“Oh, let me see it.” I opened it to the introduction and began to read out loud. “A proper introduction to these plays …”

“No, not the introduction. Turn to the beginning. It’s a play written in Greece at the beginning of civilization and recorded time. A chorus opens it. They’re three men on the towers of a palace. It’s the last watch before sunrise. Picture a palace of stone with statues of Zeus and Apollo and Hermes before it. The men are sleeping on the roof. See, it has an opening like Hamlet. Listen.” He began to read from the book:

O gods, grant me release from this long weary watch. Release, O gods! Twelve full months now, night after night.

Dog-like I lie here, keeping guard on this high roof of Atreus’ palace.

The nightly conference of stars,

Resplendent rulers, bringing heat and cold in turn,

Studding the sky with beauty.

“Well, you can see the parallels to Hamlet, can’t you? It’s the same story, an adulterous queen and a murder. In The Oresteia you’re going to see the stabbing, of course. I love this new translation. It’s by Philip Velacott. I heard him speak once in London.”

I was transported. This was the life I longed for, the person I wanted to talk to, the things I wanted to talk about.

A horn was honking. “That must be Charles William,” I said. “I guess I have to go. How much is the book?”

“Ninety-five cents. And tax. I’ll have to ring it up.” He walked with me to the front of the store. The horn honked again. The owner opened the front door and waved at Charles William and Irise. They had parked the Buick by a fire hydrant. “She’s coming,” he called out.

“Donald, it’s us,” Irise said. “We’re going to Montgomery to see Derry Waters. Come with us.”

“I already know her. Here, Rhoda, take this book as a present. No, I want to give it to you. Go on, they’re waiting. No, I insist. I want to introduce you to the Greeks.” He followed me outside. “I gave her The Oresteia,” he said to Charles William. “I don’t suppose you’ve read it either. I can’t depend on anyone to educate any of you anymore. What do they teach you in those colleges? I’ll send you some poetry, Rhoda. When I decide what I want you to read, I’ll mail you something.”

“You won’t know my address. How will you know where to find me?”