by Belva Plain
“I have to leave on Thursday. I wish I could stay, but they’ve already given me two extra weeks, and I can’t ask for more.”
“Of course not. Go on up and start your packing.”
From her window Nina looked out at the familiar place. It would be a long time before she would return here to stay for more than two or three days. And so, with mingled feelings, she stood watching this afternoon play itself out. The girls were washing the car and quarreling over the suds; Danny was pushing the hand mower across a square of dry brown grass. The dog slept in his usual spot under the oak. And over all this homely scene there lay a subtle desolation.
And she thought with sorrow of the upward climb that, for all of Margaret’s determined courage, lay ahead of her. The discarded wife, mother of children, and the unencumbered single woman with all her choices, even with her lingering anger, were very different. Both of them knew it, and would feel it as they embraced and parted.
NINETEEN
It was good to be back home in her own apartment. Clearly, Elmsford, for all its warmth, was to be always a place for return and welcome respite, but no longer her home. She had outgrown it.
The answering machine bore so many messages that the tape was filled. After opening the windows to all the street noises that over the years Nina had actually come to find companionable, she sat down to listen to her messages. Most of them were routine. Then, suddenly, Keith’s voice jolted her.
“Where are you, Nina? I’ve been trying to reach you. We need to talk.”
“I’ll say we do,” she answered.
There were five more messages from him on the tape, the last one anxious, almost fearful. Good, she thought. Let him sweat. It was little enough revenge, yet little as it was, it was sweet.
She had never telephoned him at his office, but there was always a first time, so this would be that first time as well as the last one.
“I’ve been calling you,” he said, confirming the anxious note that she had detected. “Where have you been?”
“What difference does it make?” she retorted. “I’m here now, and I suggest you come to see me today on your way home. To your family,” she added.
“I’ll be there,” he said.
He sounded like someone quivering in his boots. He feared trouble, big trouble. And smiling to herself, enjoying her power, she went about the apartment in search of every article that he had ever given her. There was very little besides books; of these there was a fine collection with which she was sorry to part. Still, wanting no slightest reminder of Keith Anderson, she piled them on a table along with his photograph, the water-color bought in Prague, a bottle of perfume, and the diamond bracelet. Finally, she hauled forth a grocery carton. Let him pack it and stagger out into the street with it as best he could.
Not half an hour later he was at the door in his tidy suit and impeccable white shirt. He smiled uncertainly. For a moment she stood there, staring. Adjectives took shape in her mind: humbled, terrified, woebegone.
He began timidly, “Nina, I know how you must feel. I want to explain. I—”
She shook her head. “Save your breath. It’s my turn to talk. Have you ever heard of a righteous rage? Well, that’s me. A lot of time wasted on a fraud!”
“Nina, please—”
She put up her hand, palm out. “No, don’t interrupt me. You made a fool of me, and you’re going to hear me out. It’s not that marriage ever was the sole object of my life. Maybe I never will be married, or maybe ten years from now I will be, I don’t know.
“But you led me on like a con man selling worthless securities to an innocent old lady. I’m ashamed of myself for not having seen through you.”
Her heart was thudding. She was so full of what she had to say that she had to pause for an instant to arrange her words.
Keith started to say, “I understand how you—”
“No, you don’t understand! What have I had from you outside of sex and fake promises? Skulking around this wonderful city, not even able to go to the museum with you, or a walk in the park, for fear of being seen. And all the time you knew what you were doing. You made love to me, you looked into my face and knew you were lying. I wonder about your business deals. Do you shake hands on a deal while all the time you know that the contract you signed is the one you’re planning to slip out of, the minute you need to? Are you the used-car salesman who takes people’s money knowing that the car is going to fall apart ten miles down the road?”
“May I say something? May I sit down and talk to you? Please, Nina, we don’t have to be enemies. If there is anything I can do for you, I’ll—”
Do for her! Buy her off! She was enraged. And it came to her suddenly that this rage was not directed only at the man who stood there, but at Adam, too, and all men’s broken promises.…
“No, you may not sit down and talk to me. Oh, I pity your poor wife! What are you doing to her? I suppose she trusts you.… I never thought of her before.… But I’ve learned things as I’ve gone along.”
Keith was silent. And she saw that she had pricked his balloon.
“She must have had the baby by now. What is it?”
Almost whispering, not looking at her, he replied, “A boy.” Then, raising his head, still whispering, he asked, “What do you want, Nina? Let’s talk sensibly. I—”
She smiled. “Do you really think I can’t read your mind by now? You’re terrified that I’m going to go to Cynthia. That’s why you telephoned so often. That’s why you’re here. That’s why you gave me the bracelet. It was your farewell present, wasn’t it? If we hadn’t had that meeting at the airport, there would have been a few more fine presents to ease you out with grace.” Now Nina laughed. “Look at you! You’re ghastly. Well, I don’t want any heart attacks in my apartment, so calm yourself. I am not going to go to Cynthia. Ever. Not for your sake, oh, dear, no, not for your sake, but for hers and for the three babies’. But your next woman may not be so decent, Keith, so I advise you to choose her carefully. And now, just get out. And take this stuff with you. It’s all yours.”
