Terms of Endearment

by Larry McMurtry

  “You see, Officer, we were watching the sea gulls,” she said, sketching them in first, along with a cloud or two.

  “Oh, I see, bird watchers,” Officer Quick said. “Say no more. That explains everything.”

  “Yep, that’s the whole story in a nutshell,” Vernon agreed.

  “You bird watchers is always running into one another,” Officer Quick said. “I think this here whole emphasis on not drivin’ while you’re drinkin’ is all wrong. Why I can go down to the dancehall on my night off an’ tank up till my ol’ bladder won’t hardly hold it and still be steady as she goes there at the wheel. I ain’t never hit nothin’ while I was drinkin’, but they ain’t no tellin’ what I’d hit if I was to drive along an’ try to watch a bird. I think they oughta put up a few signs sayin’ ‘Bird Watching Don’t Drive.’”

  Aurora saw that the young man had bought the story before she had even had time to make it up. She did a hasty little drawing in which Vernon was backing up beneath some sea gulls while she was advancing on them obliquely. She depicted Officer Quick and his patrol car as perfectly innocent passers-by, and was not too successful at drawing her car in the process of whirling around and around. She also drew in a sizable cloud of dust, since that was her chief memory of the accident.

  “It was awful dusty, wasn’t it?” Officer Quick said, studying the picture intently.

  “I ort to have been a fireman,” he added wistfully while he was struggling to write Vernon out a ticket.

  “Perhaps it’s not too late,” Aurora said. “I must say I don’t think it’s very healthy for you to lie in bed dreaming about maps all night.”

  “Naw, no hope,” the young man said. “There ain’t even a regular firehouse in our town. It’s all just volunteer work, an’ you know what that pays.”

  As Vernon was helping Aurora into the white Lincoln she bethought herself once more of General Scott. It hardly seemed fair to go off and leave such a nice boy at the mercy of Hector Scott.

  “Officer, I’m afraid the man sitting in my car is very angry,” she said. “Actually he’s angry at me, but he’s a retired general and it wouldn’t surprise me if he was in the mood to say ugly things to anyone who comes around.”

  “Oh,” Officer Quick said. “Y’all just gonna go off and leave him sittin’ there, huh?”

  “Yes, that’s what we’d planned,” Aurora said.

  “Well, I ain’t goin’ near him,” Officer Quick said. “If he gets out an’ flies into me I’ll call a couple of my local col-leagues an’ we’ll arrest him. Y’all folks try to keep your minds off birds now.”

  “Yes, we will, thank you very much,” Aurora said.

  Officer Quick had extracted a toothpick from his shirt pocket and was chewing on it with an air of quiet melancholy. She and Vernon both waved at him, and he returned the wave in a listless fashion.

  “One last thought, folks,” he said. “Come over me like a flash. Maybe what y’all need to do is move to Port Aransas. You know they got that big bird sanctuary there. Millions of our little… feathered friends. If y’all was to move down there an’ get you one of them little houses that sits there on the bay with little balconies on them you wouldn’t even have to drive at all, in order to keep up with sea gulls an’ all that. You could just sit there with your feet propped up on the rail and watch birds night an’ day. Be easier on the public too. Adios, amigos.” And he waved again and plodded off toward his patrol car, rubbing his head as he went.

  “What an amazing young man,” Aurora said. “Are all policemen like him?”

  “Yep, ever’ one of them’s crazy,” Vernon said.

  CHAPTER VII

  1.

  BEFORE AURORA could more than catch her breath Vernon was going ninety. She thought it felt very fast and looked over to make sure. Ninety it was. They had zipped past her Cadillac so fast she had barely had time to glance at Hector Scott, who was sitting there rigid as ever. The car itself was unlike any she had ever ridden in. It had two telephones and an elaborate radio of some kind, and one of the doors in the back had a television set built into it. Vernon handled the wheel rather casually, she thought, considering how fast they were going. Still, she felt more amazed than frightened. Vernon seemed perfectly confident of his driving and the car was so impressive and well-padded that it was probably more or less impervious to the vicissitudes that might befall normal cars. The doors locked themselves, the windows rolled themselves up, and it was all so comfortable that she found it hard to worry about the world outside, or even to remember that there was a world outside. The seats were covered in very soft leather, and the general color scheme was maroon, which suited her fine. The only thing tacky that she could see was the paneling of the dashboard, which was in cowhide—the sort with the hair still on.

