“Then why didn’t you come with me?” she shouted at him. “You and your fucking chess game! He has my keys and my credit cards and everything! All you’re glad about is I wasn’t raped. You’d have to live with my violated body. Wouldn’t that just kill you, you male animal?”
Soon everything fell away. Peace stole over her. It was very wonderful. Part of her knew she’d have to face this horror in the morning, but another part of her rejoiced in being able to close her eyes and her mind to it. Thank God for opiates, Meryl thought. Thank god for man-made sopor, for the joys of forgetfulness. I’m alone, was her last conscious thought. Everyone was alone. You just kidded yourself that you weren’t. That your husband and children were there, in your life and part of it. When it came down to the nitty gritty you were all by yourself, in a hostile world, and one day you’d end up in an oak casket, like Laura’s father, with flowers surrounding you, mean tokens of the fact of your life, duty tokens that cost a lot of money and meant, in the scheme of things, nothing, nothing at all.
9.
Helene got the call in the morning. It was an eerie voice that came to her, eerie and whispery. She frowned, held the receiver closer to her ear. “Hello,” she said sharply. “Who is this?”
“Me,” the voice said, and became clearer. “Meryl.”
“Meryl? What’s wrong? You sound so — ”
“I was raped.”
“You were — ”
It was as if clouds of smoke or perhaps some more noxious vapor swirled around Helene’s head. I was raped. The clouds whirled and were dizzying and then Helene found her voice again. “What did you say?”
“I wasn’t raped. He said I could have been. That’s all he was thinking.”
“Meryl. Meryl?”
“Oh, I’m all right.” A wild little laugh. “He doesn’t have to face that shameful knowledge. No man forced his way into my body. Maybe he would have divorced me if it had been so, Helene? What would your husband do if you were raped?”
“Meryl, what’s happened. Tell me. Tell me! Tell me right now, this instant. Where are you?”
“In the insane asylum. Where else?”
Before she could gather her wits about her, Meryl’s voice came over the wires again, suddenly strong and clear. “I’m sorry, Helene. Forgive me. What are you doing right now?”
“I was having breakfast,” Helene said, her lips pressed against the mouthpiece. “Meryl, tell me, please tell me. What happened?”
“Something rather nasty. Helene — any chance of you coming over here and having breakfast with me instead of alone?”
“But what happened?”
“I was held up at knifepoint last night. Practically right in front of our building. Naturally I’m upset. I’d love to have you with me.”
“I’ll be right over. Less than half an hour. I just have to put on some clothes. Meryl, are you all right?”
“Yes, but spooked. I’d love to have you here.”
“Twenty, twenty-five minutes. Okay? Hang on, my love, I’ll be there almost right away.”
“That’s nice.”
“Just hang on, hear me? Be there in no time all all. I’ll bring some fresh cranberry bread I made.”
“Just don’t bring flowers.”
“Don’t — ”
“No flowers,” Meryl repeated and hung up.
God, Helene thought as she dressed. She was trembling, her fingers thick and disobedient. Held up at knifepoint … Meryl. Last night. Practically right in front of her apartment house. My God. Maybe she really had been raped. Maybe Ralph told her not to let anyone know. It would be just like what a man would think prudent conduct. The shame. All they thought of was the shame. Helene’s throat was dry. A knife. It was as if a knife were cutting her throat on the inside. What would Harold do if she were raped? His fierce possessiveness …
She said she wasn’t raped, she reminded herself. Why did she say it at all, though? It was almost the first thing she’d said. I’ve been raped. Fear numbed Helene. The girls. Perky Lucy and dreamy Diane. Growing up, a ready prey for some swift and vicious assailant. It could happen to them. It was always there, in the back of her mind, fear for her children. She had long since stopped thinking of them as Harold’s children. No matter how careful you were the danger was always there. It could happen in a minute, without warning. Television show after show was about rape. You saw them listed in the guide and you maneuvered wilily to arrange that the girls were busy doing something else when that show was aired. It was bad enough to know it existed without watching it, being reminded of it.
