The Longings of Women

by Marge Piercy

  “Why have you decided to talk to me?”

  “I keep brooding over what happened to my family. I thought talking to you might help. But I don’t think anything ever will. I live for the day the trial finally is over and that woman gets a little of what she deserves.”

  “Won’t that just wake up all your feelings again? Going over the murder, what led to it.”

  “I can’t let go. I can’t forget for a single day. I just go over and over it again and try to imagine what I could have done to keep him from marrying her. I tried—I really tried. I hope I’ll feel some kind of resolution at the trial. Sometimes I think I’m going crazy with anger and no way to speak it aloud.”

  She had a phone call from David Sunday night. “Mom, remember that sleeping bag you gave me a couple of years ago?”

  “The super-light bag you wanted desperately from L. L. Bean and have used exactly once. I remember it, not very fondly.”

  “I used it more than once, come on. I need it. A bunch of us have a primitive cabin in Big Sur for a weekend. Please send it off tomorrow.”

  She looked in his closet, but she could not find the sleeping bag. Then she emptied everything from the bottom and the shelves. She could have sworn it had been there when they had cleaned out David’s room after Thanksgiving. Maybe she had put it away in the basement with his skating gear?

  Over the next two days, she looked in the basement and in the storage under the eaves. Wednesday morning she left a note for Mrs. Burke, asking her if she had put the bag away someplace. Leila briefly wondered if Nick could have taken it, but she couldn’t imagine him going through David’s closet. If the bag did not appear, courtesy of Mrs. Burke, she would call L. L. Bean and have one sent to him overnight. Somehow she would produce a damned sleeping bag, but she did wonder what could have become of it.

  When she got home after working in her office at school all day, Vronsky was not on the rug to greet her. She was immediately worried. Had Mrs. Burke accidentally let him out? She called him as she hung her coat to dry and pulled off her boots. He did not come. She ran through the rooms of the house and upstairs to her bedroom. There he was sprawled on the bed. Sick?

  No, he was curled around a small black-and-white kitten like a dustball, who was holding on to him. At the sound of her voice, the kitten stirred and would have bolted, except that Vronsky put his heavy paw on the kitten and held it down. His wise yellow eyes looked at Leila and he purred loudly. Thank you for the present? Like Adam, had the kitten been made from his rib while he slept? Really. Only men would invent stories about babies popping from daddy’s foreheads or coming from the clean and sexless side.

  “Where did you get her?” Leila asked. The kitten’s belly was distended and it looked ratty. Vronsky had been cleaning it Leila sat on the bed and cautiously examined the kitten. Female, emaciated, but recently fed. There was an ugly sore on the neck. “You should never have been allowed in with Vronsky. Fleas, dozens of fleas. Tomorrow you go to the vet.”

  Downstairs she found a note from Mrs. Burke on the kitchen table.

  “Dear Mrs. Landsman: I’m sorry I don’t remember about a sleeping bag. I hope that wasn’t among the old stuff from your son’s room we gave to Goodwill?

  “I found this kitten this morning in an alley with a dead mother cat and two other kittens who had just been killed by rats. I couldn’t leave it to die, and my daughter is allergic. If you don’t want it, take it to a shelter and they will dispose of it. I hope I didn’t cause you any trouble. See you next Wednesday, Sincerely yours, Mrs. Mary Burke.”

  She dropped the kitten off at the vet’s in the morning. Vronsky followed her to the door complaining loudly. In the late afternoon, she picked up a flealess cat with a dressing on its neck and all its shots. “It’s a female,” her vet said. “Suffering from malnutrition and what I suspect is a rat bite.”

  Obviously she was keeping it. Vronsky would never forgive her. She brought the kitten home to him and he sniffed it all over. She worried he would not recognize the kitten’s smell, but he picked her up by the scruff of the neck as a mother cat would and carried her up to the bed, where Leila had changed the sheets and bedspread lest they have fleas forevermore.

