“Oh, for God’s sake.” Charlie passed his hand over his eyes and steeled himself. “Well, there’s nothing to be done about it. He’ll just have to go.”
“Poor tortured soul. I confess I can see no alternative. It’s so terribly sad. I can’t help feeling somehow responsible.”
“Don’t be silly, C. B. Nobody’s responsible. He’s just gone out of his mind.” As his initial terror passed, anger grew in him. He would never forgive Peter for this. He had given him enough warning. That he could have even hinted to her of the acts they performed together filled him with loathing for what they had done. Only her unquestioning belief in him had saved him from being incriminated. He would throw him out. Even if he had to wait till Peter came home from school, he would throw him out tonight.
“He’s doubtless not well mentally,” C. B. said. She continued to sit very straight, her little slippered feet side by side under the hem of one of the flowing garments she favored for the house, her hands in her lap. “But the fact remains that I brought you together, you were kind to him as a kindness to me, I gave this New York arrangement my blessing. I don’t know what I can write to his mother.”
Terror constricted his chest once more. The thought of repercussions appalled him, with the consequent public discussions, the risk of his part in it being misinterpreted. The thing must be buried quickly and without trace. “Why should you write anything? I don’t see why you should have anything more to do with it.”
“Naturally, I’ve forbidden him ever to enter my house again. He left me no choice. But if the poor creature is sick, he must be cared for. One has that responsibility.”
“You’d better let me talk to him. Not that I even want to see him again. But I can find out more about it than you could. Then you can decide.”
“As you wish. Oh, my dearest, I’m afraid you’re fated, as I have been, to be disappointed by people. We idealize them and they rarely live up to our expectations. I’ve never spoken to you of your grandfather. You’ve perhaps found it odd. I know your mother is inclined to be sentimental about him.”
“She’s always said I’m like him.”
“You’re not!” She spoke with sudden, jolting vehemence. “George Collinge was a drunkard and a beast. I was young and very foolish. He induced me to elope with him. My parents closed their door to us. I soon learned that theirs was not the only door that would always be closed to Mr. Collinge. I would never tell anyone the things he did to me. The things he did to your mother are another matter. He beat her. He beat her in drunken rages because of some childish prank or because she was making too much noise, as children do. When I found her one day with her mouth bloody and swollen, I warned him that if it ever happened again, I would take her and leave. He knew I could ruin him utterly. Fortunately, he died very suddenly.
He stared at her transfixed. Her voice throbbed with a passion he didn’t know she possessed. She lifted her handkerchief and brushed nightmares from before her eyes. “I could never give myself to another man. The hurt that can be done the young is incalculable. Yet I have survived. I wonder if I could have lived these last years without you, my dearest. The sensibilities we share make ordinary intercourse with others often painful and destructive. You will have to learn, as I have, to be self-sufficient. One must test others in fire before one finds the rare spirit one can trust. I’ve had to learn it with my own daughter. I suppose I should regard her attitude as a tribute to my success at protecting her from the horror of the past, but I’ve never forgiven her for taking her father’s part against me.”
Charlie was stirred by the drama of her speech, but it left him strangely disturbed, as if something in it had eluded him. Why had she chosen to tell him about his grandfather now? The general point she was making was clear enough, but he felt somehow that there should be something more. “I don’t think she’s ever done that,” he said hesitantly. “She’s just always talked about how charming and handsome and talented he was.”
“Well, now you know the truth. You’re a great consolation to me, my dearest. I can’t forgive myself for exposing you to—to the sickness that Peter has brought into our lives.”
“Please don’t worry about it. I’ll get rid of him right away. It’s not going to be pleasant, but I might as well get it over with. If I go now, I’ll just catch him before he goes to school.”
“Perhaps that would be best. How sad for it to end like this. I was quite smitten by him. I don’t often make such mistakes with people. Come see me tomorrow if you can manage it. Or call.”
She rose, and he stood beside her. They walked arm in arm to the door, she hugging his arm to her in the way he had found over-insistent at times, but which he welcomed now as a blessing. He was overwhelmed by the miracle of his escape and hated Peter for nearly robbing him of this irreplaceable support. If his control had failed for an instant, he would be crossing the room alone, banished forever, in unnamable disgrace.
When he got home, rage gathering in him, he found Peter standing in the living-room door with books in his hands. His greeting lacked its usual exuberance. He avoided Charlie’s eye. “I was just going. I’m late already.”
Charlie stood in front of him, breathing heavily. “You’ve really torn it this time.”
Peter glanced at him and looked away. “She’s told you, has she? She didn’t waste any time. I hoped I’d be able to tell you myself.” He turned and went back into the living room and put down his books. Charlie followed. “All right. How much did she tell you?” Peter asked.
“Everything, I hope,” Charlie said with barely contained violence. “You just couldn’t resist another heart-to-heart, could you? It’s a wonder you didn’t tell her the size of my cock.”
Peter winced. “Please. Tell me what she said. I’ve got to know her version of it.”
“What do you mean, her version? Did you talk to her, or didn’t you? It seems you told her you’re madly in love with me. You may have told her we’ve been going to bed together for all I know, but that’s one thing she didn’t grasp.”
