the station right after the events, and rushed downstairs to get to the campus. There was no time for a proper breakfast, so she grabbed a bagel and nibbled on it as she sat through the first panel. The discussion was on the Kinsey Reports. Lena expected it to be interesting but found it hard to concentrate. The bagel tasted like old chewing gum. The sandwich that she had during lunch break didn’t taste much better. Lena dreaded seeing Ben in the cafeteria, imagining how awkward their conversation would be after he had waved her away at the bar the night before, but when she saw that Ben wasn’t there, she felt something like disappointment.

By the time she got to the station, it had started to rain.

On the platform, people were shaking their umbrellas, shuffling their luggage, craning their necks to see if the train was coming.

Lena closed her umbrella and sat down on one of the benches.

She dialed Vadim’s number. He said there was nothing to report. She didn’t have anything to report either. She felt guilty about her encounter with Ben. Not just guilty but pathetic, because the only thing she could be guilty of was her desire to be guilty. The train heading up to Montreal arrived on the opposite platform. Two or three people walked toward the doors. Apparently, most of the passengers were going to New York. Lena had a fleeting urge to pick up her bag and get onto that train. She had no desire to go to Montreal, she just wanted to be traveling in the direction opposite from home.

More people were pushing through the station door. Among them, she spotted a tall man in a green slicker. Ben? His hair had gotten wet in the rain. He kept turning his head rapidly, looking for someone. He hadn’t seen her, and she felt like hiding. But where, the bathroom? No, it was too late. Ben had seen her and was waving to her. She had to wave back.

He walked over with a small, awkward smile. He was out of breath.

“I was hoping I’d catch you here,” he said.

Lena was so stunned that he had come here looking for her that she didn’t know what to say.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Listen, I’m so sorry about last night. I acted like a coward. In fact, I acted like a piece of shit. It’s just that my girlfriend is very sensitive, and Gerry—you saw what Gerry was like. Anyway, it’s a long story.” He looked sick with embarrassment.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Lena said. “It’s okay. It really is fine.” She just wanted for this conversation to be over.

A look of gratitude swept across his face, which just made her feel even more awkward.

“Are you still willing to give me your paper? I’d love to read it,” he said.

“It’s at the bottom of my bag.”

He seemed to welcome her answer.

“Oh, I’ll just give you my email then so you could send it to me.” He handed her his business card.

“Thank you,” she said, slipping his business card into her pocket, the same place where Inka’s card now lay buried under a pile of loose change and some cough lozenges. She glanced at the big clock on the wall.

“Are you waiting for a New York train?”

“Yes. I’m taking the train to New York, and then another train to Boston from there.”

“Boston?”

“Yes, I live there.”

Lena moved her bag to her shoulder and shifted from one foot to another.

“Boston! I’ll take you to Boston! I’m going to Maine. I go past Boston anyway. It’s absolutely no problem for me to drop you off there. Do you want me to take you?”

He reached for her suitcase. His eagerness made Lena laugh, but she couldn’t help being moved by it. She couldn’t remember the last time the prospect of her company inspired such enthusiasm.

“Fine. Take me to Boston!” she said.

He laughed and picked up her suitcase.

“You pack light, don’t you?” he asked, lifting her suitcase in the air.

His car was an old blue Chevy, the back seat crammed with boxes of books and random household objects. Ben had to remove a fur hat and something that looked like a portable stove from the passenger seat. Lena hit her foot on some huge chunk of metal lying under the seat. She bent to take a peek and was surprised to see something that looked like the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz.

“That’s an Italian juicer,” Ben explained. “The one they use to make spremuta. It was a gift from my ex-wife. Just throw it in the back.”

Lena could hardly lift it, let alone throw it, so she just moved it away from her feet.

They spent the first hour of their trip in uncomfortable silence.

“Are you okay?” Ben kept asking.

“Yes.”

“You look all hunched up.”

“No, I’m fine. It’s just that I’ve been driving a minivan for years and this feels a little low.”

“Put the juicer in the back, you’ll have more leg space.”

“It’s fine.”

“You’re not hungry, are you? We can stop for a sandwich.”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

“I think I have some water in the back.”

“I’m fine.”

There really was no space for her feet. So she rested them on her backpack. She was thirsty and longed to look at herself in the mirror.

She cleared her throat and asked if Ben had some music.

“The CD player is broken. You can try the radio.”

Lena tuned the radio to a jazz station, but then a commercial break came on and she turned the radio off.

“Where do you live in Boston?”

“Chestnut Hill.”

“Nice area. I used to live in Boston. Cambridge, actually.”

“Cambridge is nice too.”

The conversation died.

It had been so easy to talk to him at the reception. And now whenever Lena felt that she was about to come up with something to say, it slipped away.

There weren’t too many cars on the road, until suddenly there were. The traffic got really dense and slow around Albany.

Lena craned her neck to look at the traffic ahead.

“It stretches for miles,” she said.

“I think there’s an accident ahead,” he said.

Why did he sound apologetic? It wasn’t his fault.

“Why are you going to Maine?” she asked.

“I have a cabin there. My girlfriend hates it, so we never go there. She’s decorating our apartment in New York now, and since we don’t have any space for my old junk, and I can’t bring myself to throw it away, I’m taking it there.”

”You have a lot of books.”

“These are mostly graphic novels. I have hundreds of them.”

“We went to Maine on Labor Day weekend,” Lena said. “It took us seven hours. The kids were going crazy.”

“How old are your kids?”

“Six and eleven. Do you have kids?”

“Yes, a daughter from my first marriage. She’s nineteen. What does your husband do?”

“He’s a math professor. What does your girlfriend do?”

“She’s a lawyer.”

“Her name’s Leslie, right?”

“Yes. Leslie. What’s your husband’s name?”