When She Was Good

by Philip Roth

  “Well, it’s a long one, Lucy. And I don’t even know why you want to hear it.”

  “He is my father.”

  The remark seemed to confound him.

  “He is my father! Tell the story.”

  “You’re going to start yourself crying now, Lucy.”

  “Don’t worry about me, please.”

  He walked to the foot of the stairs, then back. He would have to begin at the beginning, he said.

  “Fine,” she said, having brought herself under control. “Begin.”

  Well, first off, it seemed that Myra had more or less been in communication with him all this time. Almost since the day he left nearly four years before, he had been carrying on a kind of correspondence with her through a post-office box. Unfortunately, not one of Willard’s old friends down at the post office had ever thought to tell him about Myra coming around sometimes to pick up her mail. On the other hand, he didn’t know what he would have done himself in such a situation, given the rules of privacy that go hand in glove with postal work. Anyway, maybe they didn’t even notice. Because it wasn’t a matter of every day, or every week, or even every month—or so Myra had said, while weeping out her confession. He just sort of kept her aware of his whereabouts and progress, particularly when something important happened to him. And from time to time, depending upon her mood, how blue she was, or how nostalgic she might get for the long ago and far away, she answered.

  … Well, to go on, if that’s what Lucy wanted—in the first months after his disappearance, he was living downstate a ways, in Butler, working for an old chum of his who owned a filling station there. But around the time that Edward was born—

  “He knows I have Edward.”

  “About most of the big things, such as Edward would be, Lucy, he more or less knows, yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Well, I don’t know why, Lucy. She thought certain things, I guess, no matter what all had happened before, since he after all was still a human being we all knew once, you know … well, that certain things he should know.”

  “Of course.”

  Anyway, sometime after Edward’s birth, he got to Florida. And down there it seems he tried to enlist in the Navy again. For a while he was actually working for them in Pensacola, and trying to get himself commissioned as a petty officer in electricity.

  “An officer?”

  “Lucy, I am just reporting what was reported to me. If you want me to stop, I will, gladly.”

  “And after Pensacola? After he didn’t get to be an officer?”

  After Pensacola, he went to Orlando.

  “And what did he dream about there?”

  He stayed for a while with his cousin Vera and her family. It seems he got real close then to a lady in Winter Park. Even got engaged. At least she believed they were engaged, until finally he told her the truth about himself.

  “Oh, did he?”

  “That he was married still,” said Daddy Will.

  “Oh, that truth.”

  “Lucy, I am not defending him to you. I am only telling a story that you have demanded to hear. I am telling you a story, actually, against my own better judgment. And I think, actually, that I am going to stop. ’Cause what good is the little details to you? It’s done. It’s over. So let’s just forget it.”

  “Go on, please.”

  “Honey, you sure you got to hear all this? Because, you know, you may not be so strong on this subject—”

  “Please! I am totally indifferent to this subject! This subject has nothing to do with me, outside of the fact that through some accident of nature that man impregnated my mother and I was the result! He is someone to whom I do not give a single moment’s thought, if I can manage it. And I can. And I do! I am well aware this story has nothing to do with me, and that what has happened to him has nothing to do with me. Consequently, you have absolutely nothing to fear by telling me this story, in all its stupid little details too. I want the facts, no more and no less.”

  “But why?”

  “So he told his fiancée ‘the truth about himself.’ And then how did he follow up a miracle like that, may I ask? Please go on, Daddy Will. Surely it is evident to you that I take no responsibility whatsoever for whatever idiotic things he has done since he decided to leave Liberty Center. I am not whoever it was in the Navy who told him that he was not exactly officer material—”

  “Petty officer, honey.”

  “Petty officer. Fine. Nor did I tell him to get engaged and then unengaged.”

  “No one said you did, Lucy.”

  “Fine. So then where did he go?”

