It rolled back sharply as though he'd been waiting there. — I just remembered… she stood clutching the book, a finger tucked in its pages witnessing her urgency, — the man I said came to the door for you? Lester. His name was Lester… She got a brief nod for that, a murmur of dismissal but she stood looking past him there square in the doorway to bookshelves filled floor to ceiling through the planes of tobacco smoke, papers in stacks, in rolls, shadeless lamps, leather cases, filing cabinets pulled open, — are you a writer? she blurted.
— I'm a geologist, Mrs Booth.
— Oh. Because there are so many books aren't there, and papers and, and look! You have a piano! Isn't it? under all these things, I saw the corner of it I thought it was a buffet or something, a marvelous old sideboard we had one all the drawers done in velvet where we kept the silver but it's a spinet isn't it, couldn't it go in the alcove? in the living room there in the alcove…? It needed work he told her, the sounding board was warped. — Oh. Because it would be so sweet there in the alcove, maybe we could get it fixed couldn't we…? Why, did she play? — Well yes but, I mean not for a long time, those little Haydn pieces and things like that but not, I mean nothing modern, I mean I never got to Debussy or even…
He'd try to look into it he said, turning away, — now I know you're busy please don't let me keep you.
— No that's all right. I mean I've just been cleaning the windows in there, they're so fogged with smoke. You smoke a lot don't you… Too much he agreed, tapping tobacco from a glazed envelope into a paper. — Like that window right over your table there, she nodded past him, — you can hardly see through it.
— I don't especially want to see through it Mrs Booth. Now please don't let me…
— Wait I'll get you an ashtray… and she was back that quick with a saucer, — if you need anything else… He stood over the still commotion of papers spread on the table there, motionless till he reached for the ashtray he'd been using. — I just meant if you want a cup of tea or anything… and she stumbled, turning for the door, tumbling the books stacked against the piano, — oh, I'm sorry, I'll…
— It's all right Mrs Booth please! just leave them!
— Well all right but… she straightened up, — if you need anything… and she got through the door to pause in the kitchen, again in the living room and she was up the stairs running a bath, turned off as abruptly as she'd turned it on, and down the hall past empty bedrooms loosening her blouse, bringing the television screen to life with animated mischief in the lower intestine. She turned it off. Digging under scarves, blouses, lingerie in the top drawer she brought out a manila folder riffling the score or so of hand written pages, crossings out, marginal exclamations, meticulous inserts, brave arrows shearing through whole paragraphs of soured inspiration on to the last of them abandoned at what it might all have been like if her father and mother had never met, if her father had married a schoolteacher, or a chorus girl, instead of the daughter of a stayed Grosse Pointe family, or if her mother, lying silent even now in the cold embrace of a distant nursing home, had met a young writer who…
She was up for the moment it took to find a pen and draw it firmly through young writer who, take up rapidly with man somewhat older, a man with another life already behind him, another woman, even a wife somewhere… his still, sinewed hands and his… hard, irregular features bearing the memory of distant suns, the cool, grey calm of his eyes belying… belying? She found the dictionary under the telephone book, sought for bely and could not find it.
— Mrs Booth?
— Oh! She was up, — yes? His voice came up the stairs to her, sorry for the bother but might he use the telephone? — Yes, yes do! and she caught her eyes in the mirror gone wide with listening, gathered in a frown as all that reached her were yelps from the road below where the boys, when she came to look down, straggled up the hill broadcast flinging something one to another, a shoe of the smallest of them coming on well behind where the mist stayed the day as she'd left it. Then as though listened for herself she reached the telephone and raised it silently, there was only the dial tone, and she placed it as carefully back, exchanging a glance with the mirror which she recovered in arch detail down the hall, bent so close over the bathroom basin that her eyes' dark circles deepened until hidden under daubs of a cream lightener, the fullness of a lip modified, eyelids lined with the faintest of green and the hair punished, drawn, tossed free again before she came down the stairs. He was standing over the kitchen table leafing through the bird book where she'd left it, his apologies revived without a look up, he had to wait for his call to go through he said, something wrong with the circuits.
