Dan laughed. Yet there was something rueful in his laughter because, although his lips were curved upward, his eyes were troubled. But he caught her arm, pulled her down to him, and kissed her.
“Don’t be annoyed with me. Enough talking. Come to bed.”
Dan lies awake. Sleep, immediate and profound, usually follows after love, but tonight his mind is wide-awake, troubled by the abrupt decisions he has just made. For some reason that he does not fully understand, he cannot tell Hennie the whole truth.
Last night also he lay awake, waiting for the sound of footsteps on the stairs. He heard the tall clock on the landing strike the half hour, the hour, and another half hour. Hennie, already asleep, apparently assumed that Leah and Freddy were in their rooms, so he let her sleep and bore the burden of his thoughts alone. Just as well.
An hour and a half to watch the starlight on the pond? No doubt of it, the girl was the aggressor. This was by no means the first time he had seen it. A passionate young thing; her flesh was fragrant, hard in the right places, soft in the right places; her throaty voice had a lilt; she wouldn’t need to be courted or coaxed!
On the other hand, though, maybe she would; she was a smart young thing, too, and she’d want a safe marriage, with a ring on her finger, preferably a flawless diamond. She’d find her way in the world, that much was certain; she was bold and strong. Not like Hennie.
Little bitch! Suppose she were to get pregnant?
His thoughts go in circles. There is, and has for a long time, been a gap between himself and his son. He has vague, hidden fears, of which he is terribly ashamed, so ashamed that he can’t even face himself with them, let alone Hennie: the fear that his son is not—quite a man. There are words for this concept, but he can’t frame it even in the silence of his own mind.
Again his thoughts skim around in circles. If that is so, ought he not to welcome the girl and be thankful that the boy should show signs of desire?
No. They are far too young. And she is a little bitch. He ought never to have given in to Hennie.…
So, he has made the right decision. Best to send Freddy away to Yale, and let him go abroad with Paul next summer. Paul will do him good. Maybe he’ll make a man of him. Never mind what Hennie calls sybaritic! Paul has his feet on the ground.…
At the far end of the hall, the “passionate young thing” lies smiling up at the ceiling. The satin quilt is glassy smooth under her chin. She puts a hand out to smooth it. Nice. Nice things in this house. Not a very smart house, not like some that she sees in the magazines, but very comfortable. Everything in it is good. Someday she will have a house like this, only better, certainly in better taste. Vividly she recalls the tenement and shudders. Never again! Never! Of that she is sure.
She sniffs her arm, which smells of the perfumed soap in the guest bathroom. She loves the feel of her skin; it is as smooth as the satin cover. She has a good complexion, dark, with a flush of rose under the surface.
She has beautiful breasts, too, round like the ones on statues in the museums, not pear-shaped like so many girls’, the kind that will soon droop. She fondles her breasts; it is a wonderful feeling and makes her think of things you’re not supposed to think about.
Who says you’re not supposed to? Well, everyone. But she thinks about them, and dreams of them often; always there is a thin blond man in the dream, who could or could not be Freddy. She likes thin blond men, romantic, elegant, and refined. Like Freddy. He is so terribly shy, though. Last night at the pond, she made him kiss her; it wasn’t a very satisfying kiss, but he’ll learn. There was a time when he refused to kiss her at all!
That girl, Mimi, in the other bed, turns in her sleep. It’s doubtful that such a proper lady has Leah’s dreams; probably she dreams about tennis or the horse she keeps stabled in the city near the park! Leah laughs.
Sleepy at last, she falls back into her dreams.
So many half dreams in the house!
The child Meg dreads the return to school and the mean girls who lead the class. She’s an outsider. It’s only here on the farm that she feels safe.
Alfie and Emily curl together in comfortable habit, with their own contentment. They have the ability to pretend that nasty things never really happened, or don’t matter.