“Didn’t grasp?” Peter looked up incredulously.
“No. Didn’t grasp. Some people don’t, you know. All she understood is that you’re passionately in love with me, you want me physically, and you’re upset because I don’t respond as much as you’d like me to. A lovely story. Just what you’d expect your best friend to tell your grandmother.”
Peter shook his head with bewilderment. “Did she tell you how it all started?”
“Of course. She said you seemed upset, and she asked you what the matter was, and you confessed, as she put it.”
“But that isn’t the way it was at all.” Peter took a step toward him. “Please, darling. You’ve got—”
“Don’t call me darling,” Charlie shouted.
Peter bit his lip. “Please. Please listen to me. You wouldn’t be angry if you knew how it happened. Not with me.”
“Oh, wouldn’t I? We’ll just see about that. Go ahead. Tell me how it happened.”
“Well, I dropped by as usual. She was particularly nice to me. She said she’d been looking forward to a talk. And then all of a sudden, she just threw it at me. She said she knew all about us. She said she knew we were very much in love with each other. She said I should feel free to talk about it.”
“You’re stark raving mad. She could never have said such a thing.”
“But I tell you, she did. You can imagine how I felt. I was staggered. I was going to put on an act, but before I could pull myself together she said she wanted to understand it better. She practically begged me to tell her about it.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake. I don’t believe a word of this, you know. You’re just wasting our time.”
“But darl—Honestly, champ. You know I don’t lie to you. If I’d been idiot enough to just blab it all out, I’d admit it. I’ll admit it might’ve happened the way she says if I’d been drunk or delirious or something. But it didn’t. She was perfectly natural and nice about it. Sh
e made me feel she really wanted to know about it, so I started telling her that it had been a bit difficult because of us both being so busy and everything. I told her I missed not seeing more of you. That’s—”
“Just like that, as if we were having a little problem with our marriage. Jesus.”
“But I tell you, that’s the way she was talking about it. So that’s when I told her it was probably different for you. I said that for me it was everything, but that you needed other people and thought I made too much of it sometimes.”
“Sometimes!”
“Then she said, ‘I assume you’re speaking of your physical love for Charlie.’ She didn’t sound shocked or anything. So I said, of course. That men could love each other the same way men and women love each other. That’s when she dropped the ax. She said that of course she could never receive me again and threw me out. I didn’t know what hit me. There’d been absolutely nothing to give me any warning of what was coming. I’ve never been so horrified in my life when I realized what had happened. I almost couldn’t get home I was so sick about it. You’ve got to believe me. The whole thing was just a trick.”
There was a silence. Peter stood poised and suppliant, his eyes blazing with truth. Charlie looked at him and started to speak and then stopped and took a few paces around the room. He ran both hands through his hair and gripped his head. He flung his arms out.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” he exploded. “A trick to do what? What’s it supposed to accomplish?”
“That’s pretty obvious. It all makes horrible sense to me. I’ll bet she’s known all along. She suggested our living together, don’t forget. If we’d just been seeing each other, she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. But no. She has us where she can watch it grow and when she thinks the moment has come, she can move in and kill it.”
“If that’s what it is, she’s certainly succeeded.”
“Don’t say that. What did you say to her? How did you take it?”
“I denied it, of course. I said I didn’t know what you were talking about.”
“Of course. Did she believe you?”
“She acted as if she did. Why shouldn’t she? Unless you said things you haven’t told me.”
“No. She could’ve taken everything I said as being just about me. I assumed from the way she talked that the sex part was taken for granted, until she asked that question. Even that she phrased so it didn’t necessarily include you. No, she’s got it fixed so she can believe anything she wants to believe.”
“Fine. Except she’s not like that. Why should she do this now? If she knows anything, she’s known it all along. She’s maybe thought of us as loving each other in a Platonic way. She said so just now. She’s always adored you. Why should she want to get rid of you all of a sudden?”
“I’m pretty sure I know that, too. We’ve talked about you and the theater. She suspects you’re still interested in it. Not from anything I said. The other day, I made the mistake of saying I didn’t think it was such a terrible idea. I know I shouldn’t have. I could see it happening—she doesn’t trust me any more. She thinks maybe I’m encouraging you.”
“Oh, Christ. You can’t shut up about anything, can you? But what’s that got to do with our being in love with each other? You have it all so much on your mind that you misread the first simple question she asks about our being friends or something into an invitation to spill the whole works.”
“Misread? Is it possible to misread, ‘I’ve known for some time that you and Charlie are passionately in love with each other’?”
“Yes, it is, goddamn it.” He felt bested by the quiet conviction with which Peter had made his case, and his anger boiled up. “She doesn’t always use words the same way we do. She has her own interpretation of certain things. Can you imagine what it would do to her if she believed that something had actually happened between us? There’s no use talking about it any more. You’ve got to go.”
“But that’s just what she wants. I wouldn’t be surprised if she used me as bait right from the start, to test you. Well, now she knows. I don’t think she’ll be introducing you to any more pretty boys in the near future.”
