The Misfortunes of Others

by Gloria Dank

  “That’s not fair,” said Alice, her voice rising. “How dare you imply—”

  “Well, it’s clear what’s going on, isn’t it?” Elmo pounded his fist into his other palm. He was red with rage. “Weezy’s running away because she can’t handle what’s happening in here. She’s so fragile she could break. A few things get messed up, and she drops us all.”

  Weezy looked at him icily. “I wouldn’t call my exhibit just a few things, Elmo. I wouldn’t say the same to you about ‘Girl in White.’ ”

  “Well, it’s damned unfair, Weezy. We’re all being punished for what one person is doing. One person!” he added, with another furious glance towards the back of the room. There was a wail from Alice.

  “I didn’t do it—”

  “Oh, the hell you didn’t—!”

  “I didn’t do anything, I tell you—”

  “Go to hell,” Elmo said crisply. “You’re screwing up everything for us here. Everything! Now you’ve driven Weezy out, are you happy? Are you finally happy?”

  “That’s quite enough,” said Weezy. Elmo turned away, his shoulders rigid. Alice’s wails trailed off into silence.

  Weezy turned to Mrs. Castor. “I’m so sorry about leaving you in the lurch right now, with the work you’ve been doing and all. It’s some of your best work ever, you know that as well as I do. And you don’t live in Manhattan like the others, so I don’t know who to refer you to.”

  “That’s all right,” Mrs. Castor said, smiling at her. “You take care of yourself first, dear. The classes can wait.” She shot a reproving glance at Elmo and Alice. “Despite what some people may think.”

  Alice pursed her lips, but she seemed too stunned by Weezy’s announcement to say anything more. She seemed deflated, like a large balloon with a tiny hole in it, slowly spiraling towards the floor.

  Nikki was wringing her hands. “Oh, Weezy …” she fluttered mindlessly. “Oh, Weezy, I’m so sorry that … oh, Weezy …”

  Elmo’s face was set in a cold, unforgiving expression. He packed up his paints and brushes neatly, picked up his canvases and left the room without a backward glance.

  Jennifer, in his wake, looked at Weezy with an odd, faintly amused expression in her eyes. “I’m sorry. You know how he is.”

  “Oh, yes, I know,” said Weezy, raising her voice. She bellowed down the hallway after him, “I KNOW HOW HE IS! HE HAS ALL THE EMOTIONAL MATURITY OF A TWO-YEAR-OLD!”

  “Go to hell, Weezy!” he shouted.

  “You go to hell!”

  “You go to hell!”

  “You go to hell!”

  The front door banged shut.

  “You’re going away?” Maya said incredulously, when they broke the news over dinner. “You’re going away—tomorrow?”

  “Yes, Missy,” said Snooky. “Is that okay with you? Can the two of you get by without us?”

  “You’re going away? Where?”

  “I told you, Missy. St. Martin. To my friends’ place on the beach. Sun, sand and surf. I figured Weezy and I could use a vacation.”

  “Oh.” Maya digested this. She speared some of Snooky’s perfectly cooked asparagus and forked it down. “Okay. I think … well, it sounds like a good idea.”

  “You don’t mind, do you?” asked Weezy. “I was sure you’d be glad to get rid of us. I know how much Bernard hates company. I feel we’ve been straining him to the limit.”

  Bernard did not contradict this. He continued to eat in silence.

  “No, no, you haven’t been straining us,” Maya said distractedly. “No, it’s been fun. It really has. How long did you say you’d be away?”

  “We don’t know, Missy. Maybe three or four weeks. It depends how much we like it.”

  “Oh.”

  Snooky eyed her, puzzled. “I didn’t mean to totally unhinge you, Maya. What’s the matter?”

  “I don’t know, it just seems so … so sudden. I mean, we just got used to both of you being here, and now you’re going away? It seems so sudden.”

  Bernard put an arm around her. “Change,” he explained. “The nesting instinct. Pregnant women don’t like change. It disturbs them.”

