Flight of Brothers

by Jonathan Baumbach

  He seemed to want to say something but censored himself. “Fine,” he said, “if that suits you both.”

  “I know it suits me,” I said. “I thought you’d see it as a kind of breakthrough.”

  “Uh huh,” he said. “What does she do the rest of the week?”

  “I don’t ask and she doesn’t tell.” I said.

  “Is what’s his name, Ronnie, still on the scene?” he asked. “Your safety valve.”

  “I haven’t seen him around, but that doesn’t mean anything. The job keeps me away from the apartment. It’s Ron, not Ronnie.”

  “You’ve made some strides,” he said to me. “Are you pleased with yourself?”

  That was a hard question for me to answer. “I’m never really pleased with myself,” I said, “but the answer to your question is yes. As I said, I’m still trying to figure out this job. I don’t like feeling like a fraud.”

  “You seem genuine enough to me,” he said.

  “Well,” I said, “it’s your job to make me feel better about myself.”

  I still played with the idea of doing something mildly outrageous at work to see how they would respond. I thought of putting my gray suit back in the closet and coming in to work in jeans. Dressing down might bring me a dressing down, might even get me fired. It would probably be easier just to give them my notice, though I had promised Eva I would hang in.

  I played the possibilities against one another. Would it be better to disgrace myself or break a promise to Eva. Trapped in the dilemma, I did neither, did nothing for a while.

  I kept finding more things for me to do on the job, anything to feel less fraudulent. I took it on myself to do an inventory on what we kept in the cabinets. I learned how to run lie detector tests in case the occasion came for me to administer one.

  Even so, I told Eva one more week and that was it for me.

  “Two more weeks,” she urged me.

  “Two more weeks and that’s it,” I said.

  When two more weeks passed I wasn’t ready to quit. Maybe Eva suspected this all the time. Anyway, I began to like the job as well as anyone can like any job. I felt the Empire Medical Center was my home away from home. I no longer felt fraudulent. I can’t explain why. The feeling just went away. I was a staple of the place and everyone around was very nice to me. And though I didn’t altogether know what I was doing, I worked very hard at it. Conducting interviews for job openings, conducting lie detector tests for new employees.

  I told Eva that I thought I’d stay a little longer. “I’m proud of you,” she said. No one, so far as memory allowed, had ever been proud of me before. It made me feel guilty to have her proud of me, but I swallowed it.

  Klotzman thought I had turned a corner in my life. I knew better. It was just a temporary upside and I told him so. It made me nervous to have all these people happy with me. My dreams reflected the ambiguity. There were five versions of me in a lineup and the real me was the one choosing the winning candidate. “Not fair,” someone yelled, and two plainclothes police came along and dragged me away.

  “If I’m not there, who’ll choose the right one?” I said.

  “Don’t worry,” cop one said. “The right one will choose himself.”

  I woke in a sweat, wondering how the right one of the five would know to choose himself.

  “You have some ambivalence being an authority,” Klotzman said, in his analysis of the dream. “You want to be chosen for whatever but you don’t want full responsibility for choosing yourself.”

  “I’d rather go unnoticed,” I said. “It makes me uncomfortable having everyone noticing me.”

  “It may make you uncomfortable,” he said, “or it may make the former you uncomfortable, but you seem to be handling it.”

  His remark sounded true but I didn’t want to believe it. “Like everything else, it’s an illusion,” I said.

  “What else is an illusion in your book?” he asked. “What does the everything refer to?”

  I couldn’t answer that one. “It means,” I said, straining to justify myself” just because I feel like a fraud some of the time, it doesn’t mean I am no longer a fraud.”

  “It could also mean,” he said, “that just because you felt like a fraud didn’t mean you were a fraud. You never allow yourself to be in the right.”

  I was in a feisty mood. “It could also mean that, but it doesn’t,” I said. Then I apologized for disputing his perception, the apology undermined by a certain irony.

  “You have a right to dispute what I say,” he said, “if you don’t believe it. I’m not asking you to take my perceptions on faith.”

  “And I don’t,” I said.

  “I saw Ron again for the first time in awhile, standing outside Eva’s door. We nodded at each other. The door opened and he went in.”

  Though it wasn’t my day—it wasn’t Thursday—I was angry at his being there.

  What did I expect? Well, I thought, now that I didn’t need him, maybe she had dropped Ron. Apparently, she hadn’t and there was nothing I could do about it. I was ready for Ron to disappear. The new me was more aggressive than the old one who was super passive. On my next walk with Eva, I brought Ron’s name into the conversation.

  “Do you ever see Ron?” I asked her, pretending I hadn’t noticed him in the hall.

  She was slow to answer. “It’s my recollection,” she said, “that you didn’t care whether I saw Ron or not.”

  “It’s my recollection,” I said, “that at some point you were eager to stop seeing him.”

  “I don’t recall saying that exactly,” she said. “I wanted at some point to see less of him. which is different. I like Ron in small doses.”

  “You said if I wanted you to, you would stop seeing Ron,” I said.

  “I did say that,” she said, “and you said you didn’t care. Isn’t that right?”

