“You’re doing great. Go on.”
“The old lady’s—well, basically I hate that kind of person—in real life, I mean—but I thought she was good. Very solid.”
“I’m with you.”
“And Rudy—well ...”
“Now remember he was nervous at the start. He can do that a lot better than today,” Walt said.
“In the first place, he’s so goddam fantastic-looking and he’s natural and he’s deaf and so’s the part and that helps—he’s really very good, Walt. I mean, he’s marvelous and if it weren’t for Jenny he’d steal the play easy.”
“Isn’t she something?”
“I would love to be her agent,” Tony said. She finished the cigarette, coughed, started to light another.
“Why not smoke?” Walt said.
“Terrific idea,” Tony said, smiling at him, finishing lighting the cigarette, inhaling deeply, coughing again. “They are so marvelous together, the two of them. I don’t know what other parts she’s right for on account of her size, but, Walt, she’s really something. I mean, he’s good, but she’s—”
“I tell you,” Walt said, “It’s a pleasure watching her. Sometimes—”
“You’re really talented,” Tony cut in. “I’m really mad at you, you bastard, I could almost hate you, it’s just one helluva good production.”
“You don’t know—”
“Everything that could be done’s been done.”
“Just hearing you say—what do you mean?”
“What do you think I’m so upset for? All this effort and love spent on this play. You wash garbage, it’s still garbage.” All of a sudden there were tears in her eyes. “What do you think’s so upsetting? No one’s going to know you can do anything at all. They’re just going to kill you, Walt. They’re going to take this thing apart and tromp all over it.” She threw up her hands. “What can I tell you? It’s a shitty play.”
I didn’t hear that, Aaron thought, behind them in the darkness, lurking.
The doorbell rang.
“Honey, honey, please,” Rose said. “Someone’s here. Answer the door.”
Branch lay still in the dark study, his arms across his eyes. “Get it, will you, Mom?”
“Branch, the party’s started. Please. Get up.”
“Get it, will you, Mom?”
“But what’ll I say?”
“I don’t care, Mom.”
The doorbell rang again.
“I had to come, honey. I had to see you. And you would’ve said ‘no’ if I’d called and asked. Wouldn’t you?”
“Answer the door, Mom. Before they go ‘way.”
“You’re all I got, Branch.” Rose gave her head a quick shake, shut her puffy eyes. “I mean all I had. An’ I just couldn’t stand ... not hearing from you at all an’—”
“Mom—”
“Awright, awright, I’ll go.” She touched her skirt. “Tell me I look O.K.”
“Never better, Mom,” Branch said, and as she closed the door he lay still a moment in the darkness. Then, with a strength that took him completely by surprise, he arched his body up, arched it so that he rested on his heels and the base of his neck. He stayed like that until it began to hurt, and when that happened he fell back to the bed and just thought, Never better. Jesus.
God, Rose thought, standing one last moment before the foyer mirror. “Coming,” she called, trying to pull her dress down and suck in her stomach and it all began that day after she got home from New York the last time. The day after her return and she saw that fudge in Custer’s Bakery and why had she been such a fool as to buy it? Once you started Custer’s fudge, you just couldn’t stop when you wanted to. Not if you had a real sweet tooth. I’ll just have to go on one of those crash diets, Rose decided. Just as soon as I get home, that’s what I’ll do. Meanwhile, she pulled in her stomach, or tried to, and got her dress to look right, or tried to, and made her hair lie flat, or tried to, and thought, God.
Tony thought: Fool. She stood outside the door of apartment 6A and she cursed herself for her honesty. I never should have told him. Never. Fool to speak truth. Lies he wanted and you gave him the truth, Tony baby, both goddam barrels, and you better watch it now because he’s angry, old Kirkaby is, and at you. Not for any good reason; just because you spoke the stupid truth, so you watch it, kiddo, or you’ll blow it all, sweetheart, and you don’t want that to happen, do you, dumpling? She took Walt’s hand and looked at him and smiled.
Walt returned it warmly, the word “bitch” very prominent in his mind.