— Oh. When that happens I just keep dialing, they…
— This is out of the country.
— OK. Oh well sit down then, in the living room? I mean I was just going to make tea… Was there a drink? and yes, scotch would be fine, leafing past plovers, willets, yellowlegs greater and lesser, had anyone been in that room? he asked her abruptly, besides the plumber? — Well no, no. I mean it's been locked, how could we… Not her no, he didn't mean her, but anyone else? the man who showed up at the door, did he come in? — No, he stayed at the door. He put his foot in the door.
— You said he just wanted to see me? didn't ask any questions?
She turned with an empty glass, brushed her hair aside, — He asked me if I was your first redhead… but her smile fell flat against his back already turned for the living room. When she came in, ice clinking the glass in one hand, her cup rattling the saucer in the other, she'd done a nice job on the windows he told her, standing there in the alcove, and something about the ivy, that it needed cutting back, almost knocking the glass from her hand as he reached for it. She steadied her cup and sat down, knees drawn tight on the frayed love seat, — and you did find your mail? It was stuck in the door there, one was from Thailand. It had such beautiful stamps that's why I noticed it.
Thailand? He didn't know anyone in Thailand, — never been there… and he settled back in the wing chair as from long habit.
— Oh. Oh and wait yes I meant to ask, is her name Irene? your wife I mean…? His nod came less in affirmation than the failure to deny it. — Because there've been some calls, someone asking for Irene? And all this furniture that's what I wanted to ask you, the agent said she was coming for it, that all of it's hers but they didn't know when. I mean we have things in storage we'd just want to know ahead of time, all these lovely things it looks like she'd just gone for the day, I just don't want anything to happen to it. That little china dog that was on the mantel it's already broken, Madame Socrate when she was cleaning she broke it right in half, I tried to glue it… He glanced up there from the empty fireplace where he'd been staring, it was something of his he told her, raising his glass, never mind it. — Oh. Well of course we'll pay for it but I meant, your wife I mean do you know when she might come for her things? or where we can reach her to ask? Because if we can't reach you, if you're someplace where we can't reach you you might be there for years, you might be gone for twenty years and, I mean…
He'd crossed an ankle over one knee showing a fine shoe, or what had been, well worn, laced with cracks up the instep. — Twenty years, Mrs Booth?
— Yes well no, no I just meant… He was looking straight at her, she caught the edge of what might almost have become a smile, rattling the cup on the saucer and she raised it, swallowed, — I mean you travel a lot, your work I mean, you have to travel a lot it must be very interesting work and, and exciting wait I'm sorry, I'll get you an ashtray… He'd flicked ashes at the hearth, and she was back to place a clean saucer before him, beside the magazines. — Places like that, she said.
— It's a very old issue, isn't it… He came forward to crush out his cigarette. This piece on the Masai, had she read it?
— Yes it's, I just finished it yes it's fascinating, I mean we subscribe to it but I get so behind… The ring of the phone brought him half out of the chair but she was up again, — No
I'll get it… and then, from the kitchen — Mister, Mister McCandless? were you calling Acapulco? What? Hello…? Oh no it's from Edie, yes no but not now operator. I mean could she call again later?
He'd upset his drink when she came back in, standing there over the wet magazines having trouble righting it, trouble it appeared simply getting the glass squared in his hand. — Oh can I help you? what…
— No! It's, it's all right.
— I'm sorry wait… she came with a towel wad from the windows, — it doesn't matter, they're old… wiping down the red ochred hair, the bared teeth and bared chest of the warrior. — He's quite frightening isn't he, looking I mean.
— If you're Bantu.
— If I what?
— They steal cattle. I thought you said you'd read it… He'd paced off to the alcove, turned back to the dining room where he stood looking into the empty corner cupboard there, gripping his glass.
