Come Pour the Wine

by Cynthia Freeman

  Silence, as everyone but Nicole carefully avoided looking at one another.

  “Well,” Nicole said, “are we going to talk about this?”

  “I’m sorry, but it’s between your mother and me,” Bill told her. He wasn’t going to blame Janet and make himself look like a martyred husband. Children have to have some illusions. Still, it was damned hard not to think of Janet as selfish, thinking only about herself and the family … He’d made plenty of sacrifices for the family—eighteen years of commuting, eighteen years of suburban life that had been regimented down to the last boring minute.

  Nicole was exasperated now. “But things that happen in this family aren’t just confined to the two of you. Not when it affects us.”

  Bill glanced at Janet, then quickly looked away. “Since you insist … I think it would be good for us to move back to the city, and your mother disagrees.”

  “And that’s why we’ve been under this much strain? All because of a house?”

  “It has nothing to do with a house.”

  “Then what?”

  “It’s a question of … cooperation.”

  Nicole stared at him, her expression changing from surprise to disapproval. “In other words, your idea of cooperation is for you to make the decisions, uproot our family and move where you want. Suppose you decide on Tahiti? Should we all give up a life we’ve known so you can be a beachcomber?”

  Bill was shocked at Nicole’s tone. “You’ve never spoken to me like that before and I very much resent it, Nicole.”

  She reddened … there was, after all, no one she loved more than her father. Everyone knew that. “I’m sorry, dad, I really am, but I just don’t understand. This is our home, and you always seemed to love it here as much as we do.”

  Janet sat absolutely still, feeling as if the earth were crumbling beneath her. Why hadn’t she seen it before? From the very beginning Bill had played the role of country squire so well that he’d even managed to convince himself for a while. Certainly he’d convinced her. But the truth was that he’d made the move to Westchester only for the sake of his family. That was the role he was expected to assume, and he’d played it for eighteen years. Now he could no longer manage it. The feelings he’d suppressed had reached the boiling-over point. Whatever he felt surfaced and he couldn’t control it.

  Jason looked as bewildered as Nicole. “I’m not going to take sides with who wants what,” he said, “but I’m not going to move and give up my friends … if you and mom want to move to the city, then do it. But I’ll live with Aunt Kit.” He got up, ran to his room, locked the door and stared at his trophies. Stared hard to keep back the unmanly tears.

  Janet went after him and knocked on his closed door. “Jay, may I come in?”

  “No, mom, I want to be alone—”

  “Please, darling.”

  When she walked in he was sitting on his bed and angrily wiping away his tears. Janet sat next to him, not quite knowing what to say. Bill’s feelings counted, but so did theirs. There had to be something that would satisfy them all …

  “Okay, mom, you’re here. What do you want to say?”

  “Just this, Jay … people change … time changes them. But we’re still a family. I’d like you to come back inside so we can work this out—”

  “Work what out? Didn’t you hear dad?”

  “Yes, but people have to make compromises, Jay, and find the solutions.”

  He didn’t move.

  He looked so much like his father, Janet thought, the same chestnut hair, the same planes to the face, although the eyes were a deep blue like hers and Nicole’s. He even had some of his father’s stubbornness, though in recent years it had often been turned against Bill. Jason had grown up idolizing his father, just as Nicole had, but when he reached adolescence there had been sudden and unexpected tensions between them. Or maybe not so unexpected. It was probably the all too common rift—temporary, she hoped—that opened between father and son when the son began to be his own person and sensed that his father was resisting the change, as if it were a threat, a challenge.

  She bit her lower lip. “You want us to come to an amicable agreement, don’t you, darling?”

  Without looking at her, he got off the bed and followed her back to the dining room.

  As Janet sat down she said, “You’re right, Nicole, we’ve spent the best part of our lives here and have a million wonderful memories. You and Jay have made friends you’ll have all your lives. But you’re both getting grown up and you’ll soon be making your own lives, whether you realize it or not. I’ve thought a lot about this”—she looked at Bill—“and I hope we can agree that maybe the best solution for everyone is if we keep the house until Jay graduates. After that, I feel my place, my life, is with your father.”

  Which meant two years, Bill thought, two more years taken out of his life while he sat around waiting for Jason to go to college. And Janet no doubt thought this was just a whim that would be forgotten during all the holiday parties, the birthday and anniversary celebrations that were part of the good life in suburbia. And then there’d be engagement parties, weddings, grandchildren—always some reason to delay giving up the house. They’d just slip into old age in Westchester. He felt like a steel trap had snapped shut on his life….

  It was a terrifying—and very familiar—feeling.

  Janet could sense his discontent as they lay in their darkened room that night. “Bill, I know you’re not happy about this. But tell me truthfully—what else could we have done? You can’t just pull up stakes when you have children. The time will pass quicker than you think, and before we know it Jay will be at M.I.T. Then we can do what we like….”

  What we like? That was a joke, he thought. I feel my place, my life, is with your father … How gracious…. He’d compromised for eighteen years and kept his mouth shut. She’d had her way in everything all these years …

  As though reading his mind, she said, “Bill, I do know how you feel… but the years were good here and I think we ought to be glad the children had such a place to grow up in. I’ll be more than happy to go back once they’re both in school.”

