“Good God, Charley, I’m a gentleman, I hope. What made you so nervous?”
Charley gestured toward the river, then the terrace, then back toward the splendor of the living room. “This,” he said.
“Now I don’t understand.”
“We’re talking of money, isn’t that right? Well, I didn’t know you were rich.”
Mr. Donaldson got up from the terrace table.
What is it? Charley thought. Why did he look at me like that? “You don’t believe me.”
“Of course I believe you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“All right, I don’t.”
Charley got up from the table and crossed the terrace. They stood side by side, staring down at the river. The sun was very strong. “It’s the truth,” Charley said.
“Connie told you you were coming to a tenement.”
“No. Of course not. But today was the first time she’d let on. I swear.”
“It’s really not worth this much discussion.”
“Yes it is. I don’t lie.”
“Which of us does?”
“Lots of people do. But I don’t.”
“Oh, Charley.”
“I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have gone out with her if I’d known.”
“Where did you meet her?”
“You know where. My class reunion.”
“And is she pretty, my Connie?” Yes.
“No. She really isn’t. I love her, but my eyes do not dazzle.”
“She’s attractive enough,” Charley said.
“Let’s hope so. And who was she with?”
“Timmy Brubaker.”
“That’s right. Now shall we add things up? Is it possible it never crossed your mind to ask why a not overly attractive girl should be at a function like a class reunion with a beautiful, socially ambitious young man like Timmy Brubaker?”
“Money,” Charley said.
“Of course, money.”
“I never thought it.”
“Didn’t you?”
“No,” Charley said. “No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Charley said. Then a moment later he heard himself say, “No.” And a moment after that: “I’m not sure.”
“Shall we go inside?” Mr. Donaldson said.
Charley followed him into the living room and they sat down amidst the vases.
“Mrs. Donaldson is vase happy,” Mr. Donaldson said. “One learns, eventually, to live with things.”
“I only meant I may have asked myself the question. But I didn’t know she was rich. Please believe that. I’m not after her money. If I were after her money, would I have told you I didn’t love her?”
“ ‘Get out of my house, you scheming son of a bitch!’ ”
Charley jumped up.
Mr. Donaldson laughed. “That was a quote, Charley. Sit back down ... Please.” And he waved his hand until Charley sat. “As I said, I was quoting something someone once said to me. My wife’s father, to be specific. On the moment of our first meeting. Mrs. Donaldson brought me to meet her father only after months of peaceful persuasion. The man thought me a fortune hunter. Me. Just because I was poor, he thought I was after his daughter’s money. But she persuaded him I wasn’t. And we met. Now this was a self-made man, Charley. He didn’t believe in amenities, like brunch. Out with it he came. I stepped through his front entrance and he looked at me and he screamed. ‘Get out of my house, you scheming son of a bitch!’ Poor man. He thought I didn’t love his daughter; he thought I wanted her money.” Mr. Donaldson lit a cigarette. “And, of course, he was right.”
Charley looked around.
“Relax,” Mr. Donaldson said. “This isn’t any secret, Charley. For God’s sake, if anything it’s an old family story. Mrs. Donaldson and I laugh about it from time to time. Does that surprise you?”
“Yes.”
“It shouldn’t. You see, we love each other very dearly. Have for over twenty-five years. We are devoted; we are inseparable. I married her for her money—I was, you must believe me, dashing in those days—and then to my absolute horror I fell, as the saying goes, in love. With my wife. Oh, it was terrible. I couldn’t admit it for days. Then I did, and that was that. We love each other, Mrs. Donaldson and I. We did then; we do now. Cigarette, Charley?”
“No, thank you.”
“You’re starting to squirm a little in that chair, aren’t you?”
“No.”
“Oh, nonsense. I know what you’re thinking: ‘The old gasbag’s getting to the point.’ I like you, Charley, you know that? You have such a terrifyingly honest face.”
“Thank you, I guess.”
