by Belva Plain
“Now it’s your turn for sarcasm, is it? I only asked a decent question, Nina.”
“I’ll tell you what. If you’re so interested in her, go inside and find out the answer for yourself.”
Watching her go down the street, Adam was keenly hurt. She was his Nina, his young sister, and he had always been there for her. He had always understood. Yet, he supposed, it was only natural that, being a woman, she would condemn him.…
With some defiance then, he raised his head, thrusting out his chin. Eventually, she would get over it. They all would. All the hurts would mend, and life would go on. It always did. With this consoling certainty he drove away.
The evening meal was the worst time, Margaret reflected. They were all scattered these summer days, for which she was thankful. Even Nina had been spending some afternoons with people she had scarcely seen since her high school years. And so Margaret was left with long periods alone, which might or might not be good for her. But she welcomed them, nevertheless, because speech came hard now; even response to the kindness of her cousins and Fred, and the very few others who yet knew what had happened to the Crane family, came hard. Sessions with the lawyer, pleasant as he was, required endurance, as did the work on what seemed to be endless questionnaires. Never had she been so physically exhausted. It seemed as if now, in the third week after the disaster, every part of her body was afflicted with some sort of ache or pain. Her teeth hurt, her head throbbed, and sometimes her back felt broken. Nevertheless, she was determined to ignore every complaint. There was work to be done. The house had to be kept up. The vegetables had to be weeded; she couldn’t expect the children to do their usual stint and take over Adam’s jobs as well. Besides, there was therapy in stooping over the soil; alone there in the back garden one could let one’s tears drip unseen.
But the evening meal was difficult. Everyone except Nina and me, she thought, brings his moods to the table.
Danny, contrary to his nature, was sulking. She wasn’t just imagining, either, that after those Saturdays with Adam, he was always sulky. Yet he looked forward to the visits.
“You said we could get a puppy this summer,” he shouted. “And this was the summer we were going out west to Yosemite. You’ve broken all your promises.”
Margaret’s glance met Nina’s across the table. Poor kid, the glance said.
And Margaret answered kindly, “I’m sorry, Danny. But we’ve all been having a hard time. I’ve not been able to think about training a puppy just now. I would have done it if—”
Danny was not about to let her finish. “Well, then, we could still drive out West. There’s time. Dad says we could. You’re not working now, and we could do it.”
Dad said so, did he? I should just merrily set off across the plains and the Rockies, three thousand miles round trip, with three kids in my old car, in my state of mind! And does it perhaps occur to Dad that the money he’s been sending is barely enough to get me to the supermarket and back?
“We can’t do it now, but there’ll be other summers, Danny,” she said.
“Aw, I don’t believe you. We’ll never get to go. Never.”
“Why don’t you shut up?” Megan said. “You’re a big baby.”
“Don’t you call me a baby, you shithead!”
Oh, God, not tonight again, Margaret prayed, and she gave a calm reprimand, “We don’t talk like that in this house, Danny. You and the boys can say what you want when you’re out together, I know, but it’s not allowed here.”
“You should hear what he says to me when you’re not around, Mom.” Megan, who had never whined, had begun to develop an irritating nasal tone. “He’s disgusting lately, ever since he began seeing Dad’s girlfriend.”
Margaret opened her mouth to say “Please, Megan,” when Danny shouted again, “Don’t say things about her! You don’t even know her. She’s nice, nicer than you are, shithead!”
She’s nice. And am I supposed to suffer that, too, Margaret asked herself? There was no doubt this time that the pain in her chest and the pulses in her neck were real. Psychosomatic, of course, but real all the same.
“Listen to that,” Megan said. “He thinks that cheap tramp is nice. But what does he know at his age? Do you think she’s so nice, Julie?”
Julie’s eyes filled. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I hate everything now. You’re always fighting. At least they don’t fight at Dad’s house. Oh,” she cried, “oh, Mom, what did you do to make Dad leave us?”
