Summer People

by Marge Piercy

  She felt the artificiality of her depression. Were she working on some of the new ideas she had brought back from Tanglewood, she would be happy. Busy was happy. Idle was sad. Elementary chemistry of her body and brain. All this for an addition she did not truly desire. All she wanted was a washer and a dryer, so she wouldn’t have to drive fifteen miles each way and hang around the Laundromat for two or three hours every time she needed clean clothes. All she really wanted was to be back in her tight family with Susan and Willie, sharing their lives. This construction was fallout from that initial explosion.

  She wondered if Willie had told Susan about them yet. He kept vaguely promising. He implied that Susan knew but not officially. Dinah hoped so, because if Susan did tacitly condone the relationship, then it must mean she was not truly hostile and liked leaving the door that far ajar. It was a way, Dinah told herself, of not letting go entirely. But the months dragged on. She wanted things above-board between them. Open and clear.

  She hardly knew if she really objected to sharing her house with Jimmy, since with him had arrived hoards of workmen and carpenters, guys in her kitchen smoking and drinking beer and eating fast food, loud men she was always coming upon and scuttling sideways around like a small wary crab. The new room upstairs would make a wonderful bedroom for a child. She had not said that to anyone. To whom would she say it? Nita knew what she was thinking, but did not believe she would do it. If only delivery really was delivery, by post for instance. Send me a baby for Rosh Hashonah, please. Ten fingers, ten toes, any sex. By the time she had begun to think about a baby when she was with Mark, he had lung cancer and he was her baby. But that unconceived but conceivable child was why she had agreed to the addition.

  A letter from a freshman at Sarah Lawrence: ‘I was asleep until I read your poetry. I was frozen and your words thawed me. I was a terrified child, curled up in foetal position afraid to think of love, afraid of life …’ A divorcee in Harrisburg: ‘Your poems made me hope that somewhere there are men who feel as women do, who have hearts, who shed tears, who can care and connect …’ She did not have his letters, but frequently the next letter from the fan, perhaps soon afterward, perhaps many months later, was in obvious reply to a note setting up an appointment. ‘I’m so thrilled you’re giving a reading at Sarah Lawrence.’ ‘Of course I can drive to Wilkes-Barre to see you. And a drink later would be special and wonderful. I can’t believe I’m actually going to meet you at last!’ Did everybody get what they wanted? Somehow she doubted that. Human relations appeared to her a cesspool.

  Tosca decided she had been reading letters long enough and came to stand in her lap and bat at her face. The mosquitoes began to bite beyond endurance. Dinah rowed back to shore and then took a quick dip in shorts and tee shirt.

  Her answering machine was blinking for messages. One was a plumber returning Jimmy’s calls. The other was Itzak, leaving a Boston area number. She called expecting a hotel. Instead she got his answering machine. As she started to speak, he picked up the phone.

  ‘Dinah! The real estate agent found me a house in Brookline. I came up to see it and took it on the spot.’

  ‘You’re moving to Boston? Really?’ Somehow she had not thought he would choose one of his options, but go on floating them on the air for years.

  ‘Correction. I have moved to Boston. I’m in my empty house waiting for my furniture. I have a young man who wants to study with me – he got the phone installed and the electricity and gas connected. I’m here with a chair I just bought on Beacon Street and the suitcases I brought along, my flutes and a sleeping bag my student lent me, waiting for the movers to arrive with all my earthly goods.’

  The story about the student alarmed her, she could not figure out why. She was surely not jealous of a student, it wasn’t that. ‘What’s your house like?’ she temporized. ‘Is it big?’

  ‘It seems huge. But the real estate agent called it a small house. It sits on a good sized lot with two sugar maples and a purple beech, which really is purple, and a hedge out front. It’s two storeys tall, red brick, with a separate garage, like a cave in the side of the hill.’

