The Editor

[[[ This is an excerpt from a longer work about a girl named Lee, who believes, inexplicably, that destiny has preordained her to be the world’s editor. This scene takes place a few days after Maire, the point of view character, meets Lee. It is set in the dining room of a women’s shelter, which Maire’s mother runs. ]]]1

Maire took a plate of spaghetti from the serving line and followed Lee to a long table. Sitting down across from her companion, Maire scanned the dining hall. At the other end of the table was a heavy-set white woman with two small children and a badly bruised face, and she seemed to be having a difficult time convincing them to eat. Near her was a tall black woman with a heavy winter coat and a heavier expression. The usual look of people around here. Then Maire looked at Lee, bright-eyed and smiling and so gawky that she looked prepubescent. Someone just didn’t fit. 2

“Lee,” Maire finally said, pronouncing her name like a sigh. “What are you doing here? I can tell you’re not stupid. You can’t possibly have planned to come to Chicago and live on the generosity of strangers.”3

“That was not my plan,” Lee said in her usual stilted tone. “You see, I had thought that the university would still be in session. I was going to see what sort of work I could get editing term papers. I was a week late, obviously.”4

Maire snorted. “Planning isn’t your strong suit, is it?” Lee shrugged, and Maire took a bite of her spaghetti before continuing. “What made you think you could edit term papers, anyway?”5

“I am quite good at editing,” Lee said, bristling slightly at the insinuation she was not.6

“I’m sure you are talented in English, Lee, but there’s a whole lot more to editing a college term paper than that,” Maire said, waving her fork a bit. “I doubt you would’ve had much work to do, anyway.” 7

“I know how to edit a term paper,” Lee said, apparently still insulted by Maire’s doubt. “I am fluent in MLA, APA, Turabian, and Chicago styles.”8

“Fluent in style?” Maire challenged. “There is no such thing. ”9

“I am,” Lee insisted.10

“Fine,” Maire said. After all, she couldn’t prove Lee wrong, could she? So there was no point in arguing. “That wasn’t what I meant, though. Surely you aren’t here just planning to edit papers the rest of your life. You must have some other plan.”11

“I do,” said Lee. “It is difficult to explain. You will laugh at me if I tell you.”12

“I may,” Maire replied. “I also may laugh at you whether you tell me or not. You have nothing to lose, either way.”13

Lee nodded and picked at a piece of fried chicken with her fork. “You are right, but explaining is still difficult.” Maire remained silent while Lee gathered her thoughts. Then she began. 14

“For my entire life, I have felt like I was set apart for something. I have always loved language. I love it more than anyone I have ever met. Fixing language when it is used incorrectly--” Here, Lee sighed, not unlike someone in love. “--is the greatest pleasure in my life. A few months ago, I finally realized what I am supposed to do with my love of language. I am to be the world editor.”15

Maire took a second to absorb that, to make sure that Lee really meant what she heard. Then she laugh a short, barking sort of laugh. “The world’s editor?” Maire mocked. “Ambitious, aren’t you? Well, I am certain the Germanic languages pose no difficulty. After all, they’re practically English. Romance languages probably aren’t a problem, either. Something like sixty percent of English words came from Latin. But tell me, how is your Basque? Your Swahili? How about the whole Sino-Tibetan family; do you feel competent to edit that? I won’t ask about your Hebrew, or your Icelandic, or your Quechua, but I think you had better have a plan before you go and declare yourself the supreme authority on all language.” Maire took a deep breath and realized that she had forgotten how good it felt to rip an opponent’s logic to shreds.16

“I understand,” said Lee. “I cannot edit languages other than English, you are correct--”17

“Languages other than English?” Maire said, ready to jump back in where she left off. “I would question whether you can even edit that! Do you know all of the technical differences between American English and British English? What about Canadian and Australian English? Or--”18

“You mean ‘What about Canadian English and Australian English,’” said Lee, suddenly looking very businesslike. “By omitting the first ‘English,’ you imply that Canadian is a language and create ambiguity, especially since the Canadian language could also be French.”19

“I have this sneaking suspicion that you were often beaten up as a child,” Maire said. She didn’t like having the momentum of her argument taken away like that.20

“I was never beaten,” Lee said ponderously, wrinkling her brow. “Why do you think I was?” 21

“Because you’re damned annoying. Anyone with any grasp of context would have understood what I meant.”22

Lee twirled a green pen between her fingers and was silent for a long time. Maire waited for her to say something, but she didn’t. Finally, Maire decided she must have offended the girl.23

“Look, Lee.” Maire sighed. “You’ll have to excuse my language. And my accusation, I guess. I just mean that people don’t like to be corrected. I didn’t mean that I think you’re annoying, so there’s no reason for you to be mad at me.” 24

“I am not mad at you,” Lee said. “I do not think you used “damned” correctly, though. It can be a verb or an interjection. Maybe it could be a noun in some colloquial cases. You used it as an adverb, which is not without precedent, but quite unpleasant to the ear. I think it might be incorrect.” Lee’s glance conveyed the gravity of this sin.25

Maire started laughing, then. She couldn’t help it. “I used it colloquially, Lee! You can’t put limits on colloquial use. Spoken language changes; that’s its nature.”26

“I know,” said Lee. “When I hear something that might be incorrect, though, I cannot help but comment. It is a disorder of some kind, I think. If you were to split an infinitive or conjugate a verb incorrectly, I could not help but correct it.”27

“Really,” said Maire. She looked down at her lunch tray. “My mom really ought to arrange for more healthier meals.”28

“Your mother ought to arrange for more healthy meals.”29

“Why not ‘healthful’?”30

“I do not believe in splitting hairs,” Lee said airily. Maire nearly choked on her own spit.