Chilly Scenes of Winter

by Ann Beattie

  “What’s the matter with you?” Sam says.

  “Nothing,” Charles says.

  “You look awful. She’s getting to you already, and you haven’t even seen her.”

  “I’m okay,” Charles says. He wishes he were okay.

  “Got it?” J.D. says.

  “No. You’d better write it down.”

  Sam goes out to the kitchen to get paper for J.D.

  “Drink a beer before you go. You don’t want to be too sober,” Sam says.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “How much has sobriety ever helped you?”

  Charles shrugs, accepts the beer. J.D. mumbles street names as he writes.

  “Thanks,” Charles says, taking the piece of paper from him. “You two going to be here?”

  “Yeah,” Sam says.

  “If Betty calls, don’t tell her where I am. Say that I’ll call back.”

  “She’d never call you after what you did.”

  “Yes she will. Just say I’ll return the call.”

  “I’d be plenty surprised,” Sam says.

  Charles leaves most of the beer in the bottle, puts it on the hearth. “See you,” he says.

  “Yeah,” J.D. says.

  Sam says nothing. He shakes his head.

  It is very cold outside. The bushes bordering the driveway look very stark; black twigs shoot in all directions. They are almond bushes. His grandmother made a list of all the bushes and trees and flowers in the yard that he discovered in a drawer when he moved in. There were instructions on how to prune them, feed, and propagate each. He has never done anything for the bushes, and they are all doing fine, but he still feels guilty when he thinks about that piece of paper. He never takes up the tulip bulbs, and every year they bloom. The lilies of the valley have crept out into the sunshine, and they, too, multiply.

  He would like to marry Laura and move to another house, a big house in the country with no other houses around, and gardens that Laura would dig and plant in. Does she have any interest in gardening? Of course she must, if she once considered majoring in botany. That will be something he can tell her tonight—that they can sell his house and move to a big house in the country. What will happen to Sam? Sam can come, too. He can stay with them. They will get Rebecca, too, somehow, to make Laura happy. And then they should probably get a dog. It sounds too Norman Rockwellish to be true. Who would somebody assume Sam was, if they saw him seated at a table with a happy family in a Norman Rockwell picture? They might think he was an uncle. They would never think he was there because he was unemployed and didn’t have enough money to live. He imagines a conversation between a mother and her child:

  MOTHER: Who’s this?

  CHILD: The daddy.

  MOTHER: That’s right And is this the mommy?

  CHILD: Yes. And that’s the doggie.

  MOTHER: And who’s this?

  CHILD: I don’t know.

  MOTHER: An unemployed jacket salesman.

  Charles laughs. But not for long, because he has made the wrong turn. He puts the light on and looks again at J.D.’s directions. He should have turned right back there. He makes a U-turn and takes the correct turn, and then he’s on the road that will lead him to Wicker Street. He hopes that she will be glad to see him, that she’s not acting funny the way she was on the phone. Even if she does act funny, he can talk her out of it. Remember the mobile I bought you, Laura? The night I rocked you? Remember that dessert you used to make—the one with oranges? He wants to rush in, hand her a diamond ring, sit down in a chair in the kitchen and watch her make that dessert. He wants to eat the dessert, then jump into bed with her. What should he really do? What should he say when she opens the door? Wicker Streets cuts across the road to the left and the right. He turns right and sees the numbers going down. Naturally, he made the wrong decision. He turns around and goes the other way on Wicker Street. He should have brought something. The ingredients for that dessert … no, he should have brought flowers. But that would be corny. He’ll just park the car and casually go into the building and … and … what should he say? There are no parking places. He has to park the next street over and walk through the cold to her apartment. His nose will run. He reaches up, to check. That would be awful. The building is drab and brown, no locked doors, no list of tenants under glass. There is a brown bag crumpled on one of the chairs in the lobby. He goes up the four steps, past the mailboxes to the elevator. There is no Muzak in the elevator. He gets off at her floor. Incredible. He can’t believe this is happening. She has left Ox, she is living here, he is going to knock on her door, and she is going to open it. He stands in front of the door. Music is playing inside. He knocks and Laura opens the door. Incredible! There is Laura, in a pair of jeans and a wraparound sweater. She gives him a half-smile. “Hi.”

  “Hi. How are you?”

  “Fine. Come in.”

  There is a bowl of crocuses blooming on the little table next to the closet she hangs his coat in.

  “The last time I saw you you were sick,” he says.

  She gives the half-smile again. “Yeah. And I thought I felt bad that day.”

  “What’s the matter … now?”

  “Come in,” she says. They walk down the short hallway to the living room. There is a mattress on the floor, covered with a yellow Indian bedspread. There are no curtains. There is a sofa, and a small rug in front of it. There are plants in the windows. There is a stereo playing.

  “I’m sorry not to act nicer,” she says. “I’m glad to see you.”

  He doesn’t know what to say. He stares. She looks the same, but she’s plucked her eyebrows. They’re thin arches now. Her eyes look much larger. He stares into them.

