Ход королевы

           Wheatleytookafewthoughtfulsipsandstaredoutthewindowatthesunlight.“Ireallyhaven’tbeenwelllately,”Mrs.Wheatleysaid,squinting.

           Bethlookedathercoolly.Mrs.Wheatleywaspaleandclearlyoverweight.Sheheldtheglassbythesteminonehandwhileherotherhandflutteredatherthickwaist.Therewassomethingdeeplypatheticabouther,andBeth’sheartsoftened.“Idon’twantlunch,”Bethsaid,“butyoucandropmeoffatthezoo.I’lltakeacabback.”

           Mrs.Wheatleyhardlyseemedtohear,butafteramomentsheturnedtoBeth,stillholdingtheglassinthesameway,andsmiledvaguely.“That’llbenice,dear,”shesaid.

           ***

           BethspentalongtimelookingattheGalapagosturtles—big,lumberingcreaturesinpermanentslowmotion.Oneofthekeepershaddumpedabushelofwet-lookinglettuceandoverripetomatoesintotheirpenandthefiveofthempushedthroughthepileasagroup,munchingandtrampling,theirfeetlikethedustyfeetofelephantsandtheirstupidinnocentfacesintentonsomethingbeyondvisionorfood.

           Whileshewasstandingbythefenceavendorcamebywithacartoficedbeerand,hardlythinking,shesaid,“CervezaCorona,porfavor,”andheldoutafive-pesonote.ThemanflippedoffthebottletopandpouredthedrinkintoapapercupwithanAztecEaglelogo.“Muchisimasgracias,”shesaid.Itwasherfirstbeersincehighschool;inthehotMexicansun,ittastedwonderful.Shedrankitquickly.Afewminuteslatershesawanothervendorstandingbyacircleofredflowers;sheboughtanotherbeer.