The Carousel (7 page)

“I can’t. No, Todd. Please. Not now. No!”

He let her go at once and stepped back, frowning.

“Not now? When, then? Christmas? Or is that too soon for you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Todd.”

“It’s not so ridiculous. You haven’t been exactly loving lately.”

Of course. The male ego was hurt. God knows she hadn’t intended to hurt him, but she just wasn’t in the mood. Couldn’t he see that? Still, he
considered himself rejected, so she must try to soothe him, to explain the turmoil that was in her.

“Please, Todd. I’ve had all this stuff on my mind. You said yourself that when a man is worried, he doesn’t feel passionate. Well, the same goes for a woman, doesn’t it?”

A cool silence crept into the room. For a few moments neither broke it. Then Todd walked away to stand at the window.

Help me, she thought. Todd, help me. I get this way. It comes on all of a sudden. Please, Todd, I love you. Help me.

There was a sadness in his posture, although he stood straight. Perhaps it was his stillness that was so sad. Impulsively she went to touch him, saying, “Todd, I’m sorry. It was only a mood. You do understand, don’t you? Another time. You know I always—”

She stopped, and he turned about, looking down at her with a troubled, soft expression.

“I know you always try, but you don’t feel anything. I know that, too.”

“That’s not true, not true!”

He shook his head, denying her denial. “You’re too angry inside, Amanda. You have to learn, or be taught …” he faltered. “I care about you so much, and that’s why I’m saying this.”

Again, he was lecturing, being the wiser, the mature advisor, and, however smoothly, dominating. Always, always, things were spoiled that way. Unless, for once, he—somebody—would give in.

“You really love me?”

“You know I do.”

“Then will you help me?”

“If I can, I will.”

“Take this case for me.”

“What case?”

“The inevitable lawsuit.”

“Surely you aren’t going to sue your
brother
?”

“The firm. All of them, if I don’t get some sort of satisfaction before this property goes on the market for somebody else to grab.”

His astonishment chastised her. Then he said, “I’m seeing something in you that isn’t pretty. It’s hard, and not worthy of you.”

“ ‘Hard’! I’m hard? That’s a queer thing to say about me, of all people.”

“No. You’re doing wrong, Amanda. And in the long run, you’ll destroy yourself.”

“Not if my lawyer proves capable.”

“I’m talking about morals. It’s morally wrong, and if you don’t see it now, you will see it someday. You have been fairly treated, I have to tell you so. You have no grounds for a lawsuit, none at all.”

“Then you won’t take the case?”

His expression was very stern now, too stern. “No, I won’t take the case.”

“That’s what you call ‘helping’ me?”

“It really is helping you if you think about it.”

“I am thinking about it. You could take it even without agreeing with me, couldn’t you? Lawyers make their living that way, don’t they? I’m sure you’ve argued on behalf of people who you know are guilty. And I’m not guilty of anything.”

“That’s a silly argument. I’m only advising you not to do something you’ll regret. You can be very stubborn, Amanda.”

“Because I don’t want to take your advice, I’m stubborn. Because I’m a woman.”

“When you get this ‘woman’ chip on your shoulder, it’s ridiculous. This lawsuit that you want to file has nothing to do with what sex you are.”

He had an expression, a tightening of the lips and a lowering of the eyelids, that was quite unfamiliar. She thought at once, he doesn’t
like
me. Everything had gone bad. The symptoms had been there all day. They had been sliding downhill, the two of them, and while seeing the inevitable wreck at the bottom, had been unable to stop. And in some crazy way unwilling to stop?

Now it was necessary to be totally honest, to know where they were.

“No,” she said, “I think, I think it has very much to do with sex in the literal sense.”

“You’re far too intelligent to believe that’s all it is. It’s far, far deeper and I am terribly, terribly confused.”

There was such a pain in her chest, a real pain that was almost taking her breath.

“I think it’s because I didn’t feel like making love just now. That’s why you’re angry, Todd.”

