Men from Boys

by John Harvey

  She peered into his face. ‘That’s an answer?’

  ‘No, my dearest. That’s the human condition.’

  Sally West moved slowly in the morning, bumping into a chair, dropping a spoon, spilling sugar, as if everything in life were a difficulty and, worse, a danger. When the doorbell rang, she gave a start and for seconds stood frozen. Anything unexpected set her on edge. She opened the door on the second ring and saw Robert standing straight, correct, expecting admiration.

  He smiled. ‘May I?’

  She stepped aside, he stepped in. Immediately he kissed her forehead, not her cheek, and then stood back for a long look at her, which unsettled her.

  ‘I thought I’d stop by,’ he said. ‘I’m on my way to pick up Edward. He’s being released today.’

  She took a breath. ‘Do you have time for coffee,’ she asked, hoping he didn’t.

  ‘I’ll make time.’

  She led him into the large airy kitchen, where he immediately took a chair at the breakfast table and watched her busy herself with cups and saucers. When her back was turned, he moistened a finger and poked it in the sugar bowl for a taste of sweet. She dropped a cup on the tile floor. Smash! She reddened.

  ‘I never used to be clumsy.’

  ‘Let me,’ he said.

  ‘No, it’s all right.’

  He stayed seated and Sally swept up the pieces. Minutes later she served coffee and joined him at the table. He stared at her, his smile returning as if he could read her lips when nothing was on them.

  ‘You look wonderful,’ he said.

  Lightening her coffee, she remembered Robert telling her to rise so that the jury could see her face. Then he touched her face with one finger and then another, showing where the bullet went in and out. Her teeth, he told the jury, were no longer her own, which shamed her.

  ‘I know what I look like, Robert.’

  ‘You’re too hard on yourself.’

  She remembered her head tightening when Robert asked her to describe the moment the state trooper fired his gun at Jack West, her husband of only a couple of hours. Instead of speaking, she lost control and screamed. Only later did she realise Robert had wanted her to scream. So much money became hers . . . and his.

  She said, ‘I had a visitor yesterday. Elsa.’

  ‘Elsa West? First time you two have met, isn’t it? What was the occasion?’

  Sally hesitated, only for a second. ‘She thinks you’re cheating me.’

  ‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’ Robert said with a laugh. ‘She’s accused Edward of the same thing. Claims Edward and I are in it together.’

  ‘It’s not true?’

  ‘Of course it’s not true. She has more money than she knows what to do with. It’s made her paranoid, poor thing.’

  ‘Everything I have is in your hands, Robert. Emotionally, I don’t think I could take another hit.’

  ‘Look at me, Sally. Do you think I would ever do anything to hurt you? If you do, then you should consider getting another lawyer.’

  Suddenly she began to cry and just as suddenly Robert was on his feet. He swept around the table, pulled her to her feet and held her in his arms.

  ‘I’ll always be here for you,’ he whispered close to her ear.

  The sound was unmistakable, as if a seal had been broken and a secret let out. Presently Edward, dressed for travel, emerged from the tiny bathroom with his thin hair slicked back. ‘Hardly room to fart in there,’ he complained.

  ‘You seem to have succeeded,’ Robert said without a smile.

  Edward’s bag was packed, except for his Japanese robe, which lay draped over a chair. A nurse wearing what could have been a pajama top over yellow slacks arrived to wheel him out, a clinic rule, which annoyed him. Robert reached for the robe.

  ‘Leave it! I never liked it.’

  The nurse wheeled him down the corridor to a set of opening doors as Robert trailed with bag in hand, the robe folded under his arm. Outside, Edward pulled himself from the wheelchair and walked on his own to the parking area, where Robert guided him to a Mercedes.

  ‘This new?’

  Robert nodded and, opening the passenger door, helped him in. The scent of Edward’s aftershave was strong, an irritant to Robert’s sensibilities. They scarcely spoke until they were well out of Haverhill and nearing I-93. ‘You’re not wearing your seat belt,’ Robert said critically.

  ‘Too uncomfortable. What are we going to do about Elsa?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Robert merged the Mercedes into the swift highway traffic. ‘The ball’s in her court.’

