The Interestings (46 page)

Read The Interestings Online

Authors: Meg Wolitzer

Tags: #Fiction, #Literary, #Contemporary Women, #Family Life, #General Fiction

“I can see that.”

“I was thinking about all of that on the phone, while Pushkin and my lawyer were fighting, and then Pushkin hung up. He called back about two seconds later, very apologetic, and everybody had to get conferenced in again, which is not so easy when one of you is in Indonesia. They continued their talks without me, and by the time I got back to New York I found out that everybody tentatively agreed on the basic idea, though they’re still haggling. It’s a really huge deal. My lawyer said that if they didn’t just say yes, it would make them look really bad. They’re losing so much money on this, not just because of labor costs but because of the overseas tax breaks, which they’re going to have to sacrifice for the greater good. So they’re taking a hit, but at least I’m doing something I can live with—though who knows, maybe it’ll turn out worse than it had been to begin with. Anyway, they get to send out a press release saying how proud they are that we’re doing this thing. A small, as-yet-to-be-determined percentage of the manufacturing moved over here, to struggling factories in upstate New York. And I’ve just started talking to this woman at UNICEF about bringing in money to those workers, those kids. And I asked her whether it might be possible even to start a school for them over there. She said she’d put me in touch with some people. I know I still cause harm, probably a ton of it no matter what I do. And it kills me, it just kills me, that maybe the best you can ever do is cause less harm. But there you have it.”

“I’m sorry, but I think you are the least harmful person I know,” said Jules.

“Oh, I’m sure that isn’t true,” Ethan said. “But at least now I’m a harmful person who had an epiphany. I call it the Jakarta transformation. At least when I’m talking to myself.”

“So what does Ash say?”

“She’s supportive. She’s not one of those critical spouses,” he said. “You aren’t either,” he added after a moment, but Jules didn’t say anything. “You wouldn’t do that to Dennis. You just let him be himself, and go through what he has to go through.”

“Do I have a choice?” asked Jules, and it came out so sour. “It’s the middle of the day, and you and I are having a conversation about actual things, and eating actual food, while Dennis lies in bed.”

Ethan gave her a long, considering look. “I know it’s very hard for both of you,” he said.

“He’s so passive,” she burst out. “We used to laugh all the time, and talk a lot, and have good sex—excuse me for saying that, Ethan—and he had a lot of energy. Then everything stopped. He’s taken care of Rory, which has been a huge and admirable job, and stay-at-home parents never get enough credit, and I don’t want to underplay what he’s done. But you know he’s still not fully here. He has no
desires
for himself. It’s like when my father was dying, that same kind of slow-motion loss. But now it just goes on and on. A person who’s half here and half not. I don’t want that, and I feel so selfish saying it. I don’t want him to go through this, of course, but I also think about Rory and me.”

“And there’s really nothing else he can try? It seems like everyone in the world is on an antidepressant, and they’re always mixing and matching. I don’t mean to take this lightly, but is there really nothing that can work?”

“Oh, you know, sometimes a new drug seems to be having an effect. And we get all hopeful. But then he tells me it’s not working after all. Or else the side effects are bad. I see depressed people in my practice, but his depression, even though it’s supposedly ‘low-level,’ is just so tenacious, and hard to treat. Atypical, they call it.”

“If you want to experience over-the-top depression,” said Ethan, “just go to Jakarta and see how those workers live. That’ll really depress you.”

“Just what I want,” said Jules. “More depression in my life.”

Rory appeared then in the entry of the living room, still wearing her
gi,
though the sleeves were now dripping from what she’d been doing in the sink. She bowed deeply to Ethan, who stood and bowed back. “Ethan, I’ve gotten very good at destroying wood,” Rory said.

“That’s good, Rory. Wood is
evil.
That’s what I tell Larkin every day.”

“I know you’re teasing me. Want to see me destroy a piece of wood?”

“Naturally.”

Rory placed a thick piece of wood on the edge of the table and said, “Hi-
yaaaaa
!” and split the thing in half. The wood went flying, some of it landing under the radiator. It would stay there for months, years, wedged in a small space even after the Jacobson-Boyd family moved out. The wood would go unnoticed for a very long time, like the library book that had been flung under the bureau during Rory’s conception. Jules often thought of that night; she remembered Dennis in black tie, and how substantial he’d looked, how full of himself. That was it: Ethan was full, and Dennis now wasn’t. Depression sprang a leak. Dennis was
leaking.

