Housebreaking

by Dan Pope

  “It’s a woman’s prerogative, as they say. That Stefanie’s not so bad. She seems to care for Dickie, and God knows he needs someone to look after him. The other day she asked for my kugel recipe. The woman is useless in the kitchen. I had to take her through step by step. Maybe she was just buttering me up.”

  “Don’t sign any papers. I’ll give Brendan McGowan a call. He’ll draw something up for you.”

  “That’s sweet of you, Len, but it’s already done.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “Oh, anywhere. I like those condos over by Stop & Shop. They got a swimming pool and a CVS next door and a package store too. Everything a gal needs. One of my girlfriends lives there. Jenzie Boutilier.”

  “I thought she died.”

  “Bootsy died. Left her stocks and bonds worth millions.”

  “What about Florida?”

  “Dickie and Stefanie want to go to Florida, not me. I never liked Florida, not even to visit. Too many old people. Isn’t it funny how you get old but don’t think of yourself as old? I look around and say, When did everybody get so old? Not me, of course, everybody else. Where does the time go, Leonard Mandelbaum? Answer me that.”

  “You look fine,” he said.

  “I don’t know how it happened. I was always the young one. Dick Senior had twenty years on me. All of our friends too. The baby, they called me. So that’s how I saw myself. I believed them. What a fool I was. I let my life go by. Now everyone’s dead. For the last ten years I haven’t been able to put away my black dress. I got it hanging on the closet door, ready for the next funeral.”

  “That’ll be mine.”

  “Oh, Len, don’t say such things!”

  It was a sunny day, but it got cold quickly if you stayed still. The sun passed behind a cloud for a few seconds and you nearly froze. Leonard kicked his right leg up and down. It felt like it was asleep, just the right leg, not the other. He would sit for a minute and lose all feeling, particularly at night, lying alone in his hospital bed.

  “Your leg hurting?”

  “I’m fine.”

  She leaned forward to massage him, digging in with those strong hands of hers. He’d gotten used to her roughness.

  “Feels good,” he said.

  “Yeah? Well, what are you going to do for me, buster?” she said, winking.

  “You need a younger man.”

  “Why do you say that?” she asked, her hands stopping.

  “You’ve got needs.” He paused, lowering his voice even though there was no one in sight. “Women’s needs.”

  “For Christ’s sake, Len. I haven’t felt anything down there in years. I just say that to be funny. Look at me. I’m a catastrophe.”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  “And you’re blind.”

  “You’ve always been beautiful. It’s the way God made you.”

  Was it a betrayal to compliment another woman? Myra had always been jealous. She didn’t like him paying attention to other women. Sophia Loren, now there was a beauty. He’d said so once, watching a movie on television, and Myra had kicked him in the shin, hard. Is that the type of woman you want? she’d yelled. Well, go ahead. See if she’ll have you. She had stormed out of the room, deaf to his apologies. Didn’t she know that she was that type of woman? Her eyes, just as lovely? Her olive skin?

  “Oh, Leonard.”

  He turned, surprised to see Terri crying, tears bubbling from her eyes. She honked her nose, then fished for a handkerchief in her handbag, as big as a beach bag. What didn’t she have in there?

  “What’s wrong?”

  “No one’s told me that in forever. I forgot what it feels like.”

  Told her what? He didn’t ask. He let her cry; he could tell she liked a good cry. But she’d made a mistake signing papers. Didn’t she know that? You can talk as much as you like, you can sing and dance if it makes you happy, but never sign your name to a piece of paper without forethought. You can’t take it back once it’s written in black and white. They got your signature, they got you. You can’t say, No, I didn’t mean it, I made a mistake.

  “Bring me the papers. I’ll call Brendan McGowan. Maybe he can do something.”

  “Don’t be silly, Len. He’s my son. I don’t need a lawyer to give him my house.”

  “You don’t want a condominium. Too much noise. They play their radios all hours.”