Mr. Donaldson put out his cigarette. “All right, Charley, what do you say?
“What does that mean?”
“Come, now.”
“What is this? You’re offering me your daughter—what kind of a thing is that?”
“I’m not offering anybody anything. I love my daughter. My daughter has indicated a preference—you—and I approve of her selection. I’m simply doing whatever I can to make her happy. You don’t have to love her, Charley; that’s what I’m trying to tell you. In time you will.”
“Maybe.”
“Take my word, Charley.”
“Look at this room. What am I doing in a room like this?”
“Just because she’s rich, don’t hold it against her.”
“I’m not.”
“I was like you at one time: trying to make a virtue out of poverty.”
“Listen,” Charley said, and he got out of the chair. “Listen, I liked brunch. I would like to say I didn’t, but I did. It’s nice having people wait on you. I like it.”
“And it scares you.”
“Yes.” He began to pace. “Damn right. Damn right.”
“Relax, Charley; you needn’t decide this instant.”
“I gotta not be ashamed, don’t you see? That’s the important thing. I gotta not marry somebody unless I love them because I always thought that when I got married I’d—you know—love my wife, and then you tell me I will and look at you, you’re happy, and it bothers me. I don’t know. Sometimes I do crazy things and it bothers me. I hit Timmy Brubaker. I never hit anybody but I hit him and I’ve got to love my wife and I don’t love Connie, but you say I will, and it bothers me because I think you’re right. I don’t know. I like it here. I like you. I don’t know. If I knew what to do I wouldn’t be walking around talking like I was crazy now, but I don’t. You see, I was poor, all my life, poor, and I really like Connie, and ...” He turned sharply to face Mr. Donaldson, and as he turned his hand hit a vase and the vase toppled and fell and Charley watched it shatter on the floor, listening as Mr. Donaldson said, “Forget it. Thank you for doing it. I’ve always loathed it. It’s insured.” But Charley, staring at the pieces, felt not one bit less clumsy and began shouting “Fool!”
“Princeton Junction; change for Princeton.” The conductor continued the chant, moving down the car. “Princeton Junction; change for Princeton.”
“Fool!” Charley said to the hero of Does Your Detergent Taste Different Lately? and he slammed the manuscript shut and stuffed it into his briefcase. “Fool for feeling shame.”
He got off the train and transferred, and when he got to Princeton he walked to the parking lot and got into his car. As he started to drive he felt loose and relaxed and free from whatever it was he had been feeling earlier, and he hardly thought of Jenny Devers at all until he got to his house and saw Betty Jane waiting on the sofa in the living room.
“Robby?” Charley said then, meaning their son.
“Upstairs asleep,” his wife answered.
Charley crossed to the sofa and she tilted her perfect face for a kiss, but he grabbed her thin shoulders with his big hands and lifted her to him and then they both fell back onto the couch and he engulfed her and she gasped beneath him and he was about to say “I love you, I love you” except he had always had a terrifying
ly honest face, so he shut his mouth tight and let his body do the talking.
“Robby?”
“Upstairs asleep.”
Betty Jane looked at her husband’s face as he crossed toward her, and for just a moment she was afraid he was going to cry. She raised her head, but then he had her by her shoulders, and as he lifted her she wondered what in the world he had to cry about. He kissed her roughly, then lowered her back to the couch. Her arms clung to his neck. As he engulfed her, she could not help thinking, Oh, Charley, Charley, you’ve done something wrong.
A lot of funny things happened to Jenny that weekend. And she realized, as they were happening, that they were funny. But she didn’t smile.
