Oh no – I couldn’t do that. It would be too many for you the car too crowded
No it wouldn’t. Katie’s not coming. She goes with her friends by bus. The boys and you can go in the back seat.
Well, it would be very nice, but
— Look. Either come or don’t come but please for mercy’s sake don’t make me persuade you because I just may not do that little thing.
Oh come on. It’ll do you good.
Well, perhaps I will, then. It would be very nice
Good. We’ll pick you up about two.
Well, it’s very nice of you, Stacey.
— No, it damn well isn’t. You don’t know. Don’t kid yourself – I’ll regret it. You’ll fuss like fury every time a kid puts a foot in the water, and I’ll get silently to screaming pitch. Oh boy. I can hardly wait.
Stacey goes to the study door and knocks.
Mac?
Yeh?
Dinner’s ready. Your dad is here.
Okay.
— What’s he doing in there? Accounts? Sales reports? Mourning? I don’t care, whatever it is. Or I don’t want to care. All I want to do is get dinner over with. Why we have to change from Sunday lunch to Sunday dinner, every summer, I do not know. It’s supposed to be so we can go out for long relaxing drives in the day. Mac has been in that goddam study since eleven this morning, emerging only for a sandwich at one. Let the kids scream and roar. Let me go out of my mind, nearly. Fat lot he cares. Damn you, Mac, don’t you think I might ever like to get away by myself? But no. Oh Stacey – ease up, can’t you? Buckle was his best friend. Strange – I told the kids, and they said hardly anything and they haven’t mentioned it since. I don’t know how they feel, or if they know that Mac is feeling anything at all.
Mac unlocks the bolted door and comes out of the study. He brushes past Stacey without looking at her and goes upstairs to the bathroom. But his face has passed close to her, close enough for her to be able to see that he has been crying.
— Mac listen tell me
But it is not the time, and there are too many people around, so nothing can be said even if it could be said.
The following evening, Mac is home from work earlier than usual. Stacey pours him a drink, expecting him to go down to the TV room. She drinks her own while getting the dinner. Mac stands in the kitchen doorway, glass in hand, propping his height against the doorframe, and now Stacey notices for the first time that his brush-cut is growing out and the auburn of his hair looks almost like itself again. She does not know whether to mention it or not. If she says it is an improvement, he may take it as a criticism of his previous appearance. Alternatively, he may realize that if he intends to keep a brush-cut he ought to have it trimmed. She decides not to say anything.
— He’s got something to say to me. What’s the bad news now? Oh God, I didn’t mean that. The way his face looked yesterday
Stacey?
What?
Thor’s giving a party. At his place.
Oh God. When?
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow? My hair’s a mess. I went in the water with the kids today. And I can’t get it done.
Why not, for heaven’s sake? The hairdresser can’t be that booked up. If so, find another one.
It’s not that. It’s
— Doesn’t he ever get himself in these fixes? Is it only me? How can I explain? I still don’t know what to do about Tess. If she sees me going out, I could say I’m taking Jen downtown for clothes. Yeh, but then later she’ll notice I’ve had my hair done. Hell.
Mac is frowning.
Honestly, Stacey, why you have to make everything so complicated I just do not know.
It’s okay it’s okay I’ll get my hair done don’t worry. Do we really have to go?
Naturally we have to go. What do you think? What would Thor think if we didn’t?
Search me. What would he think?
He’d think – oh, for Christ’s sake, Stacey, why do we have to go on like this? You know damn well what he’d think.
— His voice. Tired. Beat. And I go on and on about nothing. I don’t want to go to Thor’s. I don’t want ever to see that character again.
I’m sorry.
And look – this time please don’t
I won’t I won’t. I won’t. I’ll drink tomato juice, like him.
Yeh, I can see it all now.
Ease up on me, Mac.
Me ease up on you? I was only
Okay. I know. Listen, could you call the kids for dinner?
In the morning, Stacey washes and sets her own hair. When it is dry, she brushes it out, sitting in front of the dressing-table mirror in the bedroom, with Jen on the floor going through the large morocco leather jewellery case which contains Stacey’s earrings. Stacey flings down the brush, grabs her comb, re-combs and back-combs, squirts hairspray thickly over the total effect, then angrily runs her hands through, tousling and dishevelling.