  “Well, don’t worry, Missy, we’ll be back well before the baby’s born. I mean, it’s not due until October, right? October twentieth? And here it is, not even summer yet. There’s plenty of time. I wouldn’t get all ruffled up about it.”

  Maya nodded.

  “If the leaves start turning and we’re not back, give us a call.”

  “Oh, stop tormenting her,” snapped Weezy. “I think the two of you should get away. You won’t be able to once the baby’s born, you know. And the second trimester is a perfect time to travel.”

  “I guess so,” Maya said. She picked at her food dispiritedly. “What’s this stuff here, Snooks?”

  “Shallots. You going to be okay while we’re away? Bernard will cook for you?”

  “I’ll be glad to cook.”

  “Wonderful,” said Maya. “Baked beans every night.” She got up and left the table.

  “I’m sorry,” she said later, when Bernard came upstairs in search of her. He found her sprawled on the bed, watching TV, Misty curled up on the pillow next to her.

  He sat down on the edge of the bed. “You okay?”

  “Uh-huh. I’m really sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “I understand.”

  “No, you don’t.” Her lower lip was sticking out. “You don’t understand. All I could think of was that the two of them can pick up and leave whenever they want, and we can’t. In a few months we won’t ever be able to take a real vacation again. Don’t look at me that way, with pity in your eyes. I don’t need your pity. I remember what it was like when my parents used to take us on vacations together. It was a nightmare. Snooky would drive William crazy, and William would drive everybody else crazy, and my parents would say they were never taking us along again, but then they would, and it would be just the same. I think everybody kept hoping it would be different, somehow.”

  “We’ll get away, just the two of us.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said scornfully. “And while we’re away, what will we do with the baby, Bernard? Put it in a kennel? We don’t even do that now, with Misty.”

  He sighed and shifted his attention to the TV screen. “What’re you watching?”

  “I don’t know. Something called Invasion from Venus. You know, aliens disguised as humans. It’s pretty creepy.”

  The two of them watched in silence for a few minutes.

  “Hey,” said Bernard. “This is a good movie.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll go downstairs and make some popcorn.”

  “Okay.”

  They were sitting on the bed, happily eating popcorn, sharing some with Misty, when there was a soft knock on the door.

  “Come in,” called Maya.

  Weezy opened the door a crack. “You okay, sweetie?”

  “Yeah, I’m all right. Just my hormones. Come on in.”

  Weezy came in and jumped on the bed between them. She was wearing a yellow nightgown and an old pink bathrobe. Snooky followed, wearing a ratty blue bathrobe.

  “This is cozy,” he said, sprawling on the bed. “Pass the popcorn, Bernard.”

  “No,” said Bernard. “Make your own.”

  There was a chorus of protest, but in the end Snooky went downstairs (“I’m just doing this to keep peace in the household and because I don’t want to see you upset, you understand, Missy”) and made three large bowls of popcorn. “One for each of us,” he said, passing them around. “Since Bernard—and I’m not saying the word selfish, you understand—won’t share his.”

  “This is a great movie,” said Weezy, deeply absorbed.

  “Isn’t it?” said Maya.

  “I mean, the bit where the little girl’s dog warns her that her father’s an alien, I love that kind of stuff. Why do dogs always know? I mean, his own wife didn’t pick up on it, did she?”

  “D
ogs are very finely attuned to whoever’s going to give them dinner,” said Snooky. “It enables them to sense when their owner’s body has been taken over by someone from outer space. It means their food supply is endangered.”

  “Oh.”

  “Ask Misty, she’ll tell you.” He prodded the sleeping dog. “Wake up, Misty. Wake up, little Misty. Oh, well, she’ll tell you later. Is Misty getting old? Does she do anything other than sleep?”

  “Misty is not getting old,” said Bernard.

  “Really? How old is she?”

  “She’s only eight.”

  “Isn’t that fifty-six in dog years? She’s middle-aged, then.”

  “Dog years are only an approximation,” said Bernard. “It depends on the size of the dog and their general condition. Misty is still a young dog.”

  “Bernard has a theory about dog years,” said Maya. “He feels that he ages a week for every day that you stay with us, Snooky. He told me the other day that he’s already aged over two years during the few months you’ve been here.”

