He said, “What did you do, come right here?”
“I couldn’t go home,” she said. Her face was strained, and all her features had slid sideways. The distortion amazed him. “I know it’s a mistake,” she said, “but I don’t care. The hell with her. The hell with Chic and the boys and all of them. You feel like that, don’t you?”
God damn, he thought.
“Is it wrong?” she demanded. “I love you. They all seem so vague. I knew I had to come back. They’re out there, like those people.” She meant the passers-by along the sidewalk, and the cars and buses. The office buildings. The stores. “Even my own kids,” she said. “I don’t even care about Jerry and Walter. Do you care about your store? It doesn’t mean anything. I never felt like this before. It’s strange.” She stroked his arm, waiting, examining him, holding onto him.
He said, “Are you going to be home?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll be home the rest of the day.”
“Suppose I come over after noon.”
Liz said, “That would be fine.” She drew away from him. “I’ll see you, then. In a couple of hours.”
He watched her as she hurried out of Jules Neame’s lawn furniture store; he watched until she disappeared from sight.
The hell with them, he thought. The hell with my wife, Virginia, and her mother, Mrs. Watson; the hell with your husband, Chic, and your two boys, Walter and Jerry. I agree with you. The hell with all of them, even my son, Gregg. Family and friends, things, store, our lives, the plans we have had, everything we have had or thought about, except this.
But they will get us, he said. You are too dumb, too stupid to realize that. But I realize it. They will all come back.
20
When she got home Virginia fixed herself a dish of cottage cheese and canned pears; she sat at the kitchen table for a while, and then she put the breakfast dishes into the sink. She telephoned a friend, a woman named Rae Phelps who was one of the mothers from the nursery school to which Gregg had gone. Mrs. Phelps’ name was on a ditto-graphed card stuck in the front of the phone book.
“I’d like to borrow your car today,” Virginia said. “If I can.”
In her ear, Mrs. Phelps’ voice boomed, “What’ll I use? I don’t want to sound antisocial, but I have to take the darn kids to school and pick them up and shop. Otherwise I’d be more than glad to let you have it.”
Virginia said, “I’ll give you my Olds for the day.”
“I don’t understand,” Rae Phelps said.
“It’s just a thing I’m doing,” she said. “I don’t want to take the Olds.” Her relationship with Rae Phelps was so remote that she did not even remember what color or make of car the woman owned. All she remembered was that the car was large and fairly new.
“It sounds crazy to me,” Mrs. Phelps said, in her hearty way. “But if you want to swap cars, it’s fine by me. You want to come by, then?”
She thanked her and hung up.
Next she changed to a suit that Roger had never seen, a dark blue suit with a white collar. She put on gloves, and a small hat, stockings and heels, and transferred her things from her usual purse to a small shiny-black leather purse that Marion had given her for a present and which she had never used.
He’ll call here once, she said to herself. To make sure I’m home.
A little past eleven o’clock, the phone rang.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hi,” Roger said glumly.
“You just caught me,” she said. “I was just on my way to pick up Marion.”
“I wondered,” he said, “if I left a tag book there. I’m missing one.”
She searched about the house, somewhat. “No,” she said, back at the phone. “I don’t see it.”
“Okay,” he said. “I must have it here somewhere. Thanks.”
As soon as she was off the phone she locked up the house, got into the Olds, and drove over to Rae Phelps’ house, a little over a mile away. There she traded Mrs. Phelps the Olds and received a well-waxed dark green Imperial.
“I’ll be careful with it,” she said, feeling anxious.
“Don’t worry,” Mrs. Phelps said. “It’s insured.” She was a tall, kindly, active woman, and she did not seem to mind giving up her car. “Whatever it is, I hope you make out all right,” she said. “What is it, some sort of surprise party or something?”
“Yes,” Virginia said.
In the Imperial—she found it marvelously easy to control—she drove by way of the freeway to the industrial part of town and the Bonny Bonner Bread Factory. She had never seen it before, and it impressed her; it was immense.
“I’d like to see Mr. Charles Bonner,” she said to the girl at the reception desk. She told the girl her name.
“Yes, Mrs. Lindahl,” the girl said. “Mr. Bonner is in and he says to show you in. It’s just to your right, through that door.”
She entered Chic’s office. “Hello,” she said.
“What a surprise,” Chic said, standing up behind his metal desk on which were mimeographed reports and a typewriter.
“I can’t stay more than a second,” she said. “Do you have your designs here?” God, she said to herself. Let’s hope not.
“No,” he said. “They’re home.”
“I want to show them to our attorney,” Virginia said. “I’d like him to see them.”
A gratified expression appeared on Chic’s face. “That’s a top-notch idea, Virginia. You mean now?”
“Where’s a phone?” she said. “I’ll call and see if Liz is there. If so I’ll drive over and pick them up. Mr. Charpentier is expecting me, and it’s almost noon.”
“Yes,” he said, pushing his phone towards her. “She ought to be home, unless she’s out shopping.” He hovered nearby, as she dialed. She dialed her own number, and of course there was no answer. She let it ring; she let him hear it. “Damn,” he said. “Wouldn’t you know Liz would be out somewhere? Probably chewing the rag with some neighbor-lady.”
