“First it was just you, and then you managed to steal Peter away from me. You trapped him between your legs.” She thrust a forefinger in Linda’s face, shook it vigorously at her. The nail had been chewed ragged halfway to the cuticle. “And now the two of you are conspiring against me. But what you don’t realize is that I’m on to you. I know!”
Out of the corner of her eye Linda saw Olive McIntyre halfway down the aisle, a questioning look on her face. But no, she thought, I ought to be able to handle this myself.
“There’s nothing to know, Gretchen,” she said reasonably. “There’s nothing between Peter and me. I don’t think I’ve spoken two words to him in the past week. We’re friends but it’s never been more than that.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“It happens to be the truth.”
A peal of harsh laughter, rising hysterically at the end.
“Gretchen—”
“Pretending to be working at the theater. But I know he’s with you instead. Do you know something?” She leaned forward, clutching her hands together, making nervous washing movements with them. “I could live with that. But not what you’re trying to do next.”
“What are we trying to do, Gretchen?”
“As if you didn’t know!”
“Tell me.”
Her voice dropped to a conversational tone. “You’re trying to take Robin away from me,” she said. “You see, I do know, don’t I?”
“What makes you think—”
“Peter can’t take her from me. He’s not her father. He may try to poison her mind but I won’t let him. Do you know what Robin means to me?”
Very little, as far as Linda had ever been able to determine. But she said, “No one will ever take Robin away from you, Gretchen.”
“They can’t!”
“Of course not. Now—”
“Because I’m going to tell you something that very few people know. Robin did not have a father.”
“I see.”
“I was never with a man for the entire year before Robin’s birth. I purified myself. I thought temptation for an entire year. And then Robin was born.”
“I see,” she said again. The shop was virtually empty now, the performance evidently too embarrassing even for those who had been delighted spectators at the onset. Olive stood with her hands planted on her solid hips, rolling her eyes expressively heavenward.
Gretchen said, “I suppose you know what that means.”
That there was a bright star over Bethlehem, Linda thought. Or, at the very least, Allentown. But she said, “I’m not sure I understand, Gretchen.”
“Oh, you think you’re so fucking smart.”
“I—”
“You think I’m crazy.”
“No, I don’t.”
“That’s part of the plan, isn’t it? You had to try something when the poison didn’t work. Oh, it would work if I took it. But I know better than to eat anything Peter cooks for me. I’m not a fool. So the next step is to get me locked up in an insane asylum where they can burn out my brain with laser beams.” She put a hand palm down on the counter, sighed. “I don’t blame you for this. It’s Peter’s doing, isn’t it? He’s managed to convince you I’m crazy.”
“Peter loves you, Gretchen.”
She didn’t seem to hear the words. “What I told you before. About Robin?”
“Yes.”
“Of course you remember what I told you.”
“Yes.”
“I know what you thought. That I meant that my daughter was fathered by the Lord God. Right? Right?”
“Well—”
“Do you really think I’m crazy enough to believe such a load of shit? Oh, Peter has poisoned your mind me, hasn’t he? Let me explain. It’s very important you get this straight once and for all. Robin is not the Christ child. And I am not the Virgin Mary.”
“I see.”
“There was a time when I wondered. After all, no man fathered Robin, so what was I to think? But then I worked things out in my mind. You know why the Lord God is not Robin’s father?”
“Why?”
“Because Robin is a girl. And the Lord God don’t want no daughters. You didn’t know that, did you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Not many people do. The Lord God wants a son in His own image, right? The Lord God’s a man, right? The Lord God’s got a cock, right? Well, figure it out.”
“I see.”
“Oh, you’re bright, aren’t you? I can tell that. I don’t have to draw pictures, do I? You know something? You and I are a lot alike. I think we’re going to be very good friends.”
“I’d like to be your friend, Gretchen.”
“And when I die, that will give you a chance to be with Peter.” A bark of laughter. “He didn’t used to have a cock, either, you know. But I got one for him at the hardware store and screwed it onto him. Please don’t take it away from him, Linda. He needs it.”
She never knew how long the conversation might have continued, or what turn it would have taken next, because at that point Olive put an arm around Gretchen’s shoulders and steered her toward the door.
“You have to get home now, Gretchen,” Olive was saying. She went on talking as she led her first from the shop itself and down the hall to the mall entrance. The voice she used was the sort men use when gentling horses.
Linda was fumbling for a cigarette when Olive returned. “I hope I didn’t interrupt something you were enjoying,” the older woman said. “I thought it would be better to send her on her way while she was calm and friendly, and I didn’t suppose she’d stay that way too long.”
“Olive, look at me. I’m shaking.”
“Clem keeps a bottle in back. You’re going to have a little glass of whiskey.”
“I don’t need it.”
“Don’t argue. No one ever got anywhere arguing with an arrogant old woman and you won’t be the first.”
The drink did seem to steady her. She drained the glass, stubbed out her cigarette. “I’ve never seen her like that before,” she said.