  In her head she saw a detached house, strait and red brick, sitting in the middle of a flat lot with a purple tree in front of it and privet hedge across the front of a child’s drawing. ‘How many rooms does it have?’ She found herself incredulous. Without waiting for him to answer she continued, ‘Why did you do it? Suddenly buy a house?’

  ‘Why not? I’ve been hating where I am. I set various things in motion, and this one agent kept calling up with houses. Most of them sounded too big or weird or were beyond expensive into ridiculous. This was three ten and available right now. It had been sold and the people moved into their new condominium in Florida when the deal fell through. That is, they wanted three fifty but they’d got the other people’s deposit, and I was ready to sign and they needed the money. So. Here I am in my own brick castle.’

  ‘Itzak, you’ve always lived around New York – I mean in the States. I wonder if Boston won’t seem too small, too provincial to you.’

  ‘I need something less overwhelming … Wait a minute. I hear something.’

  She held the phone, sorry she had not changed before returning his call. Her wet clothes felt dirty and heavy on her.

  ‘Dinah? It’s the movers. I’ll call you back when they leave.’

  Pulling the shades, which she never shut except against the cold, she changed into a sundress. Time to think about making supper. It was too hot to eat. It was too hot to care. Reluctantly she settled down to patting chopped meat into hamburger patties with an egg and wheat germ and sauted onions added, finely chopped thyme and parsley. She snapped the beans and put on water to steam them. She laid out bagels and condiments.

  The student reminded her of Mark. He too would always have somebody doing his scut work because they wanted to study with him, hoping his technique or passion or knowledge would rub off. Was Itzak like Mark? She shuddered. No, she did not want to be eaten up by a relationship again, consumed, recruited into a particular man’s creativity, no matter how interesting he might be. Willie never stole her energy to feed himself or his work.

  She also fretted that Itzak had moved to Boston to be near her, to have better access to a relationship from which he wanted more. Was that true? Or was she caught between paranoia and delusions of grandeur? After all, how much could she mean to him? They had spent a total of perhaps two weeks together. She should have plainly told him that she was involved with Willie again; but it was so confused and murky with Susan, what Susan did or didn’t know or condone, she couldn’t run about telling others. As an illicit relationship, it was on the silly side, like having an affair with your own ex-husband. Still, had she known Itzak was going to act and not simply go on balancing all his options, she would have told him. Now a guilty common sense informed her that the timing would be distinctly gauche.

  The last of the workmen roared off and Jimmy took a shower. He had two guys helping him put the walls up and the roof on, and then he planned to continue with just himself and her. She had been drafted, but she might as well do carpentry, because she was writing no music.

  Since Jimmy was involved with Laurie he hadn’t tried to inveigle her into bed again, but they could talk bluntly. She told him that she was worried that Itzak had moved to be near her, while she was unsure exactly how committed she was to him.

  Jimmy was slathering Dijon mustard on his hamburger. ‘Do Dad and this guy know about each other?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I know you and my old man are getting it on again.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Ah, Dinah, you may be a good performer as a musician, but don’t ever let any jackass talk you into acting. You’re the worst.’

  ‘You mean I act a certain way around Willie?’

  ‘You look at him the same way you always did, and that’s how he looks at you. It’s palpable.’ Jimmy laughed. ‘But even if I weren
’t the perceptive sensitive guy I am, from Laurie’s desk I see him scuttling across the yard from his studio and zip into your house maybe three mornings a week.’

  ‘Do you think Susan knows?’

  ‘If she doesn’t know, it’s because she’s not paying attention. If she’s paying attention, she knows.’

  ‘Jimmy, will we make it up?’

  ‘You seem to have made it up fine with Willie. Mother’s harder. She’s no good at admitting when she’s wrong. She’s much less forgiving with women. She has different standards for women.’

  ‘Like Johnny.’

  ‘Willie says she’s coming for his opening. I should give her a call.’

  ‘Then remind me not to get back together with Susan till after that visit. I can’t stand to see them together. Talk about two people who bring out the absolute worst in each other.’