What a sight. Why wasn’t I born with beautiful fine red hair like you and Katie, flower? Thor will take one look at me and say Who let her out of the zoo? Well, I won’t go, that’s all. How can I? No – the heck with it – I will so go. I’ll say Oh Mr. Thorlakson how do you like my new wig? On sale at Woolworth’s. Yeh. Laugh now. What am I going to do?
Babble babble mutter
Look, sweetie – if you don’t want to talk, don’t talk. But just don’t give me that halfway stuff, eh?
— That’s marvelous. Blame it all on her. For a second, there, I really wanted to swat her.
It’s okay, honey. Everything’s okay. C’mon – I’ll have some coffee and you’ll have some juice and we’ll feel a lot better.
— Everything’s okay. Everything’s just dandy. Oh Luke. I want to go home, but I can’t, because this is home.
By that evening, Stacey has managed to tame and subdue the tangled jungle of her hair. Jen is in bed. Duncan, Ian and Katie are looking at TV. Stacey is wearing her black sheath dress, supposedly slenderizing. She tugs at the waist, trying to straighten the wrinkles in the material, but her hips are against her.
Do I look okay, Mac?
Mac is looking at his watch.
Fine fine you look fine. Aren’t you ready yet?
Coming coming. Right this minute.
— Still the same. Same drill, same marching tunes whistled by us both.
Thor has not risked his apartment. The party is being held on the roof of the building, an extensive patio-like square, which has been prudently fenced in with chicken wire to a height of some eight feet, for the area is habitually rented for tenants’ parties and the management does not wish to be sued by widows whose husbands have been accidentally splattered onto the far-down pavement below. The wire is threaded discreetly with green-leafed vines, placed with just enough gaps to provide one view of the city on each side. On top of the leaves, at regular intervals, small pink plastic flowers have been attached, as being more reliable than the live variety. Round white-painted tables with scrolled white-painted metal legs are sprinkled here and there, and potted rhododendrons still bear the brown corpses of this spring’s flowering. At one end is the bar, draped with a purple and gold RICHALIFE banner, and behind the arrayed bottles and siphons stands a worried-looking boy in a white drill jacket.
Most of the salesmen and their wives and the office staff are already here, in knots and clusters, drinking rye and proclaiming in voices which will carry as far as Thor their intentions of alternating each one with plain ginger ale.
Stacey grins and nudges Mac in order to overcome the ice which seems to have become lodged in her stomach.
So much for his tomato juice campaign, eh?
Sh. And for God’s sake don’t point it out. And don’t
Stacey’s upsurge of rage wipes out all memory of Mac’s pain over Buckle, all memory of his worry about Thor.
Okay. Fine. I get the message. I’ll be a campaigning teetotaller if you like. How be if I get an ax and break up the bar?
Christ
Christ why do you always if you’re going to start that, then we may as well turn around right now and go home
Sh, for heaven’s sake. I won’t. I promise. Don’t talk so loud.
Me talk loud? What about you?
Sh sh sh here comes the angelman
Thor approaches like a mobile tower. He is dressed in a suit of pale pigeon-grey, and his turquoise eyes gleam flatly, exuding cordiality but betraying nothing of himself. His silver hair is ruffled very slightly and attractively by the light night wind.
Stacey Mac well, hi there. Wonderful to see you. How have you been, Stacey?
Oh just fine thanks
No more stigmata ha-ha?
Oh yeh well ha-ha no
— Mean bugger.
Now – what’ll you have to drink, Stacey?
Mm – Coca-Cola please.
What? Hey, you don’t have to.
Mumble
Could it be that the Program is reducing your need for stimulants? How do you find you are, smoke-wise?
Madness seizes Stacey. Her smile glints up into his face.
Oh, I’m tons better. I hardly smoke anything at all now. And caffeine-wise I’m like a new woman. And golly, the kids have got so much energy now that I may have to put them back on to dreary old cod-liver oil, in sheer self-protection ha-ha.
