“Jessup didn’t send you here, did he?” Rae asked. “Maybe he wanted you to see if I was all right or if I needed anything.”
“Jessup?” Hal said, confused.
Rae put her elbows on the table and tried to smile. “I didn’t think so,” she said.
“I guess I just feel guilty,” Hal said. “If he had told me about you I would have never asked him to come in on the ranch with me. To tell you the truth, I’m sorry I did ask him.” Hal took a sip of his coffee and shook his head. “That goddamned Jessup. Whenever he runs out of something—like dishes or clean clothes—he acts so damned surprised, like there’s an unlimited supply of everything. I’m telling you—no one can live with him.”
“I did,” Rae said.
“Well, you were in love with him,” Hal said. He spooned more sugar into his coffee. Then, as if something had suddenly dawned on him, he said, “Don’t tell me you still are?”
“If you’re here because you think you broke us up, forget it,” Rae said.
“I’d just like to help you out,” Hal said.
He wasn’t looking at her, so Rae could study him all she wanted. “Why?” she finally asked.
He seemed genuinely surprised by her question, and it took a while before he answered.
“Why shouldn’t I?” he said.
“I don’t know,” Rae said.
“I could come visit you once in a while and take care of things,” Hal said. “Maybe I just feel like doing something for you.”
Rae promised him she’d think about it, and when there was a knock on her door the following Sunday, she didn’t have any expectations. She knew exactly who it was. She let him carry the laundry downstairs and change the oil in the Oldsmobile, but it just made things worse. And when she walked him out to the pickup he and Jessup had bought, Rae felt a rush of desire. The truck was red, and Rae was certain that Jessup had been the one who’d chosen the color. She sounded sincere when she thanked Hal for all his help, but all she could think about was Jessup, sitting at the counter of the Dunkin’ Donuts in Barstow, watching that waitress, Paulette, from the corner of his eye.
Later, when she got into bed, Rae could tell she would have nightmares. She thought she would dream about the men in her life: Jessup would turn his back on her; Hal would knock at her window, waking her from a sound sleep; Richard would drive to the wrong hospital, leaving her waiting at the admitting desk, in labor and all alone. But that night Rae dreamed of Lila, and when she woke she was frightened the way she had been as a little girl, when she cried in her sleep and wanted her mother and no one else would do. Night after night Rae dreamed of Lila: she had a fever that could not be broken until Lila appeared; she was lost in a garden, and even though she could see Lila’s house in the distance, every path led right back to the same locust grove. When she had been plagued by bad dreams as a child, Carolyn had taught her some tricks to chase them away. On the nights she felt she might have nightmares she was to wash her hair with lemon juice, and take some sewing or embroidery to bed, to work on just before she fell asleep. But now when she rinsed her hair the lemon juice always smelled bitter, and every time she picked up the embroidery needle she bought at the drugstore, she stuck her finger and drew blood.
After a few nights, the drops of blood that had fallen as Rae tried to work her embroidery formed the shape of a heart on her sheets, and she knew that if things kept on this way there would be only bad luck. But even when she willed herself not to have any dreams during the few hours each night that she slept, it wasn’t enough. She did not expect Lila to agree to be at the baby’s birth, but she might at least get her blessing. And so one evening, when she had cooked dinner but could not eat, Rae got into her car, and she drove without stopping to Three Sisters Street.
Richard’s Volkswagen wasn’t in the driveway, and that made Rae hesitate. But he was rarely there any more. Whenever he couldn’t find a good excuse to work overtime he went and parked in the lot behind the liquor store. He didn’t bother to go in and buy something to drink. He just parked and listened to the radio and avoided going home. When he did finally come home, Lila always knew. She froze the instant his car turned the corner, she could feel his weight as he came up the brick path to the door. It was not as difficult as she had thought it would be to live in the same house with someone and have nothing to do with him. If she and Richard met accidentally, in the hallway or the kitchen, Lila lowered her eyes and silently counted to a hundred, and by that time Richard had usually left the room. Every time Richard came into the house, and before he fell asleep on the couch, Lila made certain to keep the dresser drawer where her daughter slept closed. But as soon as she could she opened the drawer and picked up her baby, and sometimes, when she felt particularly brave, she took her outside and they sat together underneath the lemon tree.