“Well,” Virginia said, hanging up the phone, “maybe I can make another appointment with Charpentier later on in the week.”
Digging into his trouser pocket, Chic said, “Suppose I give you the key? You could get them; they’re in the living room, on the coffee table.”
“All right,” she said, looking at her watch. She had only a little time left, as she calculated. Taking Chic’s keys she left the Bonny Bonner Bread Company, got into the Imperial, and drove through the downtown business section until she saw a key store. There, she had a duplicate of Chic’s door key made for her, at a cost of thirty-five cents.
She then drove back to the bread factory and returned Chic’s keys to him. “I missed Mr. Charpentier,” she said. “He had already gone to lunch.”
“Oh,” Chic said. “That’s too bad.”
“I’ll make another appointment with him,” she said.
“You people are getting pretty serious, aren’t you?” Chic said. “I could tell by the way you got out of the store last night. You were afraid you might say something—” He smiled. “That would commit you. Am I right?”
“Yes,” she said. She said good-bye and left the building.
At noon, she picked up Marion.
“What’s this?” her mother said, peering about at the car as they drove. “Did you get rid of the Olds?”
“I borrowed this,” Virginia said. “Now listen to me. We’re not going, downtown; I’ve changed my mind.”
“Why are you all dressed up? You look very stately. I’ve never seen you dressed up like this before. Why don’t you dress up this well all the time? You make me feel dowdy.” Mrs. Watson noticed the purse. “That’s the bag I gave you and you’ve never used. I wondered when you’d get around to carrying it. It goes wonderfully with your blue suit. Do I know that suit?”
Virginia said, “We’re going by the store for a while. I don’t want you to do anything; I just want you along with me.”
“What kind of thing?” Her
mother eyed her. “Look at me, Ginny,” she said. “What is this?”
“I can’t look,” she said angrily. “I’m driving.”
“Are you having trouble with that woman? That Liz Bonner?”
“I just want you along,” Virginia said.
“I have a right to know what the situation is,” Mrs. Watson said.
“The hell you do. You just sit there and watch. That’s all. Now you do as I say; you hear?”
“My goodness, Virginia,” her mother said.
Across the street from the store she parked in a parking slot and tilted the rearview mirror so that she could watch the entrance. The store truck had been parked in the loading zone.
“He’ll use that,” she said. Thank heaven, she thought, he hadn’t been able to leave yet. As always, he had got tied up.
“Is he meeting her?” Mrs. Watson asked.
She said nothing.
At twelve-thirty, Roger appeared in the doorway of the store, carrying a TV chassis. He loaded the chassis in the truck, went back into the store, and emerged with another chassis.
“He’s going out now,” Virginia said.
“What are those mechanical things he’s carrying?”
“For delivery,” she said. “You know,” she said to her mother, “you can get the key to anybody’s house, just by asking them. All you have to do is tell them you want the key.” She took the key to the Bonner house from her purse and laid it on the floorboards of the car, by her right foot, where she could immediately get hold of it.
“I’m surprised at you,” her mother said, in an injured, disturbed tone.
Virginia lit a cigarette and continued to watch. She felt no sense of pressure, now; as soon as she had seen the store truck she had felt a kind of relief. Inside the store, Roger conferred with Pete; he inspected the big tablet on which the house-calls were listed, and then he made a phone call at the counter.
“Almost,” she said to her mother.
I am not going to have it happen to me, she said to herself. I am not going to wind up like her.
In Washington, D.C., Teddy had come by; they had heard voices in the hall and Roger had leaped up to go to the apartment door. At first she did not understand who Teddy was; she had greeted her as a friend of his, and she had said how pretty the little girl was. Roger had fallen into such a melancholy state that, as she knelt down by the little girl, she had suddenly realized that this was his daughter and that Teddy was his former wife, from whom he was getting his divorce.
“I wanted to meet you,” Teddy had said. Her legs were too thin; they were not much to look at, and when she walked, her feet turned outward, duck-footed, and they were flat. She had a penetrating voice; when she spoke to the child she took up a singsong pattern of accusation that made both Virginia and the child uncomfortable. So this is the woman he was married to, she had thought. This is she.
Afterward, she had said to Roger, “How could you ever have gotten interested in her?”
“I don’t know,” he had said morosely.
And she had thought, then, What a repulsive woman. Can he possibly see something like that in me? Is that what he wants?
“He likes that type,” Virginia said to her mother. “Its a reversion. Liz is the kind he used to go around with, back when he was working in the shipyard and on the W.P.A. and probably before that, in Arkansas.” And he would leave everything for that type, she thought. He would leave me.
“Did you just walk out on her?” she had asked him.
“No,” Roger said. “It was falling apart. We agreed on it.”
“But she wants you back.”
“No,” he said.
“Certainly she does. That’s why she came by. She wanted to see if she could make you change your mind. She wishes she hadn’t given you a divorce; she almost said it out loud, in front of me.”
He repeated, “We agreed on it.”
“And your child,” she protested. “You just—abandoned them. I wonder if you’d ever do that to me.”
