Hilda and Pearl

by Alice Mattison

  “Don’t wake her until she wakes up on her own,” said Hilda. She curled up and Nathan took off his jacket and spread it over her. Hilda was in open-toed shoes and a cotton summer dress, which she pulled down over her knees. Her calves swelled and tapered.

  “Do you mind if I go for a walk without the baby?” said Nathan. “I want to stretch my legs.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “You can go, too,” said Mike to Pearl. “There’s something I want to do. If the baby wakes up while Hilda’s sleeping, I’ll walk her.”

  Pearl and Nathan set out on a path through a little wood. Nathan was silent for a while. “What does Mike want to do?” he said.

  “I don’t know,” said Pearl. “He didn’t bring his saxophone, and he can’t take down what anybody’s saying if nobody’s talking.”

  “He keeps busy.”

  “I know it. Sometimes it makes me tired, just watching him.” Yet it wasn’t as if Mike were indefatigable, like her mother, who really did make Pearl tired, always rushing someplace. She had come to Pearl’s house once just to do Pearl’s ironing. Mike was usually fidgeting or figuring something out—a new way to wash dishes so they ended up on the left side of the sink, closer to the cupboard where they were going; a way of stacking bills that came in so the one that should be paid first was on top. There were many bills, in fact, and always more than one that should be paid first. Mike was doing all sorts of jobs—working for the district attorney’s office, playing the sax, and one day he really had taken down a speech he’d heard and sold it to a newspaper. She wondered whether Nathan knew that. What he was afraid of might happen, not because Mike cared about the speeches he’d taken down, but just because he was happy to be able to get them on paper, eager for people to know about this trick of his.

  “He doesn’t mean any harm,” she said, about the speech.

  “I know, but he doesn’t think,” said Nathan. “He’ll show anything to anybody.”

  “But they can’t read his notes, and he’s not interested in transcribing them.”

  Nathan sighed. “I wish I had that speech,” he said.

  “It’s important to you, what the rest of them think of you,” she said.

  “I guess so.”

  They were walking through a grove. She thought she could see water beyond it. “Hilda says if it wasn’t for the baby, you’d go to Spain,” she said.

  Nathan laughed. “I’d make a great soldier,” he said. “The original flabby armchair idealist.”

  “No,” she said. She didn’t think Nathan was flabby, she thought he had a nice physique. It wasn’t as wiry as Mike’s; it was a little softer, a little more mature.

  “I’d like to do something,” he said. “I care about this very much. Talking and raising money—well, that’s all right, but of course it’s not actually doing anything.”

  “Don’t you think the Loyalists hear about our rallies and feel braver?” she said.

  “I don’t know, Pearl,” said Nathan. “I don’t know.”

  “And then our government will pay attention.”

  He was silent for a while. “If Franco wins,” he said then, “it’s such a loss for all of us. Not just the Spaniards …” They had reached the edge of the pond, and the path turned and widened. She had been walking a little ahead of him, but now they walked side by side. Nathan moved a few branches aside so they wouldn’t snag Pearl’s legs. He was quiet for a long time. Then he said, “You’re quite surprising.” His voice seemed to shake with some kind of feeling, which made her uneasy, but she put the thought aside.

  “What do you mean?” she said shyly. She had been thinking he probably thought she was ignorant.

  “I don’t know what I mean,” he said, seeming to rouse himself. “Maybe just that you’re thoughtful. You’re a thoughtful girl.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “And you’re kind to Hilda,” he said.

  “I think being a mother is harder than she expected,” said Pearl.

  “Whatever I do lately,” he said, “she makes me feel stupid.”

  “She doesn’t mean to,” said Pearl, but he’d spoken with vehemence, and she knew he wasn’t going to hear her.

  “I don’t know,” he said again. “I don’t know what she means.”