  “Well, I’ll have to call you Vernon, I believe,” Aurora said, settling back. “This is a very nice car. In fact, I don’t know why I don’t have one like this myself. The only thing wrong with it is that dreadful cowhide. How did that happen?”

  Vernon looked abashed, which was rather affecting in a small freckled person, Aurora thought. He was pulling nervously at one ear.

  “My idea,” he said, still pulling.

  “I must say I think that was a small lapse of judgment,” Aurora said. “Don’t do that please, you’ll just stretch your earlobes.”

  Vernon looked even more abashed and stopped pulling at his ear. Instead he began to pop his knuckles.

  Aurora held her peace for thirty seconds, but the sound of popping knuckles was more than she could tolerate.

  “Don’t do that either,” she said. “It’s just as bad as stretching your ears, and it makes a noise. I know it’s dreadful of me to be so outspoken, but I will try to be fair. You can criticize me as soon as I do something that you find intolerable. I just don’t think you ought to go around pulling on various parts of your body all the time. I noticed you doing it just after we had our wrecks.”

  “Yeah, I get the fidgets,” Vernon said. “Nervousness is what it is. I can’t slow down. The doctor says it’s my metabolism.” He stared hard at the road, trying to keep himself from pulling anything.

  “That’s a vague diagnosis at best,” Aurora said. “I really think you might consider changing your doctor, Vernon. Everybody has a metabolism, you know. I have one too, but I don’t pull on myself. You’re obviously not married. No woman would allow you to fidget like that.”

  “Naw, never settled down,” Vernon said. “Always been restless as a jack rabbit.”

  Ahead, to the northwest, the skyline of Houston had appeared, with the afternoon sun shining on its tall buildings, some silver, some white. Soon they were in a river of traffic, flowing with it toward the city. Vernon managed to control his fidgets by keeping both hands on the wheel, and Aurora leaned back in the wonderfully comfortable maroon leather seats and watched the city flash by with a good deal of contentment.

  “I’ve always liked being driven better than I like driving,” she said. “This is obviously a trustworthy car. Perhaps I ought to have been driving Lincolns all these years.”

  “Well, this here’s my home,” Vernon said. “Kind of a mobile headquarters. It’s got a writing desk that pops out in the back seat. Got an icebox back there an’ a safe under the floorboards to keep my winnings in.”

  “Goodness, Vernon, you seem to have my fondness for gadgets,” Aurora said. “Could I make a call from one of your telephones? I’d just like to call my daughter and tell her I’ve been in a wreck. It might make her a little more considerate.”

  “Help yourself.”

  “How delightful,” Aurora said, a sparkle in her eyes as she dialed. Something new was happening.

  “I really don’t know why I haven’t had a phone put in my car,” she said. “I guess I supposed it was something only millionaires could have.” She paused, reflecting on her remark.

  “I must be in shock from my wreck or I wouldn’t have put that quite so stupidly,” she said. �
��Of course I don’t mean to imply that you aren’t a millionaire. I do hope you won’t consider anything I say an insult while I’m in this state.”

  “Oh, well, I got a few mil, but I ain’t no H. L. Hunt,” Vernon said. “Don’t like to work that hard.”

  Just at that moment Emma answered the phone.

  “Hello, dear, guess what?” Aurora said.

  “You’re getting married,” Emma said. “General Scott’s won you at last.”

  “No, quite the contrary,” Aurora said. “He has just been removed from my life. I’m calling you very briefly, dear. You’d never guess it, but I’m in a moving car.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, a moving car,” Aurora said. “We’re on the Allen Parkway. I just wanted to inform you that I had a small car wreck. Happily it wasn’t anybody’s fault and no one was hurt, though the young patrolman did have the wind knocked out of him for a few minutes.”