  “I’m not particular. I take a Valium and it’s lights out.”

  “What about me?”

  “You?” She patted his knee. “You’re all better.”

  “They won’t let me out.”

  “We already talked about this. You’re going home soon.” She clapped her hands together like a schoolteacher. “The doctor said to give you tests to check your memory. Here goes. Are you ready? Today is Monday. What comes after Monday?”

  “Tuesday.”

  “Very good, Len. And after Tuesday?”

  “Halloween.”

  “No, Len. Halloween is a holiday—” She glanced at him, but he couldn’t keep a straight face. “Oh, be serious!”

  He’d always liked teasing. Once he’d had Plimpton’s Stationery Store print calling cards for him, saying, The management kindly requests you to leave the premises immediately. Whenever he saw a friend at Scoler’s Restaurant or Dino’s Italian Ristorante, he would ask the waitress to deliver one of the cards. The looks on their faces! The shock and embarrassment and indignation! Then he’d walk over, grinning, his hand extended.

  “Wednesday,” he said.

  “Correct, and Thursday you go home, back to your very own house.”

  “You come too. Benjamin says I need someone.”

  “He’ll have people to look after you. But I can visit if you like.”

  Leonard shook his head. Those nurses who came to care for Myra, she wasn’t a person to them. They didn’t listen to her; they picked her up like a sack of potatoes. She was sick, not stupid. He had fired three or four of them before the agency sent someone he liked, a Chinese woman. She could barely speak English, but she never missed the vein, like those others. Myra’s thin and spotted arms, covered with welts. It had broken his heart to see her so bruised.

  “You come,” he said. “I don’t want anyone else.”

  “You should talk to Benjamin about this.”

  “No, it’s for the best,” he said. “You got no house. You signed the papers.”

  “I’m not homeless, Len.”

  He got up. “I want a taco.”

  She rose, taking his arm. “Slow down there. Did you say taco?”

  “Benjamin brings them home sometimes. You’ll like it.”

  He had to stamp his right leg to get the blood flowing. It felt like dancing, that Irish dance. They called it a jig. It pleased him that he knew this word, jig.

  “What now?”

  “Dancing the jig,” he said.

  “You lost your marbles? Stop jumping up and down like that, you’ll have a heart attack.”

  “I’m light on my feet.”

  “Leonard Mandelbaum. You’re full of surprises today, aren’t you?”

  They started down the gravel path through the rows of roses. Were they going the right way? He didn’t know. He couldn’t remember. But she did, the woman he was with. She led him toward the vine-covered trestles in the distance, the sun blazing above like a halo, an entrance or an exit, he couldn’t tell which, to some other place.

  * * *

  ON MONDAY NIGHT Benjamin returned from a busy day at the dealership and went through the house, checking all the doors and windows. He still felt shaken by the burglary, so he poured himself a scotch and drank it in the den, flipping channels. With his second drink in hand, he felt himself beginning to doze on the couch.

  The doorbell roused him. He turned off the TV
and checked the time: almost ten. Who could it be, so late? Audrey?

  Through the window he could see a figure standing on the porch. It wasn’t Audrey, he realized, feeling the excitement wash out of him. It was a girl wearing a hooded sweatshirt.

  “Yes?” he said, opening the door.

  She lowered the hood, revealing her face. “May I speak to the lady of the house?”

  He took a closer look at her. He’d seen her only that one time, when she’d flipped him off in her driveway. But it was her, unmistakably. The dark hair, the Gypsy eyes. What was she doing on his front porch? “What’s up? Selling Girl Scout cookies?”

  “Not exactly,” she said. “Do you know who I am?”

  “I think so. You live in the farmhouse, right?”

  She hesitated for a moment. “You won’t tell my mother, will you?”

  “Tell her what?”

  “About this.” She reached into her pocket and thrust her hand in front of his face. He peered into her open palm, his eyes narrowing. A ring. He took it from her and examined it under the light and then realized what it was: his mother’s sapphire. He studied her face but couldn’t read her expression.

