Boys & Girls Together (90 page)

Archie took her hand, led her to her feet. “Turn around. Turn around. That’s got to be a new dress.” Jenny nodded. “What the occasion?”

“I just felt like it.”

“Wait’ll Charley sees you. I wish you were my secretary.” Jenny sat back down.

“Just wait till old Charley catches a glimpse.”

“Stop saying that.”

“Sure thing, baby,” Archie said. And then he smiled at her.

“I’ve got a lot to do, Archie.”

“Sure, baby.” Archie kept on smiling.

“I mean it, Archie.”

“Busy little bee,” Archie said. Then he turned and walked away.

When Charley phoned in she said, “Guess what,” the finish of which would have been “I’m wearing,” because it was a new dress, as Archie had surmised, a very expensive new dress, pale-blue silk, bought the previous afternoon from Lord & Taylor for much too much money.

But Charley wouldn’t let her end it. “I won’t be in today.”

“Why not?”

“Think why not. I can’t leave her today, not in her condition, that’s why not, goodbye, why not.”

Jenny put her head in her hands. “Hotcha,” she said.

Charley paced around the blue walls. “What she wants is time.”

“Time?” Jenny watched him move.

Charley nodded.

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“She loves me. More than I cared to think. And at first, when I told her, all she did was shake her head. Then she started making sounds.” He slammed a fist into a palm. “I don’t have to explain all the details, do I?”

“No. No.”

“Anyway, she didn’t think she could make it. She thought she’d crack.”

“She’ll be fine.”

“I told her that. It was a helluva job, convincing her, but I think I’ve got her set along those lines now. She’s just afraid she’ll come apart. I don’t blame her. She just wants some time before anything definite is done.”

“She’ll give you the divorce, though.”

“She’ll give me anything I want. She loves me. She just wants to cut things gradually. She doesn’t want anything to change for a while.”

“Meaning you’ll live together still?”

“We’ll share the same house, yes. She thought she might start spending more time out with her mother. Gradually, you understand. She thinks things will work out better. But you’re the one that’s pushing this. If you want a split now, say so. If she cracks—God, you should have heard the way she said that word—‘
Crack! Crack!
’ ”

“What did she say about me?”

“About you?” Charley paced a little more. “Nothing much.”

“Tell me.”

“It wasn’t nasty.”

“What did she say?”

“I told her I was in love with somebody else. She said ‘Jenny?’ Right off. Just like that.”

“She knew?”

Charley shook his head. “Maybe subconsciously. Then after she said your name she said, ‘I can’t even hate her.’ She admires you, it turns out.”

“I’ve only met her a couple of times.”

“I can’t help that.”

“What about the children?”

“She’ll be fair as long as I am.”

“Meaning don’t push her?”

“I guess so. Do you blame her?”

“No,” Jenny said. She gave Charley a kiss. “How can I blame someone for loving you?”

“I’m a real catch,” Charley said.

Jenny smiled.

“Anyway, I told her.”

“That’s the important thing. She can have her time. I don’t care, not anymore. I can wait a little now.”

That was on the thirtieth of June.

On the eleventh of July, Jenny said, “How long is a little?”

Charley, not listening, said “Huh?”

Jenny decided not to repeat her question.

On the twentieth of July she changed her mind. “How long is a little?”

“I wish I knew,” Charley answered.

Then one or the other of them changed the subject.

“Are you sure you trust her?” Jenny asked on the twenty-seventh of July.

“Betty Jane? Why?”

“Well, how do we know she’s not trying to win you back or something?”

“She’s doing a lousy job if she is.”

“Are you sure, though?”

“Last night she said she wasn’t sure she loved me anymore.” Jenny nodded. “But are you sure you trust her? was the question.”

“Charley?” Jenny began on the first of August.

“She’s much better,” Charley replied. “We talked about it without emotion. She’s thinking of the future. I tell you, I couldn’t be more pleased. She may take the family back to Long Island to live. Great for the kids out there. Not that close to town, either. She wouldn’t be calling in every other day. I tell you, it’s only a matter of time.”

“That’s all it’s ever been,” Jenny said.

On the eighteenth of August Jenny said, “I hate to bring up an unpleasant sub—”

“
You think I’m enjoying myself?
Do ya? You think it’s funny walking around that house with a woman that’s your wife but isn’t anymore? You think it’s fun looking at the kids and thinking what they don’t know? You think I enjoy all the lousy sneaking around we have to do? Goddammit—”

“I’m sorry.”

“All right. Forget it.”

“It can’t be this hard for everybody to get married,” Jenny said.

On the twenty-second of August Jenny looked across the room to Charley, who was sitting on her bed beside the blue walls.

Before her mouth was open he cried, “
Quit nagging!
”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You had that look—you were going to.”

