Boys & Girls Together (18 page)

Howard began to shake.

“Aw, Howard,” Rose whispered then. “Aw, come on.”

“She left me, Rose.”

“Good, I say.”

“She left me.”

“Rest easy, Howard.” She reached out, gently touched his cheek. “I’m here.”

After that, they were together. Most of the time they spent in the office, working until ten o’clock at night, six nights a week. Sundays he took her driving in the country or swimming in Lake Erie. But even then they talked about work. How to sell houses. How to sell houses. During the week they would tour West Ridge at lunchtime, driving slowly down street after street, Rose watching and listening, Howard explaining about who lived where and when it was built and what kind of a price it would bring on the market. Howard talked. Rose absorbed it all.

In October she sold her first house. It was small, on the north side of town, but still she sold it. That night he took her into Cleveland again, where they had dinner and then went to the symphony. Afterward he drove her home, his right arm draped over her shoulder most of the way. When they reached the front steps of her place on Oak Street, he hugged her briefly, then kissed her quickly on the cheek.

As she walked up to her room, Rose could not help smiling.

Toward the end of that month Rose got a second phone call from Mrs. Scudder.

“Miss Mathias?”

“Speaking.”

“This is Mrs. William Scudder.”

“I recognized your voice.”

“I would like to see you.”

“Anytime.”

“Tomorrow, then? Four o’clock. Can you get away?”

“If you’d like me at four, then I’ll be there at four.”

“Until tomorrow, then. And, Miss Mathias ...”

“Yes?”

“I don’t see any reason to tell Howard about this, do you?”

“Is that an order, Mrs. Scudder?”

“That’s an order, Miss Mathias.”

At four o’clock promptly, Rose arrived at the Scudder house on Waverly Lane, one of the two most exclusive streets in town. The Scudder house was large and white, with four white columns in the front. Rose walked up the path along the lawn and rang the bell. A middle-aged servant lady opened the door.

“To see Mrs. Scudder. Miss Mathias. I’m expected.”

“This way, please,” the servant lady said, turning, walking through the foyer. Rose followed her.

Mrs. Scudder was waiting, seated in the library. She was a small, heavyset woman with white hair. “Miss Mathias,” she said.

Rose sat in an easy chair across from her, carefully folding her hands in her lap.

“Coffee?”

“Please. Black.”

Mrs. Scudder poured a cup of coffee from the silver pot on the table beside her. Rose took the cup and balanced it carefully, making sure not to spill.

“Lovely fall,” Mrs. Scudder said after she had poured herself some coffee.

Rose allowed as to how it was indeed a lovely fall.

“I felt the summer was a trifle hot.”

Rose allowed that too.

Mrs. Scudder talked on, holding her coffee cup gracefully, sipping from it gracefully. Rose followed along as best she could. The room seemed uncomfortably warm and she wanted to wipe her brow, but she decided against it. The walls of the room were lined with books, the great majority of them bound in leathers of red and green.

Rose commented on the books.

“Dr. Scudder was a great reader,” the older woman said.

“I wish I could say the same,” Rose said.

“You don’t read, then?”

“I know how, if that’s what you mean.”

Mrs. Scudder smiled. “Books can be a comfort, Miss Mathias. In times of stress.”

“Some people read, some people drink.” Mrs. Scudder flicked her eyes across and for a moment they stared quietly at each other. “And you can call me Rose.”

“Rose,” Mrs. Scudder said.

Rose finished her coffee.

“Would you care for another cup?”

Rose shook her head.

“I myself happen to have a passion for coffee. I drink coffee most of the day. In the morning when I awake, then again at lunch, then—”

“Get to it.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The point.”

“I prefer reaching the subject gradually.”

“I don’t.”

“That’s more than obvious.”

“What’s the subject?” Rose said.

“Come now. We both know the answer.”

“O.K.,” Rose said. “What about Howard?”

Mrs. Scudder poured herself another cup of coffee before she spoke. “I owe you a debt of gratitude for what you’ve done with him. I could never have done it. I know that.”

“Go on.” Rose got up from her chair and started to pace.

“I prefer you to sit.”

“I prefer not. Go on.”

