“Well, as you know, I have great respect for your opinion, and I’m extremely flattered that you think so. Would you be willing to tell me why you have remembered me instead of forgetting me in the customary way?”
“I just told you, lady. You’re special.”
“How special?”
“You’re rich and beautiful.”
“Is that special? Surely lots of women are rich and beautiful.”
“Not in this place. Sometimes we get beautiful ones, and now and then we get rich ones, but hardly ever anyone who’s both.”
“Nevertheless, I’m not so flattered as I was. I was hoping for something quite a lot more special than merely being rich and beautiful.”
“I can mention other things, if you insist.”
“I do. I insist that you mention them.”
“Well, let’s put it this way, lady. You’re nuts. You wander around in blackouts and don’t remember where you’ve been or how you got where you are.”
“That’s better. Much better. Now you are really getting into the special things.”
“Did you have another blackout today?”
“No. Not at all. I went to an unexpected party and had a few Martinis, but not nearly enough to cause a blackout.” She pushed at her hair on the heavy side and looked up at him through her lashes. “I’ve been rather moderate, to tell the truth. You can see that for yourself. You can see that I’ve been here for several minutes already and haven’t even asked for a drink.”
“I admit that it struck me. Congratulations on your moderation.”
She laughed, bringing her hands together above the bar. “I like that! Congratulations on your moderation. There’s a kind of swing to it. However, now that a drink has been mentioned, I believe I’d like to have one. Do you think having one would be immoderate?” “Not unless it led to too many more.”
“Well, it probably will; unfortunately, that seems to be what happens practically every time. At this party I went to unexpectedly this afternoon, for instance, I was determined to have two Martinis before leaving, but I kept meeting people who brought me more, and I was compelled to drink them out of politeness, naturally.”
“Naturally.”
She looked at him sharply past the edge of the heavy hair. “Did you say that sarcastically?” “Not I, lady I was only being agreeable.”
“Yes. Of course you were. You’re a superior, agreeable bartender, and I admire you very much. I apologize for my suspicions.” “It’s all right, lady. No apologies necessary.”
“Looking back, I confess that I wasn’t quite so moderate as I thought I was.”
“Well, what’s moderate for one isn’t for another.” “That’s true. You’re exactly right. I have quite a capacity for drinking Martinis, and I’m positive it would do me no harm to have another now.” “Sure, lady. Very dry.”
He mixed it and poured it and went away to wait on another customer who had arrived a minute or two before. The new customer was a grossly fat and ugly man with a scarred hairless scalp. He ordered a beer and sat looking into it with a slack, transported expression, as if he saw in the brew a vision of another place — a white sand beach, perhaps, in a far, hot country. Yancy, after drawing the beer and ringing up the price, returned to Charity. She had drunk half the Martini and was waiting to mention something she had just thought of and was concentrating on until it could be mentioned.
“Why did you ask me if I’d had another blackout?” she said. “Because you came back here. I thought maybe you repeated yourself in them.”
“Oh. I see. I don’t, however. I never do exactly the same thing over. I’m perfectly aware of where I’ve been and how I got where I am now and why I came from there to here.” She revolved half around on the stool, looked down the room, revolved back. “Where’s that beautiful Joe Doyle who plays the piano?”
“He’s not here,”
“I can see that he’s not here. That’s apparent. I want to know where he is, not where he’s not.” “He’s home, I guess. That’s where he’s supposed to be, anyhow.” “Will he be here later?”
“No.”
“Why not? Is it his night off or something?” “He’s sick.”
“Sick? What do you mean, sick? I wish you wouldn’t just answer each question one at a time. Can’t you simply tell me everything at once?”
“He’s sick, lady. A real sick guy. I told you that before. He was here last night, playing piano to Chester Lewis’s drum as usual, and about eleven, a little after, he fainted. Went out like a light and fell over on the keys.”
“Is this true? Are you only trying to make me feel bad?”
“I’ve got no reason to want to make you feel bad.”
“That’s right. You haven’t. And even if you had, you probably wouldn’t do it. Do you think it was a heart attack?”
“No. I don’t think so. He just fainted.”
“Isn’t it rather odd and unusual for a man to faint? What do you think could have caused it?”
“Joe’s a guy who doesn’t give himself much chance, lady. He doesn’t eat right or sleep right or do anything right that he can do wrong. He oughtn’t even be playing a lousy piano in a joint like this.”
“Perhaps he needs someone with him.”
“He’s getting along all right. I went to see him this morning, and he was all right. He needs to eat and sleep a little, that’s all.”
“Just the same, I think I had better go and see him. Don’t you think it would be a good idea if I went?”
“No. I think it would be a good idea if you let him alone.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s already got all the trouble he needs.” “Do you think I want to bring him trouble?”