  She wanted to comfort him, and the thought that came to her was of pulling down his serious face with its balding forehead and kissing the bare place on the top of his skull. She turned and touched his wrist lightly, but that was all. They walked back to the blanket in silence. Hilda was sitting up, giving Rachel a bottle. Mike seemed to be taking a nap. Propped on the picnic basket was a sign constructed out of the cookie box, which he had laboriously torn and flattened. That was what he’d wanted to do. He had a pencil, apparently, and Pearl read aloud what he’d written. “Little Racket,” she said. “Little Racket?”

  “Rachel. Don’t you know what an h looks like?” Mike said, sitting up.

  “It looks like a k to me, and if that’s not a t why is it crossed?”

  “Rachel.”

  “Little Racket,” Pearl persisted, teasing. “Your real writing is as hard to read as your shorthand. Little Racket, the Human Monkey. A Nickel a Look.”

  “Very good,” said Nathan. “Any customers?”

  “It’s been quiet,” said Mike.

  “We should call her Racket,” said Hilda. “She makes a racket, all right.” She leaned over and pulled the baby toward her and kissed her forehead. “Racket,” she said. “Sleepy little Racket. Skinny little rickety Racket.” Hilda looked better, Pearl thought. Her nap had done her good. She had color in her cheeks. Pearl began gathering the picnic things, which were still lying on the blanket. Mike had lit a cigarette. “Do you two want to walk around a little?” Pearl said. “I could feed the baby.”

  “Come on, Hilda,” said Mike, pulling her up. “I’ll go with you. Or Nathan can take another walk. Good for him.”

  “No,” said Hilda. “I’d rather not.”

  The day of the rally, Nathan called for Pearl at work. He arrived a few minutes before she was ready to leave, and stood quietly in the midst of departing employees, looking grave, as usual. Pearl felt self-conscious, and as she straightened the papers on her desk and sealed some letters she had written for Mr. Carmichael, she didn’t know how to move her hands properly, as if she were trying to play the part of herself on stage. Licking an envelope didn’t feel familiar.

  At last she pinned on her hat, sticking the hatpin through her braid as she always did, and took her coat, and she began to relax. She was looking forward to being alone with Nathan, though it also felt somewhat alarming. She’d told Mike she’d be home late, but in fact he would be later yet, or he might be out all night. He was on call that night for the homicide squad. She explained it to Nathan as they went downstairs and out into the street.

  “Still collaborating with the gendarmes,” said Nathan.

  “He just does shorthand. He just writes down what people say.”

  “Well, I’m glad he’s comfortable,” Nathan said. They were walking to the subway station.

  “What do you mean?” said Pearl. She didn’t like Nathan to disapprove of Mike.

  “Don’t worry, I don’t mean anything,” Nathan said. “Mike and I have been arguing about this stuff all our lives. And we always will.”

  “In a way, you’re close,” she said.

  “In a way,” said Nathan, which was not what she expected.

  On the subway they had to stand. “How’s Hilda?” said Pearl, over the noise of the train. Nathan shrugged.

  “And the baby?” Another shrug.

  He cheered up when they got out of the subway at Union Square. It was crowded. A woman was speaking, and though she had a megaphone it was hard to hear what she was saying. People pushed closer to hear her. It was getting dark, a cool October evening, and the rally looked the way Pearl imagined an event in Europe might look. Everyone seemed to be wearing dark clothing, and they were pressed toget
her in a quiet, serious crowd. Light shone on some of the upturned faces. The square was full of people. The woman’s speech was interrupted with shouts and applause; then people would listen quietly again. “These suffering people …” Pearl heard her say. Then, “the frightened peasants.” Apparently she had recently come from Spain. Pearl could hardly make out any of the woman’s sentences, but she joined in the applause and cheers. Nathan clapped his big hands slowly together when the woman finished. He led Pearl along the edge of the crowd, trying to find a place where they could hear better. Now a man from the labor unions was speaking. Pearl could hear him, but she wasn’t as interested as she had been in the woman. “Our members pledge themselves to stand in solidarity …” She cheered him too.

  They listened to speaker after speaker. She grew cold. It wasn’t a cold night, but she was wearing only a light coat, and the wind cut into her. She didn’t want to ask Nathan to leave before it was over. She was hungry.