“Coming” from inside.
Walt held on to Tony’s hand even though it was too hot to hold on to anything, and he tried to think about how much he hoped Branch’s apartment would be air-conditioned, but he was only partially successful, and the taxi ride up from the theater kept steaming through his mind, one dollar and sixty cents’ worth of solid criticism from Tony. She had opened her mouth with the drop of the meter and not closed it till the checker cruised to a halt before the building. How could you have done a play like this? Where’s your taste? How did they raise the money? Walt raised Tony’s hand to his lips.
“You devil,” Tony said.
The word “bitch” kept coming back. He dropped her hand, wiped his wet forehead. What he objected to, when you came right down to it, wasn’t the criticism. It really wasn’t. He didn’t mind her knocking him. What bothered him a great deal more than the words was the fact that while she spoke he could never, at no time since he’d known her, ever remember her having seemed quite so goddam blissfully happy.
“Hi, I’m Rose.”
“Hello, Mrs. Scudder. You remember me? I’m Walt Kirkaby. And this is Tony Last.”
“Come in.”
“Thank you,” Tony said. “What a lovely apartment.”
“I’ll show you around if you like,” Rose said. “Except we can’t go in the study now. Branch is terribly busy in there. Last-minute things, you understand.” They stopped in the living room. “This is the living room,” Rose said. “Isn’t that some view?” They all moved to the windows and stared out at Riverside Park and the Hudson.
“Beautiful,” Tony said. She looked at Walt. “It really is.”
“Do you think that looks all right?” Rose said, gesturing to two card tables, one of which held liquor and ice, the other cold cuts and rye bread and a large blue container of Morton’s salt. “I couldn’t find the salt shakers,” Rose said, “and Branch was so busy with last-minute things, I didn’t want to bother him. Do you think it looks all right or not? Branch is usually the decorator in the family.”
“Lovely,” Tony said.
“I just had to do everything, Branch being so busy. Back in college, he did a show. Oh, it was terribly successful, and he had a party before the first performance and he swore then and there he’d always do that, but of course doing it in New York is a lot different from doing it in Ohio.”
Walt nodded.
Rose took Tony’s hand. “Like a tour? This is the living room, and the foyer you’ve seen already.” They walked back into it, turned left and moved down the hall. “Then here’s the bedroom,” Rose said. “It’s got the same view as the other.” She gestured to the river. “And then behind it—that’s the study where we can’t go ’cause Branch is so busy, and this—in between the bedroom and the study is the bathroom. Do you want to see the bathroom? Why bother, it’s a bathroom, and now back we go.” They re-entered the hall. “And here’s the kitchen. It’s just the four rooms—living, bed, kitchen, study.”
“But they’re all a lovely size,” Tony said.
Rose lowered her voice. “Branch wouldn’t live in a place unless it was the very best. That’s what he’s used to and that’s what he gets.”
The doorbell rang.
Rose called “Coming.”
Tony walked back into the living room. Walt stood alone, staring out the window. Tony stopped and pointed, whispering, “By George, he’s even handsomer in person than on t
he silver screen.” Then as he turned and smiled, she walked toward him.
Walt watched her, deciding, as she approached, that in her watermelon-colored whatever it was she looked better than he had ever seen her. A sexy bitch, no denying, and as she smiled at him he wondered if he was going to have to marry her, which would serve him right, because he was such a goddam fool, picking virginity as an admirable virtue, in this, the twentieth century.
Jenny wondered if she should ring again. “What do you think?” she asked Rudy.
Rudy said he didn’t know.
Jenny raised her hand toward the buzzer, then dropped it. “Don’t you live here?” she asked.
Rudy remembered that he did.
“Then don’t you have a key?”
Rudy produced it as Rose opened the door.
They looked at each other.
“Hi, I’m Rose,” Rose said.
Rudy wished someone had told him.
“Jenny Devers. And this is Rudy Miller.”