He looked away at the Bonnard on the wall, at the uncomplicated countryside under the empty sky.

“Yes, I suppose you could say it was symbolic.
It has been rather difficult for us lately, hasn’t it? Because you have to admit that, haven’t you?”

They were almost there now, at the wreck at the bottom of the hill. Yet, she would not, could not admit it before him. And she said bitterly, “I guess there’s nothing more for us to talk about, is there?”

“If you would only unlock the lovely woman who’s locked up inside you, there would be. Can’t you try, Amanda?”

His hand was on his briefcase, which lay on the chest by the door. Yes, she thought, he is waiting for some “feminine” response, for some sweet submission, for a request to leave or a plea to stay. If only she were able to put her arms out, to cry
Please, please, don’t leave me, I love you.
But that would be loss of autonomy and loss of all pride. It was what men expected of you.…

And besides, very probably after all this, he did not really want to stay. No use, she thought; when it’s over, it’s over. There’s no sense in prolonging the agony.

And he answered her silence. “Thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome.”

At the door, he turned back, and with an expression that was half reproving and half pleading, said very gently, “Take care of yourself, Amanda. Don’t waste yourself.” The door closed quietly.

The first thing I ever asked of him, she thought, and the answer was
no.
He wanted to control her.
As soon as he saw that she wouldn’t be controlled, he bowed out.

When the first wave of wrenching sobs was past, it was already dark. She had no idea of the time, just sat quite still by the window.

She had lost him. It was as sure as sure can be that he would not come back. For, as it now appeared, he had been having his doubts anyway. Oh, why had she embroiled him in an affair that was really not his concern? After all, she could find a dozen lawyers when the time came who would be eager to take a case against Grey’s Foods. It had been stupid of her. Stupid.

But he had hurt her, humiliated her with the revelation:
You try, but you don’t feel it.
Clive had to smile at the So he had known all along! How could he have known? She always tried so hard to respond as one was supposed to.…

All men thought of, when you came down to it, was sex. They didn’t want to know
you
, the human being that was you.

She thought back over her conversation with Dan. She hadn’t meant to hurt him tonight. He was the last person in the world she’d want to hurt. There was such a sweetness in him! Even though anyone could see at once how quick and smart he was, there was still that sweetness, a trust and honesty that seemed to her almost boyish. Her baby brother, only a handful of years and also light-years younger than she! Lucky the girl who had married him. And her mind went back to that
day when everything was white: the clapboard country church, the bride on Dan’s arm with her swooping skirt and the veil strung out in the white, blossom-filled wind. Let everything always be good for them both, she had prayed.

But he had said tonight that he had problems. He’d sounded stressed, with voices in the background, the child’s voice screaming. Domestic troubles … Divorce? Oh, please not. All the business about the forest? Grey’s Woods, they called it in the town.

Grey’s Woods. Black miles and the lonely wind blowing at the window all night, all night … Abruptly, she stood up, sliding Sheba to the floor. Far below across the city, the glitter was dimming as thousands got ready for night. And among the thousands, there was no one.

“Little brother or not,” she said aloud. “I will fight for myself. That’s how it has to be. Good night, Sheba.” And suddenly she found she was crying again.

May 1990

D
r. Vanderwater looked like a doctor. When, leaving his office after their first visit, Sally had made that comment, Dan had been amused.

“What does a doctor look like?”

“It’s something indefinable. Probably just a manner. But I liked him, didn’t you?”

He agreed. “I was sure we would. The man has an established reputation without being old, and he’s solid. He’s a commonsense guy, no alarmist. Sally, we’re going to get at the bottom of this, and Tina’s going to be okay.”

Now, with a vast mahogany desk between them as she sat opposite Dr. Vanderwater, she remembered that. On the desk stood a leather-framed photograph of his four cheerful boys, whose identical heads of curly dark hair copied his own. He was a father. It meant practical understanding to add to the dozen certificates and diplomas
that hung on the wall. All of this was reassuring, as was the man’s easy bearing.

