The Novels of William Goldman
Page 58
“Why blue?”
“It was just after our tearful separation. I needed a change and I begged the landlord. He also does the painting. All he had was blue. White would have meant waiting a week and I didn’t feel like waiting. Drink?”
“No, thanks.” He sat down on the sofa bed. “Memories flooded over him. For a moment he felt giddy ... torn ... confused ...
“She watched him and prayed she would be strong enough to resist him.”
“Could he resist her? he wondered.”
“She stood rooted to the spot, her loins on fire—Charley, do women have loins or is it just men?”
“Everybody do. I’ll take a little vodka if you have it.”
“Coming right up.” She went to the kitchen. “Rocks?”
“Please.” When she brought him the drink he said, “I’m sorry about the walls.”
“Why?”
“They’re so goddam blue. Most walls in most apartments aren’t deep blue like these. They’re hard to forget. When my father died the only thing I was thankful for was that he didn’t have anything special, anything his. No pipe, no chair. I think maybe he did it on purpose. He knew it would be easier. There wouldn’t be those things that you’d look at and summon him back. Nothing to remember. Nothing specific. These walls.” He shook his head. “Hard.”
“Maybe I’ll just have a little teentsy,” Jenny said, and she hurried to the kitchen and poured herself a drink. “How’s that for a sickening phrase?”
“Pretty good.”
“Refill?”
“He shook his head, looking at her all the while with passion.”
Jenny laughed. “I’ll tell you one thing,” she said, coming back from the kitchen. “I mean, we’re done ducking reality and all that, but I do feel a certain physical air in the room.”
“You do?”
Jenny nodded. “I don’t quite know where to sit, for example. I mean, if I sit on the sofa, that’s next to you, and if I sit over here, in the chair, I’m protesting too much. I don’t know.”
“I guess you’d better stand,” Charley said.
“I guess I better.” She finished her drink, put it down.
Charley rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers.
“What’s the matter?” Jenny said.
“You know.”
“I guess I do. When you started talking about the walls. That’s when I knew. The walls being blue, that wouldn’t bother you, not unless you planned on spending some time in them, isn’t that right? That’s why I had the drink.”
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“Well?”
“Let’s get on with it.”
“A little while later,” Charley said a little while later.
Jenny lay quietly in his arms.
Charley adjusted the sheet so that it covered them. “That’s an American symbol, ‘a little while later.’ It’s Creative Writing One for intercourse.”
“Don’t you have to double space?” Jenny asked.
“Usually.”
“And what about the dots?”
“Three little dots,” Charley sang suddenly. “Hey, you’re pretty smart. Them are called ellipsis—plural, ellipses. Also symbols. ‘Dot dot dot double space a little while later, he woke and stroked her soft flesh.’ May I stroke your soft flesh?”
“Feel free.”
“I do.”
“God, are we phonies,” Jenny said.
“How dare you?”
“Well, we are. Waiting all this time. All those months ago, why did we stop? I regret my tears, Charley, you bastard, Charley; you’ll pay for my suffering.” She nipped his shoulder. “That’s just a first installment.”
“We stopped seeing each other because we’re good, decent, honorable, moral people.”
“And today?”
“Today just proves we’re human. If you’d gain fifty pounds, we could probably clear the whole thing up in a hurry.”
“He finds me irresistible,” Jenny said, and she kicked the sheet off them. “I find him so too.” She peered at his stomach. “Even his navel is beautiful.” Charley laughed and reached for the sheet, but she kicked at it again, sending it to the floor. “Puritan,” she said.
“It’s just that, like most men, I lose a little confidence when I’m naked.”
“Fool,” she whispered, and she started stroking his body. He reached out for her breasts, touching the tips of them with the tips of his fingers. She rolled her body over and lay on top of him. Then she kissed him and his arms went tight around her, squeezing her until she gave a cry. She rolled off him and they were still, hands touching, staring up at the cracked ceiling.
“I’m brilliant at finding animals,” Jenny said. “Give me a ceiling, I’ll find you a zoo. I’m awfully happy right now.”
“Good.”
“I don’t think I can remember ever having been so hap—I love you, Charley, I think, and I’ve never told you that before, so don’t say anything until I explain something to you.”
“Hush.”
“No, really. I’ve got to explain this, because I didn’t use to love you. Before. But all these months we’ve been together—not together, but you. know what I mean.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I didn’t know you before. I do now, I think, and I love you and so I guess I’m glad we stopped seeing each other because if we hadn’t I wouldn’t feel this way now say something.”
Charley took her in his arms.
“I didn’t say anything wrong? Make a fool of myself?”
“No.”
“I can’t help that I love you. You can’t blame me.”
“No.”
“Do you know how much I love you, Charley?”
“How much?”
“I love you so much that I don’t even mind that you haven’t told me you love me.”
Charley kissed her on the mouth.
She pointed with his hand. “See? There’s a camel—that’s the hump—and there’s the tail of a kangaroo, and that’s—I’m just so goddam happy.”