She feels Mac’s fingers digging into her elbow. Thor turns the microscope of his eyes upon her.
Well well. You don’t say. Well, that’s great, isn’t it? Now, if you good people will excuse me, I see the Storeys have just come in.
He departs. Mac glowers.
You certainly overdid that bit.
Stacey shrugs. She is light-headed, euphoric, adrenalin-laden.
Not to worry. Nobody wins them all.
— I couldn’t care less. Less than absolute nothing do I care what Thor thinks of me. Am I deliberately trying to sabotage Mac’s job? There’s a thought. I don’t think so, but I might be. How can you tell? Oh Katie, imagine thinking that I always knew what to say. Well, the hell with it. I will not be intimidated by that white-haired boy, that hybrid offspring of a moronic lion and a lady wrestler. Thor – what a name, anyway. Even if you were christened that, imagine keeping it. If I knew any good hexes, I’d sure put one on him. I will carry off this evening with tremendous dignity and poise if it’s the last thing I ever do. I’d give my eyeteeth for just one large Scotch. But I won’t. Damned if I will.
Mac has drifted off to talk to Mickey Jameson. Stacey perceives that a small detachment of lone wives is making its frilly way towards her. She recognizes them but is totally unable to remember any of their names.
Hi there, Stacey.
Oh, hi. How are you? Nice to see you again.
Yeh. Say, this is some place, eh? I was just saying to Joanie, here, this really is a lovely spot for a party, isn’t it?
Yeh lovely
— Joanie Storey. Praise the Lord. Now get to work on detecting the others, oh female Saint.
The babble and babel of voices go on, rising to crescendo, to cacophony. Stacey shouts questions and answers. How many kids you got? What grades are they in? It’s been a pretty good summer so far, hasn’t it? Yeh, no rain to speak of.
The shore of the Sound. The huge water-whitened log, and herself perched on it. The black water lighted streakily by stars. Luke. The A-frame. What’s the bad news? What’s with you? I took off. Well, don’t worry. Sometimes people do. Then, later, after what he said about the kid in the Cariboo, the one whose mother took off. Stacey, you don’t need to be sorry. It hurts? Yes. Well, go ahead and bawl. No shame in that. You’re not alone.
— I am, though. I am now. Why did it have to happen like that? Why couldn’t it have been different – Luke older – me unattached? If only I could get out of here. If only I could get out. What if everybody is thinking that, in some deep half-buried cave of themselves? What an irony that would be. If that were so, you’d think we ought to be able to move mountains. But it doesn’t happen that way.
Stacey’s resolve breaks at eleven thirty and she goes to the bar for a double Scotch. She drinks half of it in a mouthful. Then she sees the diversion which is happening on the other side of the plateau, an entertainment for men. Somebody has produced a large number of beach balls, in as many colors as Richalife pills, scarlet jade azure apricot. The men are busily pelting one another. The laughter is hoarse, explosive.
Here y’are, Mick. Catch!
The ball flies strongly and catches Mickey Jameson on the shoulder and off guard, nearly knocking him over. The thrower roars gleefully.
Pow! Gotcha!
Stacey stares as the game gets rougher. A number of other women are also watching. Some of them are clapping and cheering. Some are standing in silence. Then Thor bounds like an outsize faun into the middle of the group. He, too, is laughing. He picks up a beach ball as though it were the world and hovers for a moment with it, searching.
Mac has not been participating. He is standing with a glass in his hands at the extreme edge of the group, looking on. Thor makes as though to throw the ball directly ahead, then abruptly swings around and sends it in the opposite direction. Mac sees it coming too late. It catches him squarely in the face. His neck jerks back, and Stacey’s guts turn over. A few men gasp and a few women shriek titteringly. Then the clapping and laughter go on as before. Mac’s head rights itself and Stacey can now see the dribble of blood from his nostrils. His fists clench and unclench and clench again. Stacey can see his jagged breathing. Then Thor’s voice.
Hey – sorry. You oughta been looking out, fella.
Mac’s voice is low but steady.
