Terms of Endearment (38 page)

“As for F.V.,” she added, “I don’t see why you should worry. F.V. will turn up.”

“I don’t think so,” the General said darkly. “F.V.’s always there. He knows what’s expected of him. He’s worked for me six years and he’s never been late before.”

“Hector you have two legs,” Aurora said. “If you were so desperate to run why didn’t you just run? You’ve been doing it for years. It seems very unlikely you would choose just this morning in which to have a heart attack.”

“There are times when I despise the way you speak,” the General said. “You choose your words too well. I could never trust you.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Aurora asked. “You seem to be a churning mass of non sequiturs today, Hector. Obviously you intend to blame me for everything that’s gone wrong in your life, so why don’t you just go on and blame me and then we can have breakfast. I don’t like to eat while I’m being criticized.”

“All right then, it’s Rosie,” the General said. “I think she’s responsible for the disappearance of my chauffeur. She took F.V. to the dance last night and now he’s not here.”

Aurora opened the paper to the society page and scanned it hastily to see if any interesting parties had taken place, or if the daughters of any of her friends had gotten engaged.

“Now I understand,” she said. “You think Rosie’s seduced F.V.—that’s what you’ve decided is my fault. What remarkable gall you have, Hector. Rosie’s never displayed the slightest interest in F.V.”

“Where is she then?” the General said. “It’s time she was at work, isn’t it? Where is she?”

Aurora turned to the financial page and peered at it closely to see if any of her stocks had risen or fallen. The fact that the print was so small made it very hard to tell, but she found one that seemed to have risen and she took that as a good sign.

“You don’t care,” the General said. “You’d rather read the paper. You don’t really love me, do you Aurora?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Aurora said. “You haven’t even mentioned me so far this morning. I was feeling very attractive
for a while and now I hardly know what to make of anything. You men have an unfortunate tendency to muddle me, if you want the truth. I don’t think I particularly want to love anyone who’s only intent on muddling me.”

“You see, you’ve avoided my question,” the General said.

Then, abruptly, he noticed again how beautiful she was, and he forgot about his annoyance with F.V. and quickly scooted his chair around to her side of the table. Her color was high and the General decided his run had been well lost. He saw there was no hope of resisting her and buried his face in her hair, since it concealed most of the neck he suddenly felt compelled to kiss.

“Ah,
mon petite,”
he said, nuzzling. He had always understood that French was the language of love.

“It’s amazing how often passion merely tickles,” Aurora said, wrinkling her nose in slight dismay and going on with her reading. She looked down at the top of the General’s bald head and felt life to be more ridiculous than ever. Why was such a head trying to kiss her neck?

“Also, Hector, you really would do better to address me in English,” she said, hunching one shoulder to relieve the tickling sensation. “Your French is rudimentary at best, and you should remember what a stickler I am for having matters put well. A man with a really elegant command of the French language, or any language for that matter, could no doubt seduce me in an instant, but I am afraid you will have to depend on something other than eloquence. A man who sounds like he’s sawing wood in his voice box does just as well to keep silent.

“And don’t start talking about time’s winged chariots, either,” she said when the General drew back a moment and opened his mouth to speak. “Just because you read one poem doesn’t mean I have to respond to it, does it? Come to think of it, where is Rosie? She’s so harassed these days, you know. One of her children could have had an accident. I think I ought to call.”

“Don’t call,” the General said. “I can’t resist you. Think of all those lost years.” He did his best to crowd onto the chair Aurora was sitting on, but it was only a kitchen chair and he ended up half on hers and half on his.

“What lost years?” Aurora said. “I certainly didn’t lose any. I’ve had a perfectly good time every year of my life. Just because you waited until the age of sixty-seven to learn how to enjoy yourself doesn’t give you the right to accuse me of losing years.”

“You were so friendly when I first came in,” the General said. “Now I’m not hungry and I can’t wait.”

Aurora looked him in the eye and laughed heartily. “Pooh,” she said. “I admit I enticed you but now I think I prefer to save you for the evening. I’m not exactly dealing with a stripling, am I?”

