“And what are we, Doctor?” Jessie asked.
“Men. Women. Nothing more, nothing less. The more we try to be gods, the more unhappy we become. Our bodies tell us what is pleasurable, what feels good. Why deny it or try for something else?”
“But what about our souls?”
“That’s where you have me, my dear. I’m a doctor of the body. But those who doctor the souls never seem very happy in their work,” he added. Baker laughed loudly. “Besides, there’s enough time to worry about that afterward.”
“That all sounds rather selfish,” Jessie said. “And from what we’ve heard about you, you don’t sound like a selfish man.”
“She’s got you there, Dr. Beezly,” Baker said.
“My pleasure comes from seeing that others enjoy their lives to the fullest limits.”
“Then you contradict yourself,” Jessie said. There was a moment of silence. It was as if everyone, including Lee, was holding his breath.
“How so?”
“You just said when we try to be more than men and women, we make ourselves unhappy. But you’re trying to be God.”
The silence grew deeper for a moment.
And then Dr. Beezly laughed.
“Of all the things I’d never want to be,” he said, “that would top my list. I’m afraid I’m just a country doctor, my dear.”
“Well, I don’t know about anyone else,” Bob Baker said, “but that was a most stimulating exchange, which, I’m afraid has made me very hungry.
“Following Dr. Beezly’s advice, therefore, I suggest we all adjourn to the dining room and pleasure our palates.”
Everyone rose.
“What the hell got into you?” Lee whispered into Jessie’s ear. He didn’t sound critical, however; he sounded proud.
“I don’t know. It just seemed the right thing to do and say,” she replied.
“Lee,” Dr. Beezly said, “might I have the honor of escorting Jessie? After all, she just gave me a run for my money.”
“Jess?”
“Why yes, Doctor, if that makes you happy,” she said, and everyone laughed again.
Except Marjorie Young. Lee thought she looked fascinated. It was as if she had never met a woman who could think for herself or had the nerve to voice an opinion.
The dinner was spectacular. The Bakers had caterers who prepared and served the meal: Peking duck. The wine flowed, and expensive wine, too. For dessert they were served baked Alaska. They sat at an enormous oval glass table with a marble base. The chairs were antique French Provincial and the china was Wedgwood. Everyone, even Marjorie Young now, participated in describing things to Jessie. Lee was very pleased at how quickly Jessie had become the center of attention, and how quickly she had won everyone’s respect.
Then Dr. Beezly, who sat on her left, asked her about her blindness.
“Unless you mind talking about it,” he added quickly.
“No, I don’t mind.”
“So it was the result of a head injury in a car accident?”
“Yes.”
“And I’m sure you’ve been to the best doctors?”
“Of course.” Lee sounded more testy than he had intended.
“Nevertheless I would like to be presumptuous and offer my own meager medical powers to you, free of charge, anytime you want,” Dr. Beezly said.
“Dr. Beezly is rather modest,” Henry Young said. “He is truly a gifted healer. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he has the power of the laying on of hands. You know, like some of these evangelists claim to have. Only difference is, I have seen him in action.
“Why, when Marjorie has one of her terrible sinus headaches, he merely has to touch her temples, massage them some way, and the headaches end, right, Marge?” he said.
Marjorie Young shot a quick glance at Lee and then nodded.
“Yes, Dr. Beezly is remarkable,” she said, pronouncing the words in a monotone, as if they had been memorized.
“It’s very nice of you to offer,” Jessie said. “I might just take you up on it one day.”
“Anytime,” the doctor said.
After dinner Tracy, along with Marjorie, took Jessie on a tour of the house. They were gone for nearly an hour, during which time Lee, Baker, Henry Young, and Dr. Beezly had an after-dinner drink in the den. They talked politics for a while and then Dr. Beezly asked Lee about his basketball team.
Lee eyed Henry Young before replying. He saw how interested the principal was in what he would say, so he couched his words carefully.
