‘And you’d live on what I earn.’
‘Why should I if I’m still on Daddy’s payroll?’
‘So why should I leave if
I’m
still on Daddy’s payroll?’
‘Because you’re not happy there.’
He got up and turned up the sound of the TV. Gunshots rang out sharply; a cowboy fell. Nat sighed loudly and got up and went into the kitchen for another drink. ‘Get me one too, will you?’ Hamp called, and she came back, handed him his shots and beers, went back for her own, and returned, settling herself in a chair across the room.
‘Bliss called,’ Natalie began again. ‘She’s having a party next weekend.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ Hamp’s head rose again.
‘Yeah. That’s the one sure way to get your interest, isn’t it? Who is
it? I know it isn’t Evelyn, wonderful as she is. Mira, with her books, or is it Bliss, skinny little Bliss with her ass? Who’s the love interest these days? You might as well tell me. I sure know it isn’t me.’ Her voice was acid, etched with hurt.
He looked at her slowly. ‘What do you mean, these days?’
Hampden was a large, heavy man with a round boyish face. He had a pleasant, childlike grin that made him seem somehow unthreatening. His voice was boyish too. Natalie’s voice, especially when she was annoyed, was sharp and thin, and no matter what they were saying in an argument, it always sounded as if Nat was jabbing and piercing, and Hamp was parrying and retreating.
‘You won’t sleep with me but you seem to find everybody else irresistible.’
‘Natalie,’ he looked directly at her, ‘you’re the last person in the world to accuse anyone else.’
She colored a little and looked away. Both of them had always maintained the pretense of ignorance about her affairs, and she was not sure how much he knew. But she had not had an affair for a year now, not since her father had stopped sending Hamp out of town on business trips. Hamp had proven a poor salesman and was ‘promoted’ and was now home every night.
She pulled herself together. ‘Christ, you’re here every night, you see what I do. Nothing!’ Her fear turned into anger. ‘I sit and watch the stupid boob tube with you sitting there like a lump of lard slowly blotting your mind out! You don’t do anything!! You don’t help me with the kids, you don’t even take out the garbage. You don’t lift a finger and I wait on you hand and foot and then you say I’m screwing around!’
‘Well, there are always the days,’ he said sarcastically.
‘Sure, sure!’ She was near to tears of self-pity, self-justification, and rage. ‘I raced around shopping, papered a wall, took care
of your
bratty kids all day, put up with Mira and Evelyn, and had time for a toss in the hay with Norm!’
He said nothing, watching three cowboys hide behind a rock, guns cocked.
She watched him. ‘Or Paul!’ she added, prodding him. ‘Or Sean! Or – who do you think?’
He turned to her wearily. ‘Oh, Natalie, what the hell difference does it make? You’re a whore. You’ve always been one, you always will be one, and it doesn’t matter with who.’
Gunshots rang out and three cowboys lay dead. Natalie charged across the room and slapped Hamp hard across the side of the head. ‘Bastard, liar! And what the hell are you, I’d like to know! Mr Superior, you should’ve been a priest, you don’t give a damn about sex, so I’m not supposed to!’
She stood there waiting, yelling. When he did not respond, she hit him again. Her body was aching. She wanted him to leap up, to grab her wrists and force her onto the couch, to take her by force. That was how it had been in the early years. She would attack him, he would fight back, he would rape her, and then she would lie back in his arms content, promising in a baby voice to be a good girl and do what Daddy Hamp wanted.
He sat there, gazing impassively at her. There was a sickly grin on his large gray face.
She cried out and threw herself at him, flailing arms trying, but not too hard, to hit him. He held her wrists; her heart began to pound; he sighed. She was sobbing. He stood up, holding her wrists, then shoved her down into the chair. Then he got his jacket and went out. She sat there sobbing, listening to the car pull out of the driveway.
9
‘Oh, I’m not one for fancy cooking. Hamp doesn’t care a thing about food, he lives on peanut butter sandwiches. But I really like to clean. When we were first married, Hamp used to come home and run his finger over things – the windowsills, you know, and the moldings. He said it was called the white-glove test when he was in the navy. Heaven help me if he found any dust!’
‘Norm’s very conservative too. He looks at anything besides beef and chicken as if it were a rattlesnake. Pork he absolutely refuses to eat. I blame it on his mother.’
‘I never know what anybody’s eating in my house!’ Gaily said, belying the twitching forehead. ‘Everybody eats at different times. It’s impossible! Sometimes Paul doesn’t get in until nine or ten, sometimes he eats out. The baby doesn’t eat human food yet, and the others! So fussy! And Eric has Cub Scouts and Linda has piano lessons and Billy has the orthodontist, and on Tuesdays I have Women’s Guild – it’s always a madhouse!’ Gaily laughed, belying the twitching hands. ‘So I just cook up a big pot of stew
or spaghetti or chicken or something, and dole it out as they come in.’