Freddy, so tired from the day’s exertions, drifts too slowly into sleep. They don’t ever let you sit still at Alfie’s house. Leah, gay Leah, never lets him sit still. She disturbs him. In one way he wants to kiss her, while in another he’s not sure, he’s a little afraid.
Paul falls asleep with contented recollections of the day, thoughts of work and of his charming Mimi; his life is arranging itself and he can sleep well.
Unbeknownst to Dan, Hennie is also troubled. She wishes for a woman to confide in, and thinks of Florence, who always knew how to solve things, and would be kind.… She worries about Freddy; she worries because for some reason, Dan still won’t accept Leah as a daughter. Maybe he himself doesn’t even know why. Vaguely, she worries about herself and Dan, then scolds herself for doing so. She knows one thing, though: that it’s good to be past first youth with all its pains, good to have survived them and to be here with Dan, in spite of all.
So will today’s young survive, too, she finally reassures herself, growing drowsy at last.
The planet spins through the silent sky, while on its surface the night-wind rises, soughing through the trees. A cow lows again in the barn. Small wild scurrying creatures squeak in the wood lot.
Under the roof, each sleeper escapes from himself and the others. Yet it is only for the space of the night. For, separate and disparate as they are, they are yet bound. Blood and love and memory, sometimes even hatred, have bound them. They are tied in a hundred secret ways, and will be.
The old house settles and creaks.
10
The sinking sun hung like a red balloon over the Hudson River and the wintry Palisades. From the fourth-floor window Dan looked down onto Riverside Drive, where cars and buses and windblown walkers hurried. He looked without seeing; his thoughts were elsewhere.
“What are you dreaming about? You’ve been standing there for five minutes.”
On the rumpled bed the girl sat pulling on her stockings. She yawned and complained in her whispery little voice, “Oh, I could fall back and not wake up till tomorrow morning!”
“Why don’t you? There’s no reason why you shouldn’t.”
“Because I want to ride downtown on the bus with you. That’s a whole extra hour to be together.”
“It’s miserably cold. Besides, you’ll have to ride back again alone,” he objected, not feeling any need for an extra hour.
“You talk as if you didn’t want me!”
“I only meant—”
“Darling, never mind what you meant. I’m coming. Just let me fix my hair.”
He glanced at the bedside clock. “Please hurry. I’ve got to go.”
“Don’t I know you’re due home on the dot for dinner? I’ll just be a second.”
The comb snapped electricity through her blue-black hair. It was the hair that had lured him in the first place, he reflected now. Seldom did one see hair so black; against the whiteness of skin and the whiteness of the school nurse’s uniform the effect had been perfectly brilliant.
She was not beautiful; he had never for a moment thought she was; yet she had caught him and held him all this past year. Each time he’d been with her he’d been sorry afterward, counting the cost of the lies and subterfuges that were an unavoidable part of these Saturday afternoons, and hating the guilt that fevered him when he walked back into his house. Each time he’d told himself that today had been the last. Each time, by the middle of the week, he’d begun to think about Saturday and whether she’d make him wait or be ready in the bed. And each time, leaving her, he’d been ashamed of himself for being unable to keep away.
“There!” she said, giving him her bright, expectant smile, wanting praise. “How do I look?”
“
Pretty. That’s a nice hat.”
She had wound a flamboyant purple turban around her head; it made her look foreign, with those wide cheekbones and dark eye-sockets. She looked mysterious, secretive and tense. Odd, he thought as he followed her downstairs, for she was none of those things. She was lazy, candid, and frankly demanding; she wanted him permanently for her own, even though he had told her a hundred times that that was impossible.
They crossed the Drive to wait in the gusting wind for the bus. When it came, it was almost empty, the flow of traffic being uptown this late in the day. They had the backseat to themselves.
Bernice gasped. “That wind freezes your bones! Let me warm myself, will you?”
She raised his arm to settle around her shoulders, laid her head on his chest, and curved herself into him as if they were in bed. She had no self-consciousness at all, while he, on the other hand, was humiliated by public display. This time, though, there was no one behind them to see the display, so it didn’t matter, and he relaxed.