  She fed the kitten the milk substitute the vet had sold her, along with a special kitten food from the same source. The kitten ate everything and began to purr in a deep bass voice. She had not heard it meow at all. She did not hear any voice from it until she took it into the bathroom to put a new dressing on the wound, shutting Vronsky outside. At that point, the kitten burst into contralto despair. On the far side of the bathroom door, Vronsky sang a baritone lament. She called the cat Waif.

  She was in bed that night reading when the phone rang. She expected Zak. It was Phyllis. “Leila, you’ve got to go to San Diego. Debbie’s over her head.”

  “Mother, what are you talking about?”

  “I can’t do it. I can’t just take off work. They’d love to fire me, a woman my age. And I don’t have the strength to cope with it.”

  “Mother, what’s happened to Debbie?”

  “That yutz has taken off. He’s left Debbie with three kids, chickens, horses, dogs, goats and a mortgage. And she’s very pregnant, as you know. She called me up crying her eyes out.”

  “But Mother, I’m in the middle of a divorce myself—”

  “About time. What did he ever do for you? You’re better off alone. I always thought he was the worst kind of luftmensch. You’ll do just fine, Leila. You’re the strong one.”

  “Maybe I’m tired of being the strong one—”

  “Like hell. You wouldn’t trade places with Debbie for five minutes. You just hop on a plane and go straighten things out. Debbie can’t do anything but sit there and tear her hair.”

  “I’ll talk to her. But I have responsibilities, Mother. I can’t just fly off because Debbie’s in trouble again.”

  “Leila, I’d go myself but for my job. I can’t risk losing it. Soon they’ll get rid of me for good, and then all I’ll have is my social security and a nest egg. Joan and I save more together than we could on our own, but I can’t dash out there.”

  “Mother, can you imagine Debbie dropping everything and coming out here because my marriage just fell apart?”

  “Would you want her to? You’re who you are and she’s who she is. I’m the one who supported the family and your father was the one who fell apart. Now I have a partner who goes fifty/fifty with me, but how long did it take me to strike gold? It’ll get your mind off your troubles, right? And you can drop in on David.”

  “I’m not sure how he’d feel about that” She saw before her endless phone calls, to Debbie, who would cry; to David, who would not be in the dorm, and then would call back after she had gone to sleep. She had to call her travel agent in the morning and leave a message at the cleaning service for Mrs. Burke to feed the cats. And when she got to California, what could she do? She had spent her early twenties instructing her sister how she should live, to no end except to make Debbie angry. Her ordinary response to any statement of Debbie’s was disbelief. How could you do that? How could you believe that? What else did you think was going to happen?

  Looking at her younger sister, she saw a woman who did not believe in the laws of gravity or of cause and effect Looking back at her, what did Debbie see, except a busybody dull hausfrau who counted every penny and measured every response. She found Debbie chaotic and Debbie found her controlling. It would not be pleasant, but she did not doubt that Debbie needed her.

  She remembered other years and other crises. Debbie had been abandoned with her first baby in Cincinnati in what turned out to be a cocaine deal gone sour her unemployed husband had run out on, leaving know-nothing Debbie and her baby to face two angry hoodlums. She remembered when Debbie had left Robin’s father everything except two kids and one suitcase of their clothing. Debbie intended to go to Phyllis, but her purse was stolen in Chicago.

  Phyllis was right: she resented being the strong
and sensible one who had to pick up the pieces and pay whoever had to be bought off, but she would not live Debbie’s life for a day.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Becky

  Becky walked in Friday night to find Terry glaring at her. “I wonder why that hag downstairs gets home from this play business a full forty-five minutes before you do.”

  “Simple, Terry. She’s just the wardrobe lady. I have one of the important roles this time. She can leave before we’re done rehearsing. She just has a walk-on in the first act” She carefully folded her cardigan. “It’s not like you to worry about me.” Normally he didn’t demonstrate enough interest to work up a decent suspicion. On the table near the door she spied an envelope, addressed to Chris’s insurance office.

  “I’d be a fool not to get suspicious. I saw what a fuss you made about that Berg guy the night I went to your play.”

  “He’s married, and furthermore, I think he’s a ham. I have absolutely no interest in him. I don’t even particularly like him.”

