“And when you asked me—do you remember? You asked me if I believed in change, that you could change, that people could change …”
“Yes …”
“And I thought: Well, how can I ever know whether to believe in it or not unless I see? Because things can change, I know. Even I could change.”
They were silent, looking at each other.
“Because,” she went on softly, “perhaps it isn’t necessary for one person to do all the changing. You, I mean. Am I making any sense? What I mean is, if I believe that you have changed, then I can believe that I’ve changed, too—” Her voice trailed off.
“I understand,” he said.
“That’s why I didn’t bring Billy …”
“Why not?”
“Because Billy isn’t important—no, no, I don’t mean that. Of course he’s important, but it’s really you and me, first, who have to believe, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he said.
“So—so I came …”
“My God!”
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” he said. “It’s just—nothing. I can’t seem to—”
Helen stood up and walked to the corner window. “You said,” she said, “that you thought perhaps we could work things out, didn’t you?”
“Yes …” He studied her from the back, slim, almost frail in a simple black wool dress. He had forgotten how short she was.
“Did you mean that?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I thought if you were willing—willing to try it, then I should be willing, too. After all, I’m not faultless …”
“I’m willing,” he said softly.
She turned and faced him again. “Then so am I.”
He stood up and went to her. She looked up at him. “I believe—that if you’re strong enough to fight for me, then I am strong enough to fight for you.”
He kissed her very gently, and she clung to him for a moment, then she buried her face in his shoulder. “It won’t be easy,” she said. “It’s going to be hard. Good things are always hard to come by, aren’t they? It may be the hardest thing we’ve ever done. No, I know it won’t be easy. It will take a long time—a long time before we know whether we’ve done it or not! We may never know whether we’ve done it or not! But I’m willing to try—”
They separated, and Helen moved around the room. “You know,” she said, “sitting here in this apartment—all afternoon, cleaning it—I wondered why we never did anything to it!”
“What do you mean?”
She laughed. “I mean—why didn’t we do things, little things? Like take down the Venetian blinds! I suddenly thought this afternoon: Why, those windows might be rather pretty if it weren’t for the Venetian blinds! And I thought—if we put the sofa there—” She pointed. “Oh, I just mean little things. Like hang some pictures! What was the matter with us, Jimmy? Were we too lazy—or what—not to try to make this place look a little less like a motel?”
“I never thought there was much you could do with it—except take it as it is!”
“Oh, just little things would help. Just little touches—I know the furniture’s pretty dreadful, but—”
“I see what you mean,” he said. “Like take down the Venetian blinds.”
“Yes! Exactly!”
He went to the window and peered up under the cornices. Then he reached up. “Look,” he said, “they lift right off—” He lifted the blind from its brackets and lowered it, placing it in a heap on the floor.
“There! Isn’t that better?” She laughed. “Now do the other one!”
He repeated the operation with the other window.
“Isn’t that better? Oh—I remember that pretty eucalyptus tree!”
He dusted his hands on his trouser-legs. “Of course we’d need a bigger apartment now—with Billy,” he said.
She thought about this. “Yes,” she said finally, “but I think we should wait—wait before we bring Billy into it. I mean, I want this to be you and me first. If the experiment works—I mean, if things seem to be working out, then we can bring Billy into it. But first it must be by ourselves—”
“What are you going to do with him?”
She turned and moved away from him again. “Let’s not be hasty,” she said. “Let’s try—let’s try visits. I could come up, or—yes, I could come up, like this, and Mother could baby-sit—”
He went to her again, put his hands on her shoulders and turned her slowly around. “Darling,” he said.
“I’m scared, a little,” she said, her eyes clear. “Aren’t you? I think it’s so important—that I’m scared.”
“I’m scared, too.”
“Oh,” she said, “we had so many things against us, didn’t we? That was part of the trouble, wasn’t it? We had families fussing over us—making us get married again. We had Daddy dying—we had so much to contend with! Things from the outside—that we couldn’t control. No wonder we couldn’t seem to grow up!”
Slowly, thoughtfully, he kissed her again. Then, once more, they separated.
“Yes,” she said emphatically, “this apartment could be made attractive, it really could. It needs—oh, of course it needs a good cleaning. A better cleaning than I could give it in an afternoon. But wait and see—if we hung some pictures there—and moved the coffee table over there—why didn’t we ever think of that? To move the coffee table over there, so it could cover up that hideous spot on the rug—”
“I can’t remember,” he said, “was that spot there when we moved in?”
“I can’t remember either.”
Together, they walked to the spot and studied it. “I’ve never been able to figure out what that spot was,” Helen said. “Do you suppose it could be—” Together, they kneeled to examine the spot, and, kneeling, their heads cracked together. “Oh!” Helen said.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry, Helen …”
“No, it was my fault.”
They sat, on their knees on the floor, rubbing their heads. Then they began to laugh, and, all at once, they were in each other’s arms. “It won’t be easy, darling,” Helen said urgently.
“It’s going to be hard! The hardest thing! The hardest thing we’ve ever done. But it’s worth it, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”
“Oh, darling! My darling!”
“Jimmy!”
