A mother shouldn’t work! A mother shouldn’t pass her children off to relatives! Babies need their mothers and besides it’s your responsibility! You can’t just dish off your problems to family! I was home for all of you! I didn’t miss a second of it! It was my responsibility! It was my job!
Well, that was a different time! It’s different now!
She would never again ask her parents for money, never ask for their help, never again, she wondered how much money Bill was spending at the bar and thinking about it made her angry. When’s the last time I went out with my friends? When’s the last time I bought myself something! And he was probably showing off—buying the first pitcher, keeping them coming, letting those stupid friends of his get by without paying when it was their turn! We don’t have that kind of money! Why wasn’t he responsible! Always showing off! Always trying to keep the stupid party going! Look at me! I’m Bill! Look at me! Damnit William! Take a look in the mirror! Take a look in the stupid mirror!
She was in the living room now, bent over, furiously wiping down the wooden frame of the coffee table and she—she knew he was spending all their money!—slammed the dust spray canister down on the glass and cracked it. The crack ran from one end to the other, but she didn’t care. Bill had brought it home from the Salvation Army, what a prize! She tossed the rag on the ground and didn’t pick it up, fell into the couch, grabbed the remote, and stabbed the air with it until the stupid TV came on.
The chandelier was shaking. Tom wiped pizza grease off his fingers with a cloth napkin and turned the volume up on the TV. He stretched out on the couch. He loosened his tie and undid the buckle on his belt.
Jimmy.
Why had he done it? Why hadn’t he come to him if he had a problem? They were brothers. Maybe they didn’t talk anymore, but they were still brothers. There wasn’t a fight or an argument or a woman in the world that could change that. What did you have if you didn’t have family?
Stay away from my wife, Tom had said. He’d gone over to Jimmy’s boarding house. Jimmy was living in one small room, had been for a few months since coming back from Arizona. He hadn’t found his girlfriend. He hadn’t found his kid. He wasn’t fighting anymore. He hadn’t fought in a long time. Tom hated to see Jimmy at the boarding house, hated seeing the way Jimmy lived. Jimmy didn’t have anything. Not a TV or a stereo, not even a couch. He had a tiny refrigerator and a hot plate. There was a scummy old fishtank on the floor with nothing in it. No water, no fish. Just some rocks on the bottom and a plastic diver without legs. Tom would have to go someday and retrieve these things. Jimmy slept in a sleeping bag on the floor, read books, listened to the radio. He was working for the sanitation department. It had been embarrassing to Tom, and he knew he hadn’t been a good brother to Jimmy. He should have gotten him a job at his office. He should have offered him a place to stay. Tom and Anna had more rooms than they knew what to do with. But the night he told Jimmy to stay away from his wife, he wasn’t thinking of any of this, he was not thinking that he had been a bad brother to Jimmy. His mom had said,
You need to talk to your brother about your wife.
Why? Tom had said.
I’m not going to get into it, she said. I’m your boys’ mother. I just think you should have a talk with him about Anna.
Why should I talk to him about Anna?
All I’m saying…
Why should I talk to him about Anna, Mom?
Just talk to him.
Why?
They were over here the other night when you were on your fishing trip.
So? Tom said.
I’m just saying, talk to him.
Why should I talk to him?
They were drinking. You know how people get when they drink.
How do they get?
You know how they get.
No. I don’t. How did they get?
It’s nothing. They looked like they were getting close is all.
Tom drove straight over. He walked up the stairs to Jimmy’s room. Jimmy opened the door. Tommy, he said, smiling.
Stay away from my wife, Tom said.
What?
You heard me.
What are you talking about?
Stay away from her, Tom said. I see the way you look at her. I got eyes.
You don’t know what you’re talking about.
You should hear the way she talks about you. She doesn’t want you. You’re a hoodlum. You’re a loser. She thinks you’re a loser. She tells me that. You think she doesn’t know that? We all know what you are. Anna knows it. Mom knows it. We all know it.