  “Then how come you hang around those people so late?”

  “I’ll quit immediately, Terry, if you want me to. I only want to please you. I’ll tell them Monday to get someone else.”

  He shrugged, losing interest at once. “Why should I care? I just wanted to know where you were so late.”

  “Terry, it’s just a way of getting some practice at being onstage. I was a gofer in the first production, but I have a substantial role in this one. I’d be happy to quit. I’d rather spend more time with you.”

  He seemed deflated. He had been working himself up to fight. She felt as if she were crossing a river on thin black ice. She had to take every step carefully, always ready to retreat or dart ahead. He wanted out, but he did not know how to get rid of her. She was playing a conciliatory game, backing down at once, offering anything to prevent the confrontation he sought She smiled slightly to think that if he was planning to get rid of her, she was also planning to be rid of him.

  He stood staring at her. He had a habit of staring at her lately as if he had just begun to see her and did not like what he saw. “Have you been hanging around your dope-dealing brother?”

  “He was just holding that for a friend. He’ll never do it again. And no, I haven’t seen him all week. I know you’re mad at him.”

  “Why should I be angry with him? He’s just like the rest of your family. My parents warned me, but I didn’t listen.”

  “I’ve tried to please your parents, you know I have.”

  He slumped into a chair, his mouth twisted into a sour grimace. “We can’t make it together, Becky. We should never have got married. This is just shit. You belong among your kind and I belong among mine.”

  “I thought we became each other’s kind by marrying.”

  “We’ll both be better off out of here. You know there was a break-in this Tuesday, downstairs on the end?”

  “Helen told me.”

  She imagined a bullet entering his forehead above his eyes. But she had asked Sam casually if he knew how to use a gun, and he did not—a pity, because she was sure she could get one from Tommy. Tommy would do anything short of killing Terry. He wouldn’t go that far for her. Nobody but Sam would, if she could make him.

  She sat down on the arm of the chair Terry was sprawled in. “I’m tired,” he said, guessing she wanted to make love. Guess again, she thought, but stroked the hair back on his head. What a strange flat head he had. They would have to fake a robbery. A break-in, like the other one. During the daytime, the burglars had entered from the porch and taken a TV, a VCR, money and jewelry. Now suppose they had found someone at home. Maybe if Terry confronted them, that was a scenario. So if they didn’t have a gun, what would they do? Hit him with something.

  But Sam was no bigger than Terry. The two of them could surely manage to knock him down and then do it, but it would make a lot of noise. She was still coming home every day to make him lunch. She tried to vary the time a bit so that Terry would not feel safe about having his girl over. It was critical that he not start bringing Heather to the condo, or that would burn her chances.

  “Becky, it’s not working. Listen to me. Do you want to move out? It doesn’t matter. I’m putting this place on the market as soon as I talk to a lawyer.”

  “You’re going to see a lawyer?”

  “My dad knows one. You should see one too, I guess.”

  “When are you seeing the lawyer?”

  “I have to call him.”

  Good. He hadn’t done it yet. “Please, I want us to go to a marriage counselor first. Please. I’ll find the name of a good one. If we can’t work it out with a marriage counselor, then I’ll give you a divorce without fighting you. But please, let’s try. We were married in church. Do you want to try for an annulment?” That could take months.

  “My mother wants me to go that route. She says there’s never been a divorce in the family.”

  “Ours too. We could see a priest. The Church will counsel us.”

  “Becky, what’s the use? I don’t want to be with you.” He pulled away from her in the chair.

  She stood and walked to the center of the room. Then she pivoted. “You’d rather be with Heather?”

  His mouth dropped open. Then he shut it with a little click. “How did … Heather?”

  “I even know where she lives.”

  “How do you know about Heather? Who told you? Did you hire a detective?”

  “Don’t be silly, Terry. I wasn’t even suspicious. I’m just too trusting. It never occurred to me you were cheating on me.”

  “Who told you?”

  “I can’t tell you that.… It would cause too much trouble. I just want things to be good again between us.”

