ANNIE CALLED HIM AT WORK two days later, which meant that all was forgiven or forgotten. Paul disliked it when she phoned the library because she could talk and do her ad layouts at the same time, but Paul needed absolute silence.
“Paul, I went to the doctor today.”
“What did he say?”
“She”
“What did she say?”
“Can you come over tonight? I’ll make some macaroni and cheese.”
The weather had suddenly turned hot and even the clean streets of the East Seventies seemed soft and gritty. Jeremy opened the apartment door and broke into a smile. Paul looked past him to where Annie sat smoking by the window overlooking the airshaft. A single beam of late-afternoon sunlight fell across her neck and down one arm; she looked like a Rossetti model, Paul thought, with that halo of frizzy hair. The studio was crowded with furniture: Jeremy’s bed, which doubled as a sofa, covered by an orange patchwork quilt; a drafting table; three red hooked rugs; and two overstuffed chairs Annie had dragged from a dumpster over at Sloan-Kettering. Annie slept in an alcove between the kitchen and the bathroom. On a bureau with its bottom drawer missing sat Jeremy’s model airplanes, painted red and green, mottled with glue. Paul always felt at once oppressed and excited when he visited Annie. Her life here was so dense.
“Jeremy, my boy, how goes it?”
“Hi, Paul,” he said shyly.
Jeremy was not an appealing child. There was something misshapen about him, as if he still suffered from his struggle out of the birth canal. The boy’s hair was dull brown, spikey, and his face was long and pointed at the chin, like an old man’s. Over the past few months Paul had observed Jeremy’s teeth grow in dramatically crooked; they rested on his lower lip in a rabbity way, so that he always appeared on the verge of tears. Sometimes, when Jeremy giggled, Paul could see the shadow of Ted’s good looks cross the boy’s face. But most of the time Jeremy made him slightly ill.
“How’s school?” Paul asked, watching Annie. She lit another cigarette and gazed into the airshaft.
“School’s out.”
“Oh.”
“But Mom has me in the day camp. Wait, I made you something.” Jeremy ran into Annie’s bedroom and seconds later reappeared, holding something made of brown cardboard and lots of tape, with a sticky star of glitter and glue on one side.
“You made this?” Paul turned it over in his hands.
“Uh-huh. It took two days. Keep it,” Jeremy said, “and use
“What do I use it for?”
Jeremy looked confused. “It’s a wallet. See? You put your credit cards in this slot and your money goes back here. But don’t use it in the rain. It’s just cardboard.”
“Well, thanks, pilot. That’s a nice gift.” Paul patted the boy’s shoulder.
“I’m making Mom a potholder,” Jeremy whispered.
“Jere?” Annie said. “I need to talk to your friend for a while. Could you go play in the hall?”
“Okay.” Jeremy picked up one of his planes. Paul could hear how sticky it was.
“And don’t push the elevator buttons!” Annie shouted as he shut the door. She turned to Paul. “So did you call Everett?”
“Annie my sweet, no matter how much you badger me, I’m not going to call dear old Everett. He and I are not a marriage made in heaven. I saw the man only four times, and besides, I am emotionally espoused to a woman who lives beyond her means on the Upper East Side, a sixties holdover named Annie Kolwicki.”
“I just thought he was gentle,” Annie said. “He could have been good for you. I think you could do him justice if you tried.”
“What did the doctor say?”
“What I mean is, it’s time you found a nice boy and settled down.”
“You sound like your mother. Why did you go to the doctor?”
Annie sighed. She leaned over and put out her cigarette. “I have another lump in my right breast.”
“But you’ve had them before. Cysts.” Paul looked over her body. It seemed the same to him: heavy and fertile, restless but solid.
“This one’s big. The doctor wants me to go to St. Vincent’s for a biopsy on Sunday.”
They could hear Jeremy making airplane noises in the hall. “Have you told him?” Paul asked.
“Tonight. I’ll have him stay with my mother. He’ll probably come back sixty percent polyester.”
The apartment was murderously hot; Paul was sweating into the sleeves of his silk sports coat and Annie was sweating too. He looked at her closely, focusing on the strip of white scalp at the part in her hair, and sat down beside her. “Lots of women get this. It’s not going to be a big deal,” he said. “And it’s treatable. And I love you.”
“I just hate it when everything gets so complicated.”
“So do I.”