  “Thank you, Bernard,” said Snooky. “I understand. Most people find it difficult to have a free, full-time live-in servant.”

  The four of them watched the entire movie, and agreed to watch whatever came on after that without changing channels. It turned out to be a compilation of old silent Buster Keaton clips. Maya laughed until her eyes watered and her stomach hurt.

  “I can’t laugh anymore, turn it off, it’s dangerous,” she gasped. “It’s bad for the baby.”

  “Don’t be silly, laughter is good for the baby,” said Weezy.

  Bernard was looking at his popcorn bowl sadly. “No more.”

  “All gone, sweetheart?” said Maya.

  “All gone.”

  “Want some more?”

  “Yes.”

  The three of them looked at Snooky expectantly.

  “Hey, I don’t think so. Fend for yourselves, will you?”

  “Make me some, too, when you go downstairs,” said his sister. “Mine is almost gone.”

  “Gee, I’m sorry, Missy, but my shift was over at midnight. I’m not on again as your combination butler and cook until nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll go with you,” said Weezy, giving him a shove which pushed him off the bed, “and we’ll do it together.”

  The party broke up at three A.M. Snooky and Weezy were leaving early that morning, so they kissed Maya and Bernard good-bye.

  “Have a wonderful time,” said Maya, suddenly tearful again.

  “We will, Missy. Take care of yourself.”

  “Okay.”

  “You have our address and phone number there, so don’t panic. We’ll call you every other day or so to see how things are going.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Snooks.”

  “I want to. Remember to keep eating a lot for the baby.”

  “I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Maya said, regarding her swollen waistline with mingled pride and despair.

  “Good. Call if you need us for anything.”

  “I will. Have a wonderful time. Don’t worry about us, we’ll get along fine. I’ll miss you, but you know Bernard won’t. He hates company. And, Snooks—”

  “Yes?”

  “Take good care of her,” Maya whispered.

  He bent down and kissed his sister lightly on the cheek. “What do you think this is all about?”

  The first three nights in St. Martin, Weezy woke up sobbing and drenched in sweat in the early hours of the morning. Snooky held her and talked to her, telling her little stories, using funny voices to make her laugh, singing her stupid little songs until she dropped off in his arms. The nightmares were all the same: something evil was creeping after her in the darkness.

  “I’m so scared,” she sobbed. “I’m so scared!”

  He told her little stories and enacted all the parts in different voices until at last she smiled and slipped off to sleep. One night she whispered, “When I lie down to go to sleep, this little film of everything I’ve ever done wrong in my life unwinds in my brain. Every embarrassing moment, every misstep, every person I’ve ever hurt, every person who’s ever hurt me, every action I’ve ever regretted.”

  “Sounds charming.”

  “It’s awful. Completely, totally awful. A living nightmare.”

  As the days went on, however, Weezy slowly began to unwind. She spent her days curled up in a beach chair under a palm tree, reading voraciously. Their hosts had a large library and Weezy discovered to her delight that they had a section on her own favorite interest, the Tudor period in England. She spent hours reading about Henry VIII and Elizabeth I and their times.

  “So relaxing, sweetie,” she said when Snooky questioned her taste. “So reassuring to read about other people’s troubles, four hundred years ago. Nothing better. Plus, they’re not just ordinary people, they’re monarchs. When they have problems, it’s so … so satisfying, somehow. I can’t get enough of it.”

