Despite her coolness, he lived for the moment when he was taking the stairs two at a time. “Oh, it’s you,” she said. “I’ll be late today. Could you give Kevin supper? Make him a hamburger. Do you cook?”
“Do I cook?” Near her he was always acting, not himself, trying to impress her. “I’m a fantastic cook!”
She gave him one of her infrequent smiles. “I know, you guys can do anything these days.”
“I cook for my mother all the time.” Why had he said that? Doing things for his mother like a kid. He was sensitive to the difference in their ages. She was somewhere in her mid-twenties. If she asked, he planned to say he was already eighteen, maybe nineteen. Let her think he was a little retarded in school. I lost a year, he’d tell her. I had mono, the lover’s disease.
The job became routine. He played with Kevin, read to him, invented stories. Sometimes they sang songs. “Old McDonald Had a Farm” was Kevin’s favorite. Every time they sang it they had to sing it all the way through, and not just once, but two or three times. It drove Marcus crazy. When Kevin took his nap, Marcus wrote in his notebook. Now that he had less time to write, he was writing more than before. He was working on the Isabel Malefsky story he had promised Sweeny. Someday he would show Karen his work, let her read it, prove to her that he was a writer, as much an artist as she was.
It would start with talk—a little talk, a little touching, her fingers light on his arm. Marcus. She’d breathe his name …
“Love,” he wrote, “lust, what men feel for women: primal, earthy, unmistakable, like hunger, cold, thirst. Love is a corrupted word. I love my mother. I’d love a new car. I love to beat Alec at tennis. None of these things is what I feel for Karen.”
But when he tried to write what he really felt about her, all that came to his mind were canned words, phrases from ads or songs: silvery hair … eyes like moonlight … lady, my lady. Not his words; other people’s words.
He sat with his notebook on his knees. “Karen,” he wrote. “Karen … Karen.…”
One afternoon, while Kevin slept, Wendy came over. Marcus showed her everything in the apartment: the books, the sculptures, the wedding dress. Karen’s bedroom door was ajar, and they looked in. The dim room, the crumpled sheets, the blankets half on the floor filled him with excitement.
In the hall Wendy studied a series of drawings of male nudes. “Great bods,” she said. “It’s really a different place. What’s she like?”
He gestured around the apartment. “You can see.”
Wendy examined a hanging made of bark, leaves, and feathers. “Did you talk to Alec?”
“I haven’t forgotten,” he said quickly. “I just haven’t had a chance.” Why was he so uncomfortable? Why was he making excuses? He had tried. A couple of times he’d dropped Wendy’s name into the conversation, but Alec hadn’t bitten. Marcus was sorry now that he’d agreed so readily to speak to Alec. He was afraid what Alec would say wouldn’t be what Wendy wanted to hear, and he didn’t want to be the messenger with the bad news. He knew Alec a lot better than Wendy did. He’d seen him with other girls. Alec turned on for every attractive girl he met. It didn’t mean that much.
“Don’t you see Alec every day at rehearsals?”
Wendy shook her head. “I’ve stopped going. One person can’t make all the moves in a relationship. I saw Alec in the library the other day. He came right over and sat down next to me. Did you know he calls me Ranger Wendy? I think it’s kind of cute, don’t you?”
Was Alec being sarcastic? Marcus made no comment. Kevin, who had been asleep, was standing in the doorway staring at Wendy. Marcus picked him up. Sleep clung to the little boy’s skin, and he smelled faintly of warm urine. “Say hello to Wendy.”
Kevin buried his face in Marcus’s shoulder. Wendy caught one of his bare feet. “Don’t,” Kevin said.
“Oh, Kevin, don’t you like me?”
“It’s awful to be so unpopular,” Marcus said.
Wendy stretched out on the rug, hands under her head. Her shirt pulled out of her jeans, showing skin and the tiny knot of her belly button.
He didn’t understand Alec. Wendy was a great-looking girl, and a lot of fun to be with. What did Alec want? “Move over.” He and Kevin sat down on the rug next to Wendy.