“What you want is something I couldn’t begin to guess, lady, but what you’ll do is something else entirely. You remember what I said when you walked in here out of a black fog night before last? I said you looked like a Martini and smelled like a Martini, and I was mostly just joking, but there was something else you looked and smelled like, and I’ll tell you what it was, and this time I won’t be joking at all. You looked and smelled like trouble, lady. Bad trouble. Joe’s got all he needs without you bringing him any more, and you ought to leave him alone,”
“Why are you talking to me this way? I thought we were becoming good friends, and now you are saying these cruel things to me.”
“We can’t be friends, lady. Not you and me. You’re one thing, and I’m another, and that’s the way it is. I mix you Martinis, and you pay me for them and drink them, and we talk a little and maybe kid each other a little, but that’s all there is, there isn’t any more. Maybe you think it’s different with Joe, and maybe it really looks a little different on the surface, but underneath it’s the same with you and him as it is with you and me. You make a little of what passes for love, and you think what a big difference that is, but there’s no difference, not really, and all he’s really done is mix you another Martini.”
“I don’t believe I want to sit here and listen to you say such things,” she said.
“I don’t blame you, lady, and I’m sorry I had to say them.” “Do you want me to leave?”
“You can stay as long as you like, and you can leave when you want.” “I don’t suppose, under the circumstances, that you’d care to mix me another Martini.”
“It’s my business to mix Martinis for anyone who wants them. You’re no exception.” “Very well. I’ll have another.”
When it was in her glass, she drank it slowly, finishing it in silence. Then she pushed the glass away with the tips of her fingers and stood up. “It’s apparent that you dislike me,” she said, “and I’d better go.” “I don’t dislike you, lady. Just the contrary.” “In spite of what you said?” “In spite of it.”
“Perhaps you didn’t really mean it” “I meant it. Every word.”
“In that case, I must go even if you don’t dislike me and want me to.”
“If you’re g
oing to see Joe, I might as well tell you where he lives. It won’t make any difference as far as he’s concerned, and it’ll save you some time.”
“You’re very kind, I’m sure, but it isn’t necessary for you to tell me. I’ve been there before.”
“I thought you probably had,” he said.
• • •
She went out and got into the Jaguar and drove toward Washington Square, toward the house in which Joe Doyle lived, and she had no difficulty at all in reaching it, in spite of her condition now and the condition she had been in the first time she had gone there. Her assurance was rather astonishing, everything considered, and she even remembered exactly the floor and exactly the door, and she knocked on the latter without the least thought of being mistaken, and she wasn’t. Joe Doyle opened the door and looked at her across the threshold, and whatever surprise he may have felt, he didn’t show.
“Why are you up?” she said. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”
He grinned wryly. “Ever since yesterday morning? I’ve been up twice since then.”
“I didn’t mean that. I mean because you’re sick. I went to the place you work, and the bartender told me you fainted last night and were home sick.”
“Yancy likes to talk. It gets to be a habit with bartenders.”
“He likes you and worries about you. I can tell. He dislikes me, but he likes you very much.”
“Don’t let Yancy fool you. It’s just a professional attitude.”
“No. It’s true. He said you don’t eat right or sleep right or do anything right that you can do wrong.”
“All right, all right. Never mind Yancy. What are you doing here?”
“That’s surely obvious. I’ve come to see you.”
“Visiting the sick?”
“As it turns out, I am, but I’d have come to see you anyhow.” “What do you want?”
“First of all, I want to come in. Don’t you know it’s very rude to keep someone standing so long outside your door?” “I don’t think you’d better.” “Come in?” “Yes.” “Why?”
“I just think it would be better if you didn’t.”
“Will you kindly tell me what’s wrong with me? Everywhere I go, everyone wants me to go away again.”
“I didn’t say I want you to. I said it would be better if you did.”
“Oh. I see that I misunderstood. Well, now that you’ve explained it, I’d still be happy to come in, if you’d only ask me.”
“All right. Come in.”
He stepped aside, and she walked past him into the room with a warm feeling of familiarity with it and all its contents, and this was pleasant and rather unusual, for often when she walked into most rooms, even rooms she’d been in many times or even lived in, she had a feeling of being a stranger who had never been there before. Turning, she looked at Joe Doyle, and the light was now fully on his face, which had not been so when he was standing in the doorway, and she saw that he did look sick, exhausted, the flesh drawn in his face and making him appear not so much an older man as a young man who looked older than he ought to look.
“You need someone to take care of you,” she said.
“Look,” he said, “I appreciate your concern and all that, but you’re giving too much credence to Yancy’s talk.”
“Its not that. It’s the way you look. It makes me want to cry. Do you know that it’s been a very long time since I’ve wanted to cry?”
“I’m all right. All I need is a little rest.”
But he was not all right, and he needed far more than a little rest. What be needed was something that neither she nor anyone else could ever give him. Turning she crossed to a worn sofa and sat down at one end, right against the arm, and looked gravely at a bright framed splash of hot color that might have been a copy of a Gauguin.
“What was it you were playing on the phonograph?” she said. “You remember. Over and over when I was here before.”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“I want you to play it again.”