“Well, I found them somewhat undisciplined, which might be the result of the traumatic events—their coach dying suddenly, a substitute, and then a brand-new man. Most of my time is spent on drilling them to be more of a team, working together.”
“Their first game under your tutelage is tomorrow night, is it not?” Dr. Beezly asked.
“Yes. A home game.”
“Don’t be surprised if it’s a packed house,” Baker said.
“I’m expecting it.”
“They’ll do well for you, I’m sure,” Henry Young promised. “You’ve given them some new plays?”
“Just stuck to what they know right now. You’ve got to crawl before you walk.”
“Excellent philosophy, Lee,” Dr. Beezly said. “You’ve got a good man here, Henry. Make sure you don’t lose him to one of those fancy outlying districts.”
“I’ll do my best,” Henry said, smiling.
“Yes. Well, we all will,” Dr. Beezly said. “We all will.”
His smile gave Lee the chills again. Funny, he thought, how something that should sound nice sounds threatening when the doctor said it.
The women returned. Bob offered everyone another round of after-dinner drinks. The conversation shifted to lighter subjects—movies, books, and television.
“I’m afraid I’m at a disadvantage when we talk about movies and television,” Dr. Beezly confessed. “I hardly watch television and I think the last movie I saw was Rosemary’s Baby.” He laughed. “Quite amusing.”
“How do you spend your free time, then, Doctor?” Jessie inquired.
“I read. A lot of boring medical magazines, I’m afraid. But,” he added quickly, “I’d be more than happy to read any of your short stories.”
“Oh, I’m not that good…”
“Now, now, all this modesty—first your husband, who we know was an exceptional college athlete, and now you, who I am sure are just as perceptive in your writing as you are in conversation.”
“Thank you,” Jessie said, a slight blush coming into her face. She reached for Lee’s hand.
“Well,” Henry Young announced, “I hate to be the one to say it, but I have a big day tomorrow.”
“Yes, we better be going, too,” Lee said.
Dr. Beezly said nothing. He sat back and watched everyone say their thank-you’s and good-byes. Then he rose and approached Jessie. She sensed it and turned. Her impulsive move brought a smile to his face.
“I really enjoyed your company, Jessie,” he said, taking her hand. Once again she had that strange sensation, that feeling that she was touching something unusual. She pressed on and envisioned a tunnel of fire.
“Thank you. I enjoyed yours, too, Doctor.”
“Then let’s try to do it again,” he said quickly. “Perhaps I will have you all over to my house one night soon.”
“I’d like that,” Jessie said politely. She tightened her hold on Lee. He shook Dr. Beezly’s hand and they started to follow the Youngs out.
As soon as they were out of the door, Marjorie Young let go of Henry’s arm and turned, smiling.
“I’ll help Jessie to the car, Lee,” she offered. “I’d like to say good night.”
“Oh.” For a moment Lee was confused. This lethargic woman had suddenly come to life. It was awkward, but he released Jessie’s arm and moved ahead to join Henry Young, who put his arm around his shoulders and led him down the walk, giving him advice about the crowd that would come to see the g
ame tomorrow night.
Jessie understood immediately that Marjorie Young had some ulterior motive. She let her thread her arm through hers quickly and join hands. Then the two of them began to follow their husbands, Marjorie deliberately walking slowly.
“You’re a rather remarkable woman, Jessie,” she said softly. Jessie could feel Marjorie’s pulse quickening, her palm pressed tightly to hers.
“What is it, Marjorie?” Jessie asked.
Marjorie Young hesitated so long, Jessie thought she wasn’t going to reply, wasn’t going to say what she wanted so much to say. Jessie held her breath and waited. They were drawing closer to the cars. The voices of their husbands grew louder.
Then Marjorie Young brought her lips close to Jessie’s ear and whispered.
“When your husband dies,” she said, “don’t let them bring him back.”