He breathed in her perfume, an Oriental scent, Persian or Indian; it made him think of dancing ankles with bells attached, and of nakedness under veils; no doubt it was intended to. No dooryard daisies for Bernice! All was calculated for arousal. He had to smile at the wiles, so vulgar—and so effective!
“Why are you smiling?” she asked.
“How do you know I am?”
“I can see up out of the corner of my eye. Why are you?”
“I don’t know,” he lied. “Just feeling good, I guess.”
“I’m glad I make you feel good. I do, don’t I?”
“You do.”
The bus had jolted and lurched across 110th Street and begun its way downtown along Fifth Avenue. Homes of the middle class were replaced by the limestone residences of the rich.
Bernice raised her head. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”
“What are?”
“Those houses, silly. On my way back it will be dark, and sometimes I can see a little bit through the curtains. Just enough to give an idea of it. Crystal chandeliers, mostly. Must be wonderful, don’t you think?”
“Doesn’t tempt me. Quite the opposite.”
The bus slowed down, nearing a corner, to pick up a passenger.
“You’re such a funny duck, Dan! You don’t want anything, do you? Except me.”
She reached up and kissed his mouth. Her lips pulled softly and slowly.
Alarmed, he tried to draw away. “Bernice! Not here!”
“Why? You don’t know any of these people from Adam.”
“It isn’t—” He stopped.
The passenger who had just climbed in, who was staring at them in total, absolute astonishment, was Leah.
A chill and a sweat came over him. And with a queer, reflexive movement, he jumped up. He stammered.
“Why, Leah! Here, sit down, let me help—”
The girl was carrying two large dress-boxes. “Thank you, I’ll stay in front. I’m only riding six blocks.”
She sat with her back to Dan. Her calm, straight back. While his heart pounded. His face must be fire-red. Caught out. With a couple of million people running around in this enormous city. How was it possible?
“Who’s that? You look just awful!” At least Bernice had the good sense to whisper.
He frowned furiously. “Not now.”
At 87th Street, without a word, Leah got out. He watched her cross the avenue, walking with head up, as if she meant business. A girl, hardly out of childhood. She could destroy him. She had the power.
“Who on earth was that?” Bernice pressed him.
“My daughter. Step-daughter. Adopted daughter. Oh, for God’s sake, I don’t know what she is! Leah.”
“What rotten luck! No wonder you acted so funny! Poor Danny. What’s she doing in this part of town?”
“She works after school in a dress shop. Sometimes she has to deliver a last-minute alteration.”
“You’re afraid she’s going to tell?”
“Of course I’m afraid! What do you think? Oh, Christ!”
He bit his lip. He stared out at the dusk and the streetlights, which were just coming on. How to explain this away? The woman lying all over him, her mouth lingering. He was supposed to have been at an electronics exhibit this afternoon too. Ninety-nine chances out of a hundred, Leah would run to Hennie with the story the minute they were alone. She loved Hennie. Hennie was her mother. Oh, Christ!
“I’m sorry, Danny. I really am.”
No, you’re not, he thought. You’d like nothing better than to have my marriage blow up. You think I’d marry you. I wouldn’t. And you’ve no right to feel sorry about that, either, because I told you from the start, I was honest with you. I don’t suppose you believed me, though. Women always hope.
“I wish I could help you, Danny.”
She sounded so piteous that he had to look at her. She was a good soul after all, a very ordinary soul who happened to own an extraordinary body that was bound to get her into trouble. An accident of fate.
What had just happened now to him, that, too, was an accident of fate!
“I don’t want to talk. I have to think, Bernice,” he said gently.
“All right. You know what? I’ll leave you here and take the bus home, so you can think by yourself.” She stood and rang the bell for exit. “Danny … I’m sure you’ll work it out. Just let me know, will you?”
“Yes, yes I will. Thanks.”
He sat and pondered and shook internally all the way to his stop. Yet, what was there to ponder? It all depended upon Leah. One chance in a thousand.