  “Fuck you, Becky. Who told you?” He stood up and clenched his fists at her. He charged forward and shook her shoulders hard so that her neck whipped back, then dropped his hands as if she were hot to the touch.

  Was he actually going to hit her? She didn’t think so, but he was red in the face. His eyes were bulging, his lips drawn thin and white. “I can’t tell you. I didn’t believe it, but he told me all the details. How you went away with her last weekend. Everything.” She edged toward the door, in case he was angry enough to attack.

  “Who could tell you that? Nobody but Chris knows.”

  “Chris has always liked me, Terry, no matter what he may say to you. He says you don’t appreciate me. He was worried about me.”

  “That bastard introduced me to Heather. He went out with her first! No, you’re lying.” He pounded his fist on the table. Everything rattled. “You’re a rotten liar, Becky.”

  “I’m not saying who told me. But she lives on Seagull Lane. I even know which house. I know you went to Giuseppi’s with her. And how would I pay a detective? I just know what this person told me.”

  “You’re lying! Chris wouldn’t talk to you. He’d never tell you.”

  “Believe what you want to.” She sauntered off to the bathroom. When she came out, he had torn a sheet and blanket off the bed and he was lying on the couch with his head under the covers. She went quietly into the bedroom, but she did not sleep. She plotted. She was happy now solely when she was with Sam or when she was imagining Terry dying in front of her. Only by staging his punishment again and again could she endure him.

  He was finicky in the morning, objecting to the milk, claiming it was turning, as if he wasn’t home all day and couldn’t just go and buy some. She smiled. It was marvelously bracing to her patience to think of bashing his head in soon, very soon. She must act fast. She had volunteered to walk Helen’s dog. She said she’d get milk. She waited till he was in the bathroom, then took the forms from the table and ran out. She tore them into tiny bits and flushed them down Helen’s toilet while Helen was putting on Florrie’s leash. From a pay phone she called Sam and then Tommy. When she got back, he was fuming about the forms from the table.

  “Oh, that letter? I just mailed it. I thought it was something th
at ought to be mailed. I’m sorry.”

  Once again he looked deflated. “You mailed it?”

  “Didn’t you want me to?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Sure. Thanks.”

  Saturday afternoon she drove to Sam’s house. She waited till they had made love, on his narrow bed under the poster of the tidal marsh. Then she began to mimic weeping. “This is the last time, the last time,” she said in his arms, her voice trembling. She really did feel like bawling. Everything was difficult and tense, and time was running out.

  “What do you mean, the last time? Don’t you love me any longer?” Sam gripped her arms.

  “Of course I love you. I love you more than I love living, believe me. If it was just me he’s threatening, I wouldn’t hesitate. You’re worth any amount of pain, any amount of danger.”

  “What do you mean, he’s threatening you. Terry? Is he hitting you again?”

  “He told me I have to quit the theater. He’s suspicious. He sees I don’t ride with Helen any longer and I don’t come home the same time she does. He was sitting up last night. Then I noticed he was following me this afternoon, but I got away from him. He’s going to do something violent, Sam, I’m telling you. It’s my life or his, I swear it.”

  “What do you mean, your life or his?”

  “He’s going to kill me. If you really care for me, then you’ll help me get rid of him the only way I can. He’ll never give me a divorce. He’ll never let go of me. He’ll kill me, and if he finds out about you, he’ll kill you too.”

  “You don’t mean it. You’re upset.” He let her go and sat up with his back to the wall, frowning helplessly.

  “I mean it, Sam. It’s my life and maybe yours. If we don’t kill him, and do it this week, I’ll never be able to see you again. He’s making me quit the theater. He’s watching me all the time. Tonight or some other night this week, I’ll go home and you’ll hear about it the next day. I’m a small woman.”

  His hands moved convulsively. He shook his head as if trying to clear water from his ears. For maybe half an hour they argued. He wouldn’t believe there was no other option. She argued doggedly, watching the clock out of the corner of her eye. She had to persuade him before three-thirty, when she must leave. She was meeting Tommy, who had promised her some sleeping pills. If Terry was groggy, if they could catch him in bed, it would all be easier.