“Really, I don’t want—”
It pleased her that she had hardly allowed him to complete a single sentence. And again, she cut him short.
“It’s yours, I said. Give the bracelet to your wife. She deserves it. She just gave you another son. Now pack up and go.”
She watched him put the bracelet in his pocket and stack the rest of the things in the box. When it was filled, it was heavy enough for two men, and he strained to lift it. No word was spoken. She held the door and closed it behind him. For a few minutes she stood without moving, until the elevator door opened and clanged shut upon the last of Keith. And a sense of grievous loss trembled through her. He had been wonderful, so wonderful! As long as the blinders had covered her eyes.…
“Well, that’s that,” she said to herself.
For a while she sat wondering about the curious contradictions that she was feeling. Filled now with abruptly renewed and youthful energy, she was yet aware of having grown much older. Trusted people betrayed you. Plans came undone. So much that had once seemed unchangeable had changed. And finding it all too painful, Nina got up and began to put her little house in order.
TWENTY
“I hope I’ve filled everything out properly,” Margaret said, indicating the pile of papers that lay between them on Stephen Larkin’s desk. “I never dreamed I’d face a questionnaire like that, considering that I’m not the one who wanted the divorce.”
“Don’t ask me why. It’s the law, that’s all.”
“Excuse me, nothing personal, but Dickens wrote that the law is an ass, and I’m inclined to agree.”
Stephen laughed. “I am too. At any rate, I should hate to be responsible for these divorce laws. They used to be different, you know.” Then he said seriously, “The way it is now, the man’s standard of living rises by over forty percent, and the woman’s drops accordingly.”
“What if I didn’t have a job?
What if I were home with a big family of small children?”
“Well, then, he wouldn’t be able to count your earnings among your assets, and he’d have to give you more alimony. Assuming, that is, that he was able to.”
“I know he told Danny and Julie that he promises to ‘take care of us’—whatever that means.” She felt the anger thick in her throat, pulsing in her ears. “He knows very well what it should mean. He knows what my salary is and what the expenses are. Why, the property tax on the house has quadrupled since my mother left it to me. That alone is—” She stopped. “But you know all that.”
She felt blinded, deafened, with her hands tied; the indignation, the outrage, that was beating within her was like some live, imprisoned thing fighting to get out.
“ ‘Equitable distribution’!” she cried. “And if whatever some judge decides is equitable turns out not to be enough, what happens then? Welfare?”
“In too many cases, yes. But that won’t happen to you.”
“I can barely make it now. It’s been four months, and I’ve had to dip into my savings, which don’t amount to much, I assure you. I don’t want to deplete them. I need to have a bit of a cushion, after all.”
“Unless we can reach a settlement, as you already know, we’re simply going to have to go to court for more. But that will be expensive, and I hate to do it to you, Mrs. Crane.”
“Do please call me Margaret. I don’t feel comfortable anymore with his name. I only wish my students would call me by something else.” She looked at Larkin, confiding, “Once in a while I find myself thinking, or worse, saying something that’s petulant and childish. Do you think it’s childish of me to want to discard his name?”
For a moment Larkin looked back at Margaret as if he were studying her. “No,” he said, “you have been grossly insulted. I understand.”
Insulted. Yes, that’s what it is. He, living there with her. Danny, in his innocence, prattling about “Dad and Randi.” “We” had a picnic. “We” had fun. “We” covered the pool for the winter. Insulted.
“Living in luxury! He’s probably enjoying it all the more for never having had any luxury. Is that where the money is going, Mr. Larkin?”
“I don’t know. I’m still waiting for his questionnaire. But again I must warn you that moral obligations won’t enter into all this. The law says that he has to live too.”
“Yes, of course. Equitable distribution. Randi, sharing what should go to me and my children. My children, whom he abandoned, whether he thinks he did or not.”
There was a silence. From long habit she had been twisting the place on her finger where her wedding band had been. It annoyed her now that she was still doing it, and that the skin on which the ring had rested was still marked by it. The silence was continued. Larkin was watching her, no doubt expecting her to rise and leave, for everything had been said.
She got up and apologized. “Excuse me for venting my rage, Mr. Larkin. I’m sorry.”
“No need to be,” he said gently. “Rage is healthier for you, anyway, than grief is, and I’m relieved to see it.”
“Thank you. You are kind. Fred said you were.”
Her appointment later that afternoon was back at school with the psychologist. Audrey Swenson had come to the school not long before Margaret had begun to teach there. They had, however, never developed a close friendship, which, conversely, made it easier for Margaret to talk to her.
“You’re looking well today,” Audrey said.
Her manner was cordial and her smile friendly, while her eyes, Margaret observed, were keen and could be stern. The two women were the same age, yet now, for the first time in her life, Margaret had a feeling of inferiority. She was a supplicant, asking for advice and succor; she had been degraded. Adam and his woman had brought her here to this place on this afternoon.
“It must be the pink shirt,” she replied lamely. “I don’t feel all that well.”
“Don’t you really agree that you should be seeing a psychiatrist? Most women in your situation do.”