  “I see,” Emma said. “Whose moving car do you happen to be in?”

  “The gentleman I had the wreck with has very considerately offered to drive me home,” Aurora said. “His car is equipped with phones.”

  “Lots of food for thought here,” Emma said. “Rosie said you went off with General Scott. What became of him?”

  “I’m afraid he’s been left to cool his heels,” Aurora said. “I’m hanging up now. We’re coming to a light. I’m not used to talking in traffic. If you care to call me later I can give you more details.”

  “I thought you were going to stay home and pay your bills today,” Emma said.

  “Bye. I’m hanging up before you spoil the conversation,” Aurora said, hanging up.

  “I wonder why my daughter insists on reminding me of the very things I don’t want to be reminded of.” she said to Vernon. “If you’ve never been married, Vernon, I don’t suppose you’ve ever experienced that vexation.”

  “I never been married, but I got nine nieces and four nephews,” Vernon said. “I get to play uncle a lot.”

  “Ah, that’s nice,” Aurora said. He absentmindedly popped his knuckles once or twice, but she let it pass.

  “On the whole I think I was fonder of some of my uncles than I’ve ever been of anyone,” she added. “A good uncle is a godsend in this day and time. May I ask where is your home?”

  “This here’s mostly it,” Vernon said. “These seats lay back, you know. All I got to do is find a parking place an’ I’m home. These seats make right nice beds, and I got my TV and my phones and my icebox. I keep a couple of rooms down at the Rice Hotel, but that’s mostly just to pile my dirty clothes in. The only things this car ain’t got is closet space and a laundry.”

  “My goodness,” Aurora said. “What an extraordinary way to live. I wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t contribute to your fidgets, Vernon. Comfortable as your car is, as a car, it can hardly take the place of a home. Don’t you think it might be wise to put some of your money into a proper residence?”

  “Wouldn’t be nobody to take care of it,” Vernon said. “I’m gone half the time. I got to go up to Alberta, tomorrow. If I had a house I’d just be worryin’ about it. Might make me fidget worse.”

  “Alberta, Canada?” Aurora asked. “What’s up there?”

  “Oil,” Vernon said. “I can’t fly much. Gives me an earache. Usually I just drive wherever I go.”

  To Aurora’s amazement he found her street, and without taking a single wrong turn. It was only a one-block street and a great many of her guests were unable to find it even when given precise instructions. “Well, here we are, aren’t we?” she said when he pulled up in her driveway. “I can’t believe you found it on the first try.”

  “No trick to that ma’am,” Vernon said. “I play a lot of poker in this part of town.”

  “You don’t have to call me ma’am,” Aurora said. “In fact, I’d rather you wouldn’t. It’s not a locution I’ve ever been fond of. I’d far rather you called me Aurora.”

  It occurred to her, though, that there would be no further need for him to call her anything. She was home and that was that. He was going to Alberta in the morning and there was no telling where he might go from there. Certainly she had no business asking him what he meant to do.

  With very little warning, her spirits began to fall. The mood of contentment she had felt while they were driving in had proved very insubstantial—probably it had only happened because the Lincoln’s seats were comfortable, or because Vernon, fidgety as he was, was friendly and uncritical, and on the whole a nice change from Hector Scott. Vernon didn’t seem to be quick to take offense, which was unusual in her experience. The men she met seemed frequently to take offense almost at once.

  The sight of her nice house made her feel quite gloomy somehow. The nice part of the day was over, and the dregs, in a sense, were what remained. Rosie would be gone and there would be no one to fuss at at all. Her soap operas were over, and even if she called Emma and told her the story of the wreck in great detail it wouldn’t really take up much more than an hour. Before very long she would have nothing to do but contemplate her bills, and it was not really very pleasant to have to pay one’s bills in an empty house. Paying bills always gave her a feeling of panic anyway, and it was much worse when there was no one around to distract her. Also, she knew that once she got off to herself she was going to start worrying about her car wreck, and how to get her car home, and the law, and Hector Scott, and all sorts of things that she was not likely to worry about as long as someone was around.