  ‘She could cause a hell of a lot of trouble.’

  ‘If push comes to shove, I can make a case for her mental instability.’

  ‘I don’t want her destroyed,’ Edward said.

  ‘We might not have a choice, Tiger.’

  Edward bristled. ‘You call me that to get my ass, don’t you?’

  ‘And why would I do that?’

  ‘That damn superior attitude of yours.’

  A quick learner, Robert had graduated from Haverhill High younger than most. The son of a tannery worker, he received scholarships that put him into Boston University and through law school, after which he set up a practice in Haverhill, a reputation to make.

  Edward looked out the window. ‘Wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be where you are.’

  ‘Really?’ Robert glided the Mercedes into another lane. ‘Where would I be?’

  ‘Still in Haverhill, goddamn it. My brother’s death made you a lot of money.’

  ‘It made us both a lot of money, Edward.’

  Edward stiffened. ‘I loved Jack.’

  ‘I’m not suggesting you didn’t.’

  ‘Jack was my hero and so was my father, though my father didn’t deserve to be. My mother was my strength.’

  Robert drove with a single finger on the wheel. ‘Now Marion is.’

  ‘It’s not the same. Never could be.’

  ‘No? Marion’s the best thing that ever happened to you. And it doesn’t hurt to have me in your corner, does it?’

  Edward gave him an ugly look. ‘I am what I am because of my mother. Not Marion, not you, not even Jack. You understand?’

  ‘Calm down, Tiger. No one’s taking anything away from your mother. A wonderful person, she was.’

  ‘You never knew her.’

  ‘My loss.’

  Lapsing into silence, Edward closed his eyes and did not open them until they were approaching Boston. A haze mellowing the city’s skyline muted the Prudential Tower and warmed the frigid attitude of the Hancock. On Storrow Drive he said, ‘Why didn’t you ever marry? You must’ve had plenty of women.’

  Robert appeared amused. ‘There’s the answer. Too many to choose from. Besides, my life is comfortable the way it is.’

  Edward felt himself growing red. ‘You never should’ve laid hands on my niece. She was just a kid.’

  ‘You never should have stolen from her. What’s worse?’

  When they were in the thick of traffic in Kenmore Square, Edward said, ‘Maybe I’ll give it all back.’

  ‘Think it through, Tiger. Marion would never let you.’

  Gordon, in familiar bow tie and blazer, sat in Elsa’s reading room, his book bag at his feet. She had sidetracked him on his way up to his apartment and now was serving him a glass of sherry and one for herself, her second within the hour. Gordon glanced at his watch. He was meeting friends later for dinner.

  ‘Okay, Elsa. What’s so important?’

  She thrust a sheet of paper at him. ‘Read it, Gordon. I need your opinion.’

  ‘What is it?’ he said, searching his blazer for his glasses.

  ‘A story idea. Read it!’

  Finally he found his glasses, got them on his face and, with lowered head, focused in. Elsa, staring at the small bald spot on his crown, remembered the first example of her writing she’d shown him. Kittens littered with fleas, no homes available to them, were put to sleep for their own good, th
e finality of death deemed worthier than the uncertainty of life. She had entitled the tale ‘The Big Sleep’, after her mother’s favorite American mystery writer.

  Gordon finished reading but did not look up. ‘Let me give it another scan.’

  Elsa remembered the stillborn moment when she learned her mother had died. The school administrator took her aside and delivered the message in German and, when she did not react, repeated it in French. Her face frozen, she pretended the administrator’s lips were lying to her.

  Removing his glasses, Gordon looked up with concern. ‘This is a Stephen King sort of thing.’

  ‘Can’t it be more than that? I want to do what the Greeks were so great at.’

  ‘You want to do horrendous tragedy. It’s been done, Elsa. Over and over again. What the Greeks did is now the stuff of tabloids. Medea would be front page.’

  ‘My father could have been Greek, he died like one. The gods did him in.’

  ‘You consider your father a hero?’

  ‘My mother thought he was.’

  Gordon sipped his sherry. ‘My heroes were those Celtic warriors who sprang naked on to their horses and galloped into battle with swords and hard-ons.’

