“We need a bigger place,” she declared at breakfast one morning. “Billy’s getting bigger, and he’ll need his own room, and we have to have a decent room for Mademoiselle Suzanne. Being stuck in the maid’s room can’t be very comfortable, and we can’t afford to lose her. I’d be lost without her.”
“I know. She’s a gem, but don’t start talking higher rent. This place is the absolute maximum.”
“I’ve heard of a house over near the river, Beekman Place or around there, but if you’re going to worry about the rent before I even look at it, I wonder why I bother.”
“It’s you who wants to move.”
“Okay. Then you find something.”
“With pleasure.”
“Oh, you. You won’t look. I’ll end up doing it. I know what we need. The baby has requirements that you don’t understand.”
“The baby needs a roof over his head. He has one.”
“He’s going to need space to move around in. He’s already starting to crawl. He’ll be underfoot all the time in this tiny place. He’ll need a garden to play in.”
“Now that you’re no longer nursing him, I haven’t noticed your maternal instincts working overtime.”
“If you mean that I don’t sit around all day dandling him on my knee, you’re dead right. I don’t intend to become a drudge at barely twenty-one.”
“Bully for you,” he said, kissing her on top of the head and leaving for the studio.
Out on the street he thought about Bet’s latest maneuver to spend money. He wondered sometimes if she did it just to annoy him or just to be spiteful.
Ever since the scene about his “inheritance” and the truth about his relationship with Billy, Bet had acted somewhat removed, almost wary. He had found her staring at him in a strange way, as though she were trying to figure him out. To have perpetuated the myth about his inheritance for so long had been an error on his part and had provoked her into investigating his finances. She found, of course, that he had none. As she succinctly put it, he had nothing.
He had been a kept boy, but he could hardly accept her calling him one. The sharp slap had momentarily brought her to her senses, but he could feel her digging in behind her outrage and indignation — or whatever it was — looking for more evidence against him. He had to somehow coax her over this difficult time she was going through.
He’d overestimated her ability to adapt to even her own relaxed attitudes about life. For example, they’d spent many happy weekends with Timmy, and her enthusiasm for the sexual games they indulged in had gone undiminished. Until recently.
“Don’t forget that Timmy’s coming tomorrow,” he said one evening, thinking he was choosing a subject that wouldn’t stir up friction. “He’s got to leave after his basic training, and we’ll get to see him in his lieutenant’s uniform. I’ll bet he’s something.” He chuckled. “He’s a bit of all right out of uniform.”
“You will be glad to see him,” Bet said noncommittally.
“You will too, won’t you?”
“Oh, I suppose so. I may not be able to see much of him. Jed Whipple wants me to do something tomorrow night.”
“Does it have to be tomorrow? We might not have a chance to see Timmy again for some time. Jed’s not going anywhere.” Unfortunately, he added to himself.
“We’ll see how it works out. Timmy really wants to be with you anyway.”
When Timmy arrived, Bet greeted him with her usual warmth and admired him extravagantly in his new clothes. The three of them had a drink together before Bet dashed off to join her date.
“How can you leave this superb specimen of American manhood for that tiresome old businessman?” Perry teased, but he meant it. He found several of Bet’s new friends unworthy of her. Jed particularly. He was a smooth dresser with something cheap about him.
“I don’t care how glamorous Timmy looks,” Bet laughed. “I’d rather see him without any clothes on.” She kissed them both on the cheek and left.
“What’s the matter with Bet?” Timmy asked with a slight frown.
Perry wished he knew. “She’s been a bit moody lately. Can’t still be postpartum depression — Billy’s walking all over the place now.”
“When does he get to see his Uncle Tim?”
“Tomorrow morning. Early. You’ll hear him roaring around.”
He and Timmy left for a happy evening with Madge Constant and Johnny Jardine.
When the foursome broke up, Timmy and Perry returned home for a nightcap, hoping to find Bet waiting for them. They were disappointed. They sat up till 3 o’clock, then went to bed.