“Hi,” Rose said, and she reached out a stubby hand, and Rudy was about to take it when a silver ring on her finger asked “Have you had enough? Are you ready now?” which startled him so that her stubby hand hung in midair, untouched, and then, embarrassed, she withdrew it, but he grabbed it, grabbed it hard with both of his, and said, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” and then Jenny’s voice was saying “He’s very tired,” and Rose’s: “Of course, my, yes, why shouldn’t he be?” and then Jenny was saying “Can I do anything” and Rose told her “I think everybody’s in the living room,” and Rudy watched her go and then Rose was whispering, “You’ve got to help me. Got to.”
Rudy kept an eye on her silver ring.
Rose led him down the corridor, whispering, “I had to come. You understand that. Make him not be mad at me. Make him understand. You can do that. I know you can do that. You’re the only one who can do that.” They stopped by the study door. “Tell him that I love him. I can’t take the way he looks at me. You tell him that I love him. You tell him. You make him believe.”
The study door opened and they walked into the darkness.
“Hon, it’s Rudy. I brought him to you.”
Branch said nothing.
“You tell him,” Rose whispered, and then she was gone.
“Did you see her?” Branch said then. “Did you see her? I did that.” He lay on the bed, breathing quietly.
Rudy stood in the center of the darkness.
“I almost got sick when I saw her. She walked in down there and ... and ... why didn’t her legs get fat too?”
“I’m sorry,” Rudy said, and then he said “Don’t cry,” because Branch was, and then he said “Stop,” because Branch couldn’t, and then he said “Stay,” because Branch was crawling toward him, and then, just before Branch touched him, he said “Please,” and when the darkness rumbled “Have you had enough? Are you ready now?” he was not in the least bit surprised.
“Coming,” Rose called as the doorbell rang.
Tony left Walt and went over to the food table and said “I thought you were so wonderful” to Jenny.
Jenny smiled. “You saw the play, then? How is it?”
“Bits and pieces,” Tony said quickly. “Not enough to tell. What I saw was just excellent.”
That bad, Jenny thought.
“I really loved you, though.”
Jenny looked at the dark girl, neat and cool in her watermelon-colored dress, and she felt, as she stood there, hot and messy, and, clutching the makings of a bologna sandwich in her big hands, she felt—now cut it out, Jenny told herself—you’re too big to be a waif! Just say thank you and finish making your sandwich. “Thank you,” Jenny said, and she turned quickly back to the table.
Tony went back to Walt, who, drenched, was still staring out the window. “Hey,” she whispered. “I could be wrong. Smile.”
Walt shook his head. “You’re not wrong. If you were wrong,” he whispered, “then why did I tell—” and he nodded to Jenny—“to get people down to see her as soon as possible? Nope; you’re right and I knew it.”
“You can still smile,” Tony said.
“You smile,” Walt told her. “You do it so nicely. Smile like you smiled in the cab coming up. I loved that smile.”
Aaron appeared in the living-room doorway, sweating and happy. “I’m looking for the seventh layer,” he said, mopping his forehead.
What I must do, Jenny thought, piling pickle relish on top of her lettuce, which was on top of her tomato, which was on top of her bologna, is just pray we run long enough so I don’t go back to Charley. No. What I must do is just pray that someone comes and sees me and likes me and says come act for me someplace far away from Charley. She nodded, wondering what the odds on that were.
Aaron made himself a drink and walked over to Walt and Tony. “How’d you like it?” he said.
“She loved it,” Walt said quickly.
Aaron smiled. “Thank God.”
Tony nodded. “Yes.”
Aaron said, “Tell me.”
“I’m no critic,” Tony replied. “I just know what I like.” She laughed.
“And you really loved it?”
“She did, she did,” Walt said.
Aaron could not stop smiling.
Walt wiped his face.
Rose came over. “How’s everybody doing?”
“Where’s Branch?” Aaron asked.
“In the study, beavering away,” Rose said. She pulled at her green dress, straightened her hair.
Aaron looked at Jenny. “I could have sworn I saw Rudy leave with her.”
“Oh, Rudy’s in helping Branch right now,” Rose said.