  ‘I’d still like to see Johnny. I stopped there when I was on my way east, but she has a live-in boyfriend who did not appreciate my company.’

  ‘You have a cold insulting style with each other, but you get on pretty well. You always stick up for each other.’

  ‘Johnny can’t stand gushing. She breaks out into hives when Mother starts fussing up somebody, her Oh you dear, thank you for existing drivel. I don’t mind. It’s just cheap attention – like scolding somebody or giving advice. All easy forms of concern.’Jimmy stuck the last burger on a sliced bagel. ‘The red onions are coming along – very sweet this year and getting big. You never answered whether Willie and Itzak know about each other.’

  ‘Willie knows that Itzak exists, sure. Itzak knows I used to be involved with Willie, but I never got around to mentioning we’re back together part time.’ Dinah sat back in her chair. ‘Does Laurie know you bought that necklace for Lisa?’

  ‘Lisa didn’t want it. Laurie did. Lisa didn’t want me. Laurie did. Everybody’s happy now.’

  ‘Are you happy with her?’

  ‘Of course I am. You think I’m just fucking around? When my divorce comes through, I’ll marry her.’

  ‘You’re not in love with her.’

  ‘I’m not infatuated. She is. I don’t get infatuated. I learned when I was sixteen that’s really stupid. It’s a form of self-hypnosis that people get high on, but it doesn’t have anything to do with the other person. Sometimes, Dinah, you don’t give me enough credit for being as smart and sensible as I am. My parents are two likeable losers. That’s not who Johnny is and that’s not who I am.’

  ‘Willie lives in a beautiful place. He has two women who love him. He eats well, he’s healthy, he makes the art he wants and eventually he sells it because enough other people like his work. Do you really think being on the cover of People magazine or wearing a Rolex that costs as much as a car makes anybody feel better than Willie?’

  ‘I love this place. Unlike any of you, I grew up to this and I want it. I want to be somebody in town. I don’t want to be on TV. I have hard clear fantasies, things I can have. I’m the real contractor on the gallery and I’m making a place for myself. I’m not going to be a nail-banger. I understand design. I know how to do it right. I’m going to design and build houses that people with money are going to want. It’s the only way a kid like me who grew up here can compete with the summer people’s money and get me a little piece of land and the good life.’

  ‘And if you’re married to Laurie, Tyrone will back you.’ ‘Why shouldn’t he? I’ll pay off any investment in me better than the stock market. I’m a secure investment, Dinah. He’ll figure that out eventually. Susan thought he’d hit the roof, and he’s barely paid us any mind.’

  ‘He didn’t invite you to that big party last week.’

  ‘As I told Laurie, I don’t give a damn. Those aren’t people I need or want. I don’t need to hang around drinking till eight-thirty and sit down to dinner at nine. I have to get up at six. I don’t fight unnecessary battles.’

  Dinah was still in the kitchen freezing beans when Itzak called back. ‘They unloaded half the stuff and went off to a motel. They’ll be back in the morning. I’m dragging furniture around the house, but I need help. Or maybe I need to get away from this mess. Can I come out the day after tomorrow?’

  ‘Itzak, here is total chaos. I told you Jimmy’s living here – my neighbour’s son. He’s also working on my house. I have carpenters and roofers, plumbers, electricians and I’m going absolutely crazy. I haven’t done two full days work since I left you in Tanglewood. I hate it! I don’t live here anymore, I just squat on a construction site!’

  ‘Oh. Then why don’t you come in to me? You can work here, once we get things in order. Only the furniture all disappeared into three rooms and there’s so much space left. Come tomorrow.’

  ‘Itzak, I have two cats. When I got back from Tanglewood, the builders had let them out and one of them I didn’t find for two days. I can’t leave them under these conditions.’

  ‘So bring them too. They’re nice cats. I like the little grey one, the minx. Bring them both.’

  ‘Really? A refugee composer and two cats?’

  ‘Come camp with me. See what I’ve done to myself. I’m not sure right now I didn’t commit some immense folly. I’m suffering homeowner panic. Did you have a rainstorm last night?’