Well, thanks for stopping by.
You take her home?
What?
Did you take her home from Mom’s house?
Yeah I took her home. She was drunk. You want me to let her crash her car? She was loaded.
So you felt it was your duty to take her home and put her to bed.
Yeah, Jimmy said. I did. She could’ve wrecked that brand new car of yours. Then you would’ve been real mad.
I’ll tell you one last time. Stay away from her.
You don’t know what you’re talking about, Jimmy said. And that wife of yours is not as innocent as you think.
What’s that supposed to mean?
Nothing. Bye. Jimmy made a move to close the door but Tom stuck his foot in front of it.
What’s that supposed to mean!
Nothing. Bye.
Tom leaned into him, whispered, You think I can’t take you you little piece of shit?
I think you’re a bit out of shape.
You think I can’t box your ears? Remember I broke your arm? You think I can’t do that again?
Why don’t you go eat a sandwich and think it over—
—Tom put his hand around Jimmy’s throat but in one swift motion Jimmy knocked the hand away with his right, pushed Tom back with his left; it happened quickly and in an instant Tom’s heart was racing, he couldn’t breathe right—Rage and he wanted to kill the motherfucker; he wanted to tear out his eyes, break his arms, pull off his goddamn legs, rip his fucking dick off. But instead, he only stepped further back from the door, wiped the sweat off his forehead.
He said, You’re nothing, you little fuck. You’ll always be nothing. You’re never gonna be anything. Then he walked away, down the hall, and as Jimmy was shutting the door, Tom turned back, yelled:
Remember when you started you thought you were gonna be champ? You remember you were gonna be champ? You remember? You remember telling me you were gonna be champion of the world? Well you weren’t even champion of Federal Way!
When he got home that night, Tom had walked upstairs. The door to the exercise room was open, he peeked in, he saw his wife in profile, running. She was wearing her spandex running outfit, listening to music on her headphones. She was beautiful, had a long, beautiful stride; her ponytail swung back and forth as she ran, she had the sort of body, was a girl that any man would die for. Anna.
And he could hear her now upstairs running. Each time her foot came down, the chandelier above him shook.
That had been only two years ago, that incident at Jimmy’s house. They never talked again and now they never would. Tom hadn’t regretted confronting Jimmy. He’d told himself it had been the right thing to do. He had defended his honor and the honor of his wife. But now that Jimmy wasn’t around anymore, Tom felt he would give anything in the world to talk once more, as brothers.
Bill was far north of the city, out in farm country. The sun was down now, below the horizon, up someplace over the other side of the world. Here, the stars were out. And the wind, rushing around his head, filling the car… He wasn’t going to get home by nine. No way. He was too far away now. He laughed. Oh, well. If she didn’t like it…
Ninety-eight minutes and Anna was still strong. It was exhilarating. She couldn’t feel anything, she was in a zone, no longer needed determination to keep going—she kept going because now she was in the zone, she ran independently of her mind, indepe
ndently of her will, she was hypnotized, could feel herself inching towards a state of equilibrium where everything: mind body everything was in tune, she’d never been there, she’d almost been there, had felt herself lightening once and knew the equilibrium would be akin to transcendence, no one would understand this who wasn’t a runnerandTomwanted-ababy but she didn’t want to ruin her body, didn’t want floppy breasts and varicose veins, stretch marks, didn’t want to get fat, knew she’d never breastfeed, your nipples turn into faucets and it’s so gross, childbirth, it’s unnatural doing that to your body and it was her fault that Tom hadn’t talked to his brother, how horrible it must feel to Tom, how he must hate her now, and what if the situation were reversed, what if she’d had an argument with her sister Katy and they didn’t speak for two years and what if Katy died without there ever having been resolution, how awful she would feel, and Anna put herself in that mindset, she was able to convince herself for a moment that the situation was reversed, that she hadn’t spoken to Katy in two years and that Katy had killed herself, it was true for a moment, and she kept running, and understood, and in that moment something like a pit opened up inside her and she fell into it and knew that she would never be able to find her way