She smelled the cold presence of snow, the ice, the Tidal Basin, the hills and woods around the Potomac. She saw around her the trees along Pennsylvania Avenue, the mansions. She saw the colored maids in their coats and red-cotton bandanas going to work in the morning on the bus, the town band in Maryland at night, marching along the street, leaving off its players at the different houses. The white-picket fences, the weight of summer.
“He just deserted her,” she said to her mother. “They do; they always do. It’s their nature.”
“I warned you,” her mother said.
“How dare he do that to me,” she said. For someone like that. “I knew he would sooner or later, when he got the urge.”
Coming out of the store, Roger halted, blinking in the sunlight. He removed his glasses from his nose, polished them with his handkerchief, glanced up and down the street, and then got into the truck.
“Here we go,” Virginia said. She started the engine of the Imperial; it flooded and died. “God damn,” she said, starting it again. “I’m not familiar with this car; it belongs to Rae Phelps. I hope I can manage it.”
“You be careful, now,” her mother said. “Maybe you ought to reconsider what you’re doing, Ginny. I think perhaps you’re acting a bit too hasty. What do you care if he’s running around with the Liz Bonner woman? You can go to an attorney and get a divorce easier than pie; you know that. What do you need to mess around with all this kind of thing for?”
She backed from the parking slot and followed the truck.
“Can’t he see you?” Mrs. Watson said.
“He doesn’t know this car,” she said. And she knew that the truck had bad rear-vision.
For almost an hour the truck moved about town, stopping at houses to deliver TV chassis and to pick up others. She began to wonder if she were making a mistake.
“He’s doing his work,” Mrs. Watson said. “He’s doing what he’s supposed to. And what are you doing?”
I’m waiting, she said to herself.
“How’d you get that key?” Mrs. Watson said. “Is that really a key to her house?”
I hope so, Virginia thought. I would feel darn strange if it turned out to be a key to their garage. But the clerk at the key store had assured her that of those on the ring it was certainly the front door key; it was the only Yale key of the bunch.
“I think you’ve gone crazy as a loon,” Mrs. Watson said. “It wouldn’t surprise me to discover that you have a gun in your purse. You read about that in the newspapers; I don’t see why you’d want to lower yourself in this manner.”
Virginia said, “I have to catch him at it. Otherwise he’ll always deny it. He’ll never admit it.”
“Why do you care?”
She didn’t answer.
At two o’clock the truck turned in the direction of San Fernando. When it had gone most of the way it stopped at a Standard Station. Roger stepped out, stretched his legs, and walked into the men’s room. When he came out again he entered the station office and made a phone call at the pay phone.
“He’s phoning,” Virginia said, from where she had parked.
“He’s just calling the store to see if any changes have happened to his route,” Mrs. Watson said. “He doesn’t want to have to come all the way out here for nothing.”
True, Virginia said to herself.
Returning to the truck, Roger started out again into traffic. She followed, keeping a large distance between them. Then, at an intersection, she lost the truck; she found herself the first car at the red light. The truck disappeared at a leisurely pace around a corner.
“See?” Mrs. Watson yelled in her ear. “You went and lost him! Now look what you’ve gone and done!”
When the light changed, Virginia made a right turn and drove directly to the Bonner house. She parked at the cross street, between two other cars.
“He’ll be along,” she said.
Five minutes later the store truck passed them and parked nearby
, somewhere else. As she and her mother sat in the Imperial, they saw Roger walk along the sidewalk, glance here and there, and then continue, on foot, down the street to the Bonner house. He ascended to the porch, the door immediately opened, and he went inside. The door shut after him.
So that’s that, Virginia said to herself.
“Let’s go,” she said. She started the car and pulled out onto the street.
“Are we leaving?” her mother said.
“Yes,” she said.
“What about your key? Why’d you go and have the key made if you’re not going to use it?”
“I don’t want to,” she said, driving away from the Bonner house.
“You’ve got a key; you know they’re in there; you said yourself you have to catch him at it.”
“Okay!” she said. At an intersection she made a U-turn; a dog, sleeping in the street, scrambled up and stood in confusion. She drove back in the direction they had come. “Will you come in with me?” she said. “I won’t gone in alone.”
“I’ll come in,” her mother said. “I’m against it, but I feel I should.”
Virginia parked a few houses away. For a moment she sat.
“We better hurry,” her mother said. “He might leave.”
Virginia opened the car door. On the other side, her mother did the same.
“Don’t let the door slam,” her mother said, closing hers quietly. “You don’t want to let them know you’re coming.”
Leaving the car door hanging open, she walked up the sidewalk toward the Bonner house.
“Did you have the key?” her mother asked.
“No.” She returned to the car and picked it up from the floor boards.
“Now don’t you be scared,” her mother said.
She did not feel scared. She felt light-headed as if she were floating. As a child she felt like this as she walked up the steps to the stage of the school auditorium.
“I feel like I’m going to make a speech,” she said. “A patriotic speech or something.” She laughed.
“Never you mind about that,” her mother said. “Just you get on in there.”
Now it did seem funny to her. On the path she stopped. “I can’t do it,” she said, still laughing. “I’m sorry, but it’s too absurd. You go in, if you want.”