Then, seeing that he was too confused to defend himself properly, she was forced to relent. She laid down her paper and gave him a few nice squeezes. “This will teach you not to be surly with me when I’m feeling flirtatious,” she said. “At this late hour nothing takes precedence over breakfast. Why don’t you go run some cold water over yourself while I cook. Missing your run seems to have overheated you.”

The phone rang, and the General flinched. “We never get to have breakfast without the phone ringing,” he said. He flinched because the sound of the phone was all it took to remind him of how attractive Aurora was, and how many other men wanted her. Even though she had assured him she was giving them all up now that she had him, the General felt he had good reason to hate the phone.

“What are you talking about, Hector?” Aurora said. “This is only the second morning we’ve had breakfast together, and thanks to your sulks we haven’t even had it yet. It’s not the phone’s fault.”

She answered it, watching him closely. Obviously he thought it was a rival calling, when in fact it was only Rosie.

“Why hello, you old darling,” she said, as if she were speaking to a man. The top of the General’s head grew red, and Rosie grew silent, at which point Aurora laughed merrily again. At least having the General in her life made for a few laughs.

“Well, now that I’ve had my little joke how are you, Rosie?” she asked.

“You never called me darlin’ before,” Rosie said.

“Why aren’t you at work?”

“Because of Royce,” Rosie said. “Ain’t you read the paper?”

“No, I’ve not been allowed to,” Aurora said. “Don’t tell me I’ve missed something.”

“Yep,” Rosie said. “Royce found out about me an F.V. goin’ to the dance. He drove his truck through the wall of the dance floor, trying to get at us. He smashed up the place good and then had a wreck an’ broke his ankle. We was at the hospital half the night. Vernon paid for it all. It’s all on page fourteen, down near the bottom.”

“Oh, no,” Aurora said. “Poor Vernon. I must have cost him almost a million by now, directly or indirectly. I certainly wasn’t worth it, either.”

“Ask her what happened to F.V.,” the General said. He didn’t want the conversation to linger on Vernon.

“You hush,” Aurora said. “Where is Royce now?”

“He’s in bed, playin’ with Little Buster,” Rosie said. “That child sure favors his daddy.’

“So you’ve taken him back,” Aurora said.

“I don’t know if I have or not,” Rosie said. “We ain’t talked about it. Royce just woke up. I thought if you didn’t need me real early I’d maybe try to find out what’s on his mind.”

“Oh, by all means, take your time,” Aurora said. “Your marriage comes first, and anyway Hector and I have done nothing but fuss at one another all morning. I don’t know when we’ll get around to eating. I’m fainting from starvation now. Where’s Vernon?”

“Where’s F.V., you mean,” the General said. “I’ve asked you twice to find out about F.V.”

“What a pest,” Aurora said. “General Scott insists on knowing what you’ve done with his chauffeur. Do you have his chauffeur or don’t you? F.V. seems to be more essential to his life than I am, so it would oblige me very much if you could give us a clue to his whereabouts.”

“My God, what did become of him?” Rosie said. “I guess I just forgot about him.” Then she remembered that her husband was right in the next room, and she became embarrassed.

“She just forgot him,” Aurora said to the General. “Evidently
there was something of a fracas. You can read about it on page fourteen of the paper, near the bottom.”

“I bet he left town,” Rosie whispered. “I can’t talk, on account of Royce.”

“Correction—she now believes F.V. has left town. Goodbye, Rosie. Come over and tell me what’s happened when you can. In all likelihood Hector and I will still be sitting here bickering.”

“I don’t like to hear you mention that man’s name,” the General said when she hung up.

“I can’t think why you should care,” Aurora said. “After all, I never slept with him.”

“I know, but he’s still around,” the General said.

Aurora lowered her paper and looked all around the kitchen, turning her head slowly, like a searchlight. “Where?” she said. “I don’t seem to see him.”

“I mean he’s still in Houston,” the General said.

“Yes, it’s his home,” Aurora said. “Do you want me to drive the poor man from his home just to please you?”

“You never say poor Hector,” the General countered.

“All right, that’s it,” Aurora said, getting up. “Now I’m going to cook and I’m going to sing, and when I’ve finished we can go on with this, if we must. You sit there and read the paper like a normal male and after breakfast we’ll see if you’re feeling any nicer.”