“I’d play it if I could remember. Maybe you could hum a little of it.” “All right. I’ll try.”
She hummed a little, softly and off-key, still looking at what was probably a Gauguin copy, and he listened, watching her and smiling and wanting suddenly to laugh.
“That’s enough,” he said. “See if this is it.”
He went to the phonograph and put on a record and started it spinning. After the first few bars of music, she nodded and looked from the Gauguin copy to him.
“That’s it,” she said, “Now come and lie down and put your head in my lap. Please do.”
She had about her the compelling quality of an earnest child. It would have been no more than perversity, he thought, to refuse what she asked. He lay down on his back on the sofa with his head in her lap, and she began to rub his forehead lightly with the tips of her fingers, and. she felt then, for a few minutes, closer than she had felt in a decade to the girl in the vision of the street and the father, closer than she would ever feel again.
“Are you happy that I’ve come back?” she said. “I don’t know. I think so.”
“It’s quite remarkable that I have. Usually I never want to be with a man a second time.” “Why with me?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t believe it’s wise to try to diagnose something like that, as if it were a case of something. I only knew I wanted to be with you a second time, and I know now that I’ll want to be with you a third time, and every time I’m with you from now on I’ll be thinking about being with you next time.”
“You think so?”
“It’s true. You’ll see.”
“You have a husband. Have you forgotten? Husbands complicate matters.”
“How do you know I have a husband? I don’t recall mentioning him.”
“You didn’t. Maybe it’s just because your not having one would be better luck than I’m likely to have.”
“Well, you mustn’t let it make you feel bad. I’ll simply have to arrange things.”
“Is it so simple?”
“Not actually. Sometimes it may be quite difficult, but I’m prepared to do it. I’m quite clever when I need to be. You’ll see.” “All right. I’ll believe it for the present.”
“That’s fair. It’s only necessary to believe it each time for as long as the time lasts. Now it’s this time, and we believe it, and it’s all right. Everything’s all right.”
“How about between times? Between times I probably won’t believe it at all.”
“You’ll have to try. After a while you’ll begin to believe it even between times. Tell me. Were you angry when you woke up and found me gone?” “No.”
“Why not? You’d have been justified. It was really rather rude of me to go away without a word.” “I wasn’t asleep.”
“Oh, now. Of course you were asleep. I looked at you carefully several times. I even counted your ribs.” “I was awake. Even before you got up.” “If you were awake, tell me what I did.”
“When I first saw you, you seemed to be pointing toward Mecca.” “What?”
“You know. The way Mohammedans pray. On their knees and bending way over.”
“Oh. Is that when you wakened? I must have looked perfectly ludicrous.”
“No. Curiously charming. What were you really doing, by the way? I’ve been wondering.”
“I was trying to read the time on your wrist watch.”
He began to laugh softly, and she continued to rub his forehead and waited for him to stop.
“Is it so funny?” she said.
“Yes.”
“But charming?” “Yes.”
“That’s good, then. Do you know what I’d like to know?” “No.”
“I’d like to know all about you as a boy. Where you lived and what you did and all about everything.” “I was a very dull boy. It was dull where I lived.” “I can’t believe it.”
“Take my word for it. I’d rather talk about you.”
&n
bsp; “Oh, no. I don’t even like to think about me, let alone talk. It’s too depressing.” “Tell me about your husband.” “That would be even more depressing.”
“Is he rich?”
“Yes. He’s very rich.”
“Is that why you married him?”
“That’s one reason.”
“What others?”
“Nothing important. It was a kind of convenience. It solved a few problems for some people.” “Including you?”
“Well, it’s very nice to have lots of money. I don’t think I’d care to live without lots of money.”
“I see your point of view. Not having lots of money is a problem that’s worth solving, even by marriage.”
• • •
She sat quietly, stroking his forehead and looking from his face to the Gauguin copy and back again, listening to the music with a feeling that was like the one she used to have when she listened as a girl in summer evenings to the music of countless cicadas.
“I’m sorry that I won’t be able to stay all night,” she said.
“That’s all right. You needn’t apologize.”
“It wasn’t au apology. It was a regret. I want to stay, but I can’t.” “I understand. Even a marriage of convenience requires certain concessions.”
“Are you being bitter about it?”
“No. Why should I? It’s none of my business.”
“Do you suppose if we had met years ago that we’d have fallen in love and been married?” “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t have any money then and have never had any since.” “That would have been a handicap. I admit it. At least, however, we might have fallen in love. Falling in love doesn’t require any money.” “It requires money to make it last.”
“I suppose you’re right. Yes, I’m certain that you are. I have lots of money, though, so it’s no particular problem for us.”
“That’s a nice way to look at it. Very generous. Is it your money or your husband’s?”
“Well, it’s his, actually, but I’m permitted to use all of it that I want.” “Even on another man?”
“I’m not asked to submit a statement of expenses. It isn’t necessary for him to know how I spend the money.”
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