  ‘That’s very revealing, Gordon, but did you know Dorothy Parker had a canary she named Onan because it spilled its seed on the ground?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I did. Did you know Walt Whitman slept on his mother’s pillow for years after she died? And Emily Dickinson wondered whether she’d be punished in heaven for being homesick.’ He gestured at her sherry glass. ‘You finished that off fast.’

  ‘I miss my mother, Gordon. And my father.’

  He spoke gently. ‘I know you do.’

  ‘They’re gone for ever. They’re dead. Do you know what death is, Gordon? It’s God murdering you.’

  Viewing her with concern, he said, ‘I can call my friends and cancel out.’

  Elsa gripped her empty glass. ‘I may need another.’

  ‘If you have another, someone will have to put you to bed.’

  ‘Hitler will never pay for his crimes, Gordon. Nor will God.’

  ‘Would you like me to stay?’

  ‘Maybe you’d better.’

  Fresh from the shower, girdled in a fluffy white towel, Marion stood barefoot by a window and watched the Mercedes glide up the drive and ease to a graceful stop. Doors winged open. Robert hopped out while Edward needed time, the effort visible on his face. She hurried downstairs, positioned herself where sunlight would wash over her when the front door opened and waited.

  ‘Come on, fellas, move it,’ she said under her breath.

  The door opened.

  ‘Well, my boys are back,’ she said. Edward lumbered forward like a huge child. His kiss was sloppy, and she stepped back, not quite pushing him away. ‘Nice to have you home, dear.’

  ‘You’re not dressed,’ he whispered.

  ‘You caught me unawares.’

  Robert placed Edward’s bag on the floor, the robe on top, and with mock indignation strode to Marion. ‘Are you naked under that?’ His hand raced under the towel. ‘By God, she is, Edward.’

  Marion slapped his wrist. ‘Behave yourself.’

  ‘Was that necessary?’ Edward said angrily.

  ‘Probably not, my friend. Do forgive me.’ Robert blew Marion a kiss and she gave him an ugly look.

  ‘You’re leaving?’

  ‘Things to do.’

  Tightening the towel around her, she walked Robert to the door on her chorus girl legs, were they a little longer. Unable to decipher their whispers, Edward turned abruptly and began a slow climb up the stairway. Partway up, he heard the front door close, then Marion’s voice. ‘Should you be doing that?’

  Without looking back he said, ‘I’m not an invalid.’

  ‘While you’re up there, take a bath. Get that nursing home smell off you.’

  In his bedroom, he viewed a picture of himself when he was young and courting Marion, his eyes shut tight to her faults, hers open to every one of his.

  God, he had loved her! And still did.

  He ran a bath and took off his clothes. When Marion looked in on him, he was standing on the scale and trying to get a reading. The weighted arc of his abdomen made his sexual organs remote, raising the question of whether he had any.

  ‘The doctor says I must lose weight.’

  ‘Anybody could’ve told you that.’

  ‘I have to stick to my diet.’

  ‘All up to you, isn’t it?’

  ‘Where’s your maid? Juanita, is it?’

  ‘Juana. I had to let her go. She didn’t appreciate me.’

  He stepped off the scale. Tilting, he was mass warping space. ‘What are we going to do about Elsa?’

  ‘Does she worry you that much?’

  He placed a cautious foot into the tub. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Leave her to me,’ Marion said.

  Staring up, Marion saw no lights in the apartment. Keys Edward had given her got her into the building and then into the apartment. In the dark she pawed the wall for the light switch, found it, and flooded the front room. Then she gave a start. On the sofa was a small man sleeping under an afghan.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’

  Gordon woke. An arm shading his eyes, he said, ‘Who are you? How did you get in?’

  ‘A key, you damn fool. Elsa’s uncle is co-owner of this apartment.’

  ‘Does Elsa know that?’

  ‘Whether she does or not doesn’t change the truth of it,’ Marion said and watched Gordon rise out of the afghan. He was in designer underwear, his shorts monogrammed. ‘Excuse me for asking,’ she said, ‘but are you a fag?’

  ‘Excuse me,’ he replied, ‘but are you a hag?’