The evening that Rae came to see her, Lila was sitting in the chair in her bedroom, rocking her daughter to sleep. She could feel someone walk up the brick path, and she knew it wasn’t Richard. She got up and carefully put her daughter back in the drawer and covered her with a silk scarf that was so soft it slipped through your fingers. Then she put on her robe and went into the living room. She stood close to the wall, beside the drapes, and she lifted a fold of material so that she could look outside.
Rae’s weight made her walk off-balance, and when she came up the porch steps she held on to the banister. Lately, she had developed a fear of falling, and she took each step gingerly, her left arm circling her belly protectively. Lila could almost see inside Rae to the baby she was carrying. Its eyes were closed, but it was moving its fingers, making a fist, then letting go. Already it had eyelashes, fingernails, a cap of soft down on its head. Beside this baby Lila’s own child grew more ghostly, and Lila could tell, just thinking about Rae’s baby sapped her child’s strength: in the dresser drawer her daughter was right now struggling for breath.
When Rae rang the bell, Lila stood behind the drapes and hid. Rae waited on the porch for longer than Lila had expected—nearly fifteen minutes. When she’d been there long enough to feel foolish, Rae turned and walked back to her parked car. Lila stood with her back against the wall; she wiped her eyes with the hem of the drapes. And later, when Lila summoned up the courage to pull back the drapes and look outside, there wasn’t one single sign that anyone had come to see her, and no one who wasn’t looking carefully would have noticed that there were at least a dozen new buds on the rosebushes at the front door, and that each and every one of them was blood red.
Hal and Rae had spent an entire morning shopping for a crib, going from one baby store to another. As the morning wore on, Rae began to feel more and more defeated. Everything was so expensive, so foreign. There were things she had never seen before—crib bumpers, walkers, infant seats with buckles and bells. All morning the baby had been pushing against her ribs, and when Hal asked her if she liked a particular crib, Rae turned on him.
“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” she said before she stomped away. The pressure inside her grew worse then, and she wound up sitting on the floor, knees pulled up, hands shaking. She didn’t know if she liked the crib or not because she didn’t know what there was to like about it. In the end, she just pointed a finger at a wooden crib that didn’t look any different from the rest and said she would take it.
As Hal loaded the crib into the rear of the pickup, Rae practiced her deep breathing in the parking lot. On the way home she was certain that if Hal said one word to her she would jump out of the moving truck. He wouldn’t let her help him carry the crib across the courtyard, and once he had managed to get it inside they were both amazed by how much room it took up. They stood there watching it, hypnotized. Finally, Hal cleared his throat.
“That’s some crib,” he said appraisingly.
“I guess so,” Rae said.
She sat down on the edge of the bed and ran one hand through her hair.
“I must be crazy,” she said.
“I’ll tell you what
’s crazy,” Hal said. “We’re making money. It’s especially hard to believe because it was all Jessup’s idea—we started advertising in Variety and in the Times. Go on and guess what the birthday present for kids in Beverly Hills is these days.”
Rae looked up at him.
“Our horses,” Hal said. “We deliver them wearing birthday hats.”
Hal reached for his wallet and carefully peeled off ten hundred-dollar bills. He placed them at the foot of the bed.
“Don’t do this,” Rae warned him. “Don’t you feel sorry for me.”
“I’m not,” Hal swore. “Listen, this is Jessup’s money—only he doesn’t know it.”
“Really?” Rae said, interested.
“I’m in charge of the finances,” Hal told her.
They smiled at each other then.
“I guess he owes me something,” Rae agreed.
“I told you to get those bumpers for the crib,” Hal said. “I told you they weren’t too expensive.”
“You know, you shouldn’t be here,” Rae said. “You should be out finding somebody of your own.”
“That’s okay,” Hal said.
“I really mean it, Hal,” Rae told him.