Perry awoke some time after daylight to hear Bet going to bed in the other room. She was still asleep later that morning when Timmy and Perry had breakfast with Billy in the kitchen, shushing each other because Mommy was sleeping. Timmy left early to visit his family, stopping to look at the door of the room in which Bet was ensconced and shrugging his shoulders. It was not the farewell Perry would have chosen for a dear friend going off to war.
Perry didn’t question Bet about where she’d spent the night, nor did she offer an explanation. They were both on dangerous ground, but Perry didn’t want to be the one to set off the fireworks. He knew she was gathering ammunition to use against him, and he wondered when and where the attack would be. In the meantime, he decided, it would probably be a good idea if he started taking special note of her indiscretions.
Little Billy was able to keep Perry’s mind off Bet, and Perry spent all his spare time with him, being fascinated and enthralled. If he just let Bet have her head for a time, she’d get over whatever was bothering her.
If not smooth, life looked calm and normal on the surface. Bet’s twenty-first birthday was something to look forward to, and they planned to celebrate in style. Perry had spent a lot of time with Fulco di Verdura on the design of a matching ring and bracelet studded with emeralds. It was ridiculously expensive, but Fulco again made him a price. Perry couldn’t help wondering what the price would have been for a regular customer. In a characteristic move to economize, he decided to stretch out the present by giving her the ring for her birthday and the bracelet for Christmas. He congratulated himself on his cleverness.
Arlene continued to refuse to see him. Not even the arrival of Little Billy melted her steel reserve never to speak to him again. He’d betrayed her, lied to her, and turned out to be just what she suspected: a fortune hunter. Sucking the cocks of fortune hunters was on the top of her list of things never to do again.
Perry and Bet devoted her birthday to trying to recapture the high-spirited pleasure in each other that had marked their relationship from the beginning. They almost succeeded. The drink Bet promised to have with Arlene before dinner broke the momentum somewhat, but after a gala dinner at El Morocco, they were unable to keep their hands off each other.
Once home, after they’d had the obligatory nightcap, they started ripping each other’s clothes off and had a rapturous lovemaking session, which began on the living room floor, progressed with wild acrobatics down the hall, and ended in bed. Perry’s hangover the next morning was a satisfactory one. He chuckled to himself about their antics and decided that three years hadn’t taken too much shine off their passion.
Mrs. Hahn decreed that this first Christmas after Billy’s death would be all but ignored: no big family midday meal and no all-afternoon gift exchanging. That left them free for the day, and Bet turned it into another crowded day in their lively holiday schedule.
Their physical interest in each other had continued unabated since the rekindling of their passion on her birthday, and Perry convinced himself that she was happy in spite of the restlessness she seemed to be feeling. Everything she did had a frantic quality about it, particularly her lovemaking, making him feel on-guard and uneasy.
What bothered him especially was her total lack of interest in motherhood. He couldn’t understand why that enchanting creature hadn’t captured her imagination as he had Perry’s. He had to steal
time to be with Billy, but she found reasons to ignore him. He rushed home from work every day to be with him when he had his dinner and always read to him before going out to play bridge or to attend parties with Bet. He knew the child didn’t really understand, but he thought the funny sounds he was making were the beginning of speech and interpreted them as words and was thrilled.
Bet would give Billy a perfunctory kiss on the forehead and shoo him away from her, fearful of his mussing her hair, makeup, or dress. She made fun of Perry’s fascination and joked about it in front of her friends. She’d been fitted with a new diaphragm immediately after Billy’s birth. She meant what she’d said.