What did you do to make Dad—
Margaret heard Nina’s gasp. At that moment the phone rang.
“I’ll take it,” Margaret said, running.
When she returned, they were all talking at once. In her state of agitation she interrupted more harshly than she ever would have done in the past.
“That was Mrs. Watts, Julie. She says you phoned her to say you don’t want any more lessons, ever, and she’s naturally concerned. So am I.”
Julie looked down at her plate and mumbled something.
“Please look up at me and speak so I can hear you.”
“You knew I haven’t been going.”
“Yes, and I understood why. I even explained to Mrs. Watts that you needed some time off. I told her why, too, and she understood. But this is something else.”
“I don’t need time off. I’m quitting. I hate music.”
From the dining room Margaret could look across the hall to where the piano stood, now silent with the lid closed. I haven’t dusted it in weeks, she thought suddenly, and as suddenly the instrument became to her a symbol of the whole house, the family and the life: deserted. She gripped the edge of the table and sat down heavily.
“You don’t hate music, darling. You never could. I wish you’d go to Mrs. Watts and try another lesson. Then you’ll see how happy it will make you feel, as it always did.”
“I don’t have to. I told Dad, and first he said I shouldn’t quit, but then he said, well, I don’t ever have to if that’s the way I feel about it. Dad said so,” Julie sobbed.
He was brainwashing the children. Naturally. Being the good guy. Go to Yosemite. Sure. Get a puppy. Drop piano lessons. Anything you want. Just ask Dad, the all-American dad.
“Julie’s always crying,” said Danny, coming into the attack. “Up at Dad’s half the time she sits there with a sad face until he makes her smile.”
“You shut up and leave me alone,” Julie shrieked, “or I’ll kill you.”
“Oh, nice,” said Megan. “Really nice. If I had any brains, I’d stay over at Betsy’s house for dinner every night.”
Nina got up. “While you’re all fighting like a pack of hyenas, I’ll get the corn. Your good mother went out in the heat and picked it for you, not that you deserve it.”
The three were immediately crestfallen. Nina’s rebuke, coming as it did from a beloved person not tremendously older than they, always had had a special effect upon them. And Margaret gave her a look of gratitude.
The air began to settle, and Megan began a conversation.
“Betsy’s sister’s having a Christmas wedding.”
Nina picked up the conversational ball. “That could be beautiful. I see red velvet bridesmaids’ dresses and white poinsettias. I love white poinsettias.”
We’re all a bundle of nerves, Margaret thought, but we have to try, don’t we? And she, doing her part, asked whether Megan expected to be invited.
“More than that. Joan even asked me whether I’d like to be a bridesmaid.”
“That’s so nice,” exclaimed Margaret. “After all, you’re Betsy’s friend, not hers.”
“Well, let’s face it, her mother probably suggested it because she wants to do something for me. Everybody on the street feels sorry for us.”
The air in the room began to roil again.
“Oh, I don’t think it’s all that bad, Megan. I hope you accepted graciously.”
“I was gracious, Mom, but I didn’t accept.”
“You didn’t?
Whyever not?”
“Because I don’t believe in weddings. I always did think they’re an extravagant show, but now I think they’re hypocritical.”
“Hypocritical?”
“Yes. Why celebrate something with all the permanent vows, so serious, so holy, when the woman’s only going to be tossed out whenever the man finds somebody he likes better? I looked at bridal finery in Danforth’s window just this week, and it made me want to puke.”
Megan’s eyes glistened, and she closed them, fighting tears. Grieving, bitter and cynical, at her age; this is what he’s done, Margaret thought.
“You mustn’t look at it that way,” she said. “Every marriage doesn’t fail.”
“Fifty percent of them do, Mom. What kind of odds are those?”
“I suppose,” Margaret said slowly, “I suppose it’s a question of one’s point of view, whether the glass is half empty or half full.”
“And you always find it half full. I know you, Mom.”
“Speaking of glasses, how about clearing the table,” Nina suggested. “You go sit on the porch, Margaret. The rest of us will clean up the kitchen.”