“I know you do,” he nodded. “And I’m not expecting anything.”
So Rae picked up the money he had given her, and she counted it twice. But she knew that you could easily say you weren’t expecting anything, and still not quite believe you weren’t really going to get it if you waited long enough.
That night they went out for an early dinner to celebrate the crib. The restaurant had once been a guest house on the edge of the Sisters’ estate; they sat in the garden at a white wrought-iron table, and Rae insisted they order the most expensive items on the menu, since it was Jessup who was really paying. At first it was a joke, but by the time they had ordered dessert, Rae couldn’t get Jessup off her mind. She actually ordered apple pie, which she hated, just because it was Jessup’s favorite.
“Not that I’d take him back,” she told Hal. “Imagine me having a baby with Jessup in the room watching. I’d have to worry about how awful I looked, and he’d be so horrible he’d probably ask me to jump off the bed and run out to get him a glass of ice water.”
“You won’t look awful,” Hal said innocently. “You’ll be beautiful.”
“Oh, yeah?” Rae said coldly. “You’re just the type of man who thinks a woman could be beautiful while she was up there on some hospital bed being tortured. I’ll bet you want the woman you’re with to be beautiful all the time—I’ll bet that’s why that girlfriend of yours left you.”
Hal put down his fork. “Who said she left me?”
Hal wasn’t the one she wanted to hurt, so there really was no point in this. “You know what?” Rae said tiredly. “I think I want to go home.”
Hal looked so distraught as they walked through the parking lot, that Rae took his arm.
“I’ll tell you how I knew,” she said. “I was left, too, and it takes one to know one.”
“I thought I was giving you a compliment,” Hal said.
“I know you did,” Rae said. “Don’t pay any attention to me. It’s living with Jessup for so long—it’s made me mean.”
As they drove back on Sunset, Rae felt nervous. Everything was reminding her of Jessup—the sand on the floor of the truck, the shadows on the street. After a while she noticed that Hal was studying something in the rearview mirror. She leaned over and looked.
“Oh, shit,” Rae said. “Is it him?”
Hal nodded and kept on driving. “I can’t believe this fucking guy—he’s got my car,” he said.
For some reason, they both had the feeling they had done something wrong, and they spoke to each other in whispers.
“What are we going to do?” Rae said.
“What can we do?” Hal said, because by then they were stopped at a red light.
Jessup got out of Hal’s Ford and slammed the door behind him. He left the Ford idling hard and came up and knocked on Rae’s window. Rae looked at Hal and he leaned over and rolled her window down.
“What the hell is this supposed to be?” Jessup said.
“We went out to dinner,” Hal said.
“Oh, really?” Jessup said. “How long has this been going on?”
“There’s nothing going on,” Hal said. He looked at Rae for a second, measuring what he was about to say. “But you know, while we’re at it,” he said to Jessup. “How about Paulette?”
“Paulette!” Jessup said. “Paulette is nothing.”
“Come on, Jessup,” Hal said. “Who do you think you’re talking to—idiots?”
“I’ll tell you what I’d really like to know,” Jessup said. Rae wasn’t looking at him, but she could tell by his tone that he was talking to her. “I’d like to know why you’re too afraid to look at me.”
Rae turned to him then, and as coolly as she could she said, “I’m looking at you now.”
“Yeah?” Jessup said. “Well, take a good look.”
As they stared at each other the light turned green; behind them someone sounded a horn. Without turning, Jessup raised his arm and signaled for the driver to go around them.
“Do you know what today is?” Jessup said to Rae.
The driver behind them leaned on his horn. Jessup jumped away from the pickup.
“Drive around us, you asshole,” he called.
Hal leaned over toward Rae. “We don’t have to sit here and take this from him,” he said.
Jessup stuck his head in Rae’s window again. The muscles in his jaw were tightening, the way they always did when he was upset.
“Today’s my birthday, Rae,” he said.
“Do you believe this?” Hal said. “Who does this guy think he is?”
“Do you really want me to spend my birthday alone?” Jessup asked Rae.