The holiday parties and drink-induced high spirits reached their usual climax on New Year’s Eve, with Bet getting drunker than Perry had ever seen her. She embarrassed him for the first time in public. Watching her become coarse and boisterous was painful. She seemed to think it sophisticated to use language that would make a stevedore blush. During the wild party-hopping — going from house to house, club to club, and then to somebody else’s for just one more — Perry lost Bet. She’d just disappeared. He was hardly sober himself and found himself in bed with Tallulah Bankhead. Perhaps Bet had been spending a great deal of time with Tallulah; their vocabularies were similar.
He didn’t think that either he or Bet had made an auspicious start for the New Year. He tried to take stock. The momentary euphoria — or something near it — that he’d felt being reestablished between them dissolved after the holidays. Life seemed to be slipping out of control. There was a general deterioration. Danger loomed.
He felt tense and cautious, as if he had to walk on tiptoe so as not to go crashing into some unknown obstacle or barrier set up to destroy them. The graceful existence he had imagined for them — the circle of attractive friends, the civilized dinners, a stable family life with Little Billy and a brother or sister or both, there in the center of their lives — eluded them.
He had been so lucky. He had so much. Now it was slipping away, and he didn’t know how to get it back. He knew that he wasn’t going to lose it for the sake of seeing their names in the columns, but Bet was getting what she wanted. How long would it take for her to get bored doing the same tiresome things?
Money problems and the dissension they caused did not help the situation. Bet made constant references to his nonexistent inheritance and his meager income. She pushed him to play more bridge and give up the studio. That problem was soon solved for him, however. Henry had been offered a brilliant opportunity in Hollywood and would be closing down the studio. Perry knew he couldn’t run it on his own, and he couldn’t go to Hollywood with his boss, although Henry begged him to. So much for a career. He was now available for bridge day and night.
“You see,” Bet exulted. “I knew that damned studio was a one-way street. You were just marking time.”
Perry was welcomed into several more regular groups, one of which met three times a week, and his winnings did increase. Bet had been right. He missed the studio and what he’d begun to feel was positive progress toward a profession. Being a smartly dressed available male for cards wasn’t his idea of a career, but it had its compensations; he could be home with Billy more during the day. He made the most of this. Billy was talking now, or babbling, and Perry was convinced that the baby could understand everything Perry said. They held long conversations about a toy or a flower or a pencil. Perry was engrossed and concentrated on his son’s progress.
“Jesus,” Bet exploded. “You two gibbering idiots are driving me crazy. I’ve got to get out of this madhouse.” Out she would flounce, and Perry gave it little thought. But since she exhibited erratic, impatient behavior all the time, he couldn’t excuse her snappishness as being “that time of the month.”
It was soon apparent that his being home was inconvenient for her.
“But I’m doing what you’ve been nagging me to do for months,” he argued. “I’m playing bridge so much, I’m making bets in my sleep. I’m also getting calluses on my ass from sitting in uncomfortable chairs for hours at a time.”
“Your poor ass,” she said. “Who cares?”
“You used to,” he pointed out with a smile, trying to strike a spark.
“So did a lot of other people,” she said with a sneer.
He’d taught himself not to pick up every reference she made to his past. If he did, he’d be slapping her around the apartment all the time.
She left the place when he was there. More and more he was aware that she had some sort of pattern in her comings and goings, and they didn’t necessarily depend on his being home. For example, she was almost always out between 5:00 and 6:30 without any explanation beyond a casual word about “shopping.”
“Why do you always do your shopping so late?” he asked one afternoon as she headed out.
“I say ‘shopping,’ but you don’t have to take it literally.”
“I don’t? How am I supposed to take it?”
“Any way you like,” she said, struggling into her coat. “We agreed long ago that we don’t have to lie to each other.” She checked her reflection in the gilded mirror by the door. “I have a lover,” she said calmly into the glass.
He stared at her back, dumbfounded by her matter-of-fact manner. So that’s what she’d been up to. He rose slowly and stood behind her, talking to her in the mirror as she primped. “You don’t have a lover,” he said quietly. “Not as long as you’re married to me.” She turned to face him. “What are you talking about?” he asked.
