‘Well, what do you think?’ he said. ‘But make it quick.’
‘I thought we might try the separate vacations again, and get Suzanne to come afterwards. But I’m going to need some help with her this year. I can’t stand it much longer.’
‘Yes. All right.’
Nothing would happen, of course. Every year she said the same thing about Suzanne.
‘So shall I call up Suzanne and tell her?’ Dorothy asked.
‘Yes, OK.’
‘Are you really listening?’
‘Of course, of course, I’m just in a hurry. I’ve got to go out.’
Dorothy picked up the telephone and dialled Suzanne’s number. Fred went upstairs. Suzanne, as Dorothy had hoped, was in the middle of preparations for dinner: in fact, she was giving a party and sounded disorganized.
‘Who? Dorothy? Why don’t I call you back when we can talk?’
‘No, no. No need for that. It’s just to say that we’re going to have to make it after the twelfth.’
‘But that’s ages away.’
‘I’m afraid it just won’t work out any other way.’
‘But I’ll be on vacation then.’
‘Well, I’m afraid we’re going to be on ours before then.’
‘Maybe I can come before you go.’
‘No, that’s just it. We’ve get people staying.’ Dorothy thought of a name quickly. Suzanne always wanted to know all the details of everybody’s life, and never forgot any of them.
‘Dorothy, we’ll have to talk about it. I’ve really got to go now.’
‘That’s all right. We don’t have to talk about anything until after the twelfth. OK?’
‘Yes‚ but–’
‘I’ll get in touch with you then. Goodbye.’
‘I’ll call you‚’ Suzanne said. ‘Goodbye.’
Dorothy wrote down on the notepad by the telephone that Suzanne was not to come until after the twelfth. When Fred came running down the stairs, still tying his tie, she told him and he said. ‘Yes, yes.’
‘And I’ve written it down on the pad in case she calls. If she comes before that, I’m moving out and taking the car.’
‘All right, all right,’ he said.
‘Where are you going in a tie?’
‘I’ve got to rush. ‘Bye.’
He was out of the house and into the rented car before she could think of what she had been meaning to say. Now she had forgotten. She went back to the telephone, underlined two words on the pad, and continued on towards the kitchen.
She and Larry had supper, and were just settling down in front of the TV set when she heard what she thought was the front door. Larry turned off the set and told her that her husband had come back. She scrambled up off the bed, although she didn’t believe it. Much more likely that there was a burglar.
She opened the door to the living-room without making a sound. Exactly in her line of vision sat Fred, his head in his hands. She approached the chair silently and stood near him. He sighed. He said, ‘Oh, damn.’ She put her hand on his shoulder and he jumped. She patted his back.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘What did I say?’
‘When?’
‘Just now.’
‘Nothing. You said, ‘Oh, damn’. Where were you? What happened?’
‘It’s so hard to explain.’
‘That’s all right.’ She sat down beside him.
He said, ‘Well, it’s so stupid and miserable. I was seeing somebody. I didn’t even like her, but I was bored. She was the one who started it all. I wouldn’t have thought of it otherwise. And now she says she’s going to make a big scene and tell you. So, that’s it. I’m sorry.’
Dorothy kept her hand on his back. She said, ‘Never mind. If she wants to talk to me, let her.’
‘I think it’s just to hurt me, but I don’t want it hurting you. That’s why – I mean, I’d rather not have said anything.’
I’ll bet, Dorothy thought. And he probably thinks I had no idea. Still, I too would rather not have known so exactly. She sat still, moving her hand lightly over the back of his shirt and wanting to ask, ‘What’s she like?’
‘You don’t love her any more?’
‘Oh, I never did. That’s what’s so dumb.’
‘Well, don’t worry. I’ll be prepared if anything happens.’
He still looked pathetic. Perhaps he wanted to warn her that if the other woman told her such-and-such, not to believe it. Well, Dorothy thought, I have Larry. I can afford to be forgiving.
‘Are you going out again tonight?’
‘No.’
‘We can play Scrabble and plan out what’s going to happen with the vacations.’
They ended up playing four rounds. Dorothy brought coffee and made him some sandwiches. He said, ‘This is beginning to look like a tournament,’ and she answered, ‘No, just “people to people”, but I’m winning.’
‘That makes it people to etymological mastermind.’
Dorothy wrote down the score and looked over the letters in her rack. ‘We haven’t played this in a long time.’
‘That’s because you kept winning.’
Dorothy almost said, ‘Or because you were always out at night.’ There were a few moments around quarter to eleven when she thought she sensed movement from the kitchen, which would mean that Larry was sneaking out to steal a car for the night. And, there was another point when she knew for certain that her husband had decided, all in the space of an evening and without consulting her, to put their marriage back where it had been several years ago, before the single beds.
As they went upstairs, Dorothy reminded him about Suzanne and repeated that she would leave the house if Suzanne came before the twelfth.
‘We could take our vacation together‚’ Fred said. ‘Something fancy, for a change.’
‘I think it might be a good idea to go ahead and do them separately. Have time to think about things and get together afterwards. You know what vacations are. They aren’t really connected to the rest of life. Like honeymoons.’