  “Well, he wound up in Clearwater. That’s where he stayed the longest, too. Got work in the maintenance department of The Clearwater Beach Arms, which is one of the biggest and swankiest hotels down there, apparently. And about four months back he was made chief engineer of the entire establishment.”

  “Really?”

  “For the night shift.”

  “And then what happened?”

  Well, apparently he had gotten on top of his drinking problem. What happened had nothing to do with that. He wouldn’t touch a drop, and as he had always been a real workhorse when he was in control of himself, he most likely impressed the management with his abilities. They surely made no mistake when it came to estimating his knowledge of how to keep an establishment operating at full steam, day or night. Their mistake was to overestimate his strength of character, what with being so new to the job. Their mistake was to give him a key to just about every door in the place. But he was even managing the keys all right, or so it seemed; he was flourishing, responsibility and all, or so it seemed, until right after Christmas. It was then that Myra had sat down and written him a letter saying that she wanted him to know that after serious consideration she had decided to divorce him and marry Blanshard Muller.

  Willard sank into the armchair, and with his eyes closed, rested his head in his hands. “And didn’t tell any of us. All on her own, just made up her mind, all the way back then, to marry him … I guess she thought it was her duty to tell Whitey first … She didn’t want him, see, to get the news first by one of his old cronies down at Earl’s Dugout … Oh, I don’t know what she thought, more or less—but what’s done is done … And that’s what she done.”

  “She was being a good wife, Daddy Will. She was being considerate of Whitey’s feelings. She was being proper and respectable. She was being a good, subservient wife. Still!”

  “Lucy, she was being herself, that’s all she was being.”

  “And then he was himself, right? And what did himself do? What? Believe me, I can take it.”

  Well, when he received the news, it shook him up pretty bad. You might think that with his health back, and holding down a decent job, and living where he said he always wanted to live—you might think that having himself been more or less engaged to another person for practically a year, having stayed away for practically four years—you might think he would have been somewhat prepared for a shock such as this, and that after a day or two of getting used to the idea, he would go on with his new life and new job and new friends, and more or less adjust himself to something that was happening two thousand miles away to someone he hadn’t seen in years and years. What he did do instead was absolutely stupid. And who knows, maybe he would have done it one day anyway, irregardless of Myra’s letter. Maybe it had nothing at all to do with Myra, and was something he had been planning for a long time. Anyway, New Year’s Eve he was in one of the offices of the hotel management, checking on some kind of trouble they were having with a window fan. Unfortunately, in that particular office some secretary had been sloppy or in a hurry or something, and had gone home for the night, leaving a whole bag of valuables sitting out on top of a filing cabinet next to the safe. “You know,” said Willard, “what the guests check. Mostly jewels. Wristwatches. And some cash, too.”

  “So he was himself, and he took it.”

  “Well, a part of it.”
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  “A part of it,” she repeated, lowering her eyes.

  “About a handful,” said Willard sadly. “And then by the time he realized what all he had done—”

  “It was too late.”

  “It was too late,” said Daddy Will. “That’s right.”

  “He drank it up.”

  “No, oh no,” he said. “As for the drinking, that wasn’t it. No, down there in Orlando he joined the AA again, like over in Winnisaw. But this time he stuck to it, see. That is even where he met the lady from Winter Park. No, what he did is, he took it with him to where he lived, and then, well, he couldn’t even sleep, you see, realizing what he had done, as any damn fool would. But by this time it was the next day already, and there was already somebody had come down to check out in the morning, and had asked for this lady’s wristwatch, and well, it just wasn’t there. And so then the checking around started, and even before he could even get back to the hotel, the scandal was all over the place. And then he didn’t know what to do. He knew he couldn’t return it right then, not with the mood that his boss was in and the detectives swarming all around. So he figured for the time being it was smartest to say nothing and just go home. He figured he would just sort of slip the stuff all back somehow, maybe that night. But it was only a few hours, and the finger of suspicion had already pointed around to him, and they came to this room where he lived, and he didn’t see where there was any choice, and since it seemed the right thing to do anyway, and what he had planned on doing practically an hour after he had done it to begin with, he made a clean breast of it; turned over every single item; said he would pay out of earnings any damages. But by this time the boss had already fired the secretary who had left the stuff out, and since he had to reassure his guests and all, there was somebody had to be made a strong example of. Every single thing was insured, and returned to boot, but he didn’t show no mercy. I suppose he figured he had his interests to watch out for, too. So instead of just firing Whitey, like he did the girl, he turned on him and hard. And so did the judge. That’s big hotel country down there, and I guess they all know which side their bread is buttered on, and so they really slapped it on him. As an example for others. That’s what it seems, anyway. Eighteen months. In the Florida State Prison.”