“It’s perfectly simple. Don’t make a scene.” Her calm was maddening. “I don’t want to keep Jed waiting.”
“Jed?” he roared. “That goddamned son of a bitch? He’s going to have a long wait.”
“Don’t be silly, Perry. You’re not going to pretend that you’ve had nobody since we’ve been married?”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to pretend.” He couldn’t believe that they were having this conversation. “It’s so close to the truth that it’s not worth hedging over details.”
“Well, that’s your tough luck. I have to go. We can talk later if you think there’s anything to talk about.” She started for the door.
He stepped forward and blocked the way. “There’s plenty to talk about.” She sighed heavily with boredom. “To begin with, you’re not going to meet Jed.” He tried to duplicate her cool manner.
“Are you planning to lock me in?” she asked provocatively.
“If necessary. What in the world has come over you? You must be nuts. You can’t announce quietly to your husband that you’re going off to meet your lover. What the hell kind of man do you think I am?”
“I really don’t know.” She meant to insult, and she did. “Now let me out of here. I have to go.” She moved forward again.
He grabbed her and held her by her wrists. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said, finally matching her cold calm. She stared at him with wide eyes that registered disbelief and outrage.
“Let me go, you son of a bitch.” Her hands broke from his grasp and went for his face. “Get the fuck out of my way,” she screamed, swinging wildly at him with one hand while the other attacked his cheek. He dodged her and hit her hard with his open hand.
For a moment she lost her balance but righted herself and made a dash for the door. “You hit me once more, you filthy fucking quee—”
His next slap cut off the word, and he grappled with her and hit her repeatedly, wanting to hurt her. Her screaming was mixed with sobs, and her voice was choked. The cursing became meaningless sounds mingled with grunts and moans. He managed to drag her to their bedroom and kicked the door closed behind them.
He was panting, and his heart was pounding so loudly that it blocked out her screams. He had to take deep breaths to consciously control his rage, or he’d really hurt her.
He was amazed at her strength as she went on struggling, tearing at him and his clothes. He threw her onto the bed and jumped on top of her, holding
her arms above her head. “Right. There. Now go ahead if that’s what you want. Yell your gutter talk till you’re blue in the face. Just try to keep the nursemaid and the baby out of it.”
Her hair was all over the place. An angry red mark showed on her cheek. Her breath was as labored as his. She could hardly speak. “You’re a real man when you have a woman to beat up.” She rolled her head back and forth on the pillow, tears of rage and pain streaming down her face. “Jesus Christ. Don’t you understand anything, you silly shit? I’ve married my father’s boyfriend.”
Her voice cracked, and her body was racked with sobs. She let out a painful cry — not a scream — a cry from deep inside herself. It was an eerie sound and sent shivers down Perry’s spine. “Do you expect me to live with that for the rest of my life?”
The hideous cry was repeated, making her arch her back and throw her head back as the sound stretched and contorted her throat. She lifted her head — hair wild, her mouth pushed out of shape into an ugly, obscene opening, her teeth slightly stained with blood — and she screamed into his face, “You’re a male whore!” The last word had the same sound as the terrifying cry, soaring and then dying in shuddering sobs as her body relaxed under him.
He looked down at the pitiful creature that had been his beautiful girl, his child bride, the mother of his child. Nothing of that girl he had loved remained. He’d never seen this ugly woman before.
He had to take several shuddering breaths before he could speak. When he did speak, his voice was quiet and under control. “You married the man you wanted to marry. Everybody warned you about me. No doubt you should have listened, but it’s too late now. You’re not going to have lovers. Not while you’re married to me. Let’s get that much straight. You’re mine until you get a divorce, if that’s what you want.”
She writhed beneath him, making piteous little sobbing noises. The marks on her face were fading. He had learned how to hurt without marking her. Her writhing and his feeling of domination began to give him a sexual charge. She was his and was going to remain so.
The Good Life Page 42