Yeh. I’ll know better next time.
You’re not hurt, are you?
No. It’s nothing.
The game breaks up and chatter fills the gaps. Somebody puts a record on, and dancing begins. Stacey sees Mac going through the door which leads to the lower regions. She follows him. He is wiping his face with his handkerchief. They go into the elevator without speaking. Then outside and into the car.
Do you want me to drive, Mac?
Yeh. I guess you better. Still a certain amount of stars inside my head.
Goddam him. Goddam him. Goddam him.
Mac’s voice is tight and controlled, grating.
Yeh. It would be nice to know why he’s got it in for me. One of life’s mysteries.
At home, Stacey makes coffee and takes it upstairs. Mac is already in bed, sitting up and smoking.
How is it now, Mac?
Oh, okay. It wasn’t anything much. It’s what’s behind it
I know.
He turns to her, propping himself on an elbow.
You know something, Stacey? I damn near hit him as hard as I could. For a second, there, it was almost like an automatic reflex. I didn’t care about anything. I couldn’t even look ahead as far as any consequences. I thought afterwards – I wonder if a lot of murders are done that way? Not that I would’ve been able to do him that much damage – but you know what I mean?
Yes. I know. What stopped you?
Mac shrugs and lights another cigarette from the end of the first.
I don’t know, really. You, I guess.
Me? How come?
Well – the kids and you, and me with no job at my age
Mac, you’re forty-three. You talk as though you were a hundred. Has it bugged you so much? The possibility of being without a job? You’re a damn good salesman. They’re in demand.
Yeh, I know all that. It’s a hangover from the past, I guess. Also, it isn’t so easy to re-establish yourself. I’ve done better, at least financially, in this job than I ever have. Not that that’s saying much.
Stacey is shocked by the bitterness in his voice.
What do you mean? You’ve done all right, Mac.
I would’ve liked to do better. You know – something that meant something. I won’t, now. I guess that’s why I had to convince myself that Richalife was pretty terrific.
Stacey?
??s hands are shaking. She sets the coffee cup down on the bedside table.
— Now is a fine time to tell me. Why didn’t he tell me before? Okay, I know why.
Mac – why didn’t you say all this before? What do you really think?
About the firm? I think it’s a load of crap. I don’t suppose the bloody pills actually do anybody any harm, though. But probably I’d sell them even if they did.
Stop it. You’ve got to. You mustn’t be that tough on yourself. Look what all you’ve done.
Yeh, just look
But why didn’t you ever say? Why didn’t you level with me?
What good would that have done?
It would’ve it would’ve
Mac’s voice is abrasive, bound with ropes of an effort not to let go, an effort which almost doesn’t work.
No, it wouldn’t. It’s my problem. Can’t you see? It’s got to be.
— I see. Maybe I do begin to see. If he doesn’t deal with everything alone, no help, then he thinks he’s a total washout. Thanks, Matthew – you passed that one on all right, but at least you had your Heavenly Father to strengthen your right arm or resolve, to put the steel reinforcing in your spine. Mac’s got only himself. And if he doesn’t speak of it to some extent, one of these days he’ll crack up.
Okay, I guess it has to be that way, Mac. If you insist. It would’ve helped me, though. It would’ve made me feel you needed me, even just to talk to.
You mean you ever doubted that, Stacey?
Yeh. I doubted it all right.
Oh Christ. How could you?
I don’t know. But I did.
Mac turns away from her, as though at the moment of turning closer or being forced there by innumerable and to her unknown memories, he still must keep private his face, his eyes.
How could I tell you it scared the hell out of me when Thor needled me? He’s been doing it in various ways a lot of the time. That would’ve made me look pretty useless, wouldn’t it, to be bugged that much by a thing like that?
Not to me. Only to yourself. And that’s crazy, Mac. You’re not made of granite. Nobody is.
Why do you think I’ve worked like the devil? Just so he couldn’t point to anything which would give him a real excuse to get rid of me. What else did you expect me to do? Christ, Stacey, the mortgage company isn’t going to wait for the payments, is it? And Katie’ll be ready for university in another three years.