“Well, I’ve seen that particular bit of bad news in some pretty strange situations, but I’ll have to go along with you. I think that’s about as far around the bend as she’s ever been.”
“Do you think she’s dangerous?”
“I think she’s been dangerous from the day she was born. The first time I set eyes on her I knew I was looking at an accident looking for a place to happen; and she’s been happening all over the place ever since. God knows she picked the right place for it. She can live here and nobody thinks anything of it. Anywhere else in the world they’d have the presence of mind to lock her up.”
“But do you think she could be violent?”
“Now that’s harder to say. I would think that anybody who’s that far out in left field might turn violent for lack of knowing what was going on. I certainly wouldn’t be inclined to sell her a gun. Are you thinking she might come after you?”
“I was afraid of that while she was in here. I didn’t know what she would do next. I kept my hand near the ashtray so I could hit her with it if I had to.”
“Well, I had my hand wrapped around one of those alabaster owls, ready to pitch it at her if push came to shove. Which I’m glad they didn’t, as I’d have likely brained you instead of her. I used to have a good throwing arm but you lose your touch over the years. I don’t suppose she’s too likely to do anything violent. Her little performance tonight sounded like a pretty clear example of paranoia, but she didn’t have one particular fantasy to stay with. She kept shifting around. Still, I’d give her a wide berth. Goes without saying, doesn’t it?”
“I just hope she’s not dangerous to Robin.”
“Dangerous or not, she’s plainly unfit to care for her. If they don’t lock Gretchen up they should at least take the child away from her. And God pity Peter Nicholas if she decides to take back the penis she thinks she gave him.”
“
Oh, God!”
“You’d think a man would get involved with her and then turn queer afterward instead of the other way around. But he went and leaped out of the fire and into the frying pan. There’s no place on earth like New Hope for being a ragbag of cripples. Well, here’s a piece of advice for you. From now on draw the shades and lock the door before you hop into bed with Peter.”
“What do you—”
“Now don’t tell me that lunatic had a kernel of truth to work on. I thought Mr. Wealthy Writer was taking up the bulk of your time. You don’t mean to say you’ve got time left over to rob Gretchen Vann’s cradle, do you?”
She fought a blush. “No, of course not. Peter and I are friends. We became very close because he needs someone to talk to.”
“I suppose that’s as good a way as any for it to start.”
“Oh, stop, Olive. I could never feel that way about Peter. Or vice versa. And lately I’ve hardly even seen him at all.”
Olive rubbed the point of her chin. “Now if I were guessing—”
“There’s nothing to guess.”
“—I would have to guess that you’ve already been to bed with him. But you haven’t.”
“No.”
“And, since I know for a fact that you’re clearly incapable of falsehood, that’s the end of the matter. But there’s one thing I’ll tell you. The older I get, the more certain I become that there’s only one thing that’s sufficient cause to keep a person going. And that’s the pleasure of laughing your head off from time to time, and the only thing worth laughing at is the goddamned incredible things people find to do with their lives. The average human being is miles funnier than all the monkeys in the circus.”
“But sometimes you can’t laugh.”
“The older you get, the more you have to.”
After the show that night Peter stopped at the Raparound for a Coke. The girl who brought it seemed on the point of saying something but walked away without speaking. He looked after her, wondering. Probably stoned, he decided. Which struck him as not a bad idea at all. Head back home, blow a couple of jays, and slide inside of his skull to find out what was happening.
He hadn’t smoked in weeks, not since the day after That Night. The night with Linda. And smoking had turned out to be a bad idea then, taking him places he did not want to go.
Had the night with Linda been a bad idea, too? He didn’t know. There had been such magic that night. He could close his eyes now and bring every bit of it back, every inane word either of them had spoken, every bit of shading and nuance. It had been the best thing that had ever happened to him and he hoped the memory of it would stay as vivid for the rest of his life.
He made circles on the table top with his glass, a row of overlapping circles like penmanship exercises. A perfect night, and he treasured it, but since then his relationship with Linda had changed. As of course it had to change.
They were wary of each other now. They talked warmly when they met each other in the hallways or on the street. Now and then she watched Robin for him. On slow afternoons he might drop in on her at the Lemon Tree. But they held back, and if they did not consciously avoid each other, still their long conversations were less frequent, and not as long as they had been.
Neither had spoken of That Night. But it was there, it existed, it had happened, and now it constituted a barrier between them. He sensed she regretted their love-making, and the thought saddened him. It—
“Peter? Got a minute?”
It was Anne. “Oh, hi,” he said, and she dropped into the chair across from him. There was a film of perspiration on her forehead and her waitress uniform was visibly damp under the arms.
She said, “God, what a night.”
“Rough, huh?”
“Danny’s lucky I’ve got tomorrow off, because otherwise I’d quit. How are things with you, Peter?”
“Oh, no complaints.”
She picked up his glass, sipped some of his Coke. “I guess I’d better tell you, then. Gretchen had a couple of bad hours tonight. No, everything’s all right now; home, Robin’s all right, everything’s all right.”
“What happened?”