out because time had stopped for Katy, and they would never be together again, they would never be able to forgive, and time went on for her, Anna, as it went on for Tom, and it had stopped for Jim and there was no changing things, there was no changing anything, no going back, then the tape was over and Anna could hear the whirring of the treadmill and the thump thump thump of her stride, could hear herself breathing, she knew Katy was down in Oregon with her husband and childrenTom-hatesyou, she thought, you won’t have his babyyou talked so much bad about his brother and didn’t want them to see each other because of fear and shame and don’t you remember what you told him at the church before the priest, that you would always be true to him, that you would never put another before him, and you cried? but you did put someone before him didn’t you? yes, said always love and cherish and never put anyone before but there is no always is there? no, because always doesn’t exist in life does it? no, show me if you can find it, I can’t, butneverisreal yes never is real never is everywhere I see it everywhere and we are filled with it we who are living are filled with never and death and dread and always is nowhere but in death, yes always is dead, and Jim and Christ is dead, she felt a bit lightheaded but resolved to keep going—no, not resolve, she didn’t need resolve to keep going, all she needed was to follow her feet, lose herself, forget, but she was weakandtired had come out of the zone and her knees were killingher and her head was getting lighter and exhausted and not enough oxygen and looked down at the readout and blinked her eyes because the numbers were blurry and sweat running into her eyes and wiped her eyes but it didn’t help, she kept running, her body straight, arms loose, headback headback headback: she could make it further, if she could find that zone, again
There was one right there, on the other side of the street, next to that telephone booth. Rich would have to make a U-turn, not here, there was a barrier in the middle of the highway. An intersection up ahead, he kept driving, got in the left turn lane, stopped abruptly as the light went red. He looked in his rear-view mirror. There she was. He said,
Don’t stop, Don’t stop, Don’t stop,
to each car that passed by her. She was pacing up and down the sidewalk, lit up by a red neon Crestview Motel sign. It was dark out and when she stepped out from under the sign, her shape seemed to disappear. Now he couldn’t see her this far down the street but when he’d passed he saw she was good-looking, short skirt, thin legs, blonde hair down just past her ears and a long-sleeve shirt. She must be cold. It’s cold out tonight.
Someone honked and Rich looked up, saw the light had turned, he stepped on the gas, pulled a U-turn in the middle of the intersection and drove back, saying
Don’t stop, Don’t stop, Don’t stop
to the cars ahead of him, but none of them stopped, they all drove past her. Rich slowed, pulled over a few yards away. He turned his head and she sauntered over to him. His heart was beating fast. He cleared his throat, tried to stay calm. This wasn’t his kind of thing. He didn’t do this, but who cared? He was in Washington, sixteen hundred miles, twenty-four hours, from home, practically in another country, and Daisy would never find out. Oh, he needed it. He pressed down on his groin with his forearm. The girl opened the door, leaned in, low-cut shirt, a red tear-shaped pendant swinging between her breasts.
Hi, she said.
Hi.
Can I get in?
Yeah, Rich said. She got in, crossed her legs. Nylons underneath her skirt.
Let’s go, she said. Turn on that street. And Rich drove, took a right onto the street she pointed to. A block from the highway, the street was dark. Pull over here, she said.
What?
Stop here, she said, and he did, he pulled onto the soft shoulder. Evergreens towered over them.
I thought we could go back to my motel, Rich said.
We can, she said. First we make arrangements. What is it you want?
Rich cleared his throat. He looked at her face. She was leaning towards him, staring into his eyes, controlled. He felt nervous and uncontrolled, which made his breathing terse, his heart race, his forehead sweat. She reached across him and put her hand on the wheel, stroked it with her fingers.
Well? she said.
Everything, Rich said.
Everything? she said. Well, I can do everything. I’d like to do that for you.
And he took his eyes off of her because in his peripheral he saw movement, a shape, he looked ahead, saw headlights where a car was turning onto his road from a side street and headed towards him.