  “Come in,” he said.

  She stepped past him into the hallway. She smelled earthy, as if she hadn’t washed in a week. In the hallway Yukon raised his head and sniffed at her as she passed.

  Benjamin directed her to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair for her. He placed his drink and the ring on the table. He hadn’t even known it had been taken. “This was my mother’s twenty-fifth wedding anniversary present. She only wore it on special nights, to weddings and galas.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Would you care to tell me how you got it?”

  “Can’t you guess?”

  “Did someone give it to you? A boy named Billy?”

  Her eyes flared. “No,” she said. “Try again.”

  “Emily. That’s your name, right?”

  “Yeah. What’s yours?”

  “Benjamin.”

  “How about I just call you Ben?”

  She unzipped her sweatshirt and peeled it off, wrapping it around her waist. Beneath she wore a low-cut T-shirt, without a bra. She leaned forward, her breasts bulging. Benjamin sat back in his chair.

  “You want me to believe you did it? Broke into my house?”

  “Bingo.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “To pay you back for fucking my mother.”

  He felt the blood drain out of him. “That’s crazy.”

  “Is it? I saw you. You and her together.”

  “I don’t know what you saw—”

  She reached for his glass and took a slug and set it back on the table. “Whiskey and ginger ale,” she said. “Yum.”

  Benjamin felt a flash of panic. “I’m going to call your mother. I think she should hear this.”

  “Good idea. You call Audrey. I’ll call my dad.” She took her cell phone out of her jeans and offered it to him. “He’s a lawyer. We’ll get the whole family together.”

  He hesitated. “Look—”

  “I didn’t think so.” She put the phone back in her pocket. “What do you want with her anyway? You could do a lot better.”

  “The only thing I’ve done with your mother is walk the dog.”

  “Is that what you call it? Sounds like something from the Kama Sutra.” Her face was pale under the fluorescent light. “I don’t blame her, though. You’re hot. You’re the hot older guy.”

  It dawned on Benjamin that she was probably drunk. Her words sounded slurred and she kept blinking, as if trying to focus.

  She said, “Wouldn’t you like someone younger? Me, for instance.”

  “Cut it out.”

  “What, you’re denying it? I saw you checking out my ass that day. That’s why I flipped you off. You’re a horny old fucker, aren’t you?”

  He shook his head. “Your story doesn’t make sense. You break into my house and trash the place. Now you bring back a ring worth thousands of dollars?”

  “So?”

  “So, why not keep it? Why not sell it?”

  She shrugged. “I felt guilty.”

  “You could’ve just left it in the mailbox if you felt so bad.”

  “Didn’t think of that.”

  “I don’t believe you. You’re covering up for your boyfriend, aren’t you? He broke in, didn’t he? That kid Billy.” Though it still didn’t make sense why she’d take the rap for him. But girls her age could be influenced by boys into doing stupid things.

  “I took your fucking ring, okay? I steal things all the time. I took it and now I’m bringing it back. You should thank me instead of breaking my balls.”

  “Fine. Thank you. Now you should go.”

  She got up and strolled down the hallway toward the den. She kneeled beside Yukon and rubbed his stomach, and the dog turned over and put his legs in the air. “Would you mind if I warmed up in front of the fireplace?”

  “Yes, I would mind.”

  “Chill out, Ben. Don’t be so uptight. Go pour yourself another scotch. Get one for me too. I deserve a reward, don’t you think?”

  He got up. “Ah. So that’s why you came to my house at this time of night. For money.”

  She shook her head. “Not money. Something better.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like what you do to Audrey.” She batted her eyes at him, looking like an actress in a soap opera. But he could see through the act. He didn’t know why she was pretending to flirt with him, or what she wanted from him, but he’d had enough. He didn’t like being played for a fool by a teenager. “That’s enough,” he said. “It’s time to go.” He took her elbow and led her toward the front door. Her skin was cold, surprisingly cold. At the door, she wheeled away from him with a sudden furious energy, swinging her arms and yelling, “Let go of me, motherfucker!”