  For a moment, looking at Vernon, she had a strong impulse to ask him if he would like to stay to supper and talk to her while she paid her bills. Fixing him a meal was only a fair return for his courtesy in bringing her home, not to mention getting her off with the law; but asking a man to talk to her while she paid her bills was a curious thing to do, at best, and rather forward. It was obvious that Vernon was no ladies’ man—how could he be, living in a car?—and if he was about to set off for Canada he probably had last-minute things to do, as she always did before she set off somewhere.

  There was something about him that she liked—perhaps it was only that he had been able to find her street—but she didn’t feel that whatever it was ought to be pushed quite so unconventionally. The circumstances of their meeting had been unconventional enough. Aurora sighed. She had begun to feel quite downcast.

  Vernon waited for her to get out, but she didn’t. Then it occurred to him that he was supposed to get out and open her door for her. He looked to see if that was what she was waiting for and saw that she was looking sad. She had looked happy only a moment before, and the sight of her looking sad frightened him badly. He knew a great deal about oil, but nothing at all about sadness in ladies. It startled him badly.

  “What’s the matter, ma’am?” he asked at once.

  Aurora looked at her rings a moment. She was wearing a topaz and an opal. “I don’t know why you won’t call me Aurora.” she said. “It’s not a very difficult name to pronounce.”

  She looked up, and Vernon grimaced and looked abashed. He was so abashed, in fact, that it was painful to see. His look made it quite evident that he was no sort of ladies’ man at all. Aurora felt somewhat relieved, but also, suddenly, a little perverse and quite determined.

  “I gotta work up to it, Miz Greenway,” he said. “It ain’t easy.”

  Aurora shrugged. “Oh, well,” she said, “it’s perfectly easy, but ‘Mrs. Greenway’ is somewhat of an improvement. ‘Ma’am’ makes me feel like a country schoolteacher, which I am far from being. I don’t know why it should matter anyway, since you’re about to run off and leave me. I don’t blame you at all; I’ve been nuisance enough today. I’m sure you’ll be happy to be on your way to Alberta, so you won’t have to sit around with me.”

  “Well… no,” Vernon said. He paused, confused.

  “No,” he said again.

  Aurora turned her gaze upon him. It was not fair, she knew—he was such a nice little man—but she
did it anyway. Vernon didn’t know what was happening. He saw that his passenger was looking at him in a strange way, as if she expected something. He had no idea what it might be that she expected, but her look told him that it depended on him, and that it was very important. His car, which was usually so peaceful and empty, suddenly seemed like a pressure chamber. The pressure came from the strange look on Mrs. Greenway’s face. She looked like she might be going to cry, or else get mad, or else just be very sad—he didn’t know which. It all depended on what he came up with to do, and she hadn’t stopped looking him in the eye for what seemed like many minutes.

  Vernon felt a cold sweat coming on, only instead his palms got very dry. He didn’t know the lady from Adam or Eve, and he didn’t owe her a thing in the world, and yet suddenly he felt that he did owe her something. At least he wanted to owe her something. He didn’t want her to be as sad, or as mad, as she seemed about to be. There were lines in her face that he hadn’t noticed earlier, but nice lines. The pressure got worse; he couldn’t tell if the seams of the car were about to burst, or if he was, and the need to fidget became so intense that he could have popped every knuckle on both hands in ten seconds if he hadn’t known that that was the worst thing he could do.

  Aurora, unrelenting even fox a second, kept looking at him; she was turning the rings on her fingers, waiting for something, looking straight at him. It seemed to Vernon suddenly that everything was different. All his life people had insisted that someday a woman would come along and change him before he knew what was happening to him—and now it had come true. He would not have believed a human being would have had the power to change him so much so quickly, but it was so. Everything changed, not slowly, but at once. His old life had stopped just after he parked, and the ordinary world that he had known up to then had just stopped counting. Everything that stopped had stopped so abruptly that it took his breath. He felt that he would never see or need to see or even want to see another face but the face of the woman who was looking at him. He was so stunned that he even said what he felt.