  “I don’t know where to begin,” he says.

  She smiles.

  “Coming in, I started remembering that dessert you used to make with the chocolate and the oranges, and I thought about begging you to make it immediately.”

  “Oh. I know the one you mean. You can come over sometime and I’ll make it for you.”

  Sometime? What is she talking about?

  “Tomorrow?” he says.

  “Tomorrow? I guess so. If you want to,” she says.

  The conversation has started all wrong. She is sitting on the mattress, her back against the wall. He sits down at the end of the mattress, looking up at her.

  “You’ve got a roommate?” he says.

  “Yes. She’s at the library. She’s in graduate school.”

  “Oh. Well, what are … what are you doing?”

  “Looking frantically for work.”

  “Why don’t you come back to the library?”

  “I don’t want to,” she says.

  “Are you looking for another job like that?”

  “I wouldn’t care. I’ve just got to get a job.”

  “Sam’s out of work. You remember Sam?”

  “Of course I do.”

  Of course she would.

  “That’s too bad,” she says. “Does he get unemployment, or.…”

  “Yeah. He gets that. He’s over at my place now.”

  “That’s nice,” she says.

  “Are you okay?” he says.

  She can’t be. The half-smile has become frozen on her face now.

  “No, I’m not very happy, if that’s what you mean. I didn’t want to leave Rebecca.”

  “Why did you?” he says.

  “I didn’t, really. Jim told me, well, I don’t remember the exact way he told me, but he wanted to live alone. I thought it would be better for me to go than to have Rebecca living in a new place, maybe having to leave her school,”

  “Why did he want to live alone?”

  “How should I know? We didn’t talk.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “You’re so curious,” she says. She gives him a half-smile.

  “I love you. I want to know what’s going on.”

  “I can’t tell you. I don’t know myself. He told me that one night, an
d the next morning I explained as best I could to Rebecca, and I left. Frances let me stay with her, until I can find work.”

  “You can stay with me.”

  “No. I just want to think things out for a while.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t even know if I’ll stay around here. I only would for Rebecca, but now I hear that he’s going to move.”

  “Couldn’t you stay with me until you found out?”

  “No,” she says.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I want to be by myself.”

  “Frances lives here, though.”

  “That’s the same as being by myself. She doesn’t make any demands on me.”

  “I never made demands on you, did I?”

  “People always make demands on other people.”

  “What did I do wrong?”

  “I wasn’t saying you did anything wrong. You were very nice to me. I didn’t start this conversation.”

  “Laura, you’re talking funny. I can’t understand you.”

  “You don’t want to understand me.”

  “I don’t want to, but I think I do. You’re saying that you don’t intend to come back to me.”

  “Not right now, no.”

  The dizzy feeling comes back. He is very glad that he didn’t finish the second beer.

  “But you will come back? You just want time to think? Time to think about what?”

  “Charles, what are you talking about? I just said that I had to have time to think about where I would work and live.”

  “With me.”

  “I don’t want to live with you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I want to be on my own. I don’t want anyone dependent upon me, and I don’t want to have to depend on anybody else. I just want to …”

  “Laura, you’ve got to come back. We don’t have to live in my house. I was going to tell you we’d sell it and that you can pick out some place you’d like to live.”

  “You really are crazy about me, aren’t you?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “That makes me feel awful. It’s not that I don’t like you …”

  Like!

  “But I don’t want to get into anything like that right now.”

  “Laura, you love me! If you hadn’t loved me, you wouldn’t have gotten out of bed when you had the flu to tell me you couldn’t meet me. Don’t you even know that you love me? Remember the mobile I gave you?”

  “The mobile?”

  “Don’t you remember?”

  “Yes. I remember it. But I don’t know why you brought it up.”

  “I don’t either. I was just thinking about the other apartment”

  “Would you like some tea or coffee? Or scotch?”

  “No! I want you! I want you to be sensible. I love you.”

  “I know that There’s nothing I can do about it. I didn’t call you, you got my number and called me.”

  “You mean you never would have called?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I just don’t know. I do think about you.” Think about!

  “You love me! This is the craziest thing imaginable. You love me and don’t even know it. Don’t you remember in the other apartment, how we ate dinner together and went to the movies and …”

  “I remember it perfectly. It was very nice. It was peaceful.”

  “Then move in with me. Or we’ll both find some place to move into. What’s happened between then and now?

  Laura shrugs.

  “Somebody else?”

  “Nobody I’m serious about.”

  “Who, Laura?”

  “I went out with somebody a couple of times. I don’t even know why I mentioned it, since it’s not what happened between then and now.”

  “Who?”

  “A taxi driver,” she says. “I went out with him for a couple of drinks.”

  “Two times?”

  “Yes. Two.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Yes. That’s all.”

  “Where did you meet a taxi driver, Laura?”

  “In his taxi.”

  “You’re kidding! He picked you up?”