— Oh. Yes it's, I mean sometimes I don't read too carefully… and, up looking where he was looking, — we have some lovely china in storage, some old Quimper I mean it's not really china it would look lovely there but I don't know when she might come for it, Irene I mean? your wife? I mean she has such lovely taste everything, you can see her touch everywhere.
— Want to get this porch painted out here, he said abruptly looking out now at the paint peeling on the columns.
— Yes well we never use it but, I mean if you want to do that for us we'd be…
— I wouldn't be doing it for you Mrs Booth, I'd be doing it for the house… He raised his glass for the last drop in it. — She wanted to take this whole wall out, put in an arch here and glass the whole porch in with all the plants out there, kind of a wintergarden.
— Oh! what a, I mean I've…
— We never did it, he said before he turned away.
— But they're doing marvelously aren't they, the plants I mean I try to keep them watered and…
— That one, up there? I watered it for three months after she was gone before I knew it was plastic.
— But she, for three months? But I thought she'd only been gone for…
— She's been gone for two years Mrs Booth.
The call was for him, — your call to, to Maracaibo is it? the phone unsteady in her hand, and she put it down and came back to the living room, to the alcove windows, as far off as those rooms allowed her, so far she could overhear nothing but — too late… before he came through carrying a soiled manila envelope, pulling on the raincoat, telling her the call wouldn't be charged here, getting the door open.
— But you haven't said where to reach you if anything…
He'd try to call first if he had to come again, pulling the door behind him, sorry to disturb her, and she walked more slowly back to the alcove standing well away. What light the mist had lent substance was failing rapidly down the dark road where the old dog appeared, falling in beside him as he crossed for the sodden bank opposite already losing definition as its leaves lost their colour, and she watched them down together as though they'd followed that dark current down together many times before.
Ashtray, his glass, towel wads and Yount, Kissinger swept up together she came turning on lamps, bent to blow cigarette ash from the table, bent over the trash to bury the doctors deep under bread wrappings, wilted celery, burnt toast, a worn address book she shook free of wet tea leaves before rummaging deeper for a few crumpled envelopes, all of them franked with the insipid postage of her own country, flicking the pages of the address book as she stood. The white cap of the Dewar's bottle had rolled into the sink where she found it, hesitated there with the bottle before she held it under the tap and ran an ounce, two ounces of water into it and then put the cap on, even shaking it a little before she put it back behind the bag of onions.
Up the stairs she paused to run the bath, down the hall undoing her blouse with the worn address book still tight in her hand she'd barely lit the bedroom and slipped off her shoes, barely come down among the papers on the bed bent over the last of them, the cool, grey calm of his eyes belying… her lips moving, when the downstairs toilet flushed.
— Liz? He was already on the stairs. Without pause for the peal of the phone she swept papers and folder together, a stab back for the worn address book and she was standing there selecting a fresh blouse from the bureau's top drawer. — You left the tub running, he came in pulling off his tie, and — why you don't answer the God damn phone, hello…? From where operator…? No, collect call I'm not accepting it no, don't know a God damn soul in Acapulco… he banged it down. — Any calls while I was gone?
— Chick… she stood getting breath slowly, — last night. Somebody called Chick.
— He leave a number?
— He said he didn't have one. He said to tell you he just got out, he'd call you again sometime.
— Nothing from Teakell's office? He had off his jacket, pulling open his shirt — got a car coming for the airport I've got to get down there tonight, flew right over it three hours ago turn right around and go back, have you seen my keys? Liz?
— What.
— I said have you seen my keys look I'm in a hurry, eight a m appointment in Washington they moved up that God damn subpoena I just learned about it, walked out of here without my keys if you weren't here I'd be locked out… He kicked a foot free of his trousers, — walked in just now the front door was open, up here alone I told you to keep it locked you don't know who the hell will walk in, have you seen my keys?
— They're gone Paul. So are mine.
— What do you mean so are mine, they're gone where.
— I found them on the shelf over the bathroom sink and I put them in my purse when I was leaving so they wouldn't get lost and my purse was stolen.