Margaret did not protest. As she left the room, she overheard Nina.
“Your mother’s more exhausted than any human being should be. Now listen, everybody. You’re all pretty tired, too, whether you know it or not. You’re tired inside, in your heads, and you’re taking your bad feelings out on each other. Okay, but do it outdoors where Mom doesn’t have to hear you. She’s had enough, understand? So let’s finish the dishes and go together to watch the news or something. We’re still a family, no matter what.”
God bless Nina, thought Margaret.
“You need to get away,” Nina said one afternoon. “You need a rest and a change.”
“It’s out of the question. I can’t afford to. He”—and Nina realized that Margaret almost never called Adam by his name now—“knows I have no income of my own during the summer, and yet he’s cut his contribution. My lawyer says that’s what usually happens. It will have to be worked out either by settlement or in court. Meanwhile, I must do the best I can, and that’s what I’m doing.”
“I hope your lawyer knows his business.”
“He does. And he’s very nice, reserved, doesn’t waste words, but lets you see that he understands. I really like him, which makes things easier. Fred did me a good turn.”
“Will you let me lend you the money so you can all go away to a lake or someplace for a few days?”
“Thank you, no. Julie sees the psychologist twice a week, and I’m only beginning all the legal business. I have more to do than I’ve ever had in all my life. People think that planning a wedding is a big job. Let me tell you, it’s a breeze compared with a divorce.”
So Keith said too. Nina shuddered.
All of a sudden Margaret clasped her hands in a beseeching gesture.
“Tell me honestly, tell me the truth, you grew up here, where did I go wrong?”
“I never saw anything in you that could be called a real fault. But then, I never saw anything bad in Adam either.”
“There are two sides to every story. I know that, and so I keep thinking—thinking. Maybe I’m too opinionated. Am I?”
Nina smiled. “No more than Adam is—was.”
“Or did I pay too much attention to the children and neglect him?”
“I never saw it if you did.”
“I guess as long as I live I’ll keep asking myself how I failed, and I’ll never really know.”
Margaret’s rueful little smile did not fool Nina. Eyes did not have to be extra sharp to notice trembling hands and what must be ten pounds of lost weight.
“Margaret, I’m worried about you. Don’t you think you ought to see a doctor?”
“I have already. Dr. Farley says my symptoms are typical. They’re just nerves. Nerves.” Margaret tried to laugh. “I’m thinking up a good name for this disease. How about Falling Apart Syndrome, or better still, Discarded Wives’ Syndrome? Your back aches, your skin erupts, and you can pull your hair out into your hands. Look, I’ll show you.”
“Don’t,” Nina said.
“When I wake up, I don’t at first believe what has happened. I lived half my life with him, really all of my adult life.… But what’s the use? Other people are dying of cancer while I eat my heart out here. And what about you? You’ve had an awful time. You don’t complain but I know you have. Is it getting any better for you?”
“Yes, yes, much.” And what is my hurt compared with hers? Nina asked herself.
Margaret got up and walked to the table on which the family’s photographs were arranged. “I forgot this was still here. That was a marvelous wedding dress! Isabella made all the tucks and ruching by hand. You were too young to appreciate it.”
“I remember it, though.” She gazes at it, Nina thought, like a woman holding the portrait of someone dead. And of course, that trusting bride is dead.
“Well, I’ll just pack it up in the attic with the dress in blue tissue paper. Maybe some year, a hundred years from now, one of my great-grandchildren might be curious to see what I looked like.” Then, saying quickly, “I don’t want the soup to boil over,” she sped into the kitchen.
Nina went to the telephone. When in need, you called Fred.
“I took a chance that you might be home,” she said. “Tell me truthfully, are you doing anything urgent this afternoon?”
“Going to the club for a swim. In this heat I call that urgent. Actually, I sent everyone home before anyone keeled over.”