AFTER DINNER PAUL THANKED Jeremy for the wallet, kissed Annie hard and told her to call him in the morning, and then took a cab to his favorite bar in the Village, the Alibi. The red track lights and cinnamon-colored walls gave everyone a ruddy, unnaturally youthful glow that Paul very much appreciated. And the place was blessedly cool. He ordered a scotch, bought cigarettes—it seemed necessary to smoke in a place like this— and went to stand beside one of the video screens.
After three gulps of his drink he shut his eyes and saw Annie’s face, and Jeremy’s, the identical beads of perspiration that had dampened Annie’s bangs and made Jeremy shine like a fish. He ought to buy them gifts, he thought, maybe a robe for Annie and a ready-made plane for Jeremy. No, something impractical and bizarre for Annie, like a black lace bra. Embarrassment swept over him; not a bra. He opened his eyes, shook his head free, and straightened his spine as he looked at the other men.
It was a challenge here, or at Everett’s bar down the street, to capture anyone’s gaze. Paul took Jeremy’s cardboard wallet from his briefcase and began examining it. By the end of his drink he noticed a gray-haired man in a business suit start to smile at him.
His name was Matthew. “I like your wallet,” Matthew said. His eyes were green. So was his tie.
“The son of one of my friends made it for me in day care. I’m not supposed to carry it in the rain.” Paul smiled.
Matthew smiled. “My daughter used to make me things like that. Potholders, pencil boxes, a shaving kit.”
Matthew had three daughters, Alice, aged fourteen, and twins who were ten. He had been divorced eight years ago, moved to New York from Louisville, and now worked for a law firm specializing in real estate. He had just come from the gym.
Paul seldom took anyone back to his own apartment. He liked finding out about someone by looking at his books and albums. They took the Fourteenth Street subway line across town to Matthew’s place—which was a mistake, since Paul despised subways, but Matthew was oddly insistent. His apartment was large and expensive. Paul was appalled at how the place was furnished—in heavy, dark Biedermeier with silk flowers everywhere in little silver or cut-glass vases. A polar bear fur covered the bed.
Their sex was not especially successful, although it was rule-book safe. Matthew kept on talking: about his apartment, his job, and Paul’s skin, which he said was lovely and reminded him of his last lover’s skin. His last lover had just moved in with a younger man. To keep Matthew quiet, Paul had to kiss him. But Matthew did have an elegant chest, with thick gray hair. Afterward, they exchanged phone numbers, and Paul took a cab home. As he paid the driver, two things occurred to him: first, that Annie would not approve of Matthew or his polar bear or his preoccupation with his former lover; and second, that curiosity, just as much as lust, had made him go home with Matthew. He had mostly wanted to see him naked. These days, that seemed mostly what he wanted. To see a man naked, and to be held by him.
“I’VE FALLEN IN LOVE with Doctor DeWitt,” Annie had announced the night before the biopsy. The surgeon had colored slightly and smiled at Paul as he left the room. He was obviously gay; his mustache had given him away. Annie had never been good at sepa
rating gays from straights, which had led to more than one annoyed late-night phone call.
Doctor DeWitt’s biopsy on Monday showed that the lump was malignant, and the breast and lymph nodes were removed. Annie hadn’t wanted Paul or Jeremy to visit her after the operation. “I look like the fall of Saigon,” she said over the phone.
Now Annie was lying on Jeremy’s bed, the orange quilt pulled up to her chin. Her face was ashen and her hair was unwashed, pulled back harshly from her forehead. For the first time she looked older than Paul did. “How are you feeling?” he asked. He had a hard time meeting her eyes. Somehow she made the room close and completely stationary, just by lying there.
“Still stunned. Listen, Jeremy’s coming back today with my mother. I couldn’t stand to let her have him anymore. Ted’s going to take him tomorrow through Friday night, but he’s got a stewardess to seduce over the weekend, and I need to know if you can do something with him on Saturday. Otherwise, he’ll go stir-crazy.”
“Sure. There’s a new drag show at the Garterbelt. How’s Doctor DeWitt?”
“Gay.”
Paul heard a key in the lock, and Annie’s mother appeared, holding Jeremy by the hand.
“A party!” Annie cried. “The wicked witch of the west and my favorite munchkin!” With her left arm she pulled herself up and Paul saw the flat padded bandage beneath her nightgown.
