The Broken Teaglass Read Online Free Page A

definition of
editrix
, and found
editrices
and
editrixes
given as possible plural forms. The entry for
dominatrix
, on the other hand, gives only
dominatrices
for the plural form. My question for you, Ms. Minot, is if this inconsistency is an error. How can the
-xes
ending be correct for one of the words and not the other? As both an editrix and a lexicographer, I suppose you are uniquely qualified to satisfy my curiosity. I trust I will receive a prompt and satisfactory reply.
    Cordially,
    Jared Houston
    Student
    “This is really the worst kind of correspondent,” said Dan. “The gadfly. People who don’t want to stop writing to us, want to catch us in an error, or just show us how clever they are. Usually these people have a lot of time on their hands.
    “Normally this letter would go to Mona, since it’s addressed to her. But Mr. Houston …” He paused.
“Student
. Whoever he is, he’s been bothering Mona for a few months now. And this subtle pairing of ‘dominatrix’ and ‘editrix’—frankly, I find that a little frightening, and I think Mona agrees. It usually helps when another person answers instead. The guy might realize that she doesn’t have time for a pen pal. Sometimes we just have to stop answering, unfortunately.”
    “Who’s Mona?” I asked.
    “Oh—you haven’t met yet? Mona’s our most recent hire before you. Last year. Her cubicle is on the other side of the floor, closer to the citation files.”
    “Does she know about this letter?”
    “Yes. I showed it to her. Mona’s quite happy not to have to answer it. But you might want to go introduce yourself and ask her about Mr. Houston. She could probably tell you a few stories. Mona’s had some bad luck with correspondence.”
    “Okay.”
    “And don’t be afraid to raid the cit files if you feel you need to. To write your correspondence.”
    “Okay,” I said.
    The cit files
. We’d talked a great deal about them, but I hadn’t as yet been granted permission to look inside them. The editorial office took up the entire second floor of the Samuelson building. Around the perimeter of the floor were the cubicles, but in the middle of the room were the five rows of cabinets with little wooden drawers—like a giant set of old-fashioned card catalogues. Some of the little cards in there were rumored to go back over a hundred years, to the early days of the company. Editors were always getting up from their cubicles, opening drawers, pulling out stacks of cards to consult, poring over the citations. I’d begun to wonder when I’d get to paw around in there myself. Now that I was official, I felt a little twinge of self-distrust, like when you look over a railing and imagine yourself jumping. As if I might have an inexplicable impulse to flick a lighter into one of the files, reducing entire word histories to ash.
    Dan thumped the side of my cubicle as if patting someone on the back. “And just—well, just do the best you can with it.”
    I read the letter a few more times and then decided to take a little walk and find Mona Minot, its original recipient.When I reached the corner of the office that Dan had described, I circled around the two sets of cubicles there, trying to guess which person was Mona.
    “Can I help you find something?”
    I turned. A pale, tired-looking woman was standing at the copier, stuffing paper into it in small handfuls. Her high penciled-in eyebrows and stiff movements made me think of Japanese Kabuki theater.
    “Hi—I’m, uh—looking for Mona?”
    “Oh. Well, I’m Anna, by the way.” She walked over and gave me a weak handshake. “I should have introduced myself earlier.”
    “I’m Billy,” I said.
    “I know.” Anna arched one of her razor-thin eyebrows. “Dan sent a memo around.”
    “Okay. It’s nice to meet you, Anna.”
    “Thank you. Mona is there, in the farthest corner,” Anna said, pointing. “The petite one, with the dark hair.”
    The cubicle where she was pointing was occupied