That was the way they were when Karen returned, Wendy lying on the floor, and Marcus sitting next to her, talking. Kevin, still in his diapers, ran to his mother. Marcus hauled himself to his feet. “Karen, this is my friend.” He motioned to Wendy. “Stand up!”
Karen nodded, and to Marcus, “I want to talk to you for a minute.” He followed her into the kitchen. “Look, I don’t like surprises where Kevin is concerned. Tell me the next time you want a friend over here.” It was an intense, uncomfortable moment.
Outside, Marcus wheeled his bike in silence. He was upset about Karen and wanted to blame Wendy, knew it was unfair, and kept his mouth shut.
“I don’t like her so much,” Wendy said, breaking the silence. “Your Karen is actually a bit of a cold fish, Marcus. Doesn’t she ever smile?”
“You don’t know her.” He leaped to Karen’s defense. “You took her by surprise. She didn’t expect to see you there. She’s very sensitive, very intense.”
“She doesn’t look healthy,” Wendy said unfeelingly.
“Let’s just drop the subject.”
Wendy looked at him curiously. “Oh, Marcus, you’ve really, really got it bad, haven’t you? I can’t believe it!”
11
By Saturday Marcus had been working for Karen for two weeks. It was a hot spring day—people were suddenly outdoors—too beautiful a day to spend indoors with Kevin. Marcus came to work in his cutoffs, rubber clogs, and faded Baltimore Colts shirt. It was a day to be with friends, playing ball, or just drifting around, talking. “Okay with you if I take Kevin out this afternoon?” he asked Karen. “I can take him to the zoo.” Karen was wearing a seersucker skirt and jacket. “You’re going to be hot,” he warned.
Karen, as she often did, acted as if she didn’t hear what he was saying, or heard selectively. “The zoo is fine. You’ll keep a close eye on Kevin? What about his nap?”
“I’ll bring a blanket along. Maybe you’d like to come too?” he said boldly.
She shrugged. “Kevin,” she called, “Mommy is going.”
“Take the day off.” He was standing close to her, his eyes fixed on the gold chain at her throat. It would be so simple to put his arms around her waist …
After Karen was gone he called Wendy and invited her. “Sure,” Wendy said. “Meet you at the zoo.”
Marcus and Kevin took the bus to the zoo and waited at the bus stop for Wendy. She came wearing a polka dot halter and denim shorts, and carrying a straw basket. “Wendy,” Kevin said. “Hi, Wendy.”
“See, he remembers you.” Marcus patted Kevin on the head.
“Why shouldn’t he remember me? I remember him. Hi, Kev, I like your outfit.” He was wearing blue gym shorts, blue knee socks, and blue sneakers. “You too,” she said to Marcus. “Sexy legs.”
“Hairy legs turn you on?” He bumped into her. “What have you got in that interesting-looking straw basket?”
“Cookies and fruit for later.”
Marcus reached around her for a cookie. She pushed him away. “I said later, grabby. Why don’t you ask sometimes?”
“Ask what? I’m not a grabber. You grab plenty of times yourself.” He’d been dreaming about grabbing Karen. Wendy too. That was his fantasy, to grab and to hold.
In the animal house Wendy and Kevin went from one cage to another, but Marcus remained in front of the spider monkey cage. Wendy and Kevin came back. “It’s stinky here,” Kevin said.
“I’ve had it too,” Wendy said. “You ready, Marcus?”
“Not yet,” he said. “See those two little guys over there, the way they’re picking stuff off each other.”
“Yuck! That’s what’s making me sick,” Wendy said. “Come on, Kev, let’s leave Rosenbloom t
o the monkeys.”
Later he found them on the lawn under a tree. Wendy was swinging Kevin by his arms. “More!” Kevin shrieked. “More! Marcus, you do it.”
Marcus swung Kevin in the air. “Now it’s Wendy’s turn.” He grabbed her around the waist.
“You’re looking for trouble, grabby!”
“You’re looking for trouble, grabby!” Kevin echoed.
“Come on, up you go!” Marcus tried to pick her up but she made herself heavy and poked her elbows in his stomach. They were so close, he could smell the sun in her hair. “Okay, let’s be friends,” he said.
She slapped his hands away. “Who could be friends with a snake like you?”