Damn this city. This horrible, deceitful city that shimmered with beauty during the day and became a mugger’s paradise at night. It was like two different cities. Daytime New York and nighttime New York. Everything was scheduled for daytime New York. The only restaurants that did any real evening business were hotel adjuncts or those in the theater district. The rest were strictly lunch time places. You didn’t go out to dinner at night anymore. Christ, most of your social life used to be at night. Now it was simply one lunch after the other. You went to the movies in the daytime too. As soon as dusk fell you scurried inside and locked doors.
Damn this damn city.
It didn’t help to tell herself that it wasn’t just this city, that it happened everywhere, anywhere, there was nothing new about cruelty and violence, there was just more of it because there were more people. Reason didn’t help, or logic. It had happened close to home, for the first time, and now it was real, not just a nebulous distant menace. Whatever it was, rape or a mugging.
When she got to Meryl’s her friend was in a lovely, floaty peignoir Helene had never seen before. She looked pale but not drawn. In fact Meryl looked very, very young, sweet and vulnerable and young. “Come in,” she said, and shut the door, locking it quickly.
“I’m sorry,” she said next. “My God, I’m sorry, Helene. I had some nerve imposing on you like this. The way I must have sounded! I’m sorry.”
“What for? Are you all right? You look all right.”
“I look gorgeous,” Meryl said with a smile. “Tell me I look gorgeous. This is a very special housecoaty thing I save for special occasions. What I wanted was not to look awful. It seemed the thing to do. Therapy, you understand. Look, did I say something about rape? Ah, I did, I can see by your face. Lord no. Not that. You see, Helene, the doctor came and gave me some knockout stuff, it wafted me off to the clouds. I slept like an infant. When I woke up it was Ralph bending over me, looking like Christ on the Cross. He couldn’t say enough about how sorry he was he hadn’t come with me to Campbell’s. He cried, too. Of course I was so groggy I just wanted him to beat it so I could go back to dreamland. I guess when I called you I was half out of it. I shouldn’t have upset you that way. I didn’t know what I was saying at all.”
“But you weren’t — ”
“No, stop saying that! I wasn’t raped. I’m intact, my pudenda uninvaded. It’s okay. I was mugged, yes. Well, hardly even that. I mean he hurt my mouth when he clamped his hand over it. It’s sore as hell and swollen, well you can see that. A nasty cut. But he didn’t beat me up. Or cut me up. I guess I told you there was a knife. It kept me quiet, I assure you. What really kept me quiet was I blanked out, I was a zombie. I’ll admit it won’t be soon that I’ll forget that little episode, but all he wanted was my money. My handbag. My jewelry. See? Gone with the wind, my engagement ring and my wedding ring. And my watch. I handed it all over and he didn’t hurt me.”
“Was he black?”
“I don’t know what he was. A man. What does it matter if he was black or white or striped? He was a prowling animal and he got me. He was waiting for someone and he got me. Or rather, my possessions. I have to start calling department stores and Visa and Master Card and what all. Doug said he’d do it but I don’t trust him. At the moment he’s so stunned he doesn’t know his ass from his elbow. I want to do it myself. I’d better start right away.”
She laughed suddenly,
her eyes wide and excited and her lips drawn back in an ugly way, and she breathed quickly, wildly. “I forgot to tell you,” she cried, lacing her fingers together, uptight; uptight, it was easy to see the hysteria under the studied calm and the swishing peignoir. “I didn’t tell you! I upchucked all over him! I threw up my dinner right in his face, isn’t it magnificent? Maybe he would have hurt me, maybe cut my throat from ear to ear, or — ”
Chilling laughter bubbled from her. “Only I took him by surprise, ain’t that a gasser? He didn’t expect my puke, what do you think of that, Helene, it was better than Mace.”
“Why don’t you cry,” Helene said, aching. “Darling, wouldn’t it be better to cry? Much better than — ”
“Oh, no.” Meryl’s voice was hard. “Not on your life. It’s the anger I want to keep alive. You bet. It’s what’s holding me together. And now I’ll start wading into those damn phone calls.”