  Thank God she hadn’t said, for your sake.

  She kissed him. “I love you, Bill.”

  “And I love you,” he said, returning the kiss. And he meant it, in spite of all the resentments. Of course he loved her. But husbands and wives weren’t born with the same needs, same desires. They were separate people, with hidden, secret wants, and not even children, however well loved, could bind their parents’ lives together, help them bridge the gap. Even more frightening, Bill thought, he had changed but couldn’t even pinpoint why or when it had all begun … well, it had happened. When the children were young they had been the pivotal point of his life with Janet. That was no longer true, and as much as he tried to fight his discontent he felt as if he’d lost his bearings, as if there were no center to his life. It never occurred to him that the maternal center, pivot of his life, was also gone … and with her passing had begun the acute withdrawal pains he was feeling more and more. The long arm of Violet McNeil was alive even in death….

  As Janet sat alone at the breakfast table early the next morning, she knew she could no longer rationalize away the change in Bill. No denying that he was different, and maybe understandably so. He was facing middle age and somehow seemed unprepared for it. The move to Manhattan was only a partial solution to what he was feeling. How did she make him realize that these could and should be the best times of their lives?

  They’d passed through the years of their children’s adolescence with the least amount of trauma. No school or emotional problems. No drugs. A few anti-war demonstrations but thank goodness neither of them had ever been hurt.

  Now she and Bill should have been able to sit back and enjoy the togetherness they’d have in the approaching years, savor them as the best part. But she knew Bill didn’t share her thoughts. He was afraid, as if middle age were a void, and it didn’t help that
everything was so youth-oriented these days. Oh God, if only she were wise enough to know how to scatter his fears …

  It was only seven in the morning when he joined her in the kitchen. The children were still asleep. As he sat down to breakfast she said, “Bill, I’d love to go to Maine. I think it would be so good to get away together, just the two of us. Would you like that?”

  Would he like that? Well, after the tensions of the past weeks, it might help to try and recapture some of the old magic they’d once had there … especially that first weekend before they were married.

  “Okay, let’s go tomorrow.”

  Janet closed her eyes. Everything was going to be all right. Wasn’t it … ?

  There was little conversation between them as they drove to Maine. All they seemed able to talk about at all were the children. It appeared they’d lost whatever mutual interests they’d once had. God, through the years there were so many … Well, hadn’t there … ? Yes, she told herself. But gradually their lives had taken on a predictability that had somehow cut their rapport to such earth-shaking issues as what color to paint the living room, whether or not to send Nicole to a different orthodontist, where to buy Jason’s new skis … and on and on and on. Well … this weekend would be their time together, to rebuild some of the closeness that had once been theirs.

  Janet moved closer to Bill, took hold of his right hand as she looked out at the passing scenery. This holiday was what they needed. No question. Married people should get away from everything and everybody, especially children. She hadn’t understood that well enough through the years. It had seemed so important to do things as a family, but today she knew otherwise. There was a time and place for … Well, once they got to the farm it would be a new beginning …

  They did all the things they’d done before when they were lovers, tried so hard to relive those times … but they would not come back to life. The sparks didn’t fly … the pulse didn’t race. God … they were like two robots going through the motions. Both knew it and both were miserable and afraid. Nothing stayed the same and nothing could change that fact. It wasn’t anybody’s fault, of course. Something had happened to their lives, without either knowing when, or how, it had happened. The air was very chilly, even for Maine.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  BILL SAT IN HIS office, thinking back to last month’s trip to Maine. He’d lost whatever he’d once had with Janet—the trip had proved that. The kids were almost on their own now. And what did he have left? He was forty-five years old in a world meant only for the young. He was obsolete. Read the ads …

  It hit him hardest when he realized most of the men in the office were in their late twenties and early thirties, none of them married, none of them with a care in the world. And the secretaries were … what? About twenty. He’d been the youngest in the firm when he had joined after graduating M.I.T. In fact, he was referred to as “the kid.” But the men of his father’s time had either died or retired. Youth had taken over, the world belonged to them.

  He looked at the phone for a moment before picking up the receiver and dialing.

  “Janet?”

  “Yes?”

  He paused and cleared his throat. “Listen, Janet, I have to work a little late at the office—”

  “All right. We’ll wait for dinner then.”

  “No, I think you’d better not. Go ahead without me. I don’t know when I’ll be able to get away.”

  He didn’t notice the slight hesitation before she said, “Well, I’ll see you when you get home.”

  His hand lingered on the receiver after he had hung up, as if holding onto the tenuous link between them. In all the years they’d been married he had never cheated on her, never wanted to. He didn’t intend to now, but the routine—the same things day after day, night after night—it was killing him. He felt almost as if he were being unfaithful to Janet by not going home as usual, but the monotony and the emptiness were more than he could face tonight. He just didn’t want to go home … and the feeling, unrecognized, was not so different from the one so many years ago when it was his mother’s home he was avoiding …

  In the elevator he observed the faces of those around him. They’d be meeting a date or going to a singles bar. That had become a big thing … singles. Young and single. Your own person …

  He walked out into the crisp early evening and eventually stopped at a bar on Third Avenue. He doubted if anyone was much past the age of consent. The girls there were nineteen, twenty. And the fellows? Thirtyish.