“You’re too common for my son,” Mrs. Scudder said.

Rose nodded. “What was the matter with Dolly Salinger?”

“What has that to do with anything?”

“Plenty. Answer my question.”

“She was half Jewish, for one thing. I disapprove of mixed marriages.”

“What kind do you approve of?”

“I wish you’d sit down, Miss Mathias.”

“And who was the girl before Dolly and what was the matter with her?”

“I’m not going to continue this until you sit down.”

“Then just listen, lady, because you’re right. I am too common. And I’m too plain. And I’ve got a rotten sense of humor and I’ve got a temper that could send you right up the wall, so don’t make me lose it. O.K.?” Rose was moving faster now, back and forth, ranging across the room. “But if I was perfect you’d still find something wrong. Because there’s nobody no place good enough for your son. Howard is a weak man. We both know that. We sense it. Because we’re just the opposite. At least, I am. I’m strong, lady. I’m so strong you wouldn’t believe it and that’s why I’m going to marry your baby boy whether you like it or not.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“Who the hell cares what you doubt? I’m going to marry him.”

“You can leave whenever you’re ready.”

“When I’m ready I will. I got more to say. I got some instructions for you. You know what you’re gonna do? You’re gonna tell Howard that little Rosie is the girl of his dreams. You’re gonna push little Rosie every chance you get. Rosie, Rosie, Rosie, that’s all you’re gonna talk about. You want him to marry me more than you ever wanted anything.”

Mrs. Scudder stood. “If you’ll excuse me.” She took a step toward the door.

Rose grabbed her. “Don’t you want to know why? I’ll tell you why. I’m going to get Howard one way or another, with you or without you. And if it’s with you, I’ll move in here. He’ll still be under your roof, lady. Just like he always has been. But if it’s without you, I’ll take him away. I don’t care if he kicks and screams, I’ll drag him all the hell across the country and you’ll never see him again. I’ll make sure of that. No visits home to see mommy. Not for little Howard. You understand me? One way you got half; the other you got nothin’. Your move, lady.”

Between the two of them, Howard never had a chance.

They were married early in January and they honeymooned in New York. Rose didn’t want to go to New York at all but Howard insisted, so she decided it would be best to give in to him. They arrived at Grand Central Station and took a taxi to the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. Their suite at the Waldorf was on the thirty-fifth floor, and from the window you could see all the way uptown to Harlem, Howard said, if you looked close enough. Their first night in the city they went to dinner at Luchow’s. The next morning, after several hours of walking, Rose formed her impression of the city.

She hated it.

The women were strange-looking and they wore too much makeup and the men walked too fast and looked down their noses at her and everyone knew she was from out of town and took advantage of her whenever she walked into a shop to ask the price of anything. And worst of all, the city was cold. The thermometer read close to the zero mark and sharp winds cut up the wide streets, stinging her eyes.

That night Howard wanted to go to the theater but Rose said that she didn’t feel up to it. Instead they had supper sent up to their hotel room and went to bed early. Howard seemed nervous and Rose was too unhappy to sleep. They lay side by side in bed, staring up, neither of them moving for fear they would disturb the other.

The next morning Howard had a business appointment for lunch.

“Take your time,” Rose said. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“You ought to go out. Buy things. That’s what women do on their honeymoon.”

“Not this woman,” Rose said.

“What will you do here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll write a letter to your mother.”

“You said goodbye to Mother day before yesterday. What have you got to tell her?”

“How much I love New York. I could fill pages about that.”

Howard kissed her lightly on the forehead, “Suit yourself, baby.”

Rose nodded. “Haven’t you noticed? I usually do.”

A few hours later she found herself on Fifth Avenue. What drove her finally from the suite was the fact that there was no one to write to. There was Howard’s mother, of course, and there was Dickens back at the office, but they didn’t really care. Not that much, anyway. Not enough. The thought that there was no one, not one person anywhere on the entire face of the earth, that gave a sufficient damn about her sent her onto the street.