  I was stymied for a moment. I wasn’t ready to ask her to stop seeing Ron altogether, though I was ready to accept it if she made the offer.

  No such offer was forthcoming, which soured my mood.

  She wanted to know why I was so down in the mouth. “This couldn’t be about Ron, could it?” she asked.

  I was not about to tell her that it was. I let my glumness speak for itself.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I said.

  “What do you want of me is what I’m asking. Do you want to see more of me?”

  We had been taking our walks about three times a week and I was sleeping with her on Thursdays. That seemed sufficient.

  “I can’t tell you what to do with yourself when you’re not with me.”

  “No you can’t,” she said. “I like you, Mel, but I’m my own person.”

  When we got back to her apartment there seemed a kind of uneasiness between us. I gave her an awkward hug.

  “You seem displeased with me,” she said. “You know I’ve been a good friend.”

  I couldn’t deny it and if I felt displeased it had more to do with me—with my resentment of Ron—than with her. Ambivalence froze me and I had nothing to say to her remark. “See you soon,” I said, turning to go into my own place. I noticed that Eva was still standing in her own doorway.

  “I don’t like us to separate like this,” she said.

  “Like what?” I said, though I knew what she meant. I thought of going over and giving her a kiss or a more convincing hug, but I didn’t move.

  Eva came over and put her arms around me. “Please say something.”

  “It’s okay,” I said.

  “Is it?”

  “It’s okay,” I repeated, wanting to tell her just how much she meant to me, though afraid to give myself away.

  She went back to her apartment, not exactly overjoyed with me and I went inside to my new couch.

  I dreamed of a lineup with three Evas and two unfamiliar older women. I wanted to choose the first Eva but was told by police presence that it was not my part to
choose.

  “Whose part is it?” I asked.

  And then Ron, wearing a white suit, emerged. “I’ll take it from here,” he said.

  “Is it his part?” I asked the two plainclothes cops.

  One of them looked at his notes. “You can be backup,” he said, “if it means that much to you.”

  I was outraged. “I will not back up that clothes horse. I will not be any part of anything he is in charge of. I hope that’s clear.”

  “Get him out of here,” Ron said. and tThe two cops took me, one on each arm out of the room where my old red couch, springs sticking out, awaited me.

  I told Klotzman that if Ron was still in the picture, then I was thinking of not seeing Eva anymore.

  “Isn’t that a kind of spiting your nose move,” he said. “From what I understand, you enjoy Eva’s company.”

  “I won’t be second fiddle to Ron,” I said.

  “Who said you’re second fiddle?” Klotzman said. “Maybe you’re first fiddle. From what you tell me, it sounds to me as if you’re first fiddle.”

  Again he had me. “I don’t want Ron in the orchestra,” I said, straining the metaphor.

  “Don’t tell me,” he said. “I’m on your side. Tell Eva.”

  “I can’t,” I said. “She’d say it was none of my business.”

  “Of course it’s your business,” he said. “A while back you wanted Ron in the picture.”

  “That was a mistake,” I said. “Besides things have changed.”

  “I can see they have,” he said. “Be subtle. Ask Eva if you can see her more often than the current arrangement.”

  That made sense, but was that what I wanted? “I’d have to see her seven days a week to exclude Ron.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “More often doesn’t mean all the time. Do you want to marry her?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “I don’t know.”

  “That would be a solution,” he said, “but you’re not sure that’s what you want.”

  “No,” I said, “I’m not.”

  “Would that be a worse solution for you than not seeing her at all?”

  “I had never thought of marrying Eva. I had never thought of marrying anyone. I never had much money before. You need money to get married, don’t you?”

  “You have a good job now,” he said.

  “It can’t last,” I said.

  “Why can’t it last?” he asked.

  “Just a feeling I have. Besides I can’t live with another person seven days a week.”

  “Maybe you can’t. Maybe you can.”

  “I need to be by myself,” I said. “People like me have no business being married.”

  “I won’t argue that with you,” he said, “but you have made some strides recently. You’ve shown yourself capable of change.”

  I liked his saying that about me. “Small, slow changes,” I said.

  “Not so small,” he said. “Not so small.”

  So I postponed the decision I was about to make and took another walk with Eva. On the way back, though it was not Thursday, I asked her if I might come in.

  She looked surprised but said okay. And then after some foot dragging on my part, we went to bed.

  I expected Ron to knock on the door in the middle of things and was primed to say Don’t answer, but he didn’t. During the act itself, I was thinking of how I would tell Klotzman and what his reaction might be.

  We did it at times with Eva on top, a position she said she liked. I didn’t mind being passive.

  “You are very dear to me,” Eva said.

  “Thank you,” I said in a hoarse voice.

  Eva laughed. “You are supposed to say something reciprocal.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Me too.”

  “Well, I guess I can’t get anything out of you,” she said.

  “I like you,” I said, not knowing what she wanted.

  “I already know you like me,” she said. “Tell me something I haven’t heard before.”

  “I like it especially when you’re on top,” I said. She hadn’t heard that before. It was the best I could do on short notice.

  “Do you?” she said. She seemed pleased to hear it.