Everything, she said, and Rich kept his eyes on the car and—couldn’t be sure because it was dark but—Oh, no—blue and red lights and the car sped up, rushed up towards him, came to a quick angled halt in front of his bumper, half on the road, half off—Oh, no—he looked in the rearview, another car had pulled out from the highway and was rushing towards his rear, lights spinning, seemed to slide up to him, stopped, Rich looked forward again—two cops leaping from the car—turned his head—behind him the same thing—looked at the girl but she was no longer looking at him. She was fiddling with the key in the ignition, her bracelets jingling. She turned the car off, jiggled the key, her tongue over her bottom lip, concentrating, she found the latch mechanism on the steering column, pressed it, and pulled the key free.
Bill had forgotten about the border.
There was a loud and heavy thud from above and the crystal pendants of the chandelier crashed against one another, violently. Tom opened his eyes. He sat up. Then he jumped up, ran up the stairs, stumbling, breathing hard, down the hall, into the exercise room. Anna was lying on her back next to the treadmill, treadmill whirring. Blood on her face. Her eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling. Tom knelt over her. Anna! he said, but she didn’t respond. Anna! Hey! Anna! What happened! Blood from her nose, swollen and purple, he lifted her head to keep the blood from running down into her throat, he’d seen them do it to Jimmy in the ring. She, still looking up towards the ceiling with an empty gaze. Her forehead wet. Tom put his hand on her burning forehead. Anna! But she didn’t respond.
Goddamn treadmill; he couldn’t handle the noise, couldn’t think straight. Call 911? He set her head down, gently, then picked it up again, because he didn’t know if he should leave her. Anna! Annalise! Wake up! Annalise! It’s Tom! Wake up! He set her head down gently again and rolled her onto her side. Blood ran onto the carpet. He got up and ran into the bedroom, picked up the phone. Dialed. Somebody get down here right away! There’s been an accident! Now, right now! Can’t wait! Then back into the exercise room, knelt down, but that goddamn machine, stood again and slammed his fists against the control panel, but the fucking thing wouldn’t go off, kept slamming, kept punching, hitting, brought his elbow up high, then brought it down, hard, control panel, still it kept goi
ng, he did this twice, then three times, nothing, noticed a red string attached to a plastic key, pulled it and finally the belt stopped.
He got down next to Anna, fallen, bleeding from her nose, probably broken, took her head, put it in his lap, stroked her wet hair, said, OK relax now, love. Relax. You’re gonna be OK. They’re coming to help you. They’re coming. They’re coming to help you now.
I’m tired, Beth said. Jane had taken all of her pennies. Jane was a much better card player than she. It had been a long day.
I am too, Jane said. I should call Paul. Tell him I’m going to sleep here tonight.
I’ll stay too.
No, you should go. She doesn’t need both of us. She’ll be fine. She’ll sleep till the morning. Maybe come back in the morning. We’ll make her breakfast, comb her hair.
Such a sorrow, Beth said.
A tragedy.
It would be easier for her if Dick were still alive.
He was always so wonderful to her.
Not like her first husband, Beth said.
Yes, Jane said. And God knows where he is now.
He could be alive or dead and we wouldn’t know.
No, we wouldn’t, Jane said.
And of course there’s a baby out there somewhere.
Yes.
The two women sat, looking down at the pennies on the table. Beth looked at Jane and said,
What would you do if your boy did what Mary’s did?
Jane said, I don’t think we should talk about that. We shouldn’t talk about that. I just thank the Lord he’s doing fine.
Of course.
Beth put the cards back in the box and put the box back in her purse.
Hold on a minute, Jane said, and she flattened the pile of pennies in front of her and pushed them together, flat to the table. She split them in half with the side of her hand and pushed half over to her friend. Here, Jane said.
No, Beth said. You won them fair and square. They’re yours. I’m not a sore loser.
Take them, Jane said.
No, I really couldn’t.
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