Evergreen

  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 decision. 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 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 facelift.”

  “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 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 down hill 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 hav
en’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 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.”

  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.”

  “I know you didn’t. I came to find out how you are today.”

  “The same as I was the last time you saw me.”

  The girl’s voice was hollow. Strange to be still thinking of her as a girl, and she a woman of thirty-six. But there was a girlishness about the slender neck, the grieving eyes.

  “I hear that Theo’s home.”

  “He came back yesterday.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. He should never have married me, that’s all.”

  “That was and is for him to judge, isn’t it?” (I went about it all wrong the other day; I shall take desperate measures and win or lose.) “And suppose it were so, suppose I say, it’s a little late to be thinking of that now, isn’t it? A house filled with children and you talk like this? It’s nuts, that’s what it is!” Anna’s voice rose and, remembering Nellie downstairs, she lowered it, although not the passion and intensity which mounted and filled her. “Look out there at that sky, at that world with all the sparkle! It’s gorgeous, and you sit closed in here, mourning because it’s not exactly what you wanted! Do you think even lucky people ever get all of what they want? Who are you that you shouldn’t have a burden of some sort to carry, even one of your own making? So many of our burdens are of our own making, anyway.” She stopped, thinking: Retribution? Punishment? Punishment for me, through Iris, as I once thought it might have been through Maury? Absurd. A superstitious concept. Joseph would say it wasn’t. Yes, he would say, everything has to be paid for before were through.

  “You know I was happy,” Iris said softly. “There wasn’t a woman anywhere in the world, I swear it, who was happier than I was.”

  It was true, it was true. Damn Theo again! The girl was dying inside because of him. Her pain could be as clearly seen as a burn on the flesh.

  This thing between a man and woman—Now, in the presence of her daughter, the ache of youth came alive again.

  “How long can you go on like this?” she asked abruptly.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”

  “Have you talked to Theo since he got back?”

  “No. He’s miserable too. The holiday didn’t do him any good either.” Iris laughed curtly.

  “Can’t you feel sorry for him, then? Can you have so much feeling for the poor and oppressed of the world, and so little for him?”

  Iris gasped. “You’re taking Theo’s part?”

  “I’m not ‘taking part’ at all.” What were Theo’s words? ‘A little bit crazy,’ he had said. Anna went on, “It seems you’ve both gone a little bit crazy. Not that Theo didn’t have reason enough. And maybe you did, too. I can’t get inside your soul. All I’m saying is, we mustn’t be beaten by the pressures of life. The pressures of life,” she repeated and, caught in a whirl of thoughts, heard her voice die off in a minor key.

  After a moment she went on thoughtfully, “Iris, people don’t like martyrs. You must learn to act, if you’re to save anything, including yourself. When you don’t feel joyous, pretend that you do. After a while you may actually start to feel that way.”

  “That advice from you? A cheap subterfuge? Is that what you’ve been doing all these years? Pretending?”

  “What do you mean?” Anna stared at her daughter.

  Iris flinched from the stare. “I don’t know, if you don’t.”

  But, Anna thought, I do know what she means. She has always had strange feelings about Paul, ever since he sent that picture years ago, perhaps even before that when Joseph and I had arguments about the Werners. No matter. I can’t help what she may have thought about me, and she has enough troubles of her own just now.

  Suddenly everything came together: panic, pity, impending doom, impatience and anger at having this mess dumped in her lap. Everything, but chiefly panic.

  “Listen to me! Come out of your cocoon and look at the real world out there! What if you were to lose him? You, who told me two days ago that you couldn’t face the thought of living without Theo! You think, if he should finally get sick of all this and walk out, that there’s going to be a line of men waiting to take you and your three children? Do you? Yes,” Anna said cruelly, hacking a
t herself as well as at Iris, “and what if he were to die? What if he were to leave one morning as usual, and a little while later some stranger rings the doorbell, the way they came to tell us about Maury, and you learn that Theo is dead? What then? Tell me!” Her breath came fast and she couldn’t stop the ugly words, although she saw that Iris was horrified. “Yes, in three seconds it would be all over. For good. And you left here alone in this house with your silent dignity, your wounds, your pride and your children who have lost their father. Well, it could happen!” Iris had put her hands over her face. “And don’t come to me, if it should! Don’t come to me for sympathy! Because I’ve had enough trouble to last me a lifetime and I’m not about to take on any more.”

  The rotten thing was that she was taking pleasure in what she was saying, taking pleasure in hurting Iris! (You have no guts, Iris, that’s what’s the matter.) And at the same time she was so afraid. My God, if anything were to happen to you! Iris, my girl, my girl, why do things have to be so hard for you? You don’t deserve it.

  “I don’t care if you hate me. I’m saying what’s right for you to hear. I don’t care if you never speak to me again. Well, of course, I do,” Anna said. She was losing her breath and weakening; she gripped the frame of the door. “But if you choose not to speak to me I can’t help it. Now, listen to me, go out and get your hair done! And throw away that gray—that dustrag you’ve got on. I don’t want to see rags like that on you ever again. Put a smile on your face when Theo gets home. Put one on, damn it, if you have to paste it on! Now call a taxi for me. I want to go home.”

  Iris looked up. “That’s a good idea. I was just going to ask you to leave my house.”

  “Well, I beat you to it.”

  For the first time in her life Anna went to bed early without being ill with a fever. But she had never been so exhausted. It had been like pushing an enormous round load up a hill; it kept slipping back and you had to push harder to regain what you had lost.