At the supper table he pushed food around his plate. It gagged him. He had to be careful not to let his eyes meet Leah’s. He felt hatred for her. He felt like an interloper at the table, an embezzler whose books were to be examined in the morning. He had lost his dignity, his dual dignity as the head of the house and the respected teacher at the school. Would she, could she, possibly spread the tale all around the school too? Yes, of course she could, and what an entertaining tale it would be!
At the same time he knew that all these thoughts were quite unreasonable; what he was feeling was simply the kind of hatred that comes with owing money to someone and being unable to pay him. What he was feeling was fear, and shame.
His mouth was dry, so that he kept sipping water. No one noticed. They were all talking. He heard fragments: school gossip, neighborhood gossip. The boy downstairs had found Freddy’s lost ice skates. The woman upstairs had appendicitis. Then he heard his own name.
Hennie asked, “Was there anything special at the exhibit today, Dan?”
He couldn’t look over at her. “No, it wasn’t much.”
“Really? That’s too bad. I remember, last time you said it was marvelous. So many new things.”
“It wasn’t much,” he repeated.
Now his eyes slid toward Leah; he wasn’t able to control them. She had a forkful of string beans to manage. She didn’t want to see him. And he took another sip of water.
As soon as the dishes had been cleared away, Hennie said she had an errand, a box of old clothes to be taken to the settlement house. For a moment Dan hesitated. Usually he went with her on such errands to carry the heavy box. But to be alone with her right now …
“I’ll go with you. I have to go to the library before it closes,” Freddy said, and asked Dan, “You don’t mind?”
“No, go ahead. I’ll read the paper.”
So he would be here with Leah. Better so. Get it over with. Know where he stood. As if he didn’t know already.
As soon as they had left he went to the window and pulled the curtain aside. They crossed the street under the lamplight. His wife. His son. He watched until they were out of sight and stayed there, seeing nothing now except whirling lights and darkness, while in his head another whirling almost cost him his balance.
Go. Get it over with.
He knocked on Leah’s door.
“Yes?” she said coldly. br />
“Leah … may I talk to you?”
“I’m doing my homework.”
“It won’t take long. Please open the door.”
She opened it. Her slow gaze went from his face to his feet and back to his burning face. He felt stripped. Sixteen years old, and she was commanding his future, enjoying her command.
“About today,” he began. “You’re very young, and—”
“Too young to understand, you think?”
“No, I— Well, yes, in a way. It’s a question of experience, life experience, you see, and—what I mean to say is, things aren’t always what they seem, and this thing today was—”
The girl’s round eyes were black as bullets and as fierce. “You’re wasting your energy. You know that I know what this ‘thing’ was. Anybody would.”
“Wait. If you’d just let me explain—” And he was struck still by the recollection of what Leah had seen: the purple turban, the lavish body in the tight jacket, the long kiss. What was there to explain?
He said abruptly, desperately, “I love Hennie. Surely you’ve seen that? This had nothing to do with her. Nothing.”
“I love her too,” Leah said with scorn.
“I understand that your loyalty is to her, and that’s only right.”
“But you’re afraid I’ll tell her.”
He didn’t answer. Even his legs cringed weakly.
“If I didn’t love her so much, I would. It’s because I love her that I won’t hurt her. Not now. Not ever. So you needn’t worry.”
“Can I depend on that, Leah?” he begged.
“If I say I won’t tell, I won’t.”
Still he doubted. “Is that truly a promise?”
“I told you, you needn’t worry. I don’t lie.”
He could have wept with gratitude. “You’re a very good person, Leah. I’ll never forget.… It’s only right for you to know that that woman today was … These things are sometimes a sort of accident, nothing that lasts. Not love.”
“Then that makes it really disgusting.”
Still they stood at the threshold of her room. The word disgusting had snapped through the air between them; now it lingered for a moment or two in his ears. At her age she would naturally see it that way; youth makes very harsh judgment.