Then a few moments later, she whispered, “Darling …? We’re still married …”
Then, much later, in the total darkness of the room, with only the sound of rain falling on the courtyard below, and the sound of the eucalyptus branches scraping in the wind, Jimmy said softly, “I feel as if I’ve come out of a great noisy room suddenly to a quiet place. There’s been a great party going on—a huge, noisy party with disreputable people letting their hair down and performing all sorts of noisy feats, telling noisy jokes, laughing at the noise, being their worst. And all at once, the door is closed on it all, and I’m in this curiously quiet place. The party is still going on somewhere—way over there—but nobody at the party misses me and I don’t miss it. I’m far away on the other side of the house, on the other side of the world. Whole mountains in between me and the others. Perhaps somewhere in the party, someone will shriek, ‘Where’s Jimmy?’ And there’ll be a frantic, noisy search for me—under the sofa, in the closets—and when they don’t find me there, they’ll pick up and go on. I’ll be back in a minute, they think. But the thing is, I’ll never be back. My whole life has been in that crazy party, that never-ending nonsense. I’ve escaped from it into a very quiet room where the doors are open, leading out, where I can come and go, through the doors … through the doors … in and out … this quiet room. Thank God!” He began to laugh softly.
27
When Jimmy got home from work Monday night, Helen had fixed dinner. She had set the kitchen table with mats and napkins and they ate by candlelight. In the centre of the table, she had arranged a low bowl of Shasta daisies. She had also rearranged the living-room furniture. The c
offee table now covered the spot on the rug. “I’d forgotten how much fun it is to keep house,” she said.
“Tell me,” Jimmy asked once during their dinner, “does your mother have any idea where you are?”
Helen laughed. “No,” she said. “Or rather she has an idea—but it’s the wrong one. I told her I was going to San Francisco to stay with friends.”
“Are you going to tell her?”
“When I get back, yes.”
“What do you think she’ll say about it?”
“Well,” she said thoughtfully, “I think she’ll probably be a little upset at first. You know Mother. She likes things orderly—like her garden. She doesn’t like changes. But, once she gets used to the idea—then I think she’ll be very happy about it. Besides,” she added, “there won’t be much she can do about it!”
Then he asked her the question he had put off asking her. “When do you think you’ll be going back?” he said.
“To-morrow …”
“To-morrow?”
“Yes, I must go back to-morrow. I’ll—I’ll fix your breakfast, see you off to work—and then I’ll go. It’s just that I can’t leave Billy for too long.”
“Yes, of course,” he said.
“You understand, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Then he said, “You don’t think—that you might bring Billy back?”
“Is it too soon, darling?” she asked earnestly. “Have we really had enough time to get to know each other again? Honestly, I don’t know. At times, to-day, thinking about it, I thought yes. Then I thought—let’s wait. But I can come back! I could come back next week-end. That is, if you want me too …”
“You know I want you to,” he said slowly.
“Oh, I’m glad you do! Let’s have week-ends together, two or three more, anyway. Just think—there’s Christmas coming, then New Year’s. Let’s have two or three week-ends—clandestine, all by ourselves! Then, if we’re really sure, then—then we can bring Billy here, and really begin.”
He reached for her hand across the table. “I love you, Helen,” he said.
“And I love you.” She jumped up, brushing at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Well,” she said, “let’s do the dishes!” She began to clear the table. “This is what we need,” she said. “This is what we never had any of, before. A little baby is—well, they take a little looking-after. We need every minute we can possibly have to get to know each other. It’s been such a long time …”
He stood up and put his arms around her. “You know,” he whispered, “I’ve been thinking all day—about last night. How wonderful it was. It was like it was way back at the beginning—before everything got mixed up. Isn’t it strange? How everything got mixed up? But now—it’s going to be all right now, isn’t it?”
“There was a monster in both of us,” she said.
The telephone rang. Helen started to reach for it; then, instinctively she withdrew her hand. “Let’s let it ring,” she said.
“All right …”
The telephone continued to ring. Then Jimmy said, “I’d better see who it is—” He picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Jimmy? This is Claire. Were you asleep or something?”
“No,” he paused. “Where are you?”
“I’m here—about eight blocks away. At the Senator Hotel.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Can I meet you?” she said. “Just for a minute? I’ve got to see you.”
“What’s happened?”
“Can I come up?” she asked.
“No, no—” he said quickly.
“Then meet me somewhere. Where can you meet me?”
Jimmy was silent.
“Where?” she asked. “Please, Jimmy, I’ve got to talk to you. It’s terribly important.”
“I’m trying to think—”
“Look,” she said, “I’ll start walking up the street and you start walking down. I’ll follow the edge of the park, over to Capitol—I’ll meet you half-way.”
“Is something wrong?”
“I’ll explain. Start walking down Capitol. I’ll start walking up.” There was a click as she hung up.
He replaced the telephone, then turned to Helen, who stood looking at him across the candle-lighted kitchen. “That was Claire Gates,” he said.
“Oh,” Helen said. “Is she—here?”
“Yes.”
“She wants to see you?”
“Yes,” he said.
Helen looked at him for a moment. “Then you’d better go,” she said.