  ‘No. I wish we had. We need rain.’

  ‘I discovered the roof leaks. Upstairs in one of the bedrooms.’

  ‘The roofs of all old houses leak. You just replace them every twenty years and patch them in between.’

  ‘See, you know about houses. You’ll explain it all. Can you come?’

  ‘The day after tomorrow. We’ll come.’

  Normally nothing would seduce her into the city in the heat of summer, but she could not resist escaping from the builders for a couple of days. Maybe working. Maybe even working. The huge relief that surged through her gave her a measure of how blocked she had been feeling. Freedom!

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  SUSAN

  Susan could see Tyrone out on the pond. He was sailing the little boat Laurie had given him for Christmas. First he took Laurie out with him; then Candida; then a man with white hair she did not recognize. Susan had the heavy binoculars propped on the sill of a window in her room so that she could steady them.

  It was a hideous mockery of what she had looked forward to, the summer come at last, the season she loved, the season she lived for, and she was shut out utterly! Willie treated it as a joke. He pretended indifference at not being invited to Tyrone’s, exile from the life at the far end of the pond that was a continual party. By the time she managed a rapprochement, Tyrone would not longer be interested in telling stories about his sojourn in Japan.

  Tyrone did not travel as a vulgar tourist. He was met, escorted, feted. He never had to stay in two-star compromises hoping for a night’s sleep. He was never walking into some random restaurant praying he could make himself understood. He was never cast on his own resources as she had been in Paris years ago, forced into standing in line three times until she was weeping hysterically in the Gare de Lyon frustrated by her inability to get the French official behind the grille to sell her a simple reserved seat ticket to Limoges. He tasted a city as she might pick the finest ripest apricot from a bowl of fruit. He did not rely on brochures and tourist guides, but everywhere he went, interesting people awaited him, eager to share their pleasures.

  Willie and Jimmy might as well have conspired to destroy her summer, but they merely bumbled along in their own selfish and thoughtless pursuits, doing casual damage without bothering to notice. Jimmy had the naive conviction he had gotten away with something, that Tyrone had accepted the affair with his daughter without a word of reproach, without a blow struck. She knew better. Tyrone had not begun to deal with what he must regard as a problem. It was on his agenda, of that Susan was certain.

  If only she could please him in some way. She thought of bringing him a present, a bouquet of flowers from her garden/Tommy Rindge had destroyed most of her flower garde
n looking for sand and finding clay. Besides, Tyrone had a cutting garden of his own maintained by Alice Dove. She came by twice a week and weeded and watered. It was in better shape than her own garden this summer. Tyrone had Sally buy flowers in town when he was giving a dinner party. Indeed, what could she give him? His was the largess. She could not afford anything that would be of interest, that might offer him pleasure. In previous years, Dinah and Willie and she had put up conserves, jams, had made cordials out of beach plums, rum cherries, blackberries. Tyrone could buy the finest French and Swiss preserves and Marie Brizard liqueurs. What was the point of going over like an idiot with last year’s blueberry conserve?

  Far from scheming to run into him, she had stopped swimming at noon. She felt her body was not trim and youthful enough to parade before his guests. She began to swim in the evenings instead. The water was still warm, the air cooler. As long as she swam at a decent pace, the mosquitoes did not bother her. Once she got out of the water, she flapped at them with her towel and ran for the house. She knew she was not swimming as far as she always had. She had trouble telling sometimes how far she had swum.

  Her house seemed shabby in the view of all those wealthy people, with its yard torn up and piles of lumber and shingling all over. She felt embarrassed for the mess. They had created a little Appalachia on their shore, offending Tyrone whenever he glanced their way. After delaying so many years on her desire for a studio, why couldn’t Willie have waited until fall? On the other hand, Tyrone was unfair. Willie had had to finish the boathouse before he could start anything. Finally it did not matter if Tyrone were fair or unfair, because a summer without him was too bleak to endure.