Rose wandered through the cold on Fifth Avenue, gazing in shop windows. Nothing intrigued her. She ought to buy something, she realized, but what? Maybe Howard wanted a wallet. But then, he already had a wallet, not to mention half a drawer full of others at home. Or shirts. He had shirts, though. Stacks of them. What, then? What? She was trying to make her mind up one way or another when she saw him.

With Dolly Salinger.

They were hurrying across the sidewalk toward an empty cab, laughing very hard. Rose watched them a moment. They made a handsome couple; there was no use in trying to deny it. He held the door open for her while she got in; then he followed her, closing the door. The cab drove up Fifth Avenue. How typical it was of Howard, Rose realized, to worry about whether she would be happy while he was out with another woman.

Embarrassingly close to tears, Rose returned to the hotel.

Howard returned after four, smiling. They embraced and she held him very tightly for the longest time. She asked how his appointment had gone and he answered that it went as well as could be expected and all the while they chatted Rose wondered whether to tell him or not. The question stayed in her mind through dinner and the theater and after when they returned to the hotel. Finally, when they were getting ready for bed, she asked him a question.

“Do you remember Dolly Salinger?”

“Certainly. Why?”

“No reason. I just saw someone today who looked a lot like her and I wondered whatever became of her. After she got married, I mean.”

“She came east, I think. Boston, maybe.”

“Well, then, it could have been her that I saw. Boston isn’t that far away.”

“I doubt it,” Howard said.

“Oh, I doubt it, too,” Rose agreed. And for the while she let it rest.

But the next afternoon, when Howard remembered another business appointment, she had to go on with it. They were in the suite, Rose sitting in a chair by the window, Howard standing by the closet door, selecting a necktie.

“You certainly have a lot of appointments.”

“Not so many, really.”

“I didn’t know you knew that many people here.”

“This is just my second time. I know two people.”

“Both named Dolly?”

Howard found a tie to his liking and inserted it beneath his collar.

“Yesterday—”

“I know. We were getting into a taxi. I saw you too. So you see, New York really isn’t much bigger than West Ridge.”

“How can you do it? How can you be so calm about it?”

Howard finished knotting his tie. “At the risk of seeming trite, I’d just like to say that it isn’t what you think.”

“It isn’t, huh?”

“Scout’s honor, Rosie.”

“You’re just good friends, is that it?”

“That’s it.”

“Is she the reason we came here?”

“Good God, of course not.”

“Just because I know, that doesn’t change your plans or anything?”

“This is the last time. She’s got to be back in Boston by tonight.”

“One final roll in the hay, is that it?”

“Don’t talk like that. I told you, it isn’t what you think.”

“Does her husband know, since it’s all so pure and upright?”

“No. He wouldn’t understand.”

“You expect me to?”

“No, Rosie.”

“This is all just too damn sophisticated for me, Howard. If you think I’m gonna straighten your tie, you’re wrong.”

“I’ll be back for dinner. We’re just going for a drink and then I’ll put her on the train. I’d let you come along but you’d probably be bored.”

Rose stood by the window, staring down at Park Avenue. “Howard, don’t go. You’re making me do this but I forbid you, Howard.”

“Look at me!”

Rose turned.

“In the taxi,” Howard said, his voice growing louder, “when I told her you’d seen us, Dolly, she predicted that. She said you’d forbid me. And she said I’d never disobey.” Howard slapped his gloves into his open palm. “She said I
liked
being ordered around. I got very irritated. I almost lost my temper right there in the taxi. Because it’s so untrue. I’m really sick of people—women, I’m talking about now—telling me what to do. I’m the man in the family, Rosie. And if I want to go out that door, I’ll go out that door. Mother thinks she can order me around and so do you and so did Dolly. Well, if I want to see Dolly off on the Boston train I will and if I want to stay here and order Room Service to bring me a double portion of Jell-O I will and if I want to do anything else then by God this once I’m gonna do it.”

Rose hurried to him, took his hand. “Howard, will ya listen to me a minute? You remember? That first night in Cleveland? What I said? That I never had much? I was lying. I never had anything, Howard. Not really one thing ever in my life. I’ve got you now. But if you go out that door, I won’t want you quite so much. Nothing will ever be the same again, Howard.”

“You don’t think that’s a little melodramatic?”