“I got all this second hand. Or maybe tenth hand.”
“Meaning everybody’s talking about it.” So his waitress hadn’t been stoned, just off-balance. Though of course she might have been stoned too. “Shit,” he said. “Fuck all of this, anyway.” Tourists at the next table turned at his words, and he glared viciously at them until they looked away, embarrassed.
“Fucking busybodies,” he said softly.
Anne didn’t say anything.
“I guess you’d better tell me.”
He propped his head on one hand and listened while she gave him a sketchy but reasonably accurate account of Gretchen’s behavior. She had paced back and forth on Main Street for awhile, talking to herself, obviously disoriented. Then she went to the Lemon Tree and confronted Linda. After Olive McIntyre got her back on the street again, she began accosting passersby and demanding that they help her find her son. Someone finally called one of the local cops, who couldn’t make up his mind whether to take her into custody or leave her alone. While he was still thinking about it, the woman at the candle shop took Gretchen inside, gave her a glass of water, and calmed her down.
“And then she snapped out of it,” Anne said. “She just got herself together and said that she had to get home and take care of Robin. She evidently was completely rational again.”
“They let her go home?”
“A couple of people walked her back to the place. They made sure that the kid was all right and that Gretchen had really settled down.”
“And they left her there?”
“Somebody’s staying with her until you get back. I don’t know who.”
“Whoever it is can stay there forever. I just want to get on a plane and get the hell away from all of this. I wish those clowns would stare at me again. It would be such a pleasure to hit somebody.”
“You okay, Peter?”
“Oh, sure,” he said. He got to his feet, put money on the table, pushed his unfinished Coke over to Anne. “Sure I’m a fucking tower of strength,” he said.
The woman who was keeping Gretchen company was stocky and fiftyish, with something of the look of a jail matron about her. At least they’d had the sense to post someone there who could handle her physically. Not that Gretchen looked hard to handle now. She was sitting on their bed, legs crossed, shoulders slumped, her arms folded over her breasts. She did not look up when Peter entered.
The other woman started to explain the situation, but Peter cut her off, saying he had heard all about it. He was being curt and knew it but didn’t much care. He just wanted the woman to go away.
“Well then. Mrs. Vann is fine now.”
“Is she.”
“She’s been resting, and—”
“And she’s fine. She’s getting ready to be the poster girl for the National Institute for Mental Health.”
“I guess I’ll be going, then.”
Then go, he wanted to scream. But he made himself mumble something vaguely thankful. She left and he closed the door after her.
“They tell you what happened, Petey?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m rational now. I didn’t need that old battle-ax standing guard over me, but the only way to get rid of her would have been to talk to her, and I couldn’t hack it. So I sat here while she put Robin to bed and then she sat over there and I sat here and I pretended I was alone. She talked, but I didn’t listen.”
She had her chin on her chest now. She had not met his eyes since he walked in. Her pose reminded him of photographs of Hindu mystics, and her bony gauntness was consistent with the image.
“I don’t know what happened. It’s all very vague in my mind. I’m completely rational now. I just came out of it all at once and I was standing in the candle shop drinking a glass of water. It was like waking up from a dream, but instead of being in b
ed I was in the candle shop.”
“Do you remember what happened?”
“The way you remember a dream. I threw a big with your girl. I remember that much.”
“She’s not my girl, Gretchen. But you go ahead and believe whatever you want.”
“No, I’ll believe whatever you tell me. It’s easier that way. Petey, I am a jigsaw puzzle all taken apart again. I’m a box of jumbled pieces but they won’t put the cover back on. I don’t know what happened.”
“Do you know why you flipped out that way?”
“The Devil made me do it.”
“I’m serious.”
“Oh, shit, so am I. I was not behind a fucking thing if that’s what you mean. I’ve been a wreck lately, and I haven’t taken so much as an aspirin in days. You know the Yoga trippers and their big shtick about how you can get high without drugs? They’re absolutely right. You can also freak out without drugs. I’m glad I’m dying because I can’t take much more of this.”
“Oh, come on, Gretchen.”
“‘Come on, Gretchen.’ I am too dying.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
She looked up at him for the first time. “Right,” she said. “Nothing wrong with me. Picture of fucking health. I mean who are we kidding. Who are we kidding.” She plucked at the skin on her thighs. “Glowing pink complexion. Firm muscle tone. Here she is, ladies and gentlemen—Miss Dachau of 19—”
“That’s because you don’t eat.”
“So I’m dying of not eating, Petey.”
“That’s not a disease, for God’s sake. All you have to—”
“All my teeth are going to go. I’m losing my teeth.”
“That’s not what the dentist said.”
“He’s my fucking dentist, I ought to know what he fucking said. He said—”
“He said you have great teeth and sound gums but you have to take care of them or you’ll have problems. That’s not the same as saying you’re going to lose your teeth.”
“It’s exactly the same because I am not going to take the vitamins and have the balanced diet, so what do you mean it’s not the same thing?”
“Whatever you say.”
“Also I think my hair is getting thin.”
“It is not.”