by Evergreen
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Anna didn't want to know, had now forced her to act. She had been presented, furiously, with a demand for action.
She fought against the bruising wind to her front door. Home was shelter in bitter weather; the blurred, stained-glass colors of books, the bowl of yellow roses on a waxed table had always shut out whatever was raging in the world outside. She came in and stood for a moment looking at these things, seeing now, perhaps for the first time, that walls are no protection, are so easily plundered, are fragile as an egg shell against the menace of the world.
I have to fight for her, she thought in terror. I have to fight for her.
A magazine setting, Theo reflected. An imitation colonial crane and iron pot hung at the hearth. On the loom in the corner someone had started a few feet of woven cloth. Cheerful fakery, but the fire was real, and so was the drink. The cold flesh tingled with heat and expectancy. Where was she, anyway? She took too long getting dressed; all women did.
"Stern! What are you doing here? I thought I was the only one who knew about this place!"
"Hello, Nelson," Theo said and rose to greet the man's wife. Bad luck! The first time he'd ever run into anybody he knew when he was with Ingrid and now it had to be Nelson from the hospital pathology department.
"Here with the family?"
"No, I took a couple of days by myself. My wife thought I needed the rest," Theo said.
"We've brought our girls with us. Join us at dinner, don't eat alone."
"Thanks, but I—on the slopes this afternoon I met a young woman, I think she's a teacher, and not wanting to eat alone, I asked her to join me. I don't know how I can get out of it now."
"Bring her along, there's room for six at the table."
"Very nice of you. Ah, there she is now." Ingrid was coming down the stairs. Her hair swept to one side in a bronze coil, fell over a yellow shirt bright as lemons. People were looking at her. She came straight to Theo.
"Well, here I am! Did you think I was never coming?"
"Dr. and Mrs. Nelson," he said, "Miss—excuse me, but I'm so bad at names, Miss Johnson, is it?"
She took the cue. "Johannes. How do you do?"
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"Miss Johannes is an expert from Norway. Really an expert, you must watch her tomorrow."
"I told Stern here, let's make up a table. My wife and I are planning the North Cape cruise next summer and maybe you can give us some pointers about Norway."
"That's very nice of you, but I've already reserved a table and I don't want to upset the dining room arrangements," Ingrid said, looking at Theo.
He was flustered and annoyed with himself for being so. "I'm sorry," he began, meaning to address Nelson.
"That's all right." Ingrid's voice was pleasant and cool. "Quite all right, Doctor Stern. Of course you'll want to be with your friends."
He saw as she walked away to the corner table for two that she was furious.
Nelson leaned toward him. "Say, you move fast!" he whispered. "Get the shape of that babe!"
Theo ignored him.
Fortunately, not much conversation was required of him. Mrs. Nelson was one of those women whose monologue can fill an evening. Ordinarily he despised such trivia of restaurants, shops and travel, but tonight he was grateful. He had only to swallow his food and get rid of the Nelsons who were all going over to an inn where the girls wanted to hear a 'chantoosy' come up from a New York nightclub. Against their insistent urging Theo pleaded tiredness and got up to Ingrid's room as soon as they were out of sight.
She was sitting in bed reading. He saw at once that he was not to be invited into the bed.
"I'm sorry," he began. "But I couldn't think of any other way to handle it. The man's a pest. He works in the hospital and lives not too far from me." He threw up his hands. "What else could I have done?"
She didn't answer. He felt her anger and went over to the offensive. "You could have carried it through and had dinner with us. It wouldn't have hurt you."
She laid the book down. "Not hurt me? You fool, I've never been so hurt in my life!"
He was truly astonished. "Tonight? By this?"
"Tonight. By this."
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He sat down on the end of the bed. "Tell me why," he said, gently.
"It hurts more that you don't know without being told."
"I'm very puzzled. You know me well enough to know that hurting is the last thing I want to do. I've seen so many wounds; God knows I don't want to make any more."
"Very fine words," Ingrid said bitterly. "Very fine. I've heard you say them often enough. 'The only things I guess I believe in are not causing any pain.' Isn't that what you said? And, oh, yes, 'We're like insects; our lives can be wiped out in an instant.' And so you believe in laughter, and the joy of each day, and being good to one another. Oh, you can be eloquent, Theo, so eloquent!"
He was perplexed at her mockery. "You still haven't made clear what this is all about."
"What it's about is, we're finished. You and I are finished."
"You can't be serious! What have I done?"
"It's what you've not done. I've been feeling a lot of things for a good while now, though I haven't told you. And tonight just brought my feelings to a head."
"You should have told me what was going on in your mind."