6
Jessie sat quietly in the car, nervously running her fingers up and down the seat belt across her bosom. Marjorie Young’s warning had left her stunned. Even though she couldn’t see the woman’s face, she envisioned her vividly through her tone of voice. She saw the hysteria in her eyes, felt the utter trepidation in her heart. The whisper was sharp, nearly breathless, as if she thought they were being overheard, as if she thought there was no place safe. And when Jessie felt the woman’s fingers, she imagined a block of ice carved into a hand. It seemed as if the woman had no blood.
“Well,” Lee said, “I don’t know about you, but I enjoyed myself immensely. It was a very interesting evening, one of the best dinner parties I’ve attended. Dr. Beezly is a fascinating man. He’s traveled so much and has so much knowledge at his fingertips.”
Lee waited, but Jessie remained quiet. She didn’t know how to begin, what to say.
“You all right?” he finally asked. “In there I couldn’t get you to shut up,” he added with a short, tense laugh.
“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Jessie finally said, “but Marjorie Young just told me the most astounding thing…warned me, I should say.”
“Oh no. He told me to watch out for her,” Lee replied, sounding relieved that this was all it was.
“Who told you? Told you what?”
“Bob Baker. Seems Marjorie Young is recuperating from a nervous breakdown, precipitated to some degree by Henry’s physical problems and their subsequent marital problems, which involve their grown son,” he said quickly.
Jessie turned, incredulous.
“Bob Baker told you all that tonight? When?” she demanded.
“Well, it wasn’t all told to me tonight. He mentioned something earlier in school, but I didn’t really pay attention to him. I was distracted with my problems with the team and—”
“Why didn’t you say anything to me about her? You knew we would meet her tonight,” Jessie asked.
“To tell you the truth, Jess, I completely forgot,” he said.
“That’s a strange thing to forget, Lee.” She turned away and nodded. “A strange thing.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What precipitated her nervous breakdown, do you know?”
“She got into the sauce,” he said.
“Alcoholic?”
“I’m afraid so,” he said.
“But there wasn’t any hesitation on anyone’s part tonight when it came to offering her wine. At least I didn’t hear it,” she said, now unsure of herself.
“They pretend nothing’s wrong. I watched her. She was given her champagne, but she didn’t do more than bring her lips to the glass. Anyhow, Baker brought it all up again when you women went touring through the house, and he advised me not to pay any attention to anything she might say. I didn’t get a chance to tell you before she said something to you apparently,” he added.
“What happened between Henry Young and his son?” she asked.
“I don’t know all the details, but it involves his joining one of those religious orders. I think the boy wants to be a monk or something. Just dropped out of college and went off singing Latin hymns. There’s been a real falling-out. Henry refuses to speak to him. Marjorie got caught in the middle, but she’s not siding with Henry and that has put some strain on their marriage.”
“Is he their only child?”
“Yes,” Lee said. “She had two miscarriages before.”
“You learned all this tonight?” she asked, her skepticism rising to the surface again.
“Bob said her failure to have more children was always a part of her nervous condition.”
“How come he knows so much about the Youngs’ personal life?”
“Good friends, I guess. I don’t know, honey, but the point is, whatever she said to you, you’ve got to disregard it. I guess she’s still out of it. Surely, you noticed how strange she was before, during, and after dinner.”
“Yes,” Jessie admitted. “I did feel some odd vibrations, but I thought they had more to do with her own fears.”
“Baker says paranoia is a characteristic symptom of her condition. He’s a very bright guy.”
“I thought you thought he was a bit weird, Lee.”
“Yeah, but I think I like him. He’s certainly done real well for himself and Tracy. Let me tell you about that Red Room,” he added, and began to describe it in detail: the colors, the paintings, the statues.
“That painting of the woman screaming—I know it,” Jessie said. “It’s a horrifying picture by Edvard Munch. It’s called The Scream. Munch’s art is always neurotic and frequently hysterical. Why would they want such a print in their house? And that fascination with the human body sounds very sensuous, sexual, almost lustful. Yet Tracy doesn’t strike me as the type of woman who would want these things. It must be mostly Bob’s choices,” she concluded.