  “I like it when you’re pleased with me,” I said.

  “You really are a dear,” she said. “At least I think so.”

  I was improving in the reciprocation game, though it wasn’t my strong suit.

  I still hadn’t gotten any hard information on Ron’s status.

  Sometimes I put my ear to the wall that connected our apartments to check out if Ron was there. The insulation was foolproof. I heard nothing beyond what the imagination was willing to play for me.

  Ron’s hateful presence found its way in almost everyone of my dreams. In one he and Eva were talking in hushed voices of getting married. “I’ve always wanted to get married.” said Eva. “It’s been a childhood dream of mine. Every girl wants to be married.” “If we tie the knot,” Ron said, “you’re going to have to stop seeing that lout next door.” “I don’t know if I can,” she said. “Then it’s no deal,” Ron said. “Just once in a while,” she pleaded. “Just for walks. Have a heart.” “He has to disappear,” he said. “You can’t have everything.” “Oh Ron,” she said, “I do want everything. I want marriage and everything that doesn’t come with it.” Ron held firm and they were still unmarried when I woke.

  I thought if I married her, then Ron couldn’t but I would make the same demand Ron made in my dream. The reason I loathed Ron was that he was like me in so many ways.

  Maybe I only imagined it. It was possible, wasn’t it, that Eva had no interest in marriage, that she valued being her own person and was content with our part-time connection, which may also have included seeing Ron.

  I thought that on our next walk I would try in some indirect way to get her to tell me what I wanted to know.”

  Now that marriage had entered our conversation, at least in my dreams, I felt a greater freedom of dialogue. I asked her if Ron had ever proposed to her.

  “In a way,” she said. “Not exactly. I told him I wasn’t interested.”

  “I see,” I said. “If he didn’t exactly propose, how could you tell him you weren’t interested.”

  “He asked in a conjectural sort of way,” she said. “I told him in the spirit of the conjecture that I wasn’t interested.”

  “You mean if he proposed, you were likely to turn him down.”

  “Something like that.” she said. “Why do you ask?”

  “Curiosity,” I said. “Were you not interested in marriage or marriage to Ron?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I suppose a little of both.”

  I didn’t know where to go from there so I opted for silence.

  “There must be some other reason you brought it up,” she said. “You seem at times obsessed with Ron. There’s no reason to be, Mel.”

  What was she telling me? “No reason?”

  “No reason,” she repeated.

  I wanted to deny that I was obsessed with Ron, but I suppose it had some truth to it. “What does that mean?”

  “It means,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “that you’re more important to me than Ron.”

  That should have satisfied me but it didn’t. I wanted Ron to be disappeared altogether. “You’re important to me too,” I said.

  She gave me a hug which I returned.

  The question still nagged me: Was Ron, in his less important role, still in the picture? I couldn’t ask directly, though the words rattled about in my head.

  “Ron reminds me of my half-brother, who I never liked,” I said.

  “I think I knew that,” she said. “You may have told me or I may have inferred it. In any event, I know that Ron is not one of your favorite people.”

  “I’m indifferent to Ron,” I lied.

  “That’s fine,” she said, “if it’s true. Are you really indifferent to Ron?”

  “Who is Ron?” I joked.
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  “Who is he indeed,” she said.

  For the moment he vanished, but I couldn’t trust it would stay that way. I had bested Ron, who had no idea, not knowing he was in a contest with me.

  I confided this conversation to Klotzman, who chided me for not asking what I wanted to know directly.

  “What if she said she was still seeing Ron?” I asked. “What then?”

  “Then you would know where you stood and you could say I would prefer if you stopped seeing Ron.”

  The idea of it brought sweat to my forehead. “I couldn’t,” I said.

  “Nonsense,” he said. “You could but you won’t. You’re afraid to. What I wonder, is what exactly are you afraid of. Tell me.”

  “I don’t know,” I said, not wanting to know.

  “Think about it,” he said. “What is the worst that can happen?”

  “I don’t know what the worst is. The time before when we had a similar conversation, she told me she was her own person.”

  “And how do you interpret that?” he asked.

  “Well, what do you think it means?”

  “You think it means that doing what she wants means that she will see Ron once in a while.”

  “I didn’t know what to think, but now that you put it that way.”

  “You can say to her, you tell me I’m more important, I don’t want you to see Ron any more.”

  “I’ve thought of that,” I said, “and I rejected it.”

  “Why not? The worst she can say is that she won’t and then you can say you’ll have to choose between us, but she may very well say, if that’s what you want, I will.”

  “I don’t want to risk a refusal. I’m not one to give ultimatums.”

  “It doesn’t seem to me an unreasonable ultimatum. Isn’t that better than being circuitous?”

  “I think she knows already how I feel.”

  “But you don’t know whether she’s seeing Ron or not.”

  I admitted I didn’t, though had my suspicions. “Why won’t she tell me that she’s not if she’s not.”

  “That’s a good question. Maybe she wants a deeper commitment from you. Maybe it’s her bargaining chip.”

  “I don’t know if I’m ready to make a deeper commitment, which I assume you mean to be marriage.”

  “You might see her more than you have without exactly marrying her.”