  At last he looked at her. “You’re shivering,” he said.

  “I should have worn a sweater under my coat.”

  “This is almost over. Let’s go to the Automat before it gets crowded.” He steered her through the crowd and they walked down the street to the Automat, which was crowded already, but at last they reached the end of the change line and got their nickels, and then they were able to buy food and coffee. Pearl always bought macaroni and cheese at the Automat, and Nathan did what she did. They managed to find a table near the wall. Now she was happy. Maybe people would hear about their rally and do something to help the Loyalists.

  “I guess this isn’t as good as going to fight in Spain, but I like it,” she said.

  “No Automats with macaroni and cheese in Spain, I imagine,” said Nathan. “I’m not complaining.” They ate slowly, talking about the rally, then about other things. Pearl talked about her office, about the two bosses and some of the other workers.

  “Hilda misses the office,” Nathan said.

  “I suppose she does,” said Pearl.

  “She calls the baby Racket now,” said Nathan.

  “I think that’s cute,” Pearl said.

  “Pearl—” said Nathan. He stopped. She looked up but he shook his head and said nothing. Then he said, “I’ll take you home.” On the subway, Pearl was exhausted, as if the rally had lasted hours and hours. She was glad Nathan was taking her home. She was excited under her tiredness, though. She wanted him to stay when he took her home, so she could talk with him for a long time. She felt safe with Nathan, she told herself, and that was surprising. She didn’t feel unsafe without Nathan.

  “I’m very sad,” he said suddenly in the street, half a block from Pearl’s apartment. She was startled and stopped, turning to face him. They were under a street lamp, and he did look sad, but he always looked sad.

  “Why?” she said. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No, you didn’t say anything wrong,” he said, and she was reminded of something Hilda had said a long time ago, of trying to work out something that had gone wrong between her and Hilda.

  “Is it—” She didn’t want to ask him whether he too was hurt by Hilda.

  “I don’t think very well of myself right now,” he said. “I don’t think I’m a good man. The sort of man I should be.”

  “Because you can’t go to Spain?” she said. But she knew that wasn’t what he meant. They had begun walking again.

  “It would be good if I could do something like that,” he said. “Be a hero. But I’m a lot less than a regular person, a lot less than just somebody who isn’t a hero. I’d like to be satisfactory. If I were one of my students, I’d give me a C or a D. I’d like to get a B, even if I’m not an A person.”

  “What do you mean?” she said. She wasn’t cold now. Nathan was talking differently from the way he’d ever talked. It seemed amazing that he might talk that way to her, of all people. She didn’t want him to think so badly of himself, but she was happy—she was breathing in so deeply that she was getting light-headed. He hadn’t answered what she’d said. She put her hand on his arm and said, “Nathan, can I help?”

  He put one hand on her shoulder and she stopped. They were walking beside apartment buildings, and they were passing an alley between buildings. He drew her a step into the alley and tilted her face up toward him with his fingertips, then bent down and kissed her cheek lightly under one eye. It was just a slight, dry kiss, but he kissed her again an inch away and again and yet again. Pearl stood with her hands at her sides. Finally she put her hand on his sleeve again. Nathan kissed her cheeks in many places, and then, finally, her lips, and then he seemed to shudder and began to kiss her lips harder. He stopped and shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this, Pearl,” he said. “May I go home with you?”

  In answer she reached into her bag for her key. They were only half a block from her house, and they hurried there with their heads down. She fumbled with the elevator door and he turned her toward the stairs, as if he wanted to be slowed down, to be made tired, but soon she was opening the door with her key. For a moment she wondered what would happen if Mike were there after all, but he wasn’t. She wasn’t letting herself think too far. She wanted to comfort Nathan, to kiss away his sadness. She wanted to kiss him back so he wouldn’t think she believed he was a bad person for kissing her. Sometimes things like this happened, she explained to herself. She said it again as she took off her coat and hat and took his coat, making it take as long as possible. Sometimes things like this happened. Her surprise reminded her of something and she remembered what it was—the first time she’d started to bleed. “This is something that happens,” her mother had said, and Pearl had felt dizzy with suspense about the rest of her life. If girls and women bled this way and she hadn’t known it, if she hadn’t known about something so significant, so—she couldn’t help but feel—unusual, then what else might happen?