"Maybe I should. But it's been vague, and I wanted to be patient, I thought maybe it would go away or something would happen in our lives. But tonight when I had to hide from those common people, I felt dirty. You were ashamed of me! I wasn't good enough for you! You couldn't dare let those people know we knew each other!"
"Ingrid! The words you use! 'Not good enough!' 'Ashamed!' When you know it was only because I have a wife and I couldn't—"
"Exactly! She doesn't have to hide, does she? But I do!"
Theo threw up his hands. "But you knew from the beginning that was how things were! Didn't you say you wanted to be free, that there'd be none of this heavy emotion—"
"No emotion! You have been damaged, haven't you? No emotion!"
"Well, of course, I didn't mean it just that way but—oh, you knew what I meant. What we both meant. The sort of thing that ties you hand and foot." He got up and stood there, looking at her. He felt totally confused.
She didn't answer.
"You knew what we both meant, didn't you?" he repeated.
"I guess," she said in a small voice, "I guess I'm not being fair to you. You did make it clear. And so did I."
"Well, then?"
"But the fact is, Theo, lately I've been thinking that I might like to be tied down. Hand and foot, as you say. I never thought I'd want that, but all of a sudden I do."
He didn't know what to say.
"I'm thirty-four. And I want someone who belongs to me. Someone on the street and in restaurants and home in bed . . . someone who belongs to me, not on loan from another woman."
Suddenly he began to laugh.
"What in hell are you laughing at?" she said angrily.
"Sorry. I'm not laughing at you. It's only that—you're all alike, aren't you? Why should I have thought you'd be different?"
She smiled wanly, but he saw that her eyes were wet. She reached for a cigarette, lit it and looked up. "So what do we do, Theo?"
"I don't know. I've been very happy with things as they are, and I'd be happy to go on as we are."
"You wouldn't leave Iris? Theo, if you tell me that you will, I'll go mad with joy. Otherwise, you see, this is just a dead end for me."
He walked to the window and looked out. In every crisis of his life he felt a need to get out beyond hampering walls and, if that wasn't possible, at least to look out at free space. He stood there now, watching a fresh fall of snow swirl in the circle of light at the front door below. He was hypnotized as the flakes went spiraling; they seemed, by some trick of the vision, to be rising instead of falling.
The day comes inevitably. Always there comes a day of reckoning and decis
ion. Nothing lasts in its first simplicity. Not marriage, not this. He sighed. Behind him the sweet smoke puffed into the room. He turned around. Ingrid was still lying on the bed, with her ankles crossed. She looked limp and he felt terribly, terribly sad.
"I can't leave Iris," he said quietly. "I don't know what's going to happen to us eventually, but I do know I'm not ready to do that."
"Will you ever be ready?"
"I don't know."
He took her hand and it lay in his, not moving. A glossy tear
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rolled down her cheek as she turned her face away. He felt his own eyes fill. Why did women always make a man feel sad?
"You have a whole world to take, dear Ingrid," he said. "So take it and bless you."
Theo sat behind his desk, between a row of diplomas and the photographs of Iris with the children. Handsome devil, Anna thought; that's what they used to say when I was young. That little bit of gray, and so supple from all the skiing and tennis! Handsome devil.
He rose in surprise. "Well, Mother-in-law! What brings you here? You're much too pretty to have come for a face-lift."
"Thank you. Not this trip, anyway. You enjoyed your holiday? You came back early."
"Yes, the snow was mushy and I'd had enough."
Now that she was actually here, her bold anger ebbed and she was afraid to begin. But Theo helped her.
"You didn't come to ask me about my skiing holiday."
"No. I didn't." She sighed. "I was at the beauty parlor yesterday."
He raised his eyebrows and waited politely.
Anna looked out of the window. A pigeon was sitting on the air conditioner. She had set herself an impossible errand. But it had to be completed.
"You know, that is, you've heard that a lot of gossip goes on in beauty parlors?"
He straightened slightly in the chair and waited again.
"So it happens that I learned of something I would be happier not to know. . . . You weren't alone on the trip, Theo. You have, shall we say, a 'relationship' in New York?"
"I have?"
"People, various people at various times, have seen you with a—lady. A tall, blond lady. Unless, of course, they are lying. If they are, forgive me for what I've said."
"They're not lying."
"I'm sorry. I was hoping they were."
"I could insist that they were, but you would find out the truth quite easily. And anyway, I would despise myself for the lie." He struck a match for his pipe. She saw that his hands were trembling.
"Is that all you have to say, Theo?"
"What else is there? I could say I'm not the first man and I
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won't be the last. I could tell you that probably two out of three men do it. But I won't. I'll just say I'm not terribly proud of it."