“That’s my line.”
“Because you’re nice. I’m nice and you’re nice and nothing awful can happen when people are like that. We’ll have troubles, sure, but everything will be fine in the long run.”
“Here’s to a nice long run,” Charley said.
“I showed you the hump of the camel, didn’t I? Well, just above it, that’s a lion roaring, can you see?”
“Clearly a lion.”
“Jenny Devers loves Charley Fiske. I wish there were a fence around. I’d carve initials.”
“Stay where you are, please.”
“He wants me. I’m wanted. God damn it,” she said as the telephone rang. Jenny picked it up. “Hello?”
“Jenny?”
“Yes?”
“Hi. This is Betty Jane.”
“Betty Jane. Hi.” Jenny lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. Charley lay beside her. Their bodies were perfectly parallel, perfectly still.
“I’m sorry to bother you like this, but I thought you might have some idea about my wandering husband. Did he happen to mention where he might be off to?”
“He’s meeting you for cocktails tonight. He said something about that.”
“He’s supposed to. Except I’m here and he ain’t.”
“Well, he left the office at the regular time. I remember that. We took the same elevator down.”
“Then?”
“Well, I came home. I don’t know where he went.”
“Oh, O.K. I guess I ought to be used to Charley by now. Prompt he ain’t. Sorry again. I’ll be seeing—”
“You’re going to have a wonderful dinner. He told me you were celebrating. He was looking forward to it. That’s practically all he could talk about the whole day.”
“He’ll probably show up any minute. Thanks, Jenny.”
“I know where he is!” Jenny sat up straight.
Charley sat alongside her.
“It was supposed to be a surprise, though. I wasn’t supposed to tell, so if I tell you’ve got to promise to act surprised when he tells you, do you promise?”
“I guess.”
“He’s buying you things. Presents. That’s the truth. He said he was going to order you a lot of little things.”
“Charley said that?” Yes.
Charley reached for the phone.
Jenny shook him off. “Oh, it’s going to be wonderful. He’s going to buy you a thousand things. You’ll see.”
“Yes,” Betty Jane said.
“So you just act as if nothing has happened. And don’t be too hard on him when he gets there.”
“All right.”
“That’s where he’s been. Buying you things.”
“Aren’t I the lucky one?” Betty Jane said. “I’m sorry if I bothered you.”
“Yes you are. And you didn’t bother me.”
“Thank you. Goodbye, Jenny.”
“Goodbye.” Jenny held the receiver a while.
Charley lay back down and closed his eyes.
Jenny lay down too, so they were parallel again. “See how nice you are?” Jenny said.
What he wanted her to do was go.
What she wanted him to do was not let her.
Betty Jane sat down in her favorite chair and said, “I think I’ll visit Mother.”
Charley glanced up from the manuscript he was reading. “Hmm?”
“Well, Paula’s such a handful,” Betty Jane went on. “I just think it’s a good idea.”
Charley closed the manuscript. “You think what is?”
“Visiting Mother. I know it sounds silly, Paula being so tiny, but she’s a real tiger. I’m exhausted all the time. And Mother has that big house and Robby loves it, playing on the beach. You could come out weekends; two hours isn’t such a hideous commute if you only do it weekends. And: you like Long Island too. And the weather’s nice in August. Don’t you think it’s a good idea?”
“If you do.”
“I really want to go.”
“I’ll miss you.”
“Mother’s got help and it’s such a big house and with the beach right there—” From upstairs, Paula started crying. Betty Jane put her finger to her lips. “Let us pray,” she whispered. Paula screamed a little while, then stopped. Betty Jane shook her head. “With Robby I would have been upstairs like a shot. I feel like the worst mother sometimes.”
“Nonsense,” Charley said.
“No. I do. It’s just that I’m so tired all the time, with the two of them both needing me. If they’d only arrange things alternately. You’d think Paula would know better; she’s practically three months old.”
“Backward,” Charley said. “As we feared.”
“But as soon as one of them wants something, it’s dollars to doughnuts so will the other.” She rubbed her eyes. “I’m just shot.”
“We could always get the baby nurse back for a while.”
“She’s on another case by now.”
“Well, you didn’t even like Mrs. Dreyfoos; let’s get a different baby nurse.”
“You know how much that would cost?”
“Let’s make believe it’s a tax deduction.”
“No. It’s better if I go out to Mother’s, don’t you think?”
“If you do.”
“The rest does sound appealing.”
“And maybe I could take Fridays off. Come out Thursday night.”
“Do you think you could? That would be heaven.”
“I really will miss you, though. This house can get awfully lonely.”
“It wouldn’t be long. Just until I felt really rested. I really think I ought to go out to Mother’s, Charley.”
“How long do you think you’ll want to be gone?”
“I don’t know. Two weeks maybe. Maybe less. You make me feel like I’m ditching you.”
“I don’t mean to. If you want to go, and you think you need it, well, you know best.”
“Then it’s settled,” Betty Jane said. “I’ll call Mother and make the arrangements.”