Margaret made herself speak firmly. “No. I believe I have the resources to deal with this. Eventually, I’ll pull out. Anyway, I have neither the time nor the money. It’s my children who worry me, as you know.”
“Of course. We’ll get to that. But you do realize don’t you, that how they are affected by this breach depends so much upon how you are affected?”
“I know. I don’t think I need feel much guilt in that respect, though.” She sighed. “I’ve said scarcely a word against their father. Believe me, it’s tempting to ask questions whenever Julie and Danny come home from their Sunday visit, which I hate, but I never—”
Audrey interrupted. “Does Megan still refuse to go there?”
“Yes. Sometimes I think she despises Adam more than I do. It worries me that she’s so angry.”
Audrey nodded. “She has been frightfully wounded, as a daughter and as a woman. Her father is not the man she adored. Now she distrusts all men and doesn’t know what her life is going to mean. She has very high principles and sees things in black and white, as adolescents can do. Don’t push her. But let’s get back to you. Tell me something.”
Again Margaret became aware that she was looking down at the finger where the marriage ring had been. And she laid her hand on the arm of her chair. She must remind herself to keep it there.
“Fortunately,” she said, “I’m so busy that there isn’t a lot of time to give to my feelings. They attack me in spasms, painful spasms. Yesterday after my last class one of my former students came to visit me. I recognized her immediately. She had been one of my best, and now she’s in her third year at medical school. She came to thank me for having inspired her.”
“And you felt?”
“Quite touched by her gratitude. Happy that my work as a teacher can bear such good fruit.” She paused, drew a breath, and continued, “Rage too. Awful rage that I gave all that up for myself, and now this, and now it’s too late.”
“You’re saying all the right things, Margaret. Anger is healthy as long as you keep it under control.”
Healthy, said Stephen Larkin an hour ago. Like radiation therapy, perhaps?
“I do control it,” Margaret said with sudden pride. “I do plenty of things wrong, I’m sure, but that’s not one of them.”
“Good. Now about the children.”
“No change yet. They’re scared, miserable, and trying. I know they’re trying, poor babies, to keep themselves under control too.”
“I want to make a suggestion. Don’t ever think of them, and don’t treat them like babies. Especially don’t do it to Danny. I know he’s the youngest and it’s natural to do it. Try calling him ‘Dan.’ ” Audrey smiled. “He’s ‘Daniel,’ I suppose, whenever you’re annoyed with him.”
“Oh, yes. He never has been a top student, you know, but now I have a hard time getting him to do his homework. He plays ball, watches television—and telephones his father. His all-American father.”
Audrey said gently, “Don’t be easy on him about the homework. Set penalties. You mustn’t let him go downhill simply because his father isn’t in the house.”
“I understand. And Megan is the opposite. She has six majors and wants me to tutor her in college-level chemistry. She’s become a fanatic about work. No telephone, no boys, and no girls either.”
“Tell her to come see me. Do you think she will?”
“Megan will do anything I ask her to do. She identifies with me. She has always been so good, maybe too good. It’s Danny—Dan—who refuses. He says it’s ‘sissy’—only that’s not the word he uses—and he can take care of himself.”
“Perhaps he can.” Audrey looked at her watch. “We’ve only five minutes left to talk about Julie, so let me sum up. It’s going to take time. If I see that I’m not making progress at all, I’ll tell you to take her to a psychiatrist. For the present I believe I understand her.”
“My tender one. She has been that always, probab
ly from the day she was born. Who knows? Is it because she’s the middle child, or is it genetic? And anyway, what’s the difference? She was getting along quite well, living her little life in her own way, until this—this thing happened.” And Margaret heard her own voice tremble. “It’s as if she had been hit by a truck.” She stood up. “Well, thank you, Audrey. You’ve got more troubles sitting in your waiting room, so I’ll be going.”
Megan was doing homework in the den when Margaret came in, apologizing for being late.
“I’m sorry I was delayed. Here are the car keys. You should be able to get there in twenty minutes, though. Tell the dentist it’s my fault.” Her words rushed as did her hands, rummaging in her pocketbook. “Can you stop and get some fruit on your way back? Whatever you see that’s not too expensive. Apples, mostly, this time of year.”
On the back steps in the mild October sunshine, Danny sat idly scratching Rufus on the head.
“What’s up?” asked Margaret.
“Nothing.”
“Have you got much homework?”
“Some.”
“It’s after five. Don’t you think you should start doing it?”
“No,” Danny said.
Be firm with him.
“Well, I know you should. First history quiz of the semester last Friday, and you got C-plus. There’s no excuse for that.”
“Maybe I’m just stupid.”
“No, you’re not, Daniel. You simply didn’t do the reading. Now go on upstairs and get to work while Julie and I put supper together.”
“I’ll go later, Mom. Will you leave me alone?”
“No, I won’t. After supper you’ve got to take the mower and go over the front lawn. It’s a disgrace. And then you can get back to your homework.”
“Oh, all right.” He got to his feet and climbed the steps, scuffing his new shoes as he went. “All you do is nag me, Mom. Nag, nag.”
“That’s not true, and you know it, Dan.”