“Meryl, where are the twins?”
“With a neighbor. She owes me one. I wanted them to be in a less tense atmosphere for the day. They’re staying overnight. Tomorrow the ambiance, shall we say, will be more tranquil, today’s the worst.”
“Can’t I make the calls for you?”
“You could make some coffee while I get a start on them. That would be dandy, Helene.”
“You haven’t had breakfast at all?”
“I doubt I can eat anything. I’d love some coffee, though.”
“I’m going to make bacon and eggs. Toast. I want you to get some food in your stomach.”
“You’re such a doll.”
“A big, Brunnhilde blonde who probably will never be attacked on the street because of my intimidating heft. I’d like to get my hands on that bastard. I’m no doll, but I am a friend, sweetie, and I’m sorry as hell about your rotten experience.”
“Thanks. Yeah, me too.”
“What was that about the flowers?”
“The flowers?”
“You said don’t bring flowers.”
“I did?” Meryl laughed. A good laugh, a natural laugh. Her color was coming back too. “I don’t know what I said, and I apologize all over the place for making a stupid fuss. I’ll tell you about the flowers after I get these phone calls done. Then we’ll sit down and have some coffee and I’ll explain. You know my kitchen, I’m sure you can find whatever you need.”
She went to the telephone, picked up the small address book that lay on the table beside it. She started leafing through the pages and then looked up.
“You know,” she said, “when you really don’t want to feel alone, or lost, or anything like that, what you want is a woman in your house. Women are wonderful. I think they’re stupendous. I’ve had my sex and I’ve had my children and I’ve had the trappings of marriage. But I sure couldn’t do without women. Men let you down, without wanting to or meaning to, but no woman has ever let me down. Thanks for coming over, Helene. Thanks for being here. Bacon and eggs would be nice, yes. As soon as I get this over with we’ll have a nice long talk, just the two of us. I’m beginning to feel myself again now you’re here. As I said, it takes a woman to bring you to your senses. What the hell would you do without your friends?”
10.
“We’ll have to finish up today,” Christine informed Jack when they met on Friday. “So you’ll be home for deliveries when they start arriving next week. Don’t be too downcast if they don’t all arrive when promised, though. You know how it was with your sofa.”
“True, but that was different, that was labor. You really think there’ll be unconscionable delays, Christine?”
She had to laugh. “It’s possible,” she replied, glancing at him. “Furniture — well yes, anything like that is somewhat unforeseeable.”
“Sorry to hear that, damn it to hell. Well, I guess I can hack it. If it happens. There’s still tomorrow, though, before next week comes along.”
“Except that Saturday’s a hectic shopping day.”
“There’s only the coffee table and the lamp left on the agenda.”
“We should be able to find both today, Jack.”
“The lamp has eluded us thus far.”
“That’s because you have a preconceived idea.”
“You had a preconceived idea about all the chairs and we found them right off the bat.”
“Because I’d seen them. How can I explain? I know what I like, so I know where to get it.”
“What made you so sure I’d like what you like. May I ask?”
They were on their way to First Avenue, where there was a very large and very crammed lamp store Christine thought might yield what Jack was looking for, or at least tempt him with a suitable alternative. He had dismissed, up to now, every lamp in the city, it seemed to her.
His query, so like Jack, dry and understated, charmed her. He wasn’t being accusative, just genuinely curious. He had trotted along at her side for three days, Monday, Tuesday and now today, obedient and submissive, taking her every suggestion as ex cathedra, and she knew he approved wholeheartedly of her choices. Just the same she had taken over, as she had a way of doing, almost forgetting she wasn’t buying for herself but for someone else.
He laughed with her, taking her arm companionably. She said, “Jack, I hope I haven’t steamrolled you in any way. Have I? I mean, have I picked out things for you that — well, would you have preferred a quite different look for your apartment? I don’t know why I let my enthusiasm get the best of me. God, you’ve spent quite a bit of money, I’ll have a fit if you’re unhappy about the result.”