“How’s Tina this week?”

“It was a pretty good week.”

“Fine, fine. She’s a nice little girl. My wife and I often wonder how it would be to have a little girl in the house,” he said, looking fondly toward the photograph. “So then, you feel she’s making some progress?”

The very word “progress” had a bright ring to it. Still, needing to be accurate, Sally added, “There was one dreadful scene last Sunday when some friends came to see Susannah. I was holding her, and naturally everybody crowded around, talking to her the way people talk to a baby. Then when somebody very thoughtfully remembered Tina and said something to praise her, she wouldn’t answer, started to cry, screamed when this nice old gentleman patted her head, and kicked his ankle.” Sally made a rueful face. “It was embarrassing. Yet not, I suppose, too unusual?”

The doctor nodded. “Not too unusual. It’s obvious that Tina’s an excitable child, her reactions are somewhat extreme, either very positive or very negative. But then, when we look at the adult population, we see the same thing in many of us. We see every possible variation in temperament, don’t we?”

“You’re saying that what we are looking at now is Tina grown up?”

“In a sense, yes, but she’s certainly not going to remain at a five-year-old level, is she? Essentially,
inwardly, I would doubt that she will ever be exactly a phlegmatic person, but there’s nothing wrong with that. Right now she’s in a temporary phase of great anxiety because she’s being challenged. In her mind, the baby has moved in and usurped her place in the family. Therefore, we have to teach her how to find her way toward acceptance, toward reality and understanding, that her place has not been usurped, that there is room enough for her and for the baby. This understanding will take time.”

“Very long?”

“Mrs. Grey, I have no crystal ball. Psychotherapy isn’t orthopedic surgery, where you can either walk after the operation or you cannot. But I’m sure you’ve done enough reading about sibling rivalry, anyway, so you don’t need much more explaining on my part.”

Now Sally was able to smile a little. “Then my husband was right. I have to tell you he didn’t think much of the first diagnosis. My husband is a believer in common sense.”

Dr. Vanderwater returned the smile with a slight reproof. “Common sense, unfortunately, is often more common than sensible. In Tina’s case, though, I do agree with your husband. I have, of course, no idea who made the first diagnosis, and I don’t want to know. But after having had twelve sessions with Tina, I can find no basis at all for it. Frankly, Mrs. Grey, it troubles me to encounter faddism in my profession. Now that we have come so far in uncovering so many of the evils that used
to be hidden and denied, we sometimes tilt in the opposite direction. We speak, we anticipate child molestation, for example, where there is none, uncovering a ‘memory’ of something that happened thirty years before—something that did not happen. It’s the misuse of a very useful concept.”

Sally wanted to laugh. Bubbles, impetuous and airy, filled her throat and turned into a trickle of tears that she blinked away.

“I feel,” she said, “I feel a relief that I can’t begin to describe. You’ve given me a mountain of gold dust, a hundred years of life—” She had to wipe her eyes. “All this spring, it felt like carrying a ton of lead on your shoulders. I couldn’t understand how this horror was possible. Tina knows very well where you mustn’t let anyone touch you. No. I couldn’t understand.”

The doctor said kindly, “So now take the load off your husband’s shoulders too. Go home and live hopefully and normally.”

“Do you still want to see Tina, Doctor?”

“Oh, yes. Bring her here once a week.”

“And my traveling? I’ve been asked to go to Mexico for an article on migrant workers. Do you think I should still keep it on hold?”

“Yes, do for a while. Stay home and keep on with what you’re doing. You’re a good mother, Mrs. Grey.”

Departing, Sally thought what a difference this was from the day she had left that other office. Dr. Vanderwater’s confidence was contagious. He was what Dan called a “can-do” person. Having always
been such a person herself, Sally liked the feeling. It was healthy. It was strong. Driving home, she turned on the radio and sang along with it, all the way.