  She and Mike had a one-bedroom apartment. She knew she wasn’t taking Nathan into the bedroom, and knowing that made her know she was going to bed with him. In the living room was the single bed she’d had as a girl. It had been part of their bed when they lived at Nathan and Hilda’s, and now it was their couch, with a row of pillows on it against the wall. Her mother had made pillow covers for her of flowered fabric. Pearl sat down on the couch and lifted her face to look at Nathan again. He didn’t sit with her but sat at her feet on the floor and then pulled her gently down to him and began kissing her once more. But it was different. It was more reckless, less as if he were telling her a secret no one else had ever heard. This was more energetic; he seemed determined to do wrong and get it over with. Yet it was kind. Nathan’s hands, touching her, seemed to be asking, not telling her what would happen. Asking whether she too wanted to do this.

  After many kisses he brought the pillows down from the couch and helped her off with her dress and underwear and eased her down. There was a pillow under her head and shoulders and one under her backside. Nathan stood and turned away, still without speaking, and took off his own clothes and laid them on the couch. He didn’t exactly fold them, Pearl saw, watching him lovingly from the floor, nervous yet proud of her long body, but he smoothed them and placed them respectfully. That was how he touched her: with respect.

  “You’re the sweetest girl....” he said. She was amazed at what was happening, amazed that it could happen. Her body responded to him with waves of pleasure, as if she’d been waiting for exactly this event to take place. Nathan’s shadowed face hovered over hers, and at the climax he sank into her arms as though he would never stand again. He eased out of her carefully and kept his arms around her. She felt that he was the whole world, that Nathan was the oceans and mountains, the Loyalists fighting in Spain and the thousands of people cheering at rallies. “I love you,” she whispered into his shoulder, inaudibly. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.” Not out loud.

  He dressed quickly. She remained lying on the pillows, watching him, noticing the slope of his sho
ulder as he picked up his undershirt and put it on, the way his chest hairs curled darkly over its edge when he was wearing it, the flare of his nose, seen from below, as he looked to see where to fasten his shirt cuff. Putting on his pants, he looked at her and blushed. He did not turn red, the way Mike did when he blushed. Nathan’s face darkened and he looked aside. Pearl stood up and went into her bedroom for her bathrobe.

  He kissed her again before he left, two tiny kisses that barely touched her lips but seemed full of messages. She put her arms around him and held him, and then he left. Her bathrobe was loose and she tied the belt again, then picked up the pillows, smoothed their covers, and arranged them on the couch as usual. She felt dazed and she moved slowly. She took the pile of her clothes into the bedroom and put it on the bed. Then she went into the bathroom. The sight of the toilet reminded her that she wanted to urinate and she did, a long stream that eased her. She felt the urine leave her body with rather more attention than usual, as if her mind were stilled of everything else and she had nothing more to think about. She flushed the toilet and began to fill the bathtub. She took a long bath. The water was Nathan, the pitted tub over whose familiar surface she ran her finger was Nathan. The towel with which she dried her whole body, even her toes, was Nathan. Still without thinking, she was asleep before Mike came home.

  Pearl never woke easily, but in the morning, this time, she knew she was happy before she knew why. It was sad that Mike couldn’t know and of course wouldn’t share in this happiness. In a way it was hard to understand, as if Mike too was simply part of Nathan and would rejoice as she did. She had to remind herself firmly that no one would rejoice.

  It was Friday. She went to work. She didn’t read on the train, she just sat and looked around her. She had never noticed how interesting people were, how you could know things about them if you just looked. An old woman opposite her had her fingers curled through the hemp handles of a shopping bag, and when the woman stood to leave the train at her stop, Pearl discovered that she could feel how the heavy bag settled and how the handles cut into the woman’s fingers.