Quick tears came to Jenny’s eyes. “Yes,” she whispered. “I was.” She ran across to him and gave him her body.

He was altogether merciless in his acceptance.

On the fifth of September Jenny said, “I just don’t know.”

“Know what?”

“How much endurance remains.”

“It’s so close now,” Charley said.

“Are you sure?”

“Didn’t I just say so?”

“Don’t you just say a lot of things?”

“Why do you want to fight?”

“I don’t want to fight.”

“Then why are we fighting?”

“Maybe it’s because we’re good at it,” Jenny said.

On the tenth of September Charley said, “I think she’s going to threaten me with the children.”

“
What?
”

“This morning she said, ‘After we’re divorced, I think it might be best if you stayed away from the children.’ ”

“Do you think she means it?”

“I don’t know her all that well anymore.”

“I told you months ago not to trust her.”

Charley nodded.

“She’s desperate. When you’re desperate you’ll do anything.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Charley said.

“She wants to go to a
psychiatrist
?” Jenny said on the twenty-fifth of September. “Oh, come on.” She kicked at the blue walls.

“That’s what she says. She’s already made an appointment.”

“I thought she was getting so strong and everything.”

“So did I. Now she says she wants help.”

“That takes
years
.”

“I’m well aware—”

“I cannot stand this another goddam minute!”

“You’re shouting.”

“Don’t say one word to me, buster. I was on to her from the word go. I had her number, yes, I did, you bet I did, but you said, ‘Oh, no, she’s coming along fine, just fine’; and now—”

“I was wrong. I admit it.”

“A fat goddam lot of good that does.”

“I love it when you swear.”

“Charley, we’ve got to
do
something.”

“I’m going to.”

“What?”

“I’ll go to see her psychiatrist and find out.”

“Find out what?”

“If she’s lying or not. He’ll tell me that much, when I explain the situation to him. If he thinks she’s genuinely unstable, that’s one thing, but if he thinks she might be faking or be strong enough to take it, I’ll move out the next day.”

“I know she’s faking and so do you.”

“And so will the psychiatrist.”

“Then why not move out now?”

“You know she makes me feel guilty—she’s good at that. Well, what if that one chance in a thousand were true? What if she really would crack? You’d be racked about it and so would I. Actually it’s a break, her making an appointment to see a psychiatrist. At least now we’ll
know
.”

“That bitch—she’s liable to turn out crazy just for spite.”

“Don’t even think that,” Charley said.

At lunch hour, on the twenty-seventh of September, as she was hurrying to have lifts put on her heels, it crossed Jenny’s mind that Charley was nothing but a liar, that he had never mentioned to his wife the subject of divorce, that the entire psychiatrist business was simply the latest shovelful in a great pile of bilge, and that she, Jenny, was not one of History’s brighter creatures.

Her reactions were both many and varied.

“You saw the psychiatrist?” Jenny said on the fourth of October as Charley entered her apartment.

Charley nodded.

“What did he say?”

Charley slammed a fist against a blue wall.

“Oh, baby, don’t,” Jenny said, and she hurried to him, kissed the reddened knuckles.

“God,” Charley said.

“From the beginning, tell me. Was he nice? What was his name? Everything.”

“Adler.”

“Was he Viennese, do you know? Did he have an accent or anything?”

“I guess a little one. He spoke English very well.”

“I hope he’s Viennese. They’re supposed to be the best. Go on.”

“I don’t remember all the terms he used.”

“That’s all right; just translate.”

“She’s sick.”

“How sick?”

“Very, I take it.” Go on.

“He’s only seen her a couple of times, and besides, he said, she was the patient, not me, so there was a limited amount he could tell.”

“But he did say she was sick.”

“Psychotic.”

“I just knew it—I had a feeling, Charley. She’s been acting crazy ever since you told her about us. Go on.”

“Betty Jane’s very romantic. If I leave her, it may crack what she considers reality.”

“He said that, this Adler?”

“More or less.”

“Then you can never leave her?”

“Oh no—God no. He’s very hopeful, he says. Her problems—they’re the kind that respond well to treatment. She’s not crazy or anything. It’s just that she would crack if I left her. She needs to come to grips with reality more. Her troubles aren’t really unusual, he said. They respond to treatment. All it takes is time.”

“Thank God for that.”

“We’ll have to have patience.”

“Do you know what love is? Love is supplying what’s needed. Right now I’ve got all the patience in the world.”

On the tenth of October Charley managed to say, “You are?”

Jenny made a nod.

“You’re sure?”

Another nod.

“Have you taken tests and everything?”

“Rabbit and frog. They both say so.”

“Can’t fight that,” Charley said.

