Lessons in Chemistry(54)

“The point is, Miss Zott,” Dr. Mason said, avoiding her question as he grabbed a towel, moistened it, then moved to the high chair, where he used it to clean Mad’s sticky hands, “we’ve been having an ongoing problem with Two Seat. Between you and me, he’s a terrible rower, was only ever in the boat because of some old collegiate connections. But that all ended this past weekend when he broke his leg in a ski accident.” He tried to hide his delight. “Fractured in three places!”

Madeline stuck out her arms and the doctor lifted her out of the chair.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Elizabeth said. “And I appreciate the vote of confidence. Still, I don’t have the experience. I was only in your boat a few times and that was because of Calvin.”

“Alv-in,” said Mad.

“Of course you have the experience,” Dr. Mason said, surprised. “Seriously? Trained by Calvin Evans himself? In a pair? I’d take that kind of expertise over some giant ex-college lackey any day of the week.”

“And I’m also busy,” she explained again.

“At four thirty in the morning? You’ll be back home before this one even knows you’ve been gone. Two seat.” He emphasized the phrase like this was a special deal that wouldn’t last. “Remember? We discussed this.”

Elizabeth shook her head. Calvin had been the same way—treated rowing as if it naturally superseded everything. She remembered a morning in particular when some of the other rowers in a different boat were expressing surprise that their five seat hadn’t shown up. The coxswain called him at home, discovering that Five Seat had a high fever. “Okay, but you’re still coming, right?” he demanded.

“Miss Zott,” Dr. Mason said, “I don’t mean to put you on the spot, but the truth is, we need you. I know I only rowed with you those few times, but I know what I felt. Plus, getting back in a boat will make you feel so much better. We all,” he said, thinking of his row that morning, “will feel so much better. Ask your neighbor. See if she won’t watch the baby.”

“At four thirty in the morning?”

“This is what is so unsung about rowing,” Dr. Mason said, turning to leave. “It happens at a time when no one’s really that busy.”



* * *



—

“I’ll do it,” Harriet said.

“You can’t be serious,” Elizabeth said.

“It’ll be fun,” Harriet said as if everyone agreed getting up in the middle of the night was fun. But really it was because of Mr. Sloane. He’d been drinking more and swearing more and the only way she knew how to deal with it was to stay away. “Anyway, it’s only three mornings a week.”

“It’s just a tryout. I may not pass muster.”

“You’ll be fine,” Harriet said. “You’ll pass with flying colors.”



* * *



—

But as Elizabeth wended her way through the boathouse two days later, small pods of drowsy rowers glancing at her in surprise, she began to feel that Harriet’s faith and Dr. Mason’s needs were both exaggerated.

“Good morning,” she said to rowers at random. “Hello.”

“What’s she doing here?” she heard someone whisper.

“Jesus,” said another.

“Miss Zott,” Dr. Mason called from the far end of the boathouse. “Over here.”

She plotted a path through the labyrinth of bodies to a disheveled group of men who looked as if they’d just received some very bad news.

“Elizabeth Zott,” she said firmly, holding out her hand. No one took it.

“Zott will be rowing two seat today,” Mason said. “Bill broke his leg.”

Silence.

“Coach,” Dr. Mason said, turning to a homicidal-looking man. “This is the rower I told you about.”

Silence.

“Some of you may remember, she rowed with us before.”

Silence.

“Any questions?”

Silence.

“Let’s get going then.” He tipped his head at the coxswain.



* * *



—

“I think that went well, don’t you?” Dr. Mason said later as they walked to their cars. She turned to look at him. When she was in labor and in horrific pain, convinced the baby was snatching her internal organs like suitcases as if to ensure she’d have plenty to wear on the outside, she screamed so violently the bed frame shook. Once the contraction passed, she’d opened her eyes to see Dr. Mason leaning over her. See? he’d said. Not so bad, right?

She fiddled with her car keys. “I think the coxswain and coach would disagree.”

“Oh that,” he said, waving it off with his hand. “Normal. I thought you knew. New rower gets blamed for everything. You mostly rowed with Evans—you don’t really understand the finer points of rowing culture. Just give it a few rows; you’ll see.”

She hoped he was being honest, because the truth was, she’d loved being out on the water again. She felt exhausted, but in a good way.

“What I find interesting about rowing,” Dr. Mason was saying, “is that it’s always done backwards. It’s almost as if the sport itself is trying to teach us not to get ahead of ourselves.” He opened his car door. “Actually, when you think about it, rowing is almost exactly like raising kids. Both require patience, endurance, strength, and commitment. And neither allow us to see where we’re going—only where we’ve been. I find that very reassuring, don’t you? Except for the flip-outs—of course. I could really do with fewer flip-outs.”