“Yeah,” Lee said. “I bet.” She could hear his smile.
“But don’t you see, Lee? There is something strange here. I felt it in there, and when Marjorie warned me—”
“Strange? Come on. That was a great party. What did she say to you anyway?” he finally asked. She was hesitant. “After all this, honey, you got to tell me.”
“I don’t know how to tell you,” she repeated.
“Just tell me. Jeez.”
“She said when my husband dies, I shouldn’t let them bring him back to life.”
“What?” Lee started to laugh. “My God, that woman is distorted, isn’t she? When your husband dies…what, did she say Henry had died?”
Jessie was silent a moment.
“Did she?”
“She implied it. He was seriously ill, wasn’t he?”
“But he didn’t die. For God sakes, Jess.”
“How do we know?”
“What? Oh boy, here we go…Jessie Overstreet’s imagination is on the loose. I’m gonna leave this one up to you, Jess, only don’t start it ‘Once upon a time,’ okay?”
She didn’t respond. He looked at her and saw how still she sat, her body stiff, her face like a mask.
“Jess…”
“Something’s not right,” she said softly. “I’ve been hearing those voices I heard the first night. Something is not right.”
Lee nodded.
“I’m going to push Henry and Dr. Beezly to get us out of that house as soon as they can. That’s what I’m going to do,” he said. “Then” —he turned to her—“things will be right.”
She said nothing. The silence unnerved him and he finally resorted to turning on the radio just so there would be some noise.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Lee said as they pulled into their driveway, “Bob said he and Tracy would love to pick you up tomorrow night to take you to the game. You did want to go, didn’t you?” Even though Jessie wouldn’t see anything, her mere presence would be supportive. She had been to almost every one of his games since he had begun coaching, and it always made him feel good to look up in the stands and see her.
“Yes, of course,” she said.
“Good. Bob said to tell you he can’t wait to practice
his play-by-play announcing. I’m sure he’ll have you in stitches all night,” Lee added.
Late the next morning Tracy Baker did call to confirm her willingness to have her and Bob pick her up. Jessie used the occasion to talk about Marjorie Young.
“Lee told me some of the things Bob had told him about the Youngs,” Jessie said.
“And men accuse us of gossiping,” Tracy replied.
“It was sad to hear all those things about Marjorie. Is she still drinking?”
“Not as much since Dr. Beezly put her on sedatives. Actually last night was one of her better nights,” Tracy said.
“It was?”
“Well, she was civil, spoke to you and me. Why? Did something happen I don’t know about?”
Jessie told her what Marjorie had said on the way out.
“Oh no. She did something similar to me—called me one night, in the middle of the night, and told me she was positive Bob was dead. I said, ‘Marjorie, he’s lying right beside me, breathing rather well, snoring in fact.’”
“What did she say?”
“She said it wasn’t Bob. I did all I could to prevent myself from laughing. I said, ‘No? Well, when he gets home, he’s going to be pissed.’” Tracy laughed. Jessie couldn’t help but smile herself. “I hung up and Bob woke up. I told him what she had said and he told me some of the things Henry had told him. Not long after, Dr. Beezly began prescribing sedatives and she calmed down considerably. But apparently, from what you’re telling me, she still has a way to go.
“Anyhow, don’t worry about it. We’ll come by about six-thirty, okay? Bob says the auditorium will be packed tonight. Everyone knows there’s a new coach on board and the school we’re playing is something of a rival.”
“Fine. I’ll be ready,” Jessie said, and hung up the phone. She spent the rest of the day working on a new short story. She spoke with Lee twice, and each time she could hear the excitement building in his voice.
“Just about everyone from the custodians to cafeteria staff to faculty has come around to wish me good luck,” he said. “It’s nice how everyone gets involved. I guess working in a small school system does have its advantages.”
After Life Page 8