— Your, no come on Liz stolen? He stood over her dressed to the shins where she'd sunk to the corner of the bed, — how the hell could it be stolen, I told you to keep the doors locked didn't I? Walked in just now the front door wide open look, it's here somewhere, take a quick shower while you look for it where did you have it last, think Liz. Think!
— I don't have to think Paul I know. I had it last in the ladies' room at Saks. I hung it on a hook while I was using the toilet, and I looked up and saw a hand reach over the top of the booth and it was gone. By the time I got out there was nobody…
— No but, what the hell were you doing in Saks how could…
— I was using the toilet! I wasn't there buying things like any decent woman shopping they closed the account six months ago, I had some time after the doctor he's near Saks and I went into Saks. I looked at all the things I couldn't buy in Saks and then I went to the toilet, do you wonder how I got home do you care? She jammed the bureau drawer closed passing it for the door, — no purse no money no keys nothing, how I got home? how I even got in?
— No but Liz, look…
She did and dropped her eyes. He was standing there in one brown sock brandishing striped shorts clutched in a wad. — The shower's running, when does your car come.
— Half an hour look, got some things to go over come in while I…
— I'll be downstairs.
From the table where he'd dropped it the newspaper assailed her in black letters the size of her fist
TEARFUL MOM: 'PRAY FOR LITTLE WAYNE'
She was still staring at it when he came plunging down the stairs tucking his shirt in. — See that? The Post comes through they really come through, you read it?
— Read what, tearful…
— The story the story, front page story the Post comes through for you they really come through. Liz…? from the kitchen. The refrigerator door banged against the counter. — The mail?
— It's right there… she came in emptyhanded. — Do you want something to eat?
— Get it on the plane… he had the bottle forcing its neck down over a glass — God damn snack flight coming up here you get Squirt and a cookie, is this all? He scattered the mail with one hand, had the phone up in the Other.
— Got to make some calls. Liz?
— I'm right here.
— Said you saw the doctor, what did he come up with. Hello…? Hey, is old Elton there? This here's Paul… Talked to Grissom he said these pretrial hearings are coming up any day now, get this doctor in there with the bad news or you're dropped from the case and mine goes down the drain with it, I tell you Grissom wants a thousand dollars retainer? Hello…? Holding on here for Elton yes, lose the case and the thousand goes with it just like the last one, you beat that? How he could lose that appeal? She's out there living openly with this guy right out in the open, he tells Grissom he won't marry her because I'm paying her more alimony than he could if he married her and things didn't work out tells Grissom that right to his face, bastard makes light boxes couldn't pay her a dime so I pay for his light boxes, God damn judge gets up there and hello…? No when did he leave… No no don't bother, I'll see him down there. I'll be talking to you. God damn disability check in one pocket and out the other, where was I.
— Buying light boxes.
— Look Liz this is serious, clear up these little things before I go down there may sit around a week waiting to be called, I tell you Adolph said Sneddiger's offering me legal counsel? Bastards trying to set me up all running scared with these God damn leaks going on, hello? Calling Mister McFardle, this is… Jim McFardle yes this is Paul Booth calling, trying to tie the can to your old man's corpse they want to bury me with it, get him under the Logan Act there goes the whole God damn estate, two million in lump sum retirement benefits, three hundred thousand accumulated vacation pay, two hundred more in the stock bonus plan and an option on another five hundred thousand shares at twenty percent below the market, life insurance, Bedford, Longview every God damn thing in sight, I tell you Adolph's selling Long-view? Knows God damn well I've been trying to raise the investment for this media center down there if your pal Orsini comes through in time we may still nail down an option and get the, hello? Hello? who… Left for the day? Well look, let me talk to his sec… what? You mean everybody's left for the day? Well who do you… you're the what…? No well why did you answer the, never mind… I said never mind! God damn cleaning woman picks up the phone so I pay for the call, way they do things down there Senator's out of town so his whole staff's pulled out by what time is it, car coming for me any minute look what did he say.