The Physicist's Wife An Episode From Tales From the Front Copyright 1995 by Dave Laird I met Natalie Healy at our appointed time, early one rainy night in the square in downtown Seattle. I had met her long ago, at one those interminable conferences that the Doctor and I often attended together, where he joined with his brothers in science to discuss the future, I as a voyeur into a world where I make meager sense of what is being said. I have wanted to hear her story, to gain insight into how it must feel being married to a man the trades often refer to as one the most knowledgeable men today in the field of artificial intelligence. I have wanted this since first saw her knitting one the conferences, while everyone else's attention was riveted on the stage where the fiery debate raged on. Dr. Paul Healey is not, as anyone knows, a personable man. He is often obtuse, prone to muttering unintelligible abstractions in lieu of conversation. He often goes into a world of his own for days on end, scarcely coming to the surface for food or drink. Yet I still consider him be a friend, and often have found comfort and solace his fireplace on Vashon Island, and basked there, safe from the storms of life. Tonight, as Paul was engaged in a conference in Redmond, and knowing of my journalist bent, he had given his blessing to the rendezvous with his wife. We sat, not as tourists or casual passers-by do, by whatever seat seemed closest, but as lovers or conspirators, seeking out the most secluded area in the restaurant. Shedding our coats, our first words were awkward, stumbling forth like awakened sleepers to greet the dawn, but with the amenities the forthcoming meal, conversation stabilized, and we began with her marriage to Paul, nearly twenty five years ago. "I first met Paul at one of those Sorority things we had back Harvard. I still sometimes wonder if those weren't put together simply as a means to expedite marriages to 'proper' partners. Back then, was rather dumpy, as he didn't know how to dress any better then than now. He was a dreadful sight!" "Still, there was a child-like innocence that I still like men...a vulnerable look about him." She laughs a bit. "..And then there were those dreadful tales from all the men in his fraternity about how odd he was. was always curious, even then. I'll never forget the time I got a call from one of his fraternity brothers to let me known Paul would be late in picking me up for a date because he had just burned a hole in the kitchen sink with one of his experiments. " "When you ask other couples when they first fell in love, I'll bet they have better answers than mine. I first fell in love with Paul during one of those summer sessions they held at Harvard every year. It was hot that summer, and the long trip up from New York was always tough. My poor car wasn't what it should have been, and when I drove up the to place where Paul was staying, the car was badly overheating, and rattling somewhere down in the motor." "Most men would have thrown a hissy-fit over my having driven the car in that condition, but not Paul. He rolled up his sleeves, and began taking the car apart, right there in the parking lot, much to the displeasure of the campus administration. In those days, 'proper' people just didn't that sort of thing on campus at Harvard University. By the time dark fell, there were parts of the motor scattered all over the place, Paul was covered head to foot with grease and oil, his suit was a mess but he said he'd found the problem. The next morning, he bought some things from a parts store, and went right back work on my car, with the Head Proctor the University watching from a window right over our heads, plainly displeased at the goings-on the parking lot. By late that afternoon, the car was purring, and Paul wandered off to an engineering class with piece from my motor which he said illustrated something about hydro-dynamics. I spent three more days on campus, and when I returned to New York, I was in love with Paul." "What were the early years like?" asked. read something somewhere once that said that Paul simultaneously attended Harvard, NYU and Rudgers at the same time. How did you deal with that?" "Like nearly everything else, I simply had to get by. Paul was often gone for days on end, back then. I had Clarissa, our first child, and another on the way, so I had plenty to keep myself busy, just running the house and taking care of Clarissa. " "What kind of a home life was that?" I hesitated, as the dinner was served. "Did you have a home life at all as most young couples know it?" "Oh yes. One of sorts, I imagine one could say. When Paul would come home for the weekend, the three of us would have dinner together, and he would help tuck in Clarissa. He would help with the dishes, as I in eighth month with Dominic, and having some problems. Then he was mine, all evening, all weekend." She laughs wryly to herself, and continues, "I remember several times when someone from one of the Universities would drop by to talk with Paul during one of our weekends. I promptly would throw a fit, and eventually they stopped coming by on the weekends unless it was some sort of dire circumstances." "Where are you children today?" I asked gently. "Isn't Clarissa in some program back in Minnesota? ...something to do with the Cray Super Computer, I believe?" "Oh, yes. Clarissa is working on her Masters Degree in computer science and working on a project for the Department of Defense. It's all hush-hush, just what she is doing, but when she is home for the holidays, she and Paul often talk about it...she and Dominic often share ideas, too. He just graduated from Berkeley with a B.A. Biology, and has started working on his Masters." The dinner was excellent. Outside, the storm was clearing away, and although the streets were still glistened with the freshly-fallen rain, could see patches of stars, out over the Sound. While the waiter discreetly cleared the table, and served some excellent coffee, I resumed my train of thought. "With the children grown and living out of the home, Paul gone nearly all the time, what is left in the marriage for you...I mean you have admittedly spent half your life keeping the home intact, and raising the children while Paul has climbed up the ladder computer science circles. What is in the marriage for you now?" "Somehow, knew you would ask that question." She laughs, and squeezes my hand across the table. "I probably would take exception to anyone else asking me that, but I understand how you must feel, from the outside looking in." "I have gone back to school, and am finishing up my Masters Degree in Eastern Cultural Studies, so I have a lot to keep myself busy. But that doesn't answer anything about our marriage, no." "To someone else, such as yourself, I suppose what Paul and I have together would seem dreadful, perhaps even boring. Love is strange. It never is the same for one person as it is for another. Paul and I have a healthy marriage, I believe. We are very much in love." "How?" I asked, trying not to sound incredulous. "You hardly get to see him. He's always tied up with some meeting whenever I come over for a visit. How does one keep love alive under those circumstances?" "I have often asked myself that same question, watching the divorce rates climb. But divorce has never entered the picture for either Paul or I. Oh, sure, we have our 'bad days', pretty much the same as any other couple, but we persevere through them and the better days come. We get over it." As we stood outside the restaurant in the bracing evening air, the mournful sound of a foghorn in the distance echoed from the waterfront, and in the distance was answered by another foghorn, probably the big Coast Guard station down on the point. I walked Natalie to her car, and as she was about to leave, she turned to me and asked, "Did you get what you came for?" "Not entirely," I responded. "I am still amazed that, with so many people in Paul's Department on their second or third marriages, that you both are still together. It must be fortitude or something." "I'll tell you how it is," soft smile appeared, and the slight lines of her face softened, as if in wry amusement. "When Paul comes home from work, I always make it a point to be there, waiting for him. Whenever possible, we always have our dinner together, he and I." She giggled, just a bit, and in the tinkle of her laughter, there, under the overhead viaduct by her car, I heard the years drop away for a moment. "Sometimes even turn the lights down for dinner, light few candles, and pretend that we are young and courting again, back at Harvard. Afterward, he and I always go into the parlor together and notify the answering service to handle all phone calls. Some of the time we read, occasionally watch TV, but most of the time, simply talk about his work, and mine. It's that precious four or five hours spent every week that makes life...tolerable. So long both are committed having that time together, we will always happy together."