“You’re a genius at karate, kiddo,” Ethan said, and then he pulled Rory onto his lap.

“You can’t be a genius at karate,” declaimed Rory.

“No, that’s true.
I
can’t. But
you
can.”

Rory understood the joke and laughed chestily. “Ethan Figman, THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT!” she said in a voice that was so sure of itself and so deep that Jules sometimes referred to her as James Earl Jones. There was no point in telling Rory that she had to use her
inside voice
; she didn’t really have any idea how to modulate. She was spirited, full of herself too, the way Jules had just been thinking Ethan was.

Rory slipped off, went to destroy more wood in the front hallway. Ethan said to Jules, “Okay, I have to leave. Ash wants me to look at some set designs for that Balinese play. But before I go, you and I have to talk about the thing between us. The horrible thing about one friend helping another.”

“I never get to help
you
,” Jules said. “You’re always helping me and Dennis and everyone else.”

“Are you kidding?” he said. “You know you help me.”

“Oh,” she said. “You’re talking about me going with Ash to the Yale Child Study Center? I know she brought that up at brunch, but it was no big deal. And anyway, I helped her that day more than you.”

“You helped both of us.” He looked at her for a long, unblinking moment, and then said, “All right. I’m going to tell you something now that I really wasn’t planning on telling you. But I’m just going to do it. And once I do, you’re obviously free to think anything you want about me.” He crossed his arms, looked away and then looked back at her. “You know how I couldn’t come that day because I was in LA?”

“Yes.”

“I wasn’t in LA. I was hiding out at the Royalton Hotel in midtown. I just couldn’t bring myself to go up there and hear them give my son a definitive diagnosis. They were the experts, and once they said what I pretty much knew they were going to say, they couldn’t unsay it. I should have gone up there with Ash. But I just couldn’t bear it.”

Jules stared at him, her eyes first wide, then narrow. “Really?” she said. “You did that?”

“I did that.”

“Wow.”

“Say something,” Ethan said.

“I just did. I said wow. As in, I can’t believe that you did something . . . so morally bad. And that you did it to Ash.” Despite herself, Jules began to laugh.

“I can’t imagine why you’re laughing,” said Ethan, who wasn’t smiling at all, but appeared very somber and still.

“What you told me is just so unlikely,” said Jules. “You did something really
not good,
and I don’t know what to make of it.”

“I’ve been telling you for a long time that I’m not so good. Why doesn’t anyone believe me? Did you know that I yell at people too? People I work with? I never used to do that, but everything’s become so stressful. I yelled at one of the writers and called him a hack. Then I spent the entire table read apologizing to him. My temper is short, and I’ve made some horrible decisions. You know the spin-off
Alpha
? The one that just got shelved? The studio lost a shitload of money on that because I insisted it would work. I sort of convinced myself that everything related to
Figland
would turn to gold. But that can’t happen if it isn’t good; and the spin-off was pretty lame. But I pushed it through because I got delusional about the
Figland
brand. They’re all mad at me over there, but they won’t say it. This has actually not been a good moment for me professionally, but I act like it is. And I hid out in a hotel room for two nights while you went up to New Haven with Ash to have Mo diagnosed.”

“I really cannot believe you did that,” Jules said. It was terrible what Ethan had done to Ash, abandoning her at such an important moment, but the fact that he hadn’t confessed it to Ash, and had confessed it to Jules instead, gave this exchange a sudden intimacy.

He looked at her with his familiar, searching eyes, and said, miserably, “I don’t even know that I love him.”

Jules gave this a moment, and it seemed rude to refute it, but she felt strongly that she had to. She folded her arms and said, “I think you do.”

“I’m telling you, I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to know. Just do the right things around him. Be loving. Be attentive. Don’t leave it all on Ash again, okay? Just say to yourself, This is love, even if it doesn’t feel like it. And then go barreling ahead even when you feel cheated that this is how things have turned out. He’s your little boy, Ethan. Love him and love him.”