  He was finished. She said, “And you believe that story. You actually believe it.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Lucy, he is in the State Prison in Raiford, Florida.”

  She was on her feet. “But it’s not his responsibility, right?”

  “No, I didn’t say–”

  “You never say! Never!”

  “Honey, never say what?”

  “He was forced to steal from being so sad, right? He didn’t know what he was doing, even! He didn’t mean what he was doing! He wanted to take it back once he did it! But he was framed!”

  “Lucy—”

  “But that’s what you believe! The sloppy secretary! The bad boss! And people can’t help it! They just have their faults and weaknesses that they were born with—Oh, you!” She was on the stairs before he could stop her.

  Her mother was lying with her face in the pillow.

  “Mother,” she began, “Mr. Muller has just left the house. Do you know that, Mother? Do you hear me, Mother? You have just sent out of the house your one chance of having a decent human life. And why? Mother, I am asking you why.”

  “Leave me …” The voice was barely audible.

  “Why? To throw twenty more years away? To be humiliated again? Abused again? To be deprived? Mother, what do you think you are doing? Who do you think you are saving? Mother, what does it possibly do or mean to tell Mr. Muller to go, when that idiot, that moron, that useless, hopeless—”

  “But you should be happy!”

  “What?” Suddenly she was without force.

  Her mother was sitting up in the bed. Her face was swollen, her eyes sunk deep in black. She shrieked, “Because he’s where you always wanted him to be!”

  “I … No!”

  “Yes! Where he never, never …” The rest was lost in her sobbing as she rolled back on the bed.

  An hour later she was down the stairs and out the door before Roy could even step from the car. Her mother had a migraine and it would be too much for her to have Edward, or any of them, visiting; even Mr. Muller had gone home early. And heavy snow was predicted by the radio for the evening. They must go.

  Daddy Will had followed her onto the porch. Earlier he had knocked lightly on the door of her old room, but she forbid him to enter. “I can manage alone, thank you,” she had said.

  “Lucy, you are acting like I’m in favor of all this. You act like I want it.”

  “What did you do to prevent it? What have you ever done?”

  “Lucy, I am not God—”

  “Leave me to myself, please! I am not the one who needs you. Go to your darling daughter!”

  Now Daddy Will followed her down the driveway. She was already seated in the car, Edward beside her, when her grandfather leaned his elbows on the door.

  “How’s Prince Edward here doing?” He reached into the car to pull the child’s hood down over his eyes.

  “Don’t,” said Edward, giggling.

  “How you, Roy?” asked Daddy Will.

  “Oh, surviving,” Roy said. “Tell Mom I hope she’s better.”

  Mom was what he called Lucy’s mother. Mom! That weak, stupid, blind … It was the police who had put him there. It was he himself who put him there!

  “Take care, Lucy,” Daddy Will said. He patted her arm.

  “Yes,” she said, busily adjusting Edward’s hood.

  “Well,” said Daddy Will, as Roy started up the motor, “see you next month—”

  “Yeah, see you, Willard,” said Roy.

  “Bye,” called Edward. “Bye, Daddy-Grandpa.”

