The Peter & Charlie Trilogy

by Gordon Merrick

  “Oh, fine,” Charlie said in the careful neutral tone he had always used with him on the telephone. “Could you explain a little more what you mean?”

  “She’s back with her family, and she isn’t going to make any trouble. I’m here at our place. It’s all OK. I’ll go on home now and wait for you there. I love you.”

  “Same here. Thanks for calling. You’ll be hearing from me.”

  Peter hung up. It was as straight now as he wanted it. The crisis was over; Charlie didn’t need him any more. Whatever he said to C. B. would be what he wanted to say.

  He took another look around the little apartment, remembering the day they had arrived. He felt curiously removed from everything that had happened here. He had been another person. It would all be different now, if it was going to be anything at all. He tossed the keys in the air and caught them and slammed the door behind him when he went out.

  His own place still felt like Tim. This evening he had been coming for a “quickie.” Sweet big boy. Hell and damn. Yesterday, he had held Tim and been held and loved it. Today, he wouldn’t let him touch him. It didn’t make much sense. He had never knowingly hurt anybody before. It must take a lot of guts. He hoped he had enough. He went to the house phone and pressed the button. Walter answered.

  “Hi. Listen, I might as well get this over with. I’m running out on you. I guess I was an expensive mistake.”

  “Ah? Where’re you going, laddie?”

  “I don’t know. Nowhere. I took Charlie out to Stamford last night. It was the only place I could think of because of those pictures we went to look at the other day.”

  “Well, that’s not very far. Why do you say you’re running out?”

  “Well, because I am. I know I ought to give the loot back, but I just can’t. We need time so badly. Later, I’ll pay it back. I swear to God I will.”

  “The money? That’s yours. There’s no question of giving it back. You say ‘we.’ I assume Charlie’s come back to you.”

  “Yes, he has. Oh, God, yes, has he ever. That’s just it.”

  “Are you going to settle in Stamford?”

  “No, of course not. I mean, I thought we might find some place in the country to rent for the summer. He wants to get back to his painting.”

  “How splendid. It’s not unusual for people to go away for the summer. But won’t you have to have a place in the fall?”

  “Well, sure. But—”

  “I still don’t quite understand what you mean by running out.”

  “But I’ve told you. I have to break with Tim.”

  “Of course you do. Poor Tim. I’m very sorry for him. It’s going to be a terrible blow. But surely you and Charlie will be quite comfortable upstairs there where you are.”

  “You mean you don’t think I’m a louse for doing this?”

  “Good heavens, laddie. I’d have been very disappointed in you if you hadn’t. We’ve all known about Charlie. I even took the liberty of warning Tim at the beginning, but he’s in love with you and quite rightly disregarded me. You’re in love with Charlie. Nobody could guess that he’d be free again. If he is, of course you must be with him. You’ve done nothing underhanded.”

  “Oh. my God.” Peter sank onto the bed. “You mean, you want me to stay? You want me to bring Charlie here?”

  “Of course, laddie. I sometimes think you don’t understand me very well. I’ve told you it gives me great pleasure to watch you live. What could give me greater pleasure than to see you with the person you really love? It’s haunted you all these months. I could see that. You’ve been very brave. I’m looking forward to meeting Charlie. I know I’ll be very fond of anybody you care for so much.”

  “I understand you all right, but I can’t always believe it. You’re fantastic. Listen, what am I going to do about Tim? I can’t stand doing this to him. It’s happened to me. I know what it’s like. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done to anybody in my life.”

  “You mustn’t think of it like that, laddie. These things happen. It’s nobody’s fault. As you say, you’ve been through it. He’s a man. It’s part of life. He’ll have to accept it.”

  “But what’ll I do? I can’t call him at the office. What did he say when you told him I was leaving town?”

  “He didn’t take it very well. He said you had no right to. I had a sharp word with him. I think you’d better let me handle this, laddie. Perhaps I’ll ask him to come see me after his dinner tonight. I’ll have to think about it.”