‘Have some more wine, Adele.’
‘I shouldn’t, but I will,’ she laughed, gaily.
‘I don’t know how you do it, really, you’re marvelous. I go out of my head with my three brats.’
‘Adele has the casual touch,’ Bliss laughed softly.
Adele smiled gratefully. ‘Well, I try to just take things as they come. I don’t get excited. I was raised in a big house full of kids. My mother was wonderful, so calm. “It’s not the end of the world, yet,” she always said. We had this enormous house, a real old-fashioned monster, you know, ten bedrooms. Well, there were nine kids. She had a girl in from the neighborhood to help her, and we all pitched in, you know. When my kids get older, things will be easier. When Mindy’s out of diapers, it will be better.’ Her hand twitched in her lap, and she raised it and drank her wine.
10
She climbed the fence that separated her backyard from Bliss’s and helped Mike through it. Then Bliss handed Mindy over to her, they said good-bye, and Adele went in through her back door. She took Mindy into the living room and laid her in the playpen, but the baby was fussy and kept up a running complaint just verging on crying.
‘Play with Mindy, Mike,’ Adele said. Mike toddled over to the playpen and waved things over the baby’s head.
Adele went back to the kitchen and checked her schedule. Wednesday afternoon: Eric to Cub Scouts, pick up a case of soda for Cub Scout meeting; get Paul’s grey suit from the cleaners; Billy to the DiNapolis’ to work on project. MILK, she had scrawled in large letters at the bottom of the page. She looked at the clock: five after three. She picked up the telephone.
‘Elizabeth? Hi. How are things? Oh.’ She laughed a little. ‘Yes, okay. We’re surviving.’ Again, the gay little laugh. ‘I keep thinking I just have to get through today, you know? Like an AA.’ Another rich giggle. ‘It did? Ooooh, Elizabeth! Oh, I know. Listen, you’re welcome to bring the clothes over here and wash them. Mine’s been working fine ever since the day it vomited soapsuds all the way into the living room.’ Laughter. ‘Oh, okay. Sure. Well, if you need it … yes, right.
No, listen, it’s my turn to drive them and it’s okay because I have to go out anyway. Can you drive the girls to dancing lessons tomorrow?? God, you’re a blessing. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’ Here Adele’s voice got a little tremulous, but she collected herself. ‘Yes, I am. Yeah, my house is the drop-off place for old clothes. I’ve thought of going through them, some of them look pretty good.’ Giggle. ‘Will you be at the meeting? Father Spinola said he wants to talk to us, thank us, I guess, you know. We’re going to have coffee and cake and we need volunteers to bring something. Oh, thanks, Elizabeth. Always ask the busiest person, and she comes through. I’m going to bring my gingerbread, yes, that one, oh, I’m glad. Yes, I don’t know how I’m going to get them in the car. I have six feet of old clothes standing in the garage. I had them in the kitchen, but the baby kept running into them.’ Giggle. ‘Yes, they’re soft, but the thing is they sort of… well …
smell
. Oh, no, she isn’t walking yet, I meant Mike, I guess I’d better stop calling him the baby, hah?’ She laughed loudly and her voice edged sharply. ‘Sure. We really have to get together one of these days. Maybe some night we can do something. No, not this week – Paul has all these obligations – maybe one night next week. Maybe we can to go a movie together or something. Oh. Oh. Night shift, oh. Will it last long? Well, actually, sometimes it’s not so bad. I’m not always so unhappy when Paul works late.’ Laughter, more laughter. ‘Yeah, and then he screams he can’t sleep with all the noise. I know. Well, the poor soul, he must feel strange having to sleep in the daylight. I couldn’t do it, I’m sure. Yes. Peace and quiet at night, I know what you mean. Yes.’ Laughter.
A sound of children burst into the kitchen.
‘Elizabeth? I have to go. The Indians are charging in and it sounds as though the cavalry is just behind them. Right. So long.’
Eric and Linda were both screaming. She gathered them up in her arms and took their coats off, shushing them, trying to find out what was wrong. They sobbed breathlessly. A big boy on the school bus had bullied Eric, Linda had punched him, he had got off the school bus at their stop and had chased them home and promised to come back and get even. She put their coats back on. She was still wearing her jacket.
‘Okay, kids, we’ll find this big bully,’ she said, starting toward the front door, when a crash resounded from the living room, followed by terrified screaming.
She rushed in. The playpen was on its side, Mindy was lying
helplessly on the wooden slats, screaming, with Mike lying on top of her, whimpering himself, glancing guiltily toward his mother. Adele picked Mike up roughly and set him down hard on the floor. He began to scream. She bent for the baby and picked her up, holding Mindy against her body, and bounced her gently. With her free hand, she righted the playpen.