No more than an hour after Mr. Fiske left, Archie Wesker called her on the phone. He sounded more than a little drunk and Jenny listened as he apologized for propositioning her that afternoon and then proceeded to proposition her again, this time for later in the evening. That’s very funny, Jenny thought, but instead of smiling she simply handed out a flat “no” and hung up, grabbing a pencil and paper, commencing a letter to Tommy Alden. She wrote for over an hour, six full pages and she was in the middle of the seventh when she abruptly tore it all up. Because it was all his fault, Tommy’s. Everything was. Who needed a Rhodes scholarship anyway? Why couldn’t he have just turned the silly thing down? Jenny went on like that a while before she realized how funny it was, the way she was thinking. But again she didn’t smile. She got through the night alive, remarkable, considering the heat, and the first thing the next morning she dressed and subwayed down to Korvette’s and bought an air-conditioner. She was writing out the check when she remembered that her building wasn’t wired for air-conditioning. That was funny too, only the Korvette’s man didn’t think so.
The rest of the weekend was like that: funny.
Monday morning, she called up Kingsway to quit her job. It was hot and she felt very tired, groggy almost, and she misdialed twice before finally making connections. “Kingsway,” the operator said.
“Hello. This is Miss Devers.”
“Yes, Miss Devers.”
“I won’t be in today.”
“You’re ill?”
“Yes.”
“Will you be in tomorrow, do you think?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. If I feel all right.”
“Thank you. Goodbye, Miss Devers.”
Jenny hung up and fell into bed. She lay still, breathing deeply, her right hand roaming the sheet, trying to find a cool spot. I would really like to sleep, Jenny thought. More than almost anything. She closed her eyes. I feel much better, she thought, now that I’ve quit my job. Except I didn’t really quit. Tomorrow. I’ll quit tomorrow if it rains. I would like that. Some nice cool rain. And sleep. Nice cool sleep. I’m really tired too. Sometimes when you’re really tired, you can’t sleep. You’re so tired you’re too tired. I wonder if I’m too tired to sleep? “Miss Devers. Miss Devers!” Jenny heard the voice and was at first angry because it was the super come to ask something except that when she heard the voice again, “Miss Devers! Jenny!” she decided it couldn’t be the super because he never called her by her first name, and even though, as she said “Who is it?” she knew who it was, she said it.
“Who is it?”
“Charley.”
“Charley?” Jenny sat up and shook her head. It was cool in the room. She grabbed her old bathrobe and tied it tight and went to the door. “Charley? “she said again.
“Yes.”
“Oh, Charley.” Jenny rubbed her eyes. “I’ve been asleep,” she muttered.
“May I come in?”
“Sure.” She opened the door and looked at him. He was carrying a raincoat and a hat and a large briefcase. “What time is it?” Jenny said.
“Five.”
“In the afternoon?”
“Yes.”
“Five Monday afternoon?”
“Yes.”
“Well, fancy that. I’ve slept the day away.”
“May I sit down?”
“I’m not awake yet. Would you like some coffee?”
“Thank you, no.”
“I’d like some coffee.” She hurried to the tiny kitchen. “Oh, wonderful,” she said as she lifted the coffeepot. “There’s some old.” Jenny turned the heat up full and when the coffee boiled over she poured herself a cup. “I always do that when I wake up,” she said, coming back to the other room. “Boil it over. Terrible. Sure you won’t change your mind?”
“Thank you, no.”
“Did it rain?”
“Earlier, yes.”
“Thank heavens; it’s cooler.”
“Yes.”
Jenny took a small sip. “I don’t think I can drink this stuff. It’s like solid oil.” She laughed. “Except oil’s a liquid. But you know what I mean.”
“Go put some water on your face,” Charley said.
“Why?”
“Just go do it.”
Jenny went to the sink. “Any particular part of my face?”
Charley said nothing.
Jenny came back and sat down. “All wet,” she said. “So?”
“You weren’t sick today, were you?”
“Yes, I was.”
“You didn’t come to work because you didn’t want to see me.”
“That’s not true. I like you. You’re a very nice man, Mr. Fiske.”
“I’ve been terribly upset. All day. Just as soon as I got word you weren’t coming in. I decided then I had to talk to you.”
“Why didn’t you call?”