He pushed his chair roughly back and stood up. He walked to the window where the pigeon was preening and stood with his back to Anna.
"I admit I went a little bit crazy when all that happened last year. And Iris couldn't cope with it. I don't blame her, I guess; though I don't know, I'm not sure whether I do or not. Anyway, it began to snowball, and we just kept on downhill until we came to the bottom."
"Some snowball. Some hill," Anna said dryly.
"Then I met this girl and it happened just at a time when we—"
"I'm only concerned about Iris. I don't want to hear a word about anyone else."
"But let me just tell you. I'm sure you'll want to hear that it's all over between me and the girl—"
"When did that happen?"
"The day before yesterday. It's really over, no question about it. Finished and done with."
"I'm thankful for that ... I think Joseph would kill you if he knew."
"You're not going to tell him?"
"Of course not. But not for your sake. For his. And for Iris'."
"And you? Don't you feel like killing me, too?"
Anna answered slowly. "I can't sit in judgment. I suppose people do what they have to do."
Theo turned and stared at her. "That's quite a free concept for your generation."
"Perhaps so. But all the same, I'm not going to let you crush my daughter, Theo."
"Mama! You think I want to do that? This was something entirely—all right, you don't want to hear about it. But I have to tell you: I care about Iris. I suppose you can't understand that."
"Believe it or not, I can. But the problem is, she can't."
"You've talked to her."
"Yes. Also, the day before yesterday."
"Did she tell you that we haven't been—living together? She had our bed taken down."
Anna flushed at this intimacy from him. And she said with some defiance, "Very well. That was wrong. But a woman doesn't do that without reason, even if it isn't a justifiable reason. You were
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going around like walking death for too long. At least, she felt it was too long. And then drowning your sorrows with the 'smart' crowd at the club! I'm not blaming you, but after all, there has to be an end to it, hasn't there? Iris is alive, she has her own life; she can't have your memories." Tears started in Anna's eyes. She pressed the lids shut. "Some women could weather all this without much damage. But she can't. I beg you to understand, Theo, she can't help herself! It's the way she's always been. She thinks she's homely and not good enough for you. She thinks you're dissatisfied, that she's been a failure. She needs rebuilding, Theo. I tried and I'll keep on trying, but I'm not the one to do it, am I? It's you."
"You make me feel like two cents," Theo said, very low. "As cheap as that."
"It wasn't my intention. I only want to throw light into a dark place, so you can see where you're going. You have three children and their home is about to fall apart. That can't happen, Theo! Do you understand me?" she cried, hearing the passion in her own voice. "The family always comes first! Always!"
"I do understand you, Mama, and I've told you, it's over. I'll go home tonight and tell Iris that it's over."
Anna looked up in horror. "Theo! She doesn't know about—the woman! If you add that to what she already thinks it will ruin her."
"But I'd like to make a new start. I'd like to bring some honesty into the situation."
"Yes, your honesty would make you feel heroic, wouldn't it? No matter what it would do to her. Theo, I swear it, you'll have a lifelong enemy in me if you don't give me your word right now that you will never, never, never, in any circumstances, tell Iris about this. She's in a very bad way, Theo." Anna's voice quivered. "I'm afraid for her. I'm frightened."
"I tell you again, Mama, it's over. And Iris will never know about it, since that's your wish."
"Thank you. And remember, I was never here in this office talking to you."
He nodded. "I'll try to straighten everything out. I want to. You don't think I get any enjoyment out of living this way?"
"I don't think you do. But I have to tell you, I'm not sure you'll be able to straighten everything out. It's pretty late. And Iris isn't easy to handle. That I know."
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Theo smiled ruefully. "I know it, too."
Anna rose, drawing her coat about her. "But don't get the idea that I won't fight for my daughter, stubborn and difficult or not. Because I will, if you two can't patch it up and it comes to that."
"You're deceptive, Mama. Iron underneath. You can be dented and scratched, but never pierced."
"Oh, yes, of course. Iron."
Theo walked with her through the outer rooms where patients were already waiting. She saw herself in the mirror as they passed it: tall, with bright hair lying against the dark collar of her fur; saw a man's eyes raised to stare at her. Not bad, she thought grimly, not bad for my age and the troubles I've seen.
"Mother-in-law, don't take it amiss," Theo said at the door, "but if I had been older or you had been younger when we met— Anyway, you are a remarkable woman, are you aware of that?"
She flipped her hand at him. "I wouldn't have liked your type
." (But very probably I would. For you remind me, Theo, with your dash and grace, you remind me of Paul.)
Anna climbed the stairs to the sitting room where Nellie had said Iris was at her desk. She walked in boldly.
Iris looked up. "I didn't expect you."