“Hey, hey! Can’t you see I’m tickled to death? Jaysus, I’m happy as a bedbug. And you’re probably right about the chrome and glass coffee table. As you say, it emphasizes that light look. It doesn’t loom large, or make a big massive block in the room. I think we’ll settle for that table, Christine.”
“The big brass tray on the tripod legs was striking too, Jack. You liked that, said it made you think of Morocco.”
“It wouldn’t hold much, though, I realized that later. No, it’s true, I’m in full agreement with the cool and stark look you recommended. It’s effective. And as you pointed out, as dust-free as you can get.” He smiled down at her. “Obviously I do like what you like. It wasn’t a loaded question, Chris, but how did you know it?”
“I’m afraid it was mostly because I’m a human bulldozer,” she said, sighing. “Early on, when I went into a job, I was a real Uriah Heep, stuttery and ingratiating and people felt sorry for this shy mouse so they helped me, and I learned very quickly, got the hang of the work and once I did I went through this perfectly outrageous metamorphosis and started running the whole shebang. The funny thing is, I was popular. This Janus creature never seemed to alienate the rest of the staff. Of course I wasn’t conscious of my behavior, not at the time anyway.”
“Obviously an annointed leader.”
“Ha ha. I’m a supermarket type, I told you that.”
“You brought up a family, didn’t you? You didn’t do that buying groceries.”
“They’re not quite grown up yet.”
“How old are they?”
“Fifteen and sixteen.”
“They came close together.”
“Yes, an assembly line.”
“Fifteen and sixteen. I’d call that grown.”
“So would they. Anyway, you said a leader. You don’t lead kids, not if they can help it. You wangle them.”
“Which is exactly what leaders do. They wangle.” He tossed his finished cigarette in the gutter. “They call it diplomacy.”
A little farther on he said, “It’s hard for me to picture you as part of a nuclear family. The key pin. I can’t seem to see you looking for lost collar buttons and worrying about sore throats and getting the right vitamins into the family diet. I don’t know why, but I can’t.”
“Then don’t.” She added, “Women aren’t just kinder, kuche, kirche any longer, Jack.”
He was looking down at her intently. Waiting, he
seemed to be waiting. She shrugged and felt foolish. She sounded like one of your militant feminists. She was annoyed that he had brought other people into their casual friendship, a friendship that had come to mean something to her.
“Anything else you want to know?” she asked lightly.
“Not for the moment. The light’s changed, let’s cross.”
They came to Fifty-seventh Street and Christine said the store she had told him about was very near here, maybe two or three blocks. It was three blocks, and they went in. “Never saw so many lighting fixtures in my life,” Jack said, looking a bit befuddled. “What do you think, about a thousand? Or more like two?”
“Well, it’s all they carry, just lamps. If you don’t find it here you won’t find it anywhere, not in the near future, anyway.”
There were so many lamps, rows and rows of them, you couldn’t remember what aisle you were in or what aisle you had just traveled. “A labyrinth of lamps,” Jack murmured. “I think I’ll be dreaming about this tonight, it’s Hitchcockian.”
“If I knew what it was you wanted I could start at one end and you at the other.”
“I’ll know it when I see it.”
“You’re sure that wasn’t in a dream?” she asked. “I mean, the lamp you have in mind.”
“Nope. No dream, I saw it. This may take a year or so, do you mind?”
He finally spotted it, way ahead of Christine by that time, as she had slowed up to admire one or two she especially liked, even coveted, though God knew she wasn’t in the market for a lamp. In all the maze suddenly Jack’s voice: a cry of triumph, like the roar of primeval man, sounded suddenly.
“Over here. Chris. Here, Chris?”
She had to admire his taste as well as his tenacity. It was a lovely thing, a monumentally large milkpail base in a luminous silvery metal that had a nacreous shimmer. It looked as if it had been cast up from the sea, a treasure washed ashore. “God, it’s gorgeous,” she said reverentially. “Where did you see the other one that sent you scurrying for its double?”
Classic Love: 7 Vintage Romances Page 14