‘Sounds good.’
‘But you don’t need to go away for that.’
‘Sounds better‚’ he said.
In the morning, Fred was hardly out the door and Dorothy back in the kitchen, when Larry appeared before her. He said, ‘They’re looking for me,’ and pointed to the radio. Dorothy switched on the volume knob and led him to a chair.
The announcer’s voice sounded excited and happy, as if advertising something. It said:
Last night, after a lull of weeks, Aquarius the Monsterman struck again. Five young lives fell victim to the bloodlust of this creature, five families now mourn. Yesterday they hadn’t a care in the world, now they know the sorrow of the bereaved. And we must also ask ourselves if it is right that alien life-forms should be brought back at great public expense to lay waste the flower of our citizenry.
‘They came at me with broken bottles. One of them said, “Hey man, look at the size of him. We’ll do something about that, to begin with.” And then they were all around me, so I had to hit as fast as I could. I’m sorry, Dorothy. It’s going to make it harder for you, isn’t it?’
Dorothy made a gentle, hushing gesture with her hand. She listened to the radio. The rest of the broadcast described the ‘bloodlust killings’ of five boys or men in the gardens of the museum, where they had been the other night. She listened to the end, and then switched it off.
‘Were you hurt?’
‘Where they hit me and kicked me, but they weren’t able to use the bottles. Or the knives – two of them had knives – so, my skin isn’t broken.’
She ran her hand along his face. He pulled away as she touched the side of his jaw. If the dark green colour hadn’t masked it, there would probably be a spectacular bruise to go with the swelling, like the time Fred got into the fight on the freeway with the driver from Kansas.
‘I’ll get you something for it.’
‘I already put a cream on it.
I found it with the medicines. It said it was for contusions.’
They spent the morning quietly until Mr Mendoza arrived. This time, he came in for a cup of coffee and talked about the news, and said that the television version now was that these young men were brave and patriotic and so on, but he had seen their pictures in the morning paper and recognized them as punks and troublemakers from good neighbourhoods, who had the money and the time to hang around getting drunk and taking drugs and beating up people who were poorer than they were and who were out on their own.
‘That friend of yours,’ he said. ‘It will be sad for a while, but it’s better the way it is, you’ll see.’
Dorothy didn’t know what he meant. She was terrified that he might have meant Larry. Could he have seen Larry through a gap in the kitchen curtains? Mr Mendoza said goodbye and left before she could say anything or even think about it.
He might have been referring to something in the newspaper coverage which she had misunderstood. But “your friend”, if it was an allusion to Larry, would have meant that the police should have been at the house hours ago. Fred had taken the paper with him again; she hadn’t even seen it.
She turned on the television set in Larry’s room. He was pottering around the living-room, looking at magazines and books. The screen showed police and public officials. Occasionally there was a shot of one of the doctors or scientists who worked at the Institute. There were some interviews, which had been taped very early in the morning, and panel discussions about the nature of civilized man and the aggressive instinct. Dr Forest stressed the animal’s intelligence, Professor Dexter talked about the original capture and why it would be so dangerous to approach such a creature without qualified professional help. The police and officials spoke of quick action, possible hiding places, eating habits. Without actually saying so, the presenters of the programme were managing to suggest that Larry had remained in the area because of the opportunities for eating people. Not one of the men interviewed thought it might be possible that Larry remained so well hidden because he had made friends with someone. That question was never raised.
But perhaps the police had told them not to mention it. On the other hand, if the authorities believed that, surely they would find Larry more quickly by asking members of the public to snoop around all the houses near them. Now that she thought of it, of course, it was extraordinary that he should have chosen her. Most single people don’t live in their own separate houses, most married people are in and out of all the rooms of their house.
While she was watching, Larry came in and sat down on the bed.
‘How can they say those things? I used to think it was only the people at the Institute who were like that, but they are everywhere.’
Dorothy turned the sound down almost to nothing, and came over to where he sat.
‘You don’t like it that I killed these people,’ he said. ‘You think it’s bad. But they would have killed me.’
‘I know they would. I don’t think it’s bad at all. I’m just disappointed that if anything goes wrong with the Mexican plan, we can’t use the newspapers. Before last night, we could have told the truth about the men in the Institute, how they were torturing you for their own pleasure in addition to all the horrible experiments they thought were going to prove something useful – and we would have had the defence of a victim. But now, everyone’s going to think these thugs and creeps acted in an understandable way. Everyone except me and somebody like Mr Mendoza, who has a mind of his own. People will think these boys acted the way they did because they were frightened. Of course, if they had been frightened, which they weren’t, it would have been the fault of the TV and the papers. They’ve been whipping everybody up.’
‘They always do. About everything. I’ve been reading and I’ve been watching. I’ll tell you something else: I understand now.’
‘What?’
He stood up and did the dance they had seen on television. To Dorothy it looked exactly as it had when he had copied it before.
‘Now I understand‚’ he said.
‘Is it different?’