Ethan was silent, and then he nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I will try to do that. I will really try, Jules. But Jesus, there is nothing of Old Mo in my kid. Nothing.” Then he added, worriedly, “You won’t tell Ash?”

“No.” But Jules thought, suddenly, that if Ethan told Ash, then maybe Ash could tell him about Goodman. It was all about leverage, and Ash would have it at that moment. But Ash wouldn’t want to do that; she would never want to.

Ethan said, “All right, that’s enough about this. Thank you for letting me unburden myself to you. Please don’t hate me, at least not overtly. I will really think about what you said. And now here’s the part that’s not about me; here’s the part about you and Dennis. Every day, in my work life, there are people who want me to give them something because it’s my job to do that, and then there are other people who want me to give them something because they think it’ll advance their careers. I usually end up saying yes to everyone, regardless, because it’s easier that way. When in fact the person I really want to give something to is you. You and Dennis,” he amended. Ethan reached into his pocket and felt around. “
Shit
,” he said. “I know I brought it.” He frisked himself. “God, where is it? Oh wait, here we go.” Ethan extracted a small, folded piece of paper and smoothed it out; it was a bank check with his signature on it. He handed it to her and she saw that it was made out to her and Dennis, in the amount of one hundred thousand dollars.

“No!” Jules said. “This is a ridiculous amount. And Dennis will never let you do it.”

“Is it fair to let a depressed person call the shots?” Jules didn’t answer him. “This’ll make life a little easier,” Ethan said. “That’s something that money can really do. You know I’m not really into things—but money isn’t just for
things.
In my experience it also paves your life, so you don’t have to think about all the constant worries and problems. It just makes everything run so much more smoothly.”

“We could never pay it back.”

“I don’t want you to. The point is that you work really hard, you’re dedicated, and New York is so tough and unforgiving. Dennis will come around eventually. Something will change for him, I know it will. But in the meantime you’ve got to leave this apartment, Jules. It’s a step. Go put a down payment on someplace bright and modern that gives you a hopeful feeling each day. I’ll cosign the mortgage. I want you to feel like you’re getting a new start, even if you aren’t, exactly. Sometimes you just have to trick yourself a little. Move someplace with an elevator;
those stairs are a bitch. Also, give Rory her own room already. She needs it! And buy her some more pencils and wood and whatever else she wants. There’s nothing worse than money anxiety. I used to hear my parents arguing about money, and I was positive they were tearing each other’s flesh from their bones. I thought that in the morning they’d come out of their bedroom with their skin hanging off. Plus, constantly worrying about money is
boring.
Use your brain to think about your clients and their problems. Use it to be creative.”

“There’s no way I can take a hundred thousand dollars from you.” Jules held out the check and tried to tuck it back into his shirt pocket.

“Hey, what are you doing?” he said, dodging her, laughing slightly. “Come on, take it, Jules, take it.”


I can’t,” she said.

“I’m sorry, you have to, I’m afraid it’s too late,” Ethan said, and he stood and backed away, as though there were nothing he could do about it now.

•   •   •

A
little while after Ethan left, Rory stormed the bedroom where Dennis slept, climbed up on the bed, and stood above him. When he opened his eyes in the darkened room his daughter was looming, one leg on either side of his chest. “Daddy,” she announced. “Guess what? Ethan Figman gave Mom
a hundred dollars.
And he said, ‘Take it, Jules, take it.’ I heard them from the hallway. A hundred dollars,” she boomed, scandalized.

Dennis got out of bed and came into the living room. “Ethan was here?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Jules said. “He called and asked if he could come over. He brought some really good brioches, if you want one.”

“I don’t want his really good brioches. And as you already know, I don’t want his money. Was it all in twenties or one crisp new bill? I mean, this is so pathetic, Jules, so humiliating, I can’t believe it. Why would you
take
it? What are you, a homeless person?”

“What are you talking about, Dennis?”

“Rory told me about the hundred dollars.”

“Oh, she did?” Jules laughed in a single, hollow syllable.

“What?” he said, confused.

She brought over the check, holding it out to him in such a way that, when discussing it later, he could not say she had
thrust
it at him.

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