He just stepped out a minute to go downstairs and get Coke from the machine. He didn’t lock the door. Now he’s looking at me as if I’ve got some weapon. I know he wants to search me, strip me down.

“I just went out for a walk. I saw this elephant and bought it. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

I show him the elephant. Its trunk is raised. Its little pink tongue is sticking out. I set it down on the coffee table. I know he wants to strip the elephant.

“A leftover from the Republican Convention,” I echo.

He says nothing. He opens my can of Coke and hands it to me. Now he’s staring at the tin can, wondering what weapon can be handcrafted from it. But the tin cans these days are too fragile. Anyone can crush them in the hand. No muscle woman.

Now he looks at me. I hate it when he looks at me like he doesn’t know I’m Catherine.

“You want to give the talk, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I think you should. I think it will be good for you.”

“Yes.”

But when we get to the hotel, he leaves me standing in the hall, and goes to sign us in. I stand there in the corner hearing them.

“I bet she goes to pieces in there!”

“I love it! You know he got her out of the asylum in Ann Arbor. He took her out just so she could come here and give this.”

“I don’t think it’s right.”

“But they organized it before they knew the story. Shirley said she didn’t know that Catherine Shuger was in such a condition. I asked her where she has been.”

“I bet she goes to pieces.”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world. She’s been off and on again for years.”

“I feel for him. I guess he knows what he’s doing. Poor fellow.”

“I think he’s exploiting her.”

“What would he need to exploit her for? You just don’t know Ernest Shuger. She’s the devil, not him. I just don’t understand the man is all.”

“The stuff she’s doing nowadays, have you seen it?”

“Lord, yes.”

“I remember just ten years ago . . .”

“I always thought she was the best . . .”

“I wish I knew where the Black was though.”

“Don’t you though.”

“All that rage, we really expected something from her.”

“Yeah, but we all thought we were the generation, though, didn’t we?”

“Everybody does.”

“I still wish I knew where the Black was.”

“Is that her? Girl, you better hush!”

“Is that her? That’s not her. That’s not Catherine Shuger! She was such a beauty.”

“That is her too . . . I remember we were all just awestruck by this fiery girl from Atlanta.”

“Wasn’t it Jackson?”

“No, Atlanta. This bright, intelligent, energetic young woman exhorting us all to build a better world.”

“If that is her, you could cut bourgeoise with a knife.”

“What do you expect, both her parents doctors? Well, you knew how she’d turn out.”