  Oh no, she thought, oh no you don’t … I will not be accused, I will not be held responsible …

  Dusk. Snow. Night. As they drove, Edward made little popping noises with the saliva in his mouth, and Roy chattered away. Guess who Ellie had seen down in Chicago at Christmastime? Joe the Toe. Bumped into him down there in the Loop. Turns out he’s a med student now, still down in Alabama. But the same old Joe the Toe, Ellie said. Hey, guess what Eddie said. Out of nowhere, he asked Ellie if Skippy was the name of her dog. Oh, the Sowerbys asked after her, of course. Julian had some business over at the golf club, so he’d only had a chance really to say hello. That’s all he’d said to him, practically. Oh, and the big news—Ellie had invited them to spend a weekend with her this spring. They could leave Eddie with the family …

  She closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep … Perhaps she did sleep, because for a while she was able to drive out of her mind any recollection of what had been said to her that afternoon.

  They were almost into Fort Kean. To Edward, who had remained awake all the way down, watching the wipers beat the heavy snow off the window, Roy was saying, “… so the captain came in and asked, ‘Who here is willing to go off and help this Eskimo find his dog?’ And so I thought to myself, ‘Sounds like there might be some fun in it—’ ” and it was here that Lucy screamed.

  Roy maneuvered the car over to the side of the road. When he leaned across Edward to touch her, she pulled her shoulder away and huddled against the door.

  “Lucy!”

  She pressed her mouth into the cold window. The whole thing is not worth a moment’s consideration.

  “Lucy—”

  And she screamed again.

  Bewildered, Roy said, “Lucy, is it a pain? Where? Lucy, did I say something—?”

  He sat a moment longer, waiting to hear if it was something he had said or done. Then he edged the car back onto the road and headed into the city. “Lucy, you all right now? You better? … Honey, I’ll go fast as I can. It’s slippery, you’ll just have to hang on …”

  Edward sat frozen between them. From time to time Roy reached over and patted the little boy’s leg. “
Everything’s okay, Eddie. Mommy just has a little pain.”

  At the house the child followed behind, clutching to the back of his father’s trousers, as Roy helped her up the three flights of stairs and into the apartment.

  In the living room, Roy turned on a lamp. She dropped onto the sofa. Edward stood in the doorway in his snowsuit and red galoshes. His nose was running. When she extended a hand toward him, he ran past her into his room.

  Roy’s hands dangled at his side. His hair was wet and hanging onto his forehead. “Do you want a doctor?” he asked softly. “Or are you all right now? Lucy, did you hear me? Do you feel better?”

  “Oh, you,” she said. “You hero.”

  “Do you want me to open it out?” he asked, pointing to the sofa. “Do you want to rest? Just tell me.”

  She pulled the cushion from behind her and threw it wildly at him. “You big war hero!”

  The cushion struck his leg. He picked it up. “I was only keeping him entertained. Look, I always tell him—”

  “I know you always tell him! Oh, I know, Roy—every Sunday of our lives you tell him! Because that’s all you can do! God knows you can’t show him!”

  “Lucy, what did I do wrong now?”

  “You idiot! You dolt! All you can show him is the carburetor in the car—and probably you get that wrong too! I saw you, Roy, in that brand-new Plymouth. To drive a new Plymouth—that was your biggest thrill of the year!”

  “Well, no!”

  “To sit behind the wheel of a new Sowerby car!”

  “Jee—zuz, Lucy, Ellie asked if I wanted to drive, so I said yes. I mean, that’s no reason … Look, if you’re angry because I went over there … Look, we talked that over, Lucy—”

  “You worm! Don’t you have any guts at all? Can’t you stand on your own two feet, ever? You sponge! You leech! You weak, hopeless, spineless, coward! You’ll never change—you don’t even want to change! You don’t even know what I mean by change! You stand there with your dumb mouth open! Because you have no backbone! None!” She grabbed the other cushion from behind her and heaved it toward his head. “Since the day we met!”

  He batted down the cushion with his hands. “Look, now look—Eddie is right be—”