Charley said nothing for a while. Finally he nodded. “All right. It’s settled. Two weeks. Not one minute more.”
“Fine.”
Charley picked the manuscript up and opened it. “I tell you, this book: I can never find my place. This guy admires O’Hara so much, what he’s done is just rewrite Appointment in Samarra. The main character’s even called Philip French.”
Betty Jane looked at him. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m sorry,” Charley said gently. “No reason you should. O’Hara’s character was called Julian English.”
“Oh, how funny,” Betty Jane said. “Now I see.”
“Well, here goes,” he said.
“Good luck,” she said.
He started to read.
She started to cry.
When he heard her he said, “Honey?”
She wept silently, her face turned against the soft cushion of the chair.
“Honey?”
“Sorry ...”
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“Tired—that’s all.”
Charley crossed the room, knelt down beside her.
“You want me to go,” Betty Jane said.
“Whaat?”
“You’re trying to get rid of me.”
“Where’d you get that idea?”
“Admit it.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Oh ... Charleeeee” Betty Jane sobbed and sobbed.
“Who told you I was trying to get rid of you?” Charley said when she had subsided a little.
“No one told me. I just know. I could tell when we were talking.”
“Honey, I was the one who suggested getting another baby nurse, remember?”
“You said that but you didn’t mean it. I could tell.”
“All right. Suppose you were right. Why would I want to get rid of you?”
Betty Jane said nothing.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“You must have some reason. You think I don’t love you? Didn’t I buy you all those presents just a few weeks ago? You think I’m tired of you? You think I’m catting around with somebody else? Tell me.”
“I’m a woman,” Betty Jane said. “I just needed reassuring.”
“We’re both grownups. You come to me, tell me you’re beat and suggest you might go relax with your mother. I offer a few other possible alternatives and then finally decide to let you go. How in the hell am I getting rid of you?”
“Yelling is not the same as reassuring.”
“I wasn’t yelling.”
“You weren’t reassuring either.”
“I don’t understand women,” Charley said. “I offered a baby nurse—”
“Let’s forget the whole thing.”
“No. Let’s be honest with each other. And I mean honest. I’ll swear to tell the truth. If you will.”
“All right, but—”
“Is there somebody else? Some other guy?”
“My God, of course not. Now let me ask you something.”
“Anything,” Charley said. “Ask.”
“Do you want me to go?”
“Do you want to go?”
“I don’t care. It’s completely up to you, Charley.”
“I don’t want you to go.”
“Then I’ll stay.”
“Good,” Charley said. “Then you were lying before.”
“I was not. When?”
“I don’t care if you were. It doesn’t matter.”
“When?”
“You were talking about how exhausted you were. That was lying.”
“No.”
“You are exhausted?”
“Well, exhausted, that’s a pretty strong—”
“Are you tired? Could you use a little
rest?”
“Of course. Probably. Who couldn’t—”
“Would it be relaxing for you? At your mother’s?”
“I guess so. But—”
“Then shouldn’t you go?”
“Well ...”
“I’m not asking you to, understand. I don’t want you to; we’ve decided that. But what I want isn’t always what’s best. What’s best, Betty Jane?”
She said nothing.
“You don’t have to decide now, honey. Tomorrow’s just as good.”
“I guess I ought to go,” Betty Jane said.
“If it’s just ‘ought,’ forget the whole thing. It’ll be drudgery for you. You won’t relax a bit. And don’t go because of the kids either. You’re not a rotten mother; put that out of your mind. You’re a terrific mother and you know it. Nobody works as hard on the second kid as on the first. That’s the truth; you know that too. So it’s what you want. Forget about the kids.”
“Well ...” Betty Jane said again.
“We all hate making decisions. I don’t blame you a bit.”
“I’ll go visit Mother.”
“Sure? We’re telling the truth now, remember.”
“I want to go.”
“I’ll miss you.”
All in yellow, Jenny stood alone beneath the movie marquee. When Charley turned the corner, she waved and said, “Why, Mr. Fiske, hello.”
“Hi, Jenny. What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I never miss an Alec Guinness movie. Where’s Mrs. Fiske?”
“Visiting her mother on Long Island. Has been for over a week.”
“Of course; I forgot.” She smiled at him.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“Relax,” Jenny whispered with a bigger smile. “You’re doing fine.”
Charley grinned at her. “This was a mistake.”
“Oh, do you think so?” Jenny clapped her hands softly. “I don’t. I just wanted once not to feel scrummy. Another evening staring at those blue walls—”
“We might be seen.”
“We used to be seen. All the time.”
“That was lunch.” Charley beamed. “And we were innocent then.”
“I love your choice of words,” Jenny said, laughing lightly.
“If Betty Jane finds out, you think this will have been worth it?”
“The moonrise no longer makes me a virgin, Mr. Fiske. I felt the need of a little something to make me go on. Incentive, I think, is the word.”
“I’m sorry,” Charley said. “I’m a little panicky, that’s all. Forgive me. You look lovely.”