“Helen, I—”
She smiled. “You’ve got to go,” she said. “I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” She went to the closet and took his raincoat from the hanger. “It’s a miserable night,” she said. “That poor girl—”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because—I like her, really,” Helen said. “Now hurry.”
“Are you sure you understand? Why I have to see her?”
“Of course I do, darling. Just—”
“What?”
“Just hurry back!” she said, smiling. “And remember—”
“Remember what?”
“Nothing. Now hurry.”
At the door he stopped and turned. “I’ll be right back,” he said.
He went out the door and down the steps to the street. The rain was coming down with a slow, steady drizzle, and there was still a sharp, cold wind that rattled the fronds of the ornamental palm trees in front of the apartment house. The sidewalk was deserted and quiet; a few cars splashed by on the street. As he walked down Capitol Avenue towards the park, Christmas trees glittered from several lighted windows as he passed. Then, ahead of him, emerging through a puddle of lamplight, he saw Claire walking towards him. She looked small and cold, her shoulders hunched close together. She was wearing a short mink jacket and white Angora mittens. He waved to her, and she hurried towards him.
“Oh, Jimmy,” she said breathlessly when they met. “I’m so glad you could meet me. I had to see you.” Her hair was loose and damp and her face was streaked with rain.
“What’s happened?”
“I’ve left Blazer,” she said. “I’m going home.”
At first he didn’t understand. “Home?” he said. “Where?”
“To Mars Hill. I’ve left him, Jimmy. I’m going to get a divorce. I’m going home.”
“Oh,” he said.
“Yes. Oh, Jimmy,” she said, “I’m kind of frightened. But it’s what I must do! Jimmy—kiss me!”
Without thinking, he bent and kissed her forehead. “Claire,” he began, “I want to tell you something—”
She went on. “I moved out this morning,” she said. “While Blazer was at the office. I had to. I packed everything in Scarlet O’Hara—”
“Scarlet O’Hara?” he said. “But I thought—”
“Scarlet the Second!” she said. “Scarlet’s twin. Oh, what a week-end I’ve been through—you’ll never know! Last night I drove all the way to San Gregorio—to the beach. I thought if I could only just sit there on the sand! Just sit there! Listening to the waves coming in, trying to find some kind of peace! I walked for hours—or it seemed like hours. Finally in desperation I had to talk to someone. So I called Daddy at Mars Hill. When I heard his voice on the telephone, all I could do was cry! Let’s walk this way—” she said.
They started down the street. “But to-day was better,” she said. “Now that I’ve done it—moved out—I feel so much better. Because I know it’s all going to work out. Daddy said, ‘Come home.’ So I’m going home. Over the mountains—our mountains, Jimmy …” She turned to him. “You’re coming with me!”
“No, Claire.”
“Then you’re following me—as soon as you can. You must, Jimmy. I need to be sure of that.”
“Listen to me, Claire—” he began.
“Jimmy—I’ve got wonderful news for you. And you mustn’t be angry th
e way you were last time. But I went to see Helen. I got her to promise—don’t interrupt, darling—I got her to promise that she would go to Reno right away. She promised me, Jimmy! She’s going to get a divorce very quickly. She gave me her word!”
He stared at her bright face, incredulous. “Claire! I—”
But she wouldn’t let him speak. “I know, I know what you’re going to say,” she said. “You’re going to talk about your job—how you have to stay here, in this dreadful state, and work. But you don’t. You don’t at all. Oh, Jimmy, think of Christmas time in New York. Christmas at Mars Hill! Remember the dances, all the parties? Remember how Connecticut comes to life at Christmas time? There are going to be hundreds—literally hundreds of parties! The Cotillion! Would you like to take me to the Cotillion? Won’t it be wonderful? Jimmy—you must come back now, before Christmas!”
“I’m not going back,” he said.
“What do you mean? Of course you’re going back! You always said you would. Blazer’s staying here—he’s the kind that should—but not you! Please come back now, Jimmy—”
“I’m sorry, Claire.”
“Listen, Jimmy,” she said, “I talked to Daddy. He’s setting things up for me. Mars Hill will be mine some day. Just think—Mars Hill all to ourselves. And do you know what Daddy’s doing? He’s setting things up so I’ll have a bigger income. I’ll have thirty thousand, Jimmy. Just think—that, plus what you have—we’ll be able to have an apartment on Park Avenue, Mars Hill, a house in France. How much will you have, Jimmy?”
“How much what?”
“How much money—income? That was one of the great troubles with Blazer and me—he had no money. Do you see what I mean? It’s comforting to have all that money, don’t you think? That’s why I can leave Blazer so—so easily. I have that cushion. It makes the hurt so much more bearable. Tell me one thing, though—am I being a bitch to take Scarlet O’Hara away from him? I don’t want to be a bitch, but Scarlet O’Hara is mine—and I need some way to get home—”
Jimmy laughed softly. “I think you should keep Scarlet O’Hara,” he said. “You’ve earned her.”
“Oh, you’re laughing at me!” She looked up at him. They stopped walking. “I’m so out of breath—so excited—” she said. “Tell me, how much will you have?”
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