  “I don’t want to get into an argument. I’m feeling very low. I did not call you because I knew I could not cope with you. I am very fond of you. I remember the mobile, and I will cook you that soufflé tomorrow night. I want you to go home.”

  “No! I can’t leave you like that. Shit, Laura. I never bothered you when you went back. I called once. I didn’t even call again after you said you’d call and you didn’t. I just drove around your goddamn house at night, looking at the lights. I can’t concentrate at work. I can’t stand the thought of dating other women. I hate other women. The only woman I can even stand the sight of is my sister. Cut this out! Come back with me. What is there for you here?”

  “Peace. Look at the way you’re acting.”

  “You mean if I’d been calm and subtle you would have come?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’m going to act this way. I’m going to talk truthfully.”

  “Stop thinking about yourself and think about me. I need peace. I don’t need to be told what to do. I’ve lost Rebecca and my marriage has fallen apart and I can’t find a job, and you’re telling me it can be like it was before.”

  “It can!”

  “It can’t. I’m miserable. Before I was just unhappy.”

  “A taxi driver! How the hell am I supposed to feel about that? You got in a goddamn taxi, and you let the driver pick you up.”

  “So what?”

  “That’s awful. It’s incredible. Taxi drivers don’t just pick up great women like you. Look at yourself. God, Laura.”

  “I never saw as much as you did,” she says.

  He gets up, legs shaky, and walks to the sofa. She is so unreasonable. He looks up at the picture on the wall: two parallel black lines are pushing a rainbow off the canvas. He looks at the rug: a circle of brown inside an oval of green, bordered with black. He wants to see something familiar—something from the old apartment.

  “Isn’t there anything of yours here?” he says.

  “It’s all back at the house,” she says. “I thought about going back to get some things, but I can’t face Rebecca.”

  “She knows it’s not your fault, doesn’t she?”

  “I don’t think seven-year-olds make intellectual distinctions.”

  “Is there any chance of getting her?”

  “Seemingly not. I’ve spoken to a lawyer. She is his daughter.”

  “Maybe he’d let you take care of her because it would be better for her.”

  “I don’t even know that it would. He’s nice to her. He’s her father.”

  “But did you ask?”

  “Yes.”

  “He said no?”

  She doesn’t answer. He stares at the little rainbow, at his feet on the rug. There is a magazine on the floor and a small minor. There are old wood floorboards, wide boards that have been painted brown. One of the panes in the window is cracked. The paint on the ceiling is chipped. The ceiling is painted light gray; it is white where the paint has peeled away. There are silver radiators. It could be a nice apartment, but it would need work. Strip the floors, paint the ceiling … he is already trying to imagine the place theirs, even though he has to leave it, even though she will probably leave it, too. She’d better leave it.

  “If I come back tomorrow you might not be here.”

  “I’ll be here after six. I have to go out looking for a job. And I’d better go to the store. After seven would be better.”

  “You say that, but I might show up and you might be gone.”

  “You mean deliberately? No, Charles.”

  “Some goddamn taxi driver might pick you up.”

  “I do not get picked up by just any taxi driver. Anyway, I don’t have the money for tax
is.”

  “So he was special to you. That’s what you’re saying?”

  “I’m losing patience. I’ve been as nice to you as I can. Tomorrow I’ll even try to be in a better mood to put up with your telling me what to do with my life. Please go home and come back tomorrow.”

  He simply cannot do it (“Closer, closer …”) He looks at his feet. They won’t move. He’s sure of it. He smiles at Laura. Isn’t she going to cut this out? Isn’t she going to come over and sit beside him? She stretches out on the mattress.

  “I’m tired,” she says. “I was out all day.”

  “Did you eat? I could take you out to eat.”

  “No thanks. I think I’ll just get ready to go to bed.”

  “But you do like me?” he says.

  “Yes,” she says.

  “And you’ll be here for sure.”

  “Yes.”

  He looks at the broken windowpane. He should offer to fix it. He doesn’t know how to glaze windows. He should find out and fix it tomorrow night He should demonstrate to Laura that he is very useful; there’s something to what she says—that he makes demands on her. He will make no demands at all, and will fix the window and offer to strip the floors. If he were only bigger, he could volunteer to go to her house with her and carry out furniture and paintings, but of course Ox would kill him or, even more degrading, just pick him up by the back of the neck like some trespassing cat, and drop him in the yard.

  “Remember taking me to the zoo, and how upset I got when I asked what giraffes did for fun and you said, ‘How could they do anything?’ ”

  “I should have thought of a nicer answer,” he says. “Like the cab driver Holden Caulfield asks about the ducks in winter.”

  “That’s an awful scene,” she says.

  He gave her Catcher in the Rye, and when she liked that he gave her Nine Stories, but after she read “A Perfect Day for Bananafish,” she couldn’t read any more. She even made him take the book back, and she knew that he already had a copy. She just wanted it out of her sight.

  “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he says.