  “I’ll see him, of course, if he wants me to, but I don’t see what good it’ll do. He said if I was ever unfaithful to him, that would be the end of it. Well, I have been. Do you think it would help him to know that? I mean, if he hates me, maybe that would be better than what I’ve been through.”

  “It’s very sweet of you to care so much about his feelings. Happiness often makes us rather cruel. I don’t know. I’ll have to see how it goes. What are your plans?”

  “Well, I thought you’d want me to pack up and leave. I’ve borrowed a car I have to give back tomorrow. I’ll bring Charlie back here. Golly, how wonderful. I want so much for you to meet him. We can think about finding something for the summer over the weekend or some time.”

  “That sounds sensible, laddie. I’ll have to speak to Tim immediately. We don’t want to risk having him turn up there. Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow, or do you want to have a first evening together?”

  “No, we’d love to. God, I’m so happy, Walter. I wish everybody in the world could feel like this.”

  “You’re very sweet, laddie. I’m terribly happy for you. I wish you could hear your voice. It’s ecstatic.”

  Peter laughed. “I don’t see how it could help being. Thanks for everything, old pal. It doesn’t do him much good, but I love Tim such a hell of a lot. Please try to make it easy for him. It’s hell, isn’t it?”

  “It may be, laddie, but you’ve got to think of Charlie now. These things so rarely work out right. You’ve got to prove that they can.”

  “Boy, we will. Don’t worry about that. Just give us the next fifty years.”

  He had scarcely hung up when he heard a key in the lock and the front door opening. He sprang up from the bed and took a few steps toward the door. Tim filled it. In the instant, he knew that this was inevitable, that he couldn’t have left it for Walter to handle. He saw joy and relief flood Tim’s face; the blue of his eyes filled his own with love. “Skeezix! Oh, Christ. Thank God, you’re here. Walter said not to expect you till tomorrow.”

  “Then how come you’re here?” Peter asked.

  “I couldn’t work. I told them I was sick. I had to come here to feel near you. That’s what you do to me. I’ve been so damned worried.” He started forward. Peter stopped him with a look.

  “Please, Tim. I’m not staying.”

  “Oh, no you don’t.” Tim’s happy grin widened and he moved forward again with confidence. “I’ve got you now. Where’ve you been?”

  Peter stood his ground, but shook his head slowly. “Please. You don’t understand. I’m trying to tell you. He’s coming here in a little while and then we’re going. Together.”

  The grin faded. “Then I’m staying. I’ve had enough of this. What’s it all about?” He stood close to Peter, his face earnest, but love still shining in his eyes.

  Peter looked into them without flinching, steeling himself for what his next words would do to them. “It’s about everything. Our lives, everything. It’s no good. There’s nothing I can do about it. I’m going back to him. For good.” He saw all the features contract, he saw the fist lifting, he felt its impact on his chin. His head snapped back, and he staggered and fell. For a moment, he was close to unconsciousness. Then his reeling head steadied, and he put his hand over his eyes and shook his head slightly. He worked his jaw.

  “You little shit,” Tim said.

  Peter dropped his hand and looked up. Tim was sitting in a chair, rubbing his hand. His eyes were on him, ha
rd and dangerous. The sheer bulk of him imposed itself on Peter’s consciousness. Despite the blow, he felt safe and protected and oddly at peace. He knew he would never feel any of these things with Charlie; ecstasy, tension, challenge, conflict, and total commitment were what he had chosen. He gathered himself together and pulled himself to his feet. “I deserved that,” he said. “If it would do any good for you to beat me up, I’d let you. I really would. There’s no point asking you to forgive me because I can’t forgive myself. I know how bad this is. I can’t help it.”

  “I’m yours. That’s what you said, isn’t it? You seem to’ve forgotten.”

  “How could I forget? It was true. How could anybody know this was going to happen?”

  “Nothing’s happened, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake. I’m telling you. He’s left Hattie. He wants me back. I’m going to him.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Tim said quietly. His body was all held taut, ready to spring.

  Peter looked into the hard, unyielding eyes. “Now listen, you’re a hell of a lot bigger than I am, but when I get worked up I can fight. I don’t care what you do to me, I’m going to him.”