“Do you think you might take Margaret’s kids with you? They’re all out on errands now, but they’ll be home any minute. And for her sake I’d love to get them out of the house. I never thought I’d hear myself say that, but I’ll tell you, I don’t recognize in them the nice, easygoing kids they used to be. All they do is bicker and scream at one another.”
“I’ll be right over. How is she today?”
“Trying hard to live as if nothing has changed. You know her.”
“Yes. Yes, I know her. Nina, when you leave again, don’t worry. I’m here for Margaret.”
“Thank you, Fred.”
Now, there’s a natural solution for the rest of Margaret’s life, she thought. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to see that he adores her.
Margaret was in the kitchen shelling peas for the vegetable soup when Nina went in.
“That was Fred, inviting Danny and the girls to swim at his club. That’ll take care of a hot day for them.”
“He called? I didn’t hear the phone ring.”
“No? Here, let me do some of those peas.”
“Thanks. I have enough for now.”
Margaret stood up, grasped the chair back, and sat down heavily, sighing. “It’s my darn back. It acts like this sometimes. I can’t get up after I’ve been sitting for a while. Don’t look so alarmed. The body plays tricks when you’re tense, that’s all.”
“You’re too controlled. You haven’t once let yourself go since this happened. In the first place, you felt ashamed, and in the second, you haven’t wanted to alarm your children.”
“What do you mean, ‘let yourself go’?”
“Scream and cry. Just howl. You’re grieving, you’re frustrated because you want revenge, but you can’t get it because there is none. So go up and howl. Nobody’s here but me, and I don’t mind. I’ll put cotton in my ears if you want me to. I know you think it’s a crazy idea, but—”
Margaret struggled up and walked gingerly across the room. “No,” she said. “It’s rather a good idea. I think I’ll go to the attic and try it.”
Nina lay down on the sofa, propped on an elbow to read. She was just beginning to drowse in the heat when she heard the sounds of human anguish carried down through the floors and walls, the very bones of the old house. She got up to listen at the foot of the stairs. Once, on a Scout’s hike through the woods, she had heard the shrieks and moans of an animal caught in a t
rap, and had never forgotten the horror. Now in these human sobs was the same intimation of despair. And she remembered, too, that Margaret had once said of Adam: “The thought of his death is enough to stop my heart.” If she could only hate him the way I do now, Nina thought, there would be an end to this suffering. Unfortunately, she loves him.…
After a while the sounds ceased. Margaret must have fallen asleep.
Sometime later Megan came in flourishing a magazine. “Nina! A lady at the club gave this to me because you’re in it. Did you know you were in it?”
There it was, spread out in lustrous color, the Florida pink house, on four pages of “strikingly original rooms designed by Nina Keller of Crozier and Dexter.”
“I didn’t expect it to be on the stands this soon.”
“You never said a word about it!”
Nina smiled. “I had other things to think about.”
Indeed, she had them still. Those views of Florida, those vivid pages, brought with them a stream of images: the dinner by candlelight, the Spanish bed, the kisses, the lies, the perfidy.…
“Does this mean you’re famous?” asked Danny.
“It means that I’ve worked hard and that I’ve been lucky. Both.”
Julie asked, “Aren’t you proud?”
“No, I’m grateful.”
“Grateful for what?” inquired Margaret.
In a fresh plaid cotton dress with fresh lipstick and a little black bow at the nape of her neck, she seemed, if not rested, at least as if she cared.
“She’s famous,” Danny declared. “She says she isn’t, Mom, but she’s got to be. See? Here’s her name.”
After they all crowded around Nina to read the article over her shoulder, and when the two women were left by themselves, Margaret said softly, “I am just so proud of you. But I’m not surprised.”
“Never mind about me. The question is, did it do you any good?”
“Yes, some of the knots have come untwisted. But I worry about you.”
“I’m okay, not as much sad anymore as angry. Damned angry.”
“I wish I could help you.”
“Just being here has helped me.”
“The lame and the halt,” Margaret said, and they both laughed.
