Chapter 11

Mary set her phone down reluctantly. She'd had a feeling recently, whenever she talked to Marshall, that there was always something more to say. And she was constantly reminded of things he'd told her. Facts about the development of the mobile phone. Sometimes, she got the urge to check what he said but she could never quite remember what he'd told her. Tons of facts. Someday she might ask him what it all meant in terms of ideas. Facts and bits explain nothing.

She wanted to call him back to let him know that. She'd told him a few times that random facts were worthless. Maybe she'd been a bit rude. He'd told her that in previous times, there were a few people who knew everything there was to know. What had he said? Something about how nowadays, everyone just had to know how to find information. He'd said, what a relief, they don't have to carry everything around any more.

"So why do you?" She'd asked.

"Mostly because someone told me being smart can get you laid." He'd replied, never taking his eyes off of whatever he was doing on the computer. Probably sudoku. She knew he always finished his work quickly and then pretended to work for the rest of the day.

Mary spent a moment listening to the quiet of the house. Remembering moments with Marshall hadn't eased her urge to talk to him. She looked at the wall, thinking of what he and Raph had done for her. She suddenly wanted to know the etymology of the word 'spackle' and that alone was enough to make her worry about her own sanity.

Marshall was busy. Chasing down escaped prisoners. He needed his sleep, so she couldn't bother him. She opened her computer. What was the site? She searched etymology.

Spackle: proprietary name for a surfacing compound, 1927, probably based on Ger. spachtel "putty knife, mastic, filler." The verb is attested from 1940.

She wondered a bit about how much languages changed in the course of a century. It'd be a good question to ask Marshall, maybe. She sighed. She'd been trying to not think about Marshall. She hated feeling like a girl, obsessing about a guy. She had a life, right?

Luckily, just as she was starting to type an e-mail to him, there was the ring of the doorbell.