“God, you have a dirty mind. She doesn’t know anything. She knows that a nutty kid has said a lot of romantic crap about me. And she knows I’m getting rid of you.”
“Is that the way you left it?”
“You’re damn right. Do you think I can go on living with a queer who goes around telling everybody he’s in love with me? Good God Almighty. I’m going to have a drink.” He brushed past Peter without looking at him and went to the kitchen. Peter followed and stood in the door while he fixed himself the drink.
“If you’re going to throw me out, I’d just as soon you’d do it sober,” Peter said.
“I can have a couple of drinks and still be sober.”
“Well, then, maybe I’d better have one, too.” He joined him at the counter. Charlie was amazed at his composure. He had expected tears by now. He took several long, parched swallows. He still found the effects of liquor unpredictable, but it always began by easing tension, softening emotions.
Peter felt the change taking place in Charlie, and all his love was released to flow out to him. He couldn’t take the talk of leaving seriously. They had to get through this somehow. “Are you expecting Hattie?” he asked.
“No. She had to see somebody. I was glad. I told her not to come by later.” His voice turned bitter and self-lacerating. “I was going to stay home and wait for you. We haven’t made love for two nights. That’s the sort of thing I’m beginning to sit around and think about. It’s another reason you have to go.”
“It sounds to me like a reason for staying. Oh, God, darling, all this is so horrible. I know we have to do something. I’ve known that ever since it happened. Can you imagine what the last few hours have been like? I thought about killing myself so we wouldn’t have to go through this. Maybe I would have, if I could’ve thought of some way to do it. I hoped that when you talked to C. B. it might turn out to be not as bad as I thought.”
“Well, it didn’t.”
“No, of course not. Since this is the way she wants it. I’m out, and she has her beloved Charlie all to herself.” “You’re just asking for trouble if you go on talking like that.”
“All right. Forget it. What are we going to do? Can’t you go to her and tell her you’ve talked it over with me and it was all just a big misunderstanding? I was just talking about theory or something. About the way people are. I didn’t mean that I actually had any special feeling for you. I’d do it if you could persuade her to see me again.”
“You know what you said to her. Do you think it would work?”
“No, because she wouldn’t let it. But at least we could try. If you’re right about her, it would have to work.”
“I am right about her, and it wouldn’t. She’s perfectly clear about what you said.”
“Well, then, why not just tell her I’ve gone? What’s wrong with that? She’s not going to come around and look. She’s never come near the place.”
“It’s impossible. She’d find out. She’d find out from your family to begin with. She’s planning to write to your mother.”
The color drained out of Peter’s face. He put out a hand to Charlie and withdrew it. He shook his head. “Oh, no, darling. She mustn’t. Don’t let her. You’ve got to stop her.”
“I’m certainly going to try to. I don’t want this turned into a big thing with everybody whispering behind my back. I think I can make her see it that way.”
“Thank God. It would be awful. Do you know anything about laws? Could they come and take me away? Maybe I’ll have to disappear. No. Listen. I know what we can do. I’ll write my mother right away. I’ll tell her I’ve moved. I know a couple of kids at school who’d let me use their address. You can tell C. B. the same thing.”
The scheme sounded so feasible that Charlie was compelled to take time to pour himself another drink
before he could answer. He felt trapped. He wanted to yield, but he knew that the only way he could remove the taint, the only way he could look C. B. in the eye and feel worthy of her, was to make the final break, to remove all possibility of any further revelations. He took a sip of his freshened drink and waved the glass at Peter. “It wouldn’t work. What if they don’t like the idea of your moving out on your own? What if they decide to come and check up for themselves? It would all come out. Then we really would be in a mess. They might as well find us in bed together.”
“It needn’t be like that. I can fix it. I can arrange it so that everybody will know what to say if anything comes up. I could even leave some of my things there to make it look convincing.”
“You seem awfully friendly with these kids.”
“They’re all right. They’re just a couple of guys who live together. They’d understand.”
“It’s too risky,” Charlie said curtly.
“I won’t do it.” “Well, what are we going to do? Are you just going to sit there and say I have to go?”
Charlie’s heart began to pound as he felt the storm gathering around him. His fist clenched his glass. He wasn’t sure he would be able to speak. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” he said. The kitchen was suddenly too small. He strode into the living room. Peter was at his heels.
“You can’t do it. She’s killing you. Maybe it doesn’t matter about me. I’m probably not worth much anyway. But look what she’s doing to you. She’s killed your family, your own mother. She’s killed your painting. She’s killing me. Wait till you see what she does to Hattie if you go on seeing her. Boy, then you’ll see some fur fly. But all it adds up to is she’s killing you. You’re too good. You’re too wonderful. I won’t let her do it.”
“Oh, Christ. You’ve got her on the brain.”
“I’ve got her on the brain? Can’t you see what she’s doing to you? She’s turning you into her pet possession. You’ll end up a cipher. I won’t let her.”
“I don’t see there’s much you can do about it.” “There’s plenty I can do about it,” Peter shouted. “I’ll go to her and tell her you’ve been fucking me for months. And throw in the size of your cock if she wants proof.”
The Peter & Charlie Trilogy Page 15