‘What happened?’ she demanded angrily of Mike, who at eighteen months could barely talk. He tried to explain, sobbing and hurt at her roughness, glaring at her reproachfully. He had wanted to play with the baby, had tried to get into the playpen.
‘All right, all right,’ she said apologetically, ruffling Mike’s hair. ‘It’s okay, Mikey, she isn’t hurt.’ He calmed a little, but was still sobbing under his breath. ‘Come on, we’ll get some cookies.’
He trailed behind her into the kitchen. The baby was calming against her shoulder. She reached for the cookie box, which had to be kept up high, and handed him two cookies. The older children clamored. She handed them each two. The baby was quiet. She carried her back inside and placed her back down inside the playpen. The baby howled in protest.
‘Oh, God,’ Adele sighed. She turned to Mike sharply. ‘I have to go out. Now you watch Mindy, you hear, and don’t try to get inside the playpen! Just stay here and watch her.’ She left.
Mike turned large eyes to watch her, confused, but half-contented with his cookies. He sat down and watched the baby scream herself blue in the face as she saw her mother leave. He put out his hand to pat her face and smeared chocolate all over it. He sat there until his cookies were gone, then put his hands around his knees and rocked himself, talking to Mindy all the while. After ten minutes, she gave up and fell asleep.
Adele had grabbed the collars of the two older children and pulled them out of the door. ‘Now where is this boy! Show me!’
Calmed by the safety of home and the comfort of cookies, they were eager to let the whole thing go, but she insisted. She trudged the two of them down the street. Just then the bus from Gardiner School (grades 4–6) arrived, and a group of children got off. A boy who had apparently been standing behind a bush ran to get on. ‘There he is!’ the children yelled and pointed, and Adele ran toward the bus, but collided with Billy, who leaped aside at their encounter, and sent Adele sprawling across the sidewalk. She looked up as the school bus chugged off. She lay there on the sidewalk, her chin propped on a hand, wondering if she
were hurt, wondering if she could have accomplished a broken leg. Oh, well: it would make a good story to tell the girls. She got up, limping; her knee was bruised.
On their return to the house, she lectured Linda and Eric. They were not to speak to that naughty boy, they were to ignore him. If he came around or followed them home again, they were to come straight to her, she would take care of it. They nodded with large-eyed, solemn faces. They had giggled when she fell, and felt guilty.
She looked at the clock. ‘Oh, God! Eric, get your uniform on!’ She took a bottle from the refrigerator and set it in a pan of water. She went into the living room. Compressing her lips, Adele picked the baby up and carried her to the kitchen and washed the chocolate off her face and hands, jammed her into a jacket, and plunked her on the kitchen floor. The baby whimpered quietly; the others were hushed: they all recognized their mother’s danger point. They put their coats on quickly; Adele jammed Mike into his and tested the bottle. It was too hot, so she ran it under cold water briefly, then packed up the baby and her bag and ordered all of them into the car. She strapped the baby into the rear seat and put the bottle in the baby’s hands and the baby began to suck it and screamed, and Adele snatched it away and tested it again and found it was still too hot and she sat in the front of the car leaning her head on the steering wheel and said, ‘Oh, God, oh, God,’ over and over, then pulled herself up and jerked the car out of the driveway, the baby screaming with a burned tongue, her own knee burning where she had bruised it, the other kids hushed with anxiety, and she realized she should have washed her knee, and she jerked the car all the way down the street until she had calmed a little.
Ordering everyone to behave, she went into the cut-rate soda place and bought a case of the cheapest canned soda. Then she drove to Elizabeth’s and honked. Tom ran out and got into the car. Next she drove to Mrs Amory’s, where the Cub Scout meeting was being held this week. Tom helped Eric carry the case of soda. She drove to the DiNapolis’ and dropped Billy off, telling him to call her when he wanted to be picked up. She drove to the tailor at the other side of town, the only one Paul felt did decent work, and picked up his gray suit, ordering the children not to touch it as she hung it on a hook over the rear seat of the car. She stopped at Milkmart for a gallon of milk. By now the bottle had cooled and Mindy was peacefully sucking it. Then Adele drove home. The baby had worn herself out with screaming, and the warm milk had sent her back to sleep. She was heavy as Adele
lifted her out of the car seat, her bag dangling on her arm. Linda tried to help, and picked up the milk to carry it indoors, but it was too heavy for her and she dropped it halfway up the driveway. Adele heard the crash, turned and looked. Linda’s face was white and terror-stricken as she looked up at her mother. (Oh, my God, my God!) Adele turned around, walked back, put the baby back in the car seat. Linda just stood there. Adele brought her voice into control. ‘Get back in the car, Linda.’ She drove back to Milkmart and picked up another gallon of milk.