  Marion lifted her chin. ‘Precious little prick, aren’t you? Where’s Elsa?’

  ‘Sleeping. Best not to wake her.’

  ‘Whatever-your-name-is, do you live here?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then get out.’ Breezing by him, Marion marched directly through an unlit corridor to Elsa’s bedroom and threw on a light. ‘You awake?’ Elsa stirred under the covers. Marion waited a moment. ‘We have to talk. I’ll wait for you out there. By the way, I told Twinkletoes to leave.’

  Elsa’s head appeared. ‘You had no right.’

  Returning to the front room, Marion said, ‘You still here?’

  Gordon was mostly dressed. He stepped into tasseled loafers and retrieved his bow tie and blazer. Presently Elsa, looking groggy, appeared in tank top and underpants.

  ‘It’s all right, Gordon. I can handle it.’

  Gordon left with obvious misgivings. Marion, settling into a wing chair, said, ‘I won’t ask about him. That’s your business.’

  ‘It’s hardly yours.’ Elsa sat on the sofa and folded the afghan over her lap. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘We’re all sick of your slanders. Any more of them, your uncle and Robert will bring suits against you. Are you listening to me?’

  ‘Every word, Marion. Please go on.’

  ‘Your credibility will be zero. I’ll testify you falsely and maliciously accused Robert of seducing you when you were a teenager. Actually you were obsessed with him, that’s what I’ll say. And your uncle will tell the court how vindictively jealous you’ve been of me ever since you came to live in our house. Are you getting the picture, dear?’

  ‘You’re playing a good scene, Marion.’

  ‘There’s more. You’re seeing a shrink, right? Right away, that tells the court you’re unstable. Runs in the family. Did you know your grandfather was murdered? Your grandmother was never arrested but should have been. Your uncle could testify to that.’

  ‘Any more, Marion? I’d love to get back to bed.’

  ‘Just a question, dear. Why in God’s name don’t you shave under your arms?’

  Elsa tossed the afghan aside and stood up. ‘My mother never did. Why should I?’

  ‘You have lovely legs, dear. We’re both l
ucky in that regard.’

  Elsa stepped away. Over her shoulder she said, ‘If you have a key to my apartment, please leave it on the table on your way out.’

  When she crawled back to bed, the dark of the room seemed to double. The phone rang and she fumbled with the receiver. Knowing who it was, she said, ‘Am I going crazy?’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ Gordon said. ‘That woman’s a piece of work.’

  ‘I’m afraid of her.’

  ‘I would be too.’

  There was a flash at her window, seconds later a thunderclap.

  ‘Did you hear that, Gordon?’

  ‘I did. It was predicted.’

  There came another flash, a louder clap. ‘That used to scare me, but now I realise thunderstorms are echoes from the Iliad. Who did you root for, Gordon? The Greeks or the Trojans?’

  ‘I tried not to take sides, but Hector was my hero. He had class. Achilles had none.’

  ‘My father was Odysseus, but he didn’t make it home. My mother and I both waited.’ There came more lightning, louder claps. ‘Gordon, if you were with me right now, would you tuck me in? Like a real daddy?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘You’re always there for me. Thank you,’ she said.

  She could feel her heart pounding when she rang the bell. The minister answered the door himself and ushered her into the parlor. Sally West. Of course he remembered her. How could he ever forget? Seated, they stared at each other. He had less hair and a paunch, but otherwise he looked the same. She could only imagine what she looked like to him.

  ‘Thank you for seeing me,’ she said.

  ‘I’ve thought about you so many times, Sally. I visited you at the hospital, but you probably don’t remember. You were in and out of sedation.’

  Frowning, she scrutinised the room. ‘You’ve changed the drapes. They were maroon.’

  ‘I believe they were.’

  She felt the weight of the minister’s eye and smiled. ‘I had on a blue dress and I wore a pearl choker that Jack bought me.’ She lifted her left hand to display her jeweled wedding band.

  ‘I certainly remember that,’ the minister said.

  She blushed happily. ‘Jack was always a big spender. We drove away in his new convertible.’

  ‘Yes. A white one.’

  ‘Jack never came back.’