“What about Paulette?” Rae said before she could stop herself, and anyone could tell how interested she was no matter how cool she sounded. Next to her she could feel Hal sink down a little behind the steering wheel.
Jessup knew he had just had a small victory, and he grinned. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go celebrate.”
Rae swallowed hard, then turned to Hal. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s his birthday.”
Jessup was walking around to the driver’s door. He opened it and waited for Hal to get out.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” Rae said to Hal.
“I don’t need your appreciation,” Hal said.
He got out, and Jessup stood aside so that Hal could walk back to the Ford. Then Jessup got into the truck. He pulled the door closed and took off. Rae leaned over to look in the rearview mirror and she could see Hal getting into his Ford, waving his hands at the line of cars waiting behind him.
“Well, I did it,” Jessup said. He lit a cigarette and rolled down his window. “Just under the wire, before I turned thirty. I made it.” He reached into his pocket, and for a moment the truck veered into the oncoming lane. “Take a look,” Jessup said. He held up a billfold and smiled. “Thirty years old and I’m a success.”
“Congratulations,” Rae said.
“I told you I would be,” Jessup said.
“I don’t know,” Rae said. “I just feel terrible about Hal.”
“Let me tell you something about Hal,” Jessup said. “He wants what anybody else has.”
Rae gave Jessup a look.
“Or used to have,” Jessup amended. “You know what I mean—whatever happens, we’ll always be involved. It is my baby you’re having, if I’m not mistaken.”
“You’re not mistaken,” Rae said.
“There you go,” Jessup nodded.
He pulled the car over when they passed a liquor store.
“Wait right here,” he said, and he was gone before she could tell him not to.
Waiting there for him felt wrong. She had the feeling that this had all happened a hundred times before, only she’d been a dif
ferent person.
Jessup jumped back into the pickup and put two bottles of Spanish champagne under his seat.
“What is that?” Rae said.
“That is champagne,” Jessup said. “We’re going back to the apartment to get drunk.”
“I can’t drink,” Rae said. “I’m pregnant.”
Jessup turned to her, annoyed. “It’s my birthday,” he said.
“I know,” Rae said. “You keep reminding me.”
“Yeah, well you sure didn’t remember on your own.”
Then Rae felt contrite—she had never forgotten his birthday before, but lately the only date she could remember was her baby’s due date.
“All right,” Rae said finally. “Let’s go home.”
They didn’t talk for the rest of the ride. Once, Jessup caught Rae staring at him, and they both laughed, and it almost seemed like it was going to be all right. But as soon as Jessup had parked the car, Rae could tell it just wasn’t the same as it used to be. She simply didn’t trust him.
Jessup followed her across the courtyard, a champagne bottle in each hand. He was studying her as she unlocked the door and finally he said, “You sure do look pregnant.”
Rae looked at him briefly, then pushed open the door.
When Jessup saw the crib, he put the champagne bottles down on the bureau, then walked over and ran his hand over the wooden bars. Rae had the strongest sense that he was about to say something important. But when he spoke it was only to tell her he was dying of thirst.
She went into the kitchen for glasses. Later she managed to act as if she was drinking by occasionally raising her glass to her lips. She was right to assume that Jessup wouldn’t even notice that the only glass he kept refilling was his own.
“Why are you staying so far away from me?” Jessup asked her.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed. Rae was in the easy chair, watching him drink.
“I’m comfortable here,” Rae shrugged.
“Like hell,” Jessup said. “You’re afraid of what might happen if you come a little closer.”
Rae got up and went to sit next to him; balancing on the edge of the bed with nothing to support her strained her back. As he leaned toward her Rae thought about the first time he had ever kissed her. It was so cold that icicles had formed on all the streetlights. She really hadn’t expected it; Jessup had been waiting for her outside the high school, and Rae left the girls she usually walked home with on the steps and ran to meet him. They walked along in silence, Jessup didn’t even look at her, and Rae had to struggle to keep up with him on the slippery sidewalk. Then he’d turned on her, for no reason at all.
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