“Ah, come on, Wendy,” he coaxed, and got his arms around her again. He was one of those lusty men who had enough for lots of women—everything they wanted.
Wendy broke free. “Who’s hungry?”
“I want a banana,” Kevin said.
She handed him a banana and Marcus a carrot.
“Where’s the gooey stuff?”
“This is better for you, pervert.”
For Kevin’s benefit, Marcus chewed the carrot like a cigar. Then they sat on the grass and watched the people going by. “Did I tell you what I decided about Alec?” Wendy said.
“No,” Marcus said uncomfortably. He’d finally talked to Alec about Wendy, and Alec had made it clear he liked Wendy, but nothing more.
“Well.” Wendy straightened up. “I’ve decided it doesn’t make any difference what I feel. I can’t make something happen that isn’t there. So I’m hooked, that doesn’t mean I have to let myself be miserable. I’m giving up Alec! Can you give up something you haven’t had?”
He rubbed her shoulders sympathetically.
“Oh, it’s stupid!” she said. “The whole thing is stupid. I don’t know how I let myself get into these things. You want to play cards?” She brought out a deck from the straw basket, then dealt them out in twos and threes.
“You could be dealing from the bottom of the deck, and I wouldn’t know it.” Marcus looked around for Kevin, who was pulling a fallen branch behind the tree.
Wendy studied her cards, arranged them, then snapped them shut. “Come on, play cards.”
Marcus put down a jack of diamonds. Wendy picked it up, and put down a seven of clubs. No good to Marcus. He took a card from the deck. Another jack. He threw down an eight of hearts. She picked it up.
“You going to pick up every card I throw down?”
“I’m taking you for all you’ve got, sonny.”
She felt better. He was relieved. Then Kevin walked across the cards. “No, Kevin!” Too late.
They had to start the game again. Kevin squatted down and watched Wendy deal the cards. Marcus rubbed his head. “That’s a good boy, honey, you sit next to me.” He studied his cards. “So who said a man and a woman can’t be friends without sex?”
“I don’t know, who said it?” Wendy picked up a card. “And who is this man and woman? Not Adam and Eve.”
“You and me.” Marcus picked up a queen of spades Wendy had discarded. “The reason you and I don’t get involved is because you’re not my type.”
“You mean you’re not my type,” Wendy said.
Marcus put down a king of hearts. “I’m hurt.”
“I bet.” She picked up the king and threw down a nine of hearts.
“I know your type.” He was about to describe Alec, but felt it would be hitting too close to home. “You like jocks in high-heeled cowboy boots, with muscles in their sleeves and Bull Durhams in their mouths.”
“Oh, right, and your type are sexy blondes who fall over their boobies. No other requirements necessary. Now me, I require more of a man besides basic equipment. To begin with, he’s got to have brains, charm, a sense of humor—”
“I qualify on all counts,” Marcus said with a modest bow.
“I like my men short, stringbean. And mysterious.”
“I know, I’m an open book.”
“And athletic.”
“Writers sit a lot.”
“You’re totally unsuitable.” Wendy put down her hand, three kings and a straight in clubs. “Rummy, dummy. Besides, you’re a pushover at cards. You owe me sixteen cents. Pay up.”
Marcus reached into his pocket. “Where’s Kevin?” he said, looking around. “He was right here a moment ago.”
Wendy got to her feet. “Kevin,” she called.
He was nowhere on the field. “You go that way.” Marcus pointed toward the seal pond. “I’ll check the animal house.” He ran, expecting to see Kevin—how far could he have gone?
“Slow down,” the guard in the animal house called.
“Did you see a little boy?”
“I see lotsa little boys.”
Marcus ran out of the animal house. He’d been sitting around playing cards when he should have been watching Kevin. What if he didn’t find him?… Kevin, where are you? He imagined him in the path of a car … or kidnapped … In the distance he saw Wendy waving her arm. She had Kevin by the hand. “He was chasing a squirrel.”
Marcus hugged Kevin. “You got me worried.” They walked back toward the bus stop. “Wendy, what if I’d really lost him? Do you realize the responsibility I have watching this kid?” He held his shirt away from his body. He was burning with relief. “You saved my life!”