“Annie dear, all this company at once … hello, Paul,” Mrs. Kolwicki said, dismally. She put down her purse and let go of Jeremy. Her hair was a new shade of red that made Paul squint with dismay.
Jeremy looked quickly at his mother and then turned around. “Hi, Paul,” he said, half-smiling up at him.
“Hey, pilot. How was New Jersey?”
“He was an angel,” Mrs. Kolwicki said to Annie. “I just wish he would play outside more. He needs more sun—he’s a ghost. How are you feeling? You look better than I expected.”
“I’m just ducky. Come here, you beautiful boy, and give your sick old mom a kiss.”
Jeremy went over and touched his teeth to his mother’s eyebrow. Paul saw the boy’s eyes drop to the strip of bandage taped to the hollow of her neck. Jeremy whitened. Annie held him by the shoulders and looked into his face, as if to make sure he was still the same boy. Jeremy’s jaw jutted out a little; he stepped back out of her arms.
“You shouldn’t leave the door open like this,” Paul heard a voice say. “I could be anybody.” Ted stood just inside the apartment, carrying a leather briefcase and looking blonder than Paul remembered. He strode over to Annie, bent to kiss her on the lips, and then stood up straight, looking her over.
“Go on,” Annie said. “Try to think of something appropriate to say.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Everybody asks me that. You never were very original, Ted. I’m fine, considering I’m an instant Amazon.”
Ted smiled his trademark smile, which had nothing to do with his eyes; they remained as wary as Jeremy’s. Ted was a series of well-ordered motors, Paul thought, like the engines of the jets he sold; he seemed like a plane that had touched down briefly between destinations. Ted swept Jeremy up in his big hands, holding the boy under his armpits until Jeremy looked him straight in the eye. The boy’s sneakers kicked feebly. “How’s my big guy?”
“Fine.”
“Good.” He put him down. “You’re heavier. We’re going to have a good time this week.” He faced Paul, and his mouth got serious. “Hi, trooper. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’ve been here for Annie. How have you been holding up? How’s tricks?”
Annie snickered. Ted had left her four years ago, explaining himself in a note Annie and Paul had found taped to the TV screen when they came back from a movie. “Mostly good,” Paul said. “How was Florida?”
“Dallas. It was good. Annie, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, but it turns out I’m flying out Thursday, so I’ll have to give you Jeremy a day early.”
“Are you flying Trixie or Wendy?”
“You never quit, do you?”
Mrs. Kolwicki had been looking in the refrigerator. “Jeremy’s going to be hungry, so I’m heading out to that grocery.” She looked at Ted nervously. “I hope you’ll stay for dinner, Ted.”
“Thanks, Tanya, but I just don’t think I can.”
Mrs. Kolwicki seemed disappointed. She picked up her purse and opened it. “I got this from Beverly Novak,” she said to Annie, pulling out something that looked like the Land’s End catalog. She looked at Ted. “Prosthesis,” she whispered.
With one quick motion Annie pushed the catalog off the bed. Paul watched her face bunch up. “I’m not going to get one.”
“What?”
“I’m not going to get one!”
“Annie—” Ted began.
“Jeremy, go out in the hall and shut the door.”
When she heard the door slam, Annie opened her eyes. “I am not going to spend the rest of my life strapped to a piece of plastic. It may be right for some women but it’s not right for me. It’s silly and it’s demeaning and I’m not going to do it.”
“We don’t have to talk about it now,” Ted said.
“We don’t have to talk about it ever! Why don’t you all get out and let me alone for a while?”
“I will never understand how you think,” Mrs. Kolwicki muttered. She straightened her blouse, swept up her purse, and opened the door.
Ted kissed Annie’s forehead. “I’ll call you tonight, muffin.”
“I’m leaving too,” Paul said once Ted shut the door. “I’ll come back when that creep isn’t here.”
“Ted’s not so bad. He’s just an irresponsible stud. It’s my mother that drives me crazy.” Annie watched herself finger the quilt. “What do you think? Should I get a tit?”
“It’s too soon to think about that.”
Annie looked up at him sharply. Her eyes narrowed. “You prick,” she said, with real anger.
Paul kissed her and started for the door.
“Paul.”
“Yes?”