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘for me.’ Dorothy was about to ask some questions concerning the dance when still photographs were put on the screen behind him. She was curious to see who the people were. Larry moved back beside her on the bed.
‘There are the people in the park. Do they look the same?’
‘Nothing ever looks like a picture. That’s what picture means.’
‘But can you recognize them?’
They both looked. One picture, two. The names weren’t given. Three; and then, at the fourth picture, Dorothy said, ‘That looks like Estelle’s son. Joey. My God, I wonder if that was what Mr Mendoza meant.’
‘What?’
‘If that’s the same person, I know his mother. In fact, she’s my best friend. You know, my friend Estelle. I’d better call her up.’
She went into the kitchen and telephoned from there. Larry stood behind in the doorway, looking at her. All she got was a busy signal. It was true, of course, that pictures never looked like the real person, and this one would have been taken a long time ago, but it had been near enough to make her think she recognized it, even without a name.
‘Larry‚’ she said, ‘I think I’d better see if I can find Estelle. I’m sorry to leave you.’
‘You don’t like it that I killed him. Does it make it worse that you knew that one?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why? To do a bad thing is the same from a stranger as from someone you know. Maybe it’s worse from someone you know.’
‘But you make allowances for the people you know.’
‘I told you what happened. There were five of them, they tried to kill me, and they jumped on me without any warning. They were armed, and they were enjoying themselves. That Joey one, too. Aren’t you going to make allowances for me as well as him?’
‘I’ve known him since he was a baby. I’ve held him on my lap.’
‘You’ve loved me more than you ever loved him, haven’t you?’
Dorothy fidgeted with the telephone cord. She nodded and sighed.
‘What really worries you most, Dorothy? It isn’t because of what I’ve done – I can see that now.’
‘I guess it’s Estelle. From the beginning, we were just the opposite: our families, our characters, and our marriages. But we’ve always gotten along so well, like sisters. We’ve helped each other so much. Once or twice our lives were broken up so seriously that each of us was nearly ready to go under – really. So, when something hits Estelle badly, it hits me, too. You can’t imagine how she complains about her children, even when they’re there in the room, but I know they’re really everything to her. She just adores them. I don’t know how she’ll recover.’
‘You did,’ Larry said.
‘Sometimes I wonder.’
She drove out to Estelle’s house, but there was no answer when she rang the doorbell, and none when she went around to the back and pounded on the door. She got the notebook out of her purse, ripped out a page, and wrote a short letter, which she folded up to look like an envelope, and pushed it through the slot in the door.
She drove in the direction of the museum. From a long way off it was obvious that there were crowds of people driving towards the place, so she changed her mind and took the turning for the coast. She stopped the car under a eucalyptus tree and sat looking out at the ocean. She felt like crying; for Estelle at the moment and Estelle in the future, and for herself in the past, when Scotty died. She tried to think of what to do, and to arrange plans for hiding Larry, comforting Estelle, getting rid of Suzanne, taking the holiday alone without hurting Fred’s feelings, and getting Larry back to his home. If I do this, she thought, it should take one week, two weeks, but if I do this … She couldn’t attach any of her thoughts together for very long. She would much rather have cried. What she did, however, was to fall asleep, with her shoulder up against the seat and her head near the window. She
woke up after about twenty minutes and drove back to Estelle’s house, where there was still no answer.
*
She went back home. Fred’s rented car was parked outside and he was in the living-room. He was reading a newspaper.
‘Seen this?’ he asked, as she passed in front of him. He crinkled the paper at her to show what he meant, but kept right on reading.
‘I haven’t seen any of them. You took the paper with you when you left. I saw something on TV, but they didn’t give any names. Was it Joey?’
‘Looks like him. I’m not surprised. He was probably so spaced out, the monsterman just gave him a push and he fell over.’
‘Why do you call him a monster?’
‘Well, an eight-foot-tall green gorilla with web feet and bug eyes – what would you call him? A well-developed frog? Not exactly an Ivy-league type, anyway.’
‘I’ve met plenty of Ivy-leaguers I’d call monsters. And his feet aren’t webbed, or only a little. And neither are his hands. They only seem that way at first glance. And he isn’t any eight-foot tall. Only about six-seven.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I saw it on television. Pictures taken before he escaped.’
You know some idiot of a woman is trying to get up a petition to say this monster has been inhumanly treated, and so on.’
‘She’s right. He was.’
‘Oh, come on.’
‘How would you like to be tied down and given electric-shock treatments by force, and only given any food when they’d decided you were co-operating enough in one of their horrible experiments?’
‘You sound just like this Mrs what’s-her-name here – Mrs Peach. You two should get together.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Actually, I’m not so sure I believe there ever was a monster. Might just be some poor clone or hybrid they’ve been working on in the labs. Gave him too big a dose of some hormone and it sent him haywire; something like that.’
They had a quiet dinner and talked about plans for the future. Fred agreed that they would take separate vacations. Dorothy realized from the start of the meal that he wanted to say something about having children, but he didn’t dare. She thought: he really is hoping to go back to where we were, and thinks then everything will work itself out.
Mrs Caliban and other stories Page 8