“I’ve tried not to tell you; it’s such a rotten time. That’s why I held off until I was sure. That’s why we’ve been fighting, I think; I’ve been so scared. But I’m gonna start showing pretty soon and, well, it’s up to you now, Charley.”

Charley smiled. “Something’s gotta give,” he said.

That weekend was warm, so Charley suggested they all go out and visit Mrs. Bunnel on Long Island. Mrs. Bunnel couldn’t have been more pleased when they called with the suggestion, so Saturday morning they got in the car, Charley and Robby and Paula and Betty Jane, and drove out. They played on the beach the entire afternoon, and for supper they had fried chicken and mashed potatoes and a fresh green salad. Charley ate a great deal of food and called attention to the fact, and Betty Jane commented that it was wonderful seeing him so chipper and he agreed, saying several times that he was chipperer than he had been in years, and he even made a joke out of stumbling over “chipperer” in case anyone might possibly forget his splendid spirits. They went to bed not long after dinner, the old and the young first, Charley and Betty Jane a little bit later. Their second-floor bedroom overlooked the bay and the waves’ beat lulled her immediately into sound sleep. The magic of the rhythm escaped Charley, and after counting Betty Jane’s breaths up to five hundred he found himself bored. Then he remembered the flashlight Mrs. Bunnel always kept in the cabinet by the front door, so he tiptoed down and got it and then scampered back to bed and flashed the light up across the ceiling. It was full of cracks, and they had fabulously wonderful shapes. In the first hour he found seventeen totally different and distinct animals. After that he decided to concentrate on elephants, because he thought he saw a herd lurking in the far corner, so he lay on his back and waved the light and counted and pretty soon he was thinking of
Elephant Boy
and tiny Sabu and then Shirley Temple and the Jackies, Cooper and Coogan, and Coogan led to
City Lights
and the great clown smiling at the end, which was probably the saddest of all endings, and then for a little Charley thought about smiles and decided they were all sad, maybe sadder than anything. Flashlights were sad and elephants were sad and Shirley Temple was sad, but not as sad as a smile, and dawn was sad, and when it came Charley got out of bed quietly and put on his bathing suit and kissed Betty Jane and took a towel and crept out to the water. He walked in up to his chest. It was warm, really surprisingly warm considering the month was October, and that was sad too, warm water in October, sad, and he was about to push off when he remembered that he hadn’t left any note.

Should he leave one?

Charley glanced along the completely deserted beach and tried to figure it out. In a minute he shook his head, because why had he bothered stumbling over “chipperer” if he was going to reverse himself and spoil everything and leave a note? No note. The answer was no and that was what had stopped him pushing off before and now nothing was, so he pushed off and began to swim. He was a good swimmer and he was a strong man, so he knew he would have to beat himself down at first, so he plunged his head into the water and began a brutal Australian crawl, his arms cracking into the water, his legs kicking straight and frantically as his big body cut through the bay away from shore. He swam and he swam and as he felt his breath getting harder to catch he stepped up his pace, flailing at the bay with all his considerable might until he could not swim anymore. Then he rolled over onto his back and smiled at the sun, gasping, waiting for his second wind. He had to kill that and completely before he had a chance of going through with anything, and already he could feel his breath coming easier. When he had his second wind he flipped off into the crawl again, and the water was cooler here, and that revived him somewhat more, and he was surprised at what a strong swimmer he was. On he swam, stroking with more speed than he could manage, kicking his powerful legs much too fast, and when his second wind started to go he smiled again and rolled over for a final look at the sun. His throat was on fire, worse than when he had vomited violently that day on the train, and then he thought of the various women in his life and that drove him back into motion again, so he rolled forward, forcing his arms to churn, ordering his legs to kick, and then he began to cramp. His left calf was gone and Charley screamed at the unexpected pain, and he pounded at the calf with what remained of his strength, and he greeted the fact that there was little left with mixed emotions. The cramp eased and he swam again, slower now, slower, then slowly, and then he could barely move his arms and his legs trailed like dead snakes in the water. He slapped feebly with his arms, slapped again, but there was little splash, and he tried for air but he opened his mouth under the water and that surprised him, and with what power remained he clawed his way forward and up, and then he was in the air and gasping and that gave him a final burst of strength and he slapped at the water and kicked at the water and all of a sudden there was nothing left, not a thing, it was over, he was done. He began to sink. He could not stop. He was sinking. One foot. There was nothing he could do. Two feet. He could not stop. Three feet now and Charley felt nothing, nothing at all. He wondered whether he had the strength to open his eyes and see the blue water as he descended and he did, finally, open his eyes, and the water was gold, like the sun, and Charley blinked and blinked, staring dully at the sun, and then he felt he was not sinking anymore and he looked around.