“Wouldn’t you just know it,” Aaron said. “I tell you, friendship is such a wonderful thing, don’t you agree, Mrs. Scudder?”
“Yes. Yes.”
“I tell you, Branch and Rudy—well, it’s just amazing when two guys can get to be such friends in such a short time.” He smiled.
Rose tried to.
“These days where you find Rudy, you’re a cinch to find Branch, and where you find Branch—well, guess where Rudy is?” He started to laugh. “Right, Walt?”
“Huh?” Walt said. “I wasn’t listening.”
“They’re so close sometimes when I’m just sitting around bulling with them—well, Mrs. Scudder, they can almost guess each other’s thoughts. I tell you, it’s unnatural.”
Rose looked at him. “You mean uncanny.”
“Of course,” Aaron said. “What did I say? Unnatural?” He laughed again. “Silly of me.”
“Coming,” Rose called as the doorbell rang, almost running across the room.
“You look marvelous,” Aaron said to Tony. “Of course, that just might be because you loved my play. ’Scuse,” and he went back to the bar. When he got there, he looked at Walt and then at Tony and then he laughed. He made himself a Scotch and water, looked back at them again, laughed louder.
Walt walked over. “What’s so funny?”
“Tell you sometime,” Aaron answered, and then he shouted “Carmella!” as the rest of the cast and crew streamed into the room. “Lemme bartend,” Aaron said, and he set to making drinks for everybody, taking time out, every so often, to gaze at Walt and Tony and shake his head, or laugh, or smile. Sweat poured down his thin face, but he ignored it, or licked out with the tip of his tongue, or took his damp kerchief and wiped his eyes. “I can get bombed!” Aaron roared. “I’m the writer.” He looked at Walt and broke out laughing.
Walt walked over again. “Dammit, Aaron, what is it?”
“Nothing, nothing,” Aaron muttered, and then he looked around, finding Rose, hurrying toward her. “We were having that lovely talk about friendship,” Aaron began.
“The kitchen,” Rose said. “Some things,” and she left him.
Branch appeared.
Aaron engulfed him. “I was just having this lovely conversation with your mother about friendship,” he began.
Branch didn’t seem t
o hear. “Where’s Mother, do you know?”
“I believe the kitchen.”
Branch turned and went away.
The doorbell rang.
Rudy stood quietly in a corner of the living room.
“Coming,” Rose called, and she ran and opened the door. “Hello, I’m Rose.”
“Sid and Esther Miller, parents of the star.”
“How do you do,” Esther said.
“Rudy ...” Sid cried. “Rudy ...” He charged toward his son.
“How the hell did they get here?” Walt said to Tony.
Across the room, Aaron smiled.
Sid clasped an arm around his son’s shoulder. “So are you nervous?” he said aloud, dropping his voice, whispering, “Coward, coward to run like that, coward.”
“Please,” Rudy said.
“Will you do it? Yes? What I want? Yes?”
“Please.”
“Rudy ...” Esther said.
“Talk to your mother, Rudy.”
“Why did you run, Rudy?”
“Excuse—” the boy began, starting to turn, but Sid anticipated, and when the boy made the turn there was Sid’s face, and there were Sid’s lips whispering “She’s crazy, you saw that, commit her, help me,” and Rudy closed his eyes, brushing by, and then he was safe in the corridor, heading toward the quiet of the bedroom, but when he got there he heard Esther’s voice, and he smiled at his mother and said “I don’t know” when she said, “What does he want from you?”
“What could it be?” Esther went on. “It must be something. Why did you run?”
“I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
“Sid says I made you run. Did I?”
“No.”
“Why did you run, then?”
“No reason. Mother—” he took her hands—“please, you are not as weak as you seem. I know, I know, you must be strong—”
“Yes,” Esther said. “I must be strong.” Then: “How do I do that? Why did you run from me?”
“You two talking?” Sid said from the bedroom door. “Tell her, Rudy.”
“Tell me what?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell her what you told me, Rudy. Remember—”
“I said nothing—nothing.”
“Tell me what?”
The Novels of William Goldman Page 90