Solar house project

"Oh—look!" she exclaimed, walking around the procession. "Oh—they're

wonderful!"

She walked faster, flourishing an imaginary lance, and then began prancing

as if she were on horseback herself. Part of me wanted to join in; as I said,

I've always loved those knights myself, and besides, I'd been a King Arthur

nut when I was little. But the other part of me was stiff with embarrassment.

"Annie," I began, in the warning voice my mother used to use when my

brother and I got too exuberant as children.

But by then Annie had pretended to fall off her horse, dropping her lance.

She drew an imaginary sword so convincingly I knew I was admiring her

skill in spite of myself, and then when she cried, "En garde!

Stand and fight or I'll run you through!" I knew I wasn't going to be able to

keep from smiling much longer. "If you do not fight me, knight," she said,

"you will rue the day that ever you unhorsed me here in this green wood!" I

had to laugh then, her mood was so catching. Besides, by then I'd noticed

that the only other people around were a couple of little boys at the opposite

end of the Hall. In the next minute I completely stopped resisting. I imagined

a horse and leapt down from it, crying in my best King Arthur style, "I will

not fight an unhorsed knight and me mounted. But now that I am on the

ground, you will not live to tell the tale of this day's battle!" I pretended to

throw aside my lance and draw a sword, too.

"Nor you!" cried Annie with a lack of logic that we laughed about later.

"Have at you, then!" she shouted, swiping at me with her sword.

In another minute we were both hopping in and out of the procession of

knights, laying about with our imaginary swords and shouting chivalrous

insults at each other. After about the third insult, the little boys left the other

end of the Hall and came over to watch us. "I'm for the one in the cape!" one

of them shouted. "Go, Cape!"

"I'm not," said his friend. "Go, Raincoat!" Annie and I caught each other's

eyes and I realized that we were making a silent agreement to fight on till the

death for the benefit of our audience. The only trouble was, I wasn't sure how

we were going to signal each other which one of us was going to die andwhen. "Here—what's going on here? Stop that, you two, this instant—old

enough to know better, aren't you?" I felt a strong hand close around my

shoulder and I turned and saw the uniform of a museum guard topped by a

very red, very angry face. "We're terribly sorry, sir," Annie said, with a look

of such innocence I didn't see how anyone could possibly be angry at her.

"The knights are so—so splendid! I've never seen them before—I got carried

away."

"Harrumph!" the guard said, loosening his hold on my shoulder and saying

again, "Old enough to know better, both of you." He glared at the two little

boys, who by now were huddled together, mouths wide open. "Don't let this

give you any ideas," he roared after them as they scurried off like a pair of

frightened field mice. When they were gone, the guard scowled at us again—

he scowled, that is, but his eyes didn't look angry. "Darn good fight," he

grunted. "Ought to do Shakespeare in the Park, you two. But no more, he

said, shaking his finger. "Not here—understand?"

"Oh, yes, sir," Annie said contritely, and I nodded, and we stood there

practically holding our breaths as he lumbered away. The second he was

gone, we both burst out laughing. "Oh, Liza," Annie said, "I don't know

when I've had so much fun."

"Neither do I," I said truthfully. "And, hey, guess what? I wasn't even

embarrassed, except right at the beginning." Then a funny thing happened.

We looked at each other, really looked, I mean, for the first time, and for a

moment or two I don't think I could have told anyone my name, let alone

where I was. Nothing like that had ever happened to me before, and I think—

I know—it scared me. It was a bit longer before I could speak, and even then

all I could say was, "Come on—the temple's this way." We went silently

through the Egyptian section, and I watched Annie's face as we walked into

the Sackler Wing and she saw the Temple of Dendur, with the pool and open

space in front of it. It's a sight that stuns most people, and it still stuns me,

even though I've been there many times. It's the absence of shadows, I think,

and the brightness— stark and pure, even on a day as rainy as that one was.

Light streams in through glass panels that are as open as the sky and reflects

from the pool, making the temple's present setting seem as vast and

changeable as its original one on the river Nile must have been thousands of years ago. Annie gasped as soon as we walked in. "It's outdoors!" she said.

"Like it, I mean. But—but exactly like it." She threw out her arms as if

embracing all of it, and let out her breath in an exasperated sigh, as if she

were frustrated at not being able to find the right words. "I know," I said; I'd

never felt I'd found the right words, either—and Annie smiled. Then, her

back very straight, she walked slowly around the pool and up to the temple as

if she were the goddess Isis herself, inspecting it for the first time and

approving. When she came back, she stood so close to me our hands would

have touched if we'd moved them. "Thank you," she said softly, "for

showing me this. The choir screen, too." She stepped back a little. "This

room seems like you." She smiled. "Bright and clear. Not somber like me and

the choir screen."

"But you're …" I stopped, realizing I was about to say beautiful—surprised

at thinking it, and confused again. Annie's smile deepened as if she'd heard

my thought, but then she turned away. "I should go," she said. "It's getting

late."

"Where do you live?" The words slipped out before I could think much about

them. But there didn't seem any reason not to ask. "Way uptown," Annie

said, after hesitating a moment. "Here …" She pushed her cape back and

groped in a pocket, pulling out a pencil stub and a little notebook. She

scribbled her address and phone number, tore the page off, and handed it to

me. "Now you have to give me yours." I did, and then we just sort of chatted

as we walked back through the Egyptian section and outside into the rain. I

don't remember what we said; but I do remember feeling that something

important had happened, and that words didn't matter much. In a few more

minutes, Annie was on a cross town bus, and I was heading in the opposite

direction to get the IRT subway home to Brooklyn. I was halfway home

before I realized I hadn't done any thinking about my solar-house project at

all.