  “That’s what you think. You must be nuts. He dumps you. He dumps his wife. How long do you think it’ll be before he dumps you a second time?”

  “That’s my problem, isn’t it? You know what you said about our being faithful to each other. Well, it’s finished with us, that part of it.”

  “You’ve been to bed with him?”

  “Yes.”

  Tim stood abruptly and started for the door. He stopped before he reached it and turned back slowly. Peter’s heart contracted when he saw his face. His eyes had deepened into pools of hurt and bewilderment.

  “No. I guess it’s not as simple as that,” he said haltingly. “Oh, darling. My Peter. What’s happened to you? I trusted you so completely.”

  Peter swallowed hard. This is where the guts come in, he told himself. He mustered all his strength to meet the stricken eyes. “I guess you shouldn’t have. All I can say is, there haven’t been any secrets.”

  “Oh, Christ, have your goddamn secrets if you’ve got to. Sleep with him, if that’s what it’s all about. You can’t leave me. We’ve gone too far.”

  “I know. That’s what I can’t forgive myself.”

  “Then don’t do it. Look, Skeezix. I know it hasn’t always been perfect. I don’t know. I thought you were happy. It’ll be just us from now on. The hell with everything else. Come here.”

  “No.” Cut it. Cut it clean, he urged himself. That’s all he could do for him. “Don’t you understand? I couldn’t let you touch me ever again. You’re right. I’ve been a shit. Let’s leave it at that.”

  Tim looked at him with eyes that were drowned in hurt. His chest heaved once. “I just don’t believe it,” he said.

  Peter longed to hold him and comfort him as best he could, but he knew it would be false comfort. He wanted to tell him how happy he had been, how very nearly perfect it had seemed, how much he loved him, but he knew that to say anything would be only an attempt at self-justification. His whole being bled with the wounds he had inflicted, the wounds that had once been inflicted upon him.

  “You’d better be going, Tim,” he said.

  “I’m sorry I hit you. Did it hurt?”

  “Quite a bit. Not as much as all the rest of it.”

  “I’m so in love with you. You never said you were in love with me. I’ve got to remember that. If you had, I’d kill you now. I still can’t believe it. God, I’ve had fun with you.”

  “Please, Tim. Please don’t make me say anything. It’s all piling up inside me and it wouldn’t be fair to you. I know.”

  “Well, I guess this is it. Before I go, I wish you’d call me by my right name.”

  “I’ve wanted to, big boy.”

  “Yeah.” A ghost of a smile lifted the corners of his lips as his eyes dwelled deeply in Peter’s. He closed them suddenly and turned and went. “You can throw out anything I’ve left behind,” he called from the hall, his voice sounding strained and high-pitched. “I don’t want any of it.”

  Peter heard the door close and his mouth opened and he inhaled a deep, strangled breath. He stood where Tim had left him, staring at nothing, waiting for the pain to ease. All he needed now was to learn that C. B. had proved too much for Charlie, and he would be left in the ruins of what had seemed until yesterday a good and satisfying life.

  CHARLIE reached C. B.’s apartment just after she had returned from lunch. She was still dressed in smart street clothes and wore a dashing hat. She was moving about the big living room, pulling off gloves and adjusting a flower arrangement. He thought only of the news that would please her and he felt good to be with her, even though the impossible subject Peter expected him to broach to her loomed ahead of him like a foreseen disaster.

  “Ah, my dearest.” She greeted him with the trace of coolness she had allowed to shade her manner toward him since he had decided to go on the stage. “Tessa said you’d called. What an odd time to come visiting. But then I suppose I must adjust to your theatrical hours from now on.”

  He went to her and leaned over and kissed her, keeping at arm’s length. “No. I don’t think you’ll have to do that. Forget about theatrical hours. I’m going to sound like an awful ass, but I think you’ll be pleased. I quit the play yesterday. You were right. I couldn’t ever work in the theater. The people are pretty awful.” He was counting on this opening to restore her to him, and he watched with a deep stirring of relief as it happened. It didn’t make any sense to be at odds with her. Her eyes brightened. She lifted her head and clapped her hands and stretched them out to him. He took them happily.