“While you cook I’m just going to run back home and see if F.V.’s there,” the General said.

“Go on, then. It’s amazing what lengths you’ll go to to avoid hearing me sing.”

The General started for the door, expecting to hear a great burst of opera. None came, and just before he went out he glanced back over his shoulder. Aurora was standing at the sink with her hands on her hips, smiling at him. Abruptly the General did an about-face and marched back toward her. He had heard her say several times how much she liked surprises; perhaps it was just the right time to kiss her.

“That’s not the way to your house,” Aurora said happily. She reached behind her and turned on her water faucet, which had a
hose-and-nozzle attachment for washing dishes. Just as the General reached out to grab her shoulders she sidestepped and squirted him with quite a lot of water.

“Gotcha,” she said, and laughed loudly for the third time that morning.

“Now you don’t look so neat,” she added.

The General was absolutely dripping. Aurora was swishing the nozzle back and forth, getting her kitchen floor quite wet. At that moment, as if to mock him, she let out the burst of opera he had been expecting.

“Shut up!” he yelled. “Don’t sing!” No one that he could remember had ever taken him less seriously than she did. She seemed to have no concept of order at all. The look in her eye suggested that if he tried to come any closer she wouldn’t hesitate to use her little nozzle again; but his pride was challenged and with no more hesitation he rushed in and after a brief struggle wrested the nozzle from her and squirted it at her to make her stop singing.

Aurora kept singing anyway, despite the soaking that she was getting, indifferent to his dignity and her own. Still, the General wouldn’t relent. She had to be shown. While he was showing her she reached back and shut off the water, reducing the squirt to a drip. They were both quite wet, despite which Aurora had somehow managed to retain a certain magnificence. The General quite forgot that he was on his way home; he quite forgot his missing driver.

“What’s the meaning of this? What’s the meaning?” he said. “Let’s go—I want to see your Renoir.”

“Ho, ho, I bet you do,” Aurora said. “Why this euphemism?” She flipped a little water at him. Her hair seemed filled with dew, and she was clearly about to laugh at him again.

“What?” he said, made suddenly cautious by the realization that he was standing on a slick floor.

“Yes, you prude,” Aurora said, flicking more drops of water at him. She shook a bit of the water out of her hair. Then she shook the nozzle at him, rather suggestively. She even made it balance upright for a moment, but then it fell and dangled from her hand.

“Goodness, I hope this isn’t a portent, Hector,” she said with a wicked gleam in her eye. “But then with your great interest in art I don’t suppose it would matter much to you. Show me your Renoir indeed!”

“But that’s what you said the other time,” the General said. His anger was gone, his passion confused, and he was beginning to feel helpless, in the main.

“Yes, but I’m well known for my flare for metaphor,” Aurora said. “I know how sensitive you military men are. I’m careful not to put things crudely. You won’t find me calling a nozzle a nozzle, I can tell you that.”

“Stop it!” the General said. “Stop talking! I wish you lived in Tunisia!”

“That’s the most original thing you’ve said all day, Hector,” Aurora said. “It’s amazing the things that pop out when your back is against the wall. Keep yelling. You’ve almost succeeded in reawakening my interest.”

“No,” the General said. “You don’t mean a word you say. You just mock me.”

“Well, another nice thing about you is that your face isn’t flabby,” Aurora said. “It’s too bad you chose to stop making advances just at the moment when my interests were beginning their recovery.”

“It’s because of the goddamn floor,” the General said. “You’ve wet it. You know how I hate wet floors. I could fall down and break my hip. You know how easily hips break at my age.”

Aurora shrugged lightly and gave him a friendly, taunting smile. “I never said we had to stand here,” she said. “I no longer feel like an omelette.” She picked up the large tray of fruits and exotic leftovers that she had already prepared and, looking him in the eye, walked straight across the wettest part of the floor, making loud squishy splats with her bare feet. She went right on out of the kitchen, without once looking back. She didn’t ask the General to follow, nor did she forbid it.

In a minute, not very confidently, the General followed.

CHAPTER XV

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