  Ordering a Scotch and soda, he sat at the bar and listened to the banter around him. The world had surely changed … twenty years ago Janet had walked into his office building and apologized for being so brazen. These days no one would think twice about it. There was one long gap between the fifties and seventies. It was a time of no-holds-barred. The girls were as emancipated as the guys, many of them even insisting on paying for the drinks. He laughed to himself. “I don’t let girls take me to dinner.” That’s what he’d said to Janet when she’d offered to make amends for spilling champagne on his precious suit … That seemed a million years ago.

  He watched, fascinated, as a girl sashayed up to the bar, sat down and spoke to the young man next to her as though they were old friends. Bill wouldn’t have known the difference except that the young man introduced himself. Did Nicole do that sort of thing, he wondered? No … No … ?

  He was out of place, beyond his depth. Leaving his drink on the bar, he turned and left. The girl who took his place at the bar watched him disappear through the door, shrugged and thought… better luck next time. One damn attractive man….

  On his way home something seemed to compel him to gravitate to his old apartment building. He parked the car and looked up to what had been his window. That had been a damn nice time in his life. The apartment, perfect … for a bachelor, of course. He tried not to remember how he’d fought against being “owned,” but his efforts at this moment were futile. The past rushed back, the memories springing undeniably to life. He’d fallen in love with Janet… which, of course, was what had made him so … vulnerable. But the truth was—face it—that marriage made him feel as though he were in a jail cell … hard to say exactly why, but he did, he just did … Yes, he still loved Janet … of course he did … but he was losing himself. What did it profit a man to gain the whole ball of wax … marriage, children … and lose his soul … all right, all right, he was being melodramatic, but really, the more he thought on it, the more it seemed that things had been all Janet’s way. He was the one who rolled over, gave in to get along. He tried to close his eyes to the children and only remember how it was before they were born … but no, damn it, he hadn’t been ready for a family when Janet had cried her eyes out only two months after they were married. But he’d gone along again, even deluding himself that fatherhood was what he wanted. Why? To prove he was everyone’s good boy? (He couldn’t substitute “mother’s” for “everyone’s,” not even now.) He had to prove to Kit he wasn’t a selfish s.o.b., so he forced himself to buy the house in Westchester. He had to prove to Janet he was a good husband so he … But, forgive the thought, what about him? Nobody gave a damn about the way he felt. He’d been weak, no question. You bet … otherwise he’d have had the guts to say what Jason had said, except in reverse … We’re moving back to the city because up to now every one of you has had it your way. You say you don’t want to move? Fine, Jay, you can go live with Aunt Kit. And as far as you’re concerned, Janet, you don’t really give a damn about me, if you did you’d see I’m dying inside, choking on all this domesticity … you’re making me feel old, pushing me to the edge, over it … I want a divorce—

  Bill bolted upright behind the steering wheel, and held on. Perspiration ran down his face but he felt chilled. Although secretly he’d held the thought for a long time, never before had he allowed himself to go so far as to acknowledge it. He turned on the ignition and looked once again at the building that housed the memory of his bachelor d
ays. He had to get away. This place was no good for him. Too many memories … too damn many….

  Nicole and Jay were in their rooms, doing homework.

  Suddenly he got up and fixed himself a drink, stood in front of the windows and looked out to the dark night. The thoughts he’d had earlier reverberated in his mind. Mostly they translated down to being free … like he’d been before … Janet glanced over to him. She sensed the tension across his shoulders, even with his back to her.

  “Bill … come and talk to me.”

  He turned around and looked at her. Slowly he walked back to the chair, sat down, switched off the television, took a sip of his drink.

  “What’s wrong, Bill?”

  He shook his head. Nothing.

  Janet only wished it were so. “If something’s wrong, don’t you think it would help to discuss it? We don’t do much of that …”

  Silence.

  “Please, Bill, don’t keep on shutting me out.”

  She was pushing him again, just like she always had … “I’m … I’m going to bed. I’m really pretty beat …”

  “Darling, please give me a chance … give us a chance … talk to me about it?”

  He sank back into his chair, took a long pull on his drink. “Janet, I love you … I always have and I suppose I always will … That’s what makes this all so difficult …”

  Her heart was suddenly pounding. “What’s difficult, Bill?”

  “Janet, I don’t want to hurt you and I don’t quite know how to say this—”

  “Say what? Are you sick or—”

  “No …”

  “Then what is it, for God’s sake?”

  He began again. “I fought this, believe me, I really have—”

  “Fought what?” Except even as she asked, she was terrified that she knew.

  He couldn’t do this without another drink. Janet watched as he poured out half a glass of Scotch, then sat down again. “Janet, I don’t want you to hate me …”

  She was becoming very frightened. “Why should I hate you?” What else to say?