“Why the fuck haven’t you seen Everett? He’s a nice boy and you’re just being a stubborn goddamn prima donna asshole. As per usual.” Annie slid further under the covers, pushing her lower lip out in a pout that made her look like a nastier version of Jeremy. “I want you to call him tonight. Don’t come back here until you’ve called him. If you don’t call him you’re as much of a mule as Ted.”
Paul’s chest tightened. “Relax, get some sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“It’s the least you could do.”
Paul shut the door behind him, hard.
Jeremy sat cross-legged in the hall, lining up Popsicle sticks in some intricate pattern. He had taken off his shirt and looked like a miniature Gandhi. “Hi, Paul,” he said, brightening. He stood up.
“Hello, Jeremy.”
“Mom said over the phone you’re taking me on Saturday.”
“Right.”
“I’m always glad to see you,” Jeremy said formally. He looked down at his sneakers. One was untied. Paul pressed the elevator button.
“Paul?”
“Yes.”
“Is my mother going to die?”
“No, of course not.” Paul pressed the button again.
“Paul, can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“Will you kiss me?”
Paul turned and looked down at the boy. Jeremy was smiling hopefully, his upper teeth resting on his lower lip. Paul thought of Annie inside, her right arm motionless on the quilt. He took a deep breath. “Sure, Jeremy.”
He bent over and kissed the boy’s warm forehead. Jeremy’s smile widened.
“Mom said you liked to kiss boys.”
Paul’s knees went weak. “Go inside and wait for your grandmother.” The elevator door opened and he stepped inside. “And, Jeremy?”
“Yes, Paul?”
“Tell your mother she was wrong.”
Jeremy’s smile vanished
and the door shut.
Matthew called that night and Paul told him he had a lover he hadn’t mentioned. Annie called Paul at work the next morning to ask if he had called Everett; when Paul said no, she hung up.
When he appeared at her door on Saturday morning to pick up Jeremy, she was only a little more pleasant. “I itch,” she said. With her right arm in a sling she was standing at the sink repotting an aloe plant. Soil was spilled over the counter in little mounds. Her mother sat on Jeremy’s bed, filling out a lottery ticket. Mrs. Kolwicki told him that Jeremy had spent Wednesday evening with Ted at Kennedy Airport. After eating two hot dogs he had thrown up on Ted’s shoes. Ted had not been pleased. “Don’t feed him anything fatty,” she warned.
Jeremy wouldn’t say more than a syllable to Paul. They went to Central Park, to the zoo, but it was closed for renovation. The two of them looked at the empty cages for a while and then walked up to the giant mushroom where Alice romped in bronze with her Wonderland friends. Jeremy stared at them gravely, as if the figures could suddenly, unpleasantly, come to life. At the edge of the Park they watched a juggler handle three burning torches, swinging them above his head and between his legs. Paul was annoyed that anyone would do something so foolhardy, even for money. Once the juggler dropped a torch at his feet but in one graceful motion swept it up and stepped on a firey leaf. Jeremy shivered and turned to grin at Paul, but caught himself. When the juggler took his bows, the boy squirmed to the front of the crowd and solemnly knelt to place a quarter in the man’s suitcase. The juggler winked at him and Jeremy smiled back, his eyes alight and his teeth exposed.
By noon Paul’s feet ached. It was deadly hot. They bought hamburgers and soft pretzels in the park and Jeremy threw up with conviction on Paul’s shoulder bag.
Paul brought him a ready-made model airplane at F.A.O. Schwarz. He tried telling Jeremy some of the cleaner Bette Midler jokes he knew, but Jeremy only listened. At dinnertime they walked glumly back uptown; Jeremy held the plane listlessly by one wing.
“And how are my two big boys?” Annie asked as she opened the door.
Paul and Jeremy looked at each other silently.
“Everett,” Annie murmured sweetly as she kissed Paul good night. She had made him stay for take-out Chinese and chatted constantly through dinner, as if by shepherding her son through a Saturday Paul had performed his penance for ignoring her advice. Mrs. Kolwicki conspicuously regarded the evening news. Annie, in spite of her animation, looked desperately tired. She ate nothing. Paul had never noticed her cheekbones before, or the lines that came down from her ears to the first line in her neck. He would have to get used to the new way she carried herself, with her chest thrust out on the right side, as if balance were something she had to think about now. Over the past weeks Paul had become more practiced at watching faces and bodies: He could estimate now how all of them—Annie, Ted, Everett, Paul himself—would look in twenty years.
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