  “Oh, my dearest. Oh, dear, I feel almost sad for you. What a terrible disappointment it must be. Bear with it. I know you’ll never regret this decision. How superb you’re looking. You know, in another ten years you’re going to be most distinguished. It would’ve been wasted on the stage.” She tucked her arm under his and led him toward chairs. “You can’t know what this does for me. I feel as if we’re waking up from a bad dream. You mean it? It’s really over?”

  “Definitely,” Charlie said as he seated himself cautiously. “I’m afraid it’s not all pleasant, though. Hattie was furious. She went out of her mind. I know you don’t want to hear all the details, but she got so violent that I had to use force on her.”

  “You mean you struck her?”

  Charlie caught a throb of exultation in her voice and studied her with curiosity. “Well, not exactly. She turned into such a madwoman that I’m afraid she got hurt.”

  “My poor dearest. How unbalanced she must be to provoke you to that degree. One sees it in her. Her passion for the theater. It’s all part of it. It’s what I tried to tell you. Is she still angry with you?”

  Charlie looked at the floor to make sure he knew exactly what he was going to say next and looked back at her. “It’s finished. I couldn’t stand it and cleared out. I haven’t been back. I don’t intend to see her again. The point is, I don’t know what she’s apt to do next. I thought she might’ve already tried to make trouble with you. She was in such a state that she might claim I beat her or I don’t know what. She’s capable of anything.”

  “We’ll forestall her.” She moved forward to the edge of her seat, a fire of excitement in her eyes. “You must see a lawyer. I know just the man. I’ll arrange for you to see him tomorrow morning. You must tell him the whole story. If she dares make charges, we’ll be forearmed. I know the Donaldsons. They’re drunk with the illusion of power. If they’re foolhardy enough to make a move, we’ll smash them. Hattie has said enough to disqualify any claims she might make as a wife.” Her rich voice shook as she demolished them. She reached out to him, and he gave her his hand as she settled back in her chair. “This does mean divorce, I assume. Poor dearest, experience is falling on you rather heavily very early in life. Perhaps it’s just as well. You�
��ll know better for the future. I warned you you could never depend on people. You’ll find they’re generally made of coarser stuff than you’re accustomed to.”

  His palm was sweating, and he extricated his hand to wipe it on a handkerchief. “Hattie’s changing. It’s what you said, this thing she had about the theater. Nothing else finally counts for her.”

  “Ah, well, I knew from the first she would never do for you, though I did my best to befriend her. Better for her to go quickly than allow her to poison your life. You mustn’t worry about this, my dearest. See the lawyer. I’ll take care of the rest. He’ll send the bills to me, of course.”

  “I don’t see how I’ll ever make it all up to you, C. B.” She was being superb. She was outdoing herself; if the situation were as simple as he was presenting it, he could sit back and let her handle everything, as she always had, but the more she said the more impossible it became for him to hint at Peter.

  She continued to weave her spell: “You’ve always made it up to me for any poor thing I may have done for you, my dearest. After all, what else am I here for? I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to have you back, free of the theater, free of Hattie. I feel as if we were starting life all over again. There are so many things I have to tell you about—people I’ve been seeing, things I’ve been doing. We’ve been rather cut off, as always happens when a man marries. I’ll start your allowance again, of course. How lucky I haven’t signed the new will. I’ll tell the lawyers to destroy it. We’ll have such an exciting time together. Will you want to go back to your job? It could doubtless be arranged. Harold was terribly upset to see you go.”

  “No, that’s one thing I’m sure of now.” He began to feel the beating of his heart, but he was confident that he could work his way around the subject somehow. “At least, not yet. You see, anything I do is bound to be temporary, anyway. I’m going to get caught by the war any day now. Whatever time I have left, I’ve decided I want to see if I can really do something with painting.”

  “I see. Well, I won’t oppose you. I simply don’t see how you can manage from a practical point of view.”