  The house was just as Snooky had described it: painted pink on the outside, with huge windows everywhere and a terrace leading down to white sand on a private beach. The water was halcyon blue, the sun shone every day in a cloudless sky, and Weezy would glance up from her book to find tiny lizards watching her from their perches, sunning themselves on the steaming rocks. Little white birds roamed the beaches, pecking at insects in the sand. Once a day Snooky would clamber up the trees and bring down coconuts which he split open on the rocks, scooping out the sweet white meat. Whenever she got too hot she would go for a swim in the crystal-clear water, where brilliantly colored fish swarmed through the shallows. Their hosts, Peter and Nancy McAllister, provided them with food and drink and left them alone, just as Snooky had promised. The house was so large that privacy was not a problem; the two of them had an entire wing all to themselves. Whenever Weezy felt sleepy, she would stretch out in the lounge chair and take a nap, the shadows of the palm tree playing over her face, the tropical breeze blowing in from the sea. Whenever she thought of this time, years later, it was in vivid colors in her mind: lapis blue, sundrenched yellow, blinding white, the jade-green of the water when a shadow passed over it. The days blended one into the next, and her life before she had arrived on the island seemed very far away, a mere pinprick in the distance, receding to a far horizon.

  “Enjoying yourself?” Snooky asked one day, smiling at her indulgently. He felt that his plan had worked out better than he had ever expected.

  She looked up from her book. Her hair was bleached in the sun and now shone with bright gold and amber highlights. “Oh, yes. Yes, you know I am. More than I can say. Peter and Nancy have been wonderful.”

  “Some other people we know could learn a thing or two from them.”

  “Well, Maya’s pregnant, she’s not supposed to be a great host right now. Anyway, these two must be absolutely loaded. I’ve never seen a house like this in my life.”

  “Yes, Nancy comes from old money. I’m sure she considers this house barely adequate.”

  “It’s awfully nice of them to put up with us. I’m not exactly sure what they get out of it, to tell you the truth. Certainly not the pleasure of our company, as you said—we hardly ever see them.”

  He waved a careless hand. “Oh, it doesn’t matter. They love having guests, imagine how empty this house would be otherwise. They spend part of the year here and they love it when people drop in. Which just goes to prove my old maxim, that you don’t have to have money as long as your friends do.”

  “You bloodsucking leech,” she said, turning a page.

  “Sucking them dry,” he said grandly, picking up his rum drink. “Sucking them dry. Ask Bernard, he’ll tell you.”

  “Well, it’s true that they don’t seem to mind. They make me feel like we could stay here forever.”

  “I’m sure they’d be delighted to have somebody look after the property while they’re away. Make it look lived in.”

  At night they would go out to
a local restaurant, eating in a tree house nestled in the branches of a palm tree, or in a French restaurant on the bay where the sound of the water lapping against the dock formed a gentle accompaniment to their meal. Snooky ordered the same thing night after night: conch stew.

  “Giant, rubbery slugs,” he would say in satisfaction as the dish was set before him.

  Weezy would look up from her grilled fish in amusement. “I remember when I used to be able to tolerate that stuff.”

  “Try it again, sweetheart, you’ll go crazy. It’s delicious. I never eat anything else when I’m here.”

  “So I see,” she said, grinding pepper onto her rice. “So I see.”

  After dinner they would linger over coffee, watching the sun sink into the water, casting fiery tendrils of light across the bay towards them. They would hold hands and Snooky would tell her little anecdotes to make her laugh. Then they would drive back to the beach house, go up to their bedroom and make love. Weezy felt as if she were living inside a bubble: a giant, iridescent bubble, with glowing colors which spread and burst all around her like fireworks. She felt that her life had become beautifully round, full and creamy, like the perfect moon they had seen from the window of Maya’s house that May night. That moon waned into nothingness and then came again, growing to a huge white orb which hung above the waters of the bay as they sat in the French restaurant, talking and laughing and holding hands. Weezy, in a happy daze, felt that time had lost all meaning for the two of them. The glowing Caribbean colors during the day, and the tranquillity of the nights, combined to produce in her a glowing, lazy satisfaction. She felt like one of the sand lizards basking on a rock.

  When she tried to describe this feeling to Maya, there was a long, crackling silence on the other end of the phone.

  “Your brain’s been addled by too much sun, too much swimming and, I would venture to guess, way too much sex,” Maya said at last.

  “You’re just jealous.”

  “I am jealous. It’s July, and it’s turned cold here. The nights are cold. Every time you talk about the Caribbean heat I feel like screaming.”

  “Your brother eats giant slugs every day. Does that make you feel better? Like you’re not missing that much?”