  And then she screamed—a scream so loud he would not have thought it possible. He waited for the sound to stop, unable to move. Yukon barked and jumped up to investigate. At that moment, she ran up the stairs and disappeared into his father’s bedroom. Benjamin went after her. “Hey, come back here!” As he reached the doorway, he caught sight of her rushing into his father’s bathroom, the door slamming behind her.

  When he banged on the door, she called out, “You hurt my arm, asshole.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t answer.

  He tried the handle but it was locked. “Are you okay?” He heard water running in the sink. After a while he called her name.

  She didn’t answer.

  He sat on the edge of his father’s bed. The way she had screamed—like a madwoman. His neighbors had probably heard. Why would she yell like that? He had gripped her arm, but not hard enough to hurt her. Why had she locked herself in the bathroom? He couldn’t make sense of anything she was doing.

  He knocked again. “Can you hear me?”

  “Leave me alone,” she called. “I’ve got cramps.”

  He couldn’t decide what to do, so he just waited. After a while he seemed to lose track of time. He paced around the room. He hadn’t done anything wrong, yet he felt sick with guilt. He should have called Audrey the moment the girl showed up. Why hadn’t he? Should he call her now? Otherwise, what—knock down the door?

  As he was getting ready to dial Audrey’s number, the door swung open and Emily emerged. She’d put her sweatshirt back on, the hood around her head.

  “If you tell my mother I was here . . .” The words came out heavy. “If you tell her any of this, I’ll say you raped me.”

  “She won’t believe you.”

  “Maybe not. But my father will.”

  She brushed past him and went out of the room. He followed her to the top of the st
airs and watched her go out the front door. Yukon appeared and stood in the open doorway, looking after her.

  “Stay, boy,” he said, coming down the stairs.

  This was the bill, he realized; this was the consequence for getting involved with a married woman: a visit from a deranged girl, threatening to accuse him of rape.

  He looked out toward the street, but she was already gone from sight.

  * * *

  HE WENT INTO the den and turned on the TV. His hands, he noticed, were trembling. He felt jittery, unable to concentrate on the show. When he heard a car on the street he jumped up and went to the front window to look out. The car pulled into a driveway a few houses up. He needed to calm himself with a drink or, better yet, a joint. He realized he didn’t want to stay in the house, so he jumped up and got his keys and drove into town.

  He parked on the street outside Max Baxter’s Fish Bar. Getting out he heard loud voices, and he turned to see a businessman, ranting into the pay phone on the corner. It was that kind of night, Benjamin figured. He went in and sat at the bar, ordering a scotch. It was a Monday, approaching 11:00 P.M., and the dining tables were empty, the kitchen closed. A group of waiters and dishwashers, dressed all in white, talked rowdily at a rear booth.

  After the first scotch, Benjamin felt his nerves begin to loosen. To pay you back for fucking my mother. How could she know? Audrey, of course, would never tell her daughter something like that, but maybe the girl had overheard one of Audrey’s phone calls and figured it out. But how would she know about him, specifically, where he lived? Had Audrey written something in a journal, which her daughter had discovered? In any case, he didn’t believe that the girl had broken into his house. Her face had changed when he’d mentioned the boy’s name. Maybe this kid Billy was behind the entire crazy stunt. But why? What did she—or they—hope to gain by confronting him like that? She said she didn’t want money. And why had she given back the ring, the only valuable item they’d gotten away with?

  The door opened and the businessman from the pay phone came in and sat at the other end of the bar, looking disheveled and red in the face. He ordered a tequila but the bartender refused. Benjamin felt for the guy. Drunk as he looked, he seemed to need it at least as badly as Benjamin needed his second glass of scotch.