The solace of leaving early
She remembered, oh yes---what a wonderful thing to recall after so many years---a surprise he had given her for Christmas when she was eighteen, close to the end, two tickets to see La Boheme at Clowes Hall in Indianapolis. As soon as the lights went down and the play began Langston loved it so much, she felt from the very beginning that she could devote her life to opera. She lost herself. And then the lights went up for the intermission, and Taos turned to her, his eyes always unnaturally bright, his hair a curly mess, and asked Langston if she was enjoying herself.
"Oh yes, I simply adore it. I'm having a fabulous time."
Taos nodded. "Let's leave then, shall we?"
And Langston simply stood up and reached for her coat. She knew exactly what Taos meant; she knew he wasn't being perverse or clever or idiosyncratic. He was handing her the sweetest possibility this life offers: to leave in the middle, while everyone else stays behind and waits for the heroine to die in the cold.
"Oh yes, I simply adore it. I'm having a fabulous time."
Taos nodded. "Let's leave then, shall we?"
And Langston simply stood up and reached for her coat. She knew exactly what Taos meant; she knew he wasn't being perverse or clever or idiosyncratic. He was handing her the sweetest possibility this life offers: to leave in the middle, while everyone else stays behind and waits for the heroine to die in the cold.