“Marco, you goof. He wasn’t even lost.”
12
“Is it that time already?”
When Marcus arrived at Karen’s she was on her knees, scraping a green chair.
“That’s a nice chair. Is it oak?”
She stood up and brushed her pants. “Yes. I found it in the garage. I’m going to strip it down, if I find the time.”
“I’ll scrape it for you,” he offered.
“I don’t have the money to pay you.”
“I don’t care about money.”
“No? You’re working for money, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” But didn’t she know it was more than money? Couldn’t she tell?
“Anyway, I’d rather you spent your time with Kevin,” she said. “But I appreciate your offering. Things have worked out better than I expected. Kevin really looks forward to you coming.”
“I like Kevin too. I like coming here.” He wanted to say more, to say everything. “I like this—” He gestured around. “This place, the pictures, everything. I like you.” Oh, god, I like you … kid stuff … baby talk.
“I like you too, Marcus.” She wiped her hands with a damp rag. “Is there any chance you can work for me tomorrow night? I know it’s awfully short notice.”
“No problem.” But then he remembered Alec’s play. He and Wendy had planned to go opening night. They could go the next night.
“You have to be a mother’s dream baby-sitter. Every mother should have a Marcus.” She tapped him on the shoulder. “You’re really very sweet.”
Later, while Kevin napped, Marcus sat with his notebook open. Karen had never asked him to baby-sit at night before. She could have gotten someone else, but she wanted him. And that thought was so full of possibilities he just sat and dreamed until the phone pulled him out of his reverie.
“Allo?” He heard a foreign voice with a heavy Russian accent. “I am looking for Marco Markovich.”
“Alexandrovitch, how did you know I was here?”
“Wendy told me. I didn’t know you were working. I thought you were cranking out stories in the afternoons.”
“I had too much time on my hands.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t want to hear your wise-ass remarks about baby-sitting.”
“Pretty cool, Rosenbloom. Young attractive mother in need. Marcus Rosenbloom to the rescue. Cozy setup.”
“Not the kind of setup you have in mind.”
“Don’t disappoint me, Markovitch. You mean you’re really baby-sitting? You don’t have to tell me, but let me dream. Wendy said your employer could be a movie star
.”
“I’m just the humble baby-sitter.”
“Now, maybe, but you’re not stupid, you can learn. Be glad to give you a few pointers. What I called about—are you coming to the play tomorrow night? First night, everybody will be there except Pfeff, the traitor. He’s on an anti-nuke action all weekend.”
“Wendy and I are coming Sunday.”
“Sunday night! I thought you were coming Saturday?”
“Can’t. Listen, this gives you a chance to learn your lines.”
“You sarcastic ass,” Alec said amiably. “Sunday night’s the cast party. You and Wendy want to come?”
“We’ll talk about it.”
“Do that. Well, it’s been great talking to you.”
“Yeah, it’s been real exciting.” A few more insults and they hung up.
Marcus took care of Kevin Saturday afternoon, then ate supper with Karen. “Nothing fancy,” Karen said. “Tomato soup and toasted cheese sandwiches.”
It could have been toasted straw, Marcus wouldn’t have cared.
“So you’re a senior,” Karen said. “What happens after graduation? College?”
“I don’t know. I’ve done some writing. I’ve got a story at Playboy magazine.”
“Really? Playboy must pay better than I do!”
“They haven’t taken it,” he said lamely, explaining he was still waiting for a response. “I’ll probably be turned down.”
“The competition must be fierce. Every writer must want to break into Playboy, but all the same, you have to believe in yourself. What’s the story about?”
This was just the way he’d imagined she would react, interested and encouraging. “It’s about a character I made up.” He told her a little about Victor Gorman.
“It sounds good.” She reached over and wiped Kevin’s mouth. “I like these stories about weird characters. Is it someone you know? Or is it you?”
“Me?” Marcus was genuinely surprised. “Am I weird?”
“Oh, I’m just teasing. Does your girl friend help you with your writing?”
“You mean Wendy? She’s not my girl friend. We’re just friends.”
I Love You, Stupid! Page 7