“Because I felt what we said might be of an intimate nature.”
Jenny broke out laughing.
Charley waited till she was done.
“I’m sorry,” Jenny said then. “ ‘Intimate nature’ struck me funny.”
“I don’t pretend to be good at this; I admit to a certain lack of agility.”
“I’m going to laugh again if you keep talking like that.”
“I become overly formal under certain conditions. I’m sorry.”
Jenny shrugged.
“At any rate, I want to tell you something.”
“What?”
Charley hesitated. Then: “That you may return to work secure in the knowledge that there will be no repetition of Friday’s actions.”
“Friday’s actions? What happened Friday?”
“Jenny—”
“You’re married, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Kids?”
“One.”
“Happy home life in the suburbs. Right?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“How embarrassing it must be for you. Coming here. A solid citizen like you. A den of iniquity like this.”
“There’s no reason for us to fight. We both did something. We’re neither particularly proud of it. I’m sure we’re equally sorry.”
“I’m sorrier! You had the kid to play with this weekend. You had the wife to hold your hand. Let me tell you something about Friday’s actions. I regret Friday’s actions so much ... so much ...”
“I didn’t mean to upset you like this.”
“What did you think, coming here?”
“You won’t be at work anymore, will you?”
“That’s right.”
“I bungled this whole thing. I’m sorry, Jenny.”
“Now you’re going, I suppose.”
“Would I make things any better if I stayed?”
“I don’t see how.”
“Neither do I. Goodbye, Jenny.”
“Goodbye.”
“Goodbye,” he said again and she watched as he grabbed his raincoat and hat and hurried out the door and was gone. He left the door partially open and for a moment Jenny thought he was coming back, back on the run, to take her in his great arms, but then she realized that he was not returning, wasn’t about to return, and she wondered why she wanted him to. For she did. That much was sure. She stood slowly, shook her head, took a deep b
reath. The apartment was cool and that should have made her feel better but it didn’t. She was alone. Alone and lonely in a cool place, and that was better than being alone and lonely someplace hot, but it still wasn’t enough to warrant a hooray. Jenny started trudging toward the door, thinking that she must absolutely do something cheerful tonight. Like go to a play and sit in the orchestra or take in a foreign film. It was Monday, so getting a good seat wouldn’t be hard. Yes, she thought, I must do that. And I won’t cook myself dinner, either. I’ll eat out. I’ll eat out and I’ll go to the theater and if I have to walk more than half a block I’ll take a taxi. For a moment she contemplated hiring a limousine for the evening, hiring it and just telling the chauffeur to drive, and her sitting back on the soft cushions looking out at all the people, but she killed her contemplation because it was so silly and because as she was almost to the door she saw his briefcase standing by the chair where he must have forgotten it, and when she saw it she said “He forgot his briefcase” right out loud, and then she said “Charley” right out loud and she started running to the door but as she reached it he was already there and he said “I forgot my—” but that was all, because she cut him off with “Thank God,” and then she was in his arms, his great arms, and he said “Thank God,” and then they were saying it more or less together, eyes closed, in blind unison, “Thank God, thank God, thank God, thank God, thank God.”
“I tell you,” Archie Wesker said as he paced around Charley’s office, “she’s putting out for somebody.”
Charley looked at him. “What makes you think so?”
“Think? Goddammit, I can tell. A girl starts putting out, old Arch, he knows. Just look at her. Talk to her. She’s acting different than a week ago.”
“Different from.”
“From, then, dammit, Charley, somebody’s scoring with that broad and it’s not me.”
“So?”
“So? Have you taken a look at her? Zoftig.”
“How’s Mrs. Wesker?”
“Mrs. Wesker is built like Marjorie Main, thank you.”
“She is not.”
“Have you seen her naked? I’ve seen her naked. The female frame loses its elasticity after three kids, believe me.”
“You were cheating before you had any kids.”
“Come on, Charley, what do you want to say a thing like that for?”
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