“A girl?”
“Well, that’s close.” Eileen looked puzzled, and she laughed and explained about Cal. “We became quite close,” she said. “Even after he quit his job we went on seeing each other and talking to each other on the phone. Well, he was the only person I would call a friend, but there were a lot of other people I saw and a great many I would nod hello to. People in the neighborhood, people at stores where I shopped. It amazed me how quickly I began putting down roots where I was living. Of course no one has a car and you do all your shopping right in the neighborhood, so it’s different there.
“Then when I decided to come home, and it was like a spontaneous thing, nothing really figured out, I packed without being sure whether I would leave or not, I was very upset, but when I was all packed and everything I just went outside and got in a cab and that was that. I never said good-bye to anyone. I never told my boss I was quitting, I never said anything to the landlord, I never so much as called Cal. I had built this whole little life for myself and I was able to move right out of it without even saying goodbye, without even so much as waving to anyone.
“And I didn’t think anything of it at the time. Then on the plane I started feeling guilty because I hadn’t said anything to Cal, and I decided I would call him some night, but I never did. And then one day I thought about the people in the neighborhood, seeing how well I remembered them, and I realized that they would never notice that I was gone, I knew that early on. They just wouldn’t see me, and after a while they would forget me. It had been very easy establishing myself in the neighborhood, getting to be a part of it, but the roots were all shallow ones and you could pull them up without a moment’s notice. And I guess that was when I knew for sure that it was right for me to come back. And this was after I had been back for some time already. I knew it was right in certain other ways, for Robin’s benefit for example, and also because I evidently couldn’t maintain any emotional stability in New York. I needed to be here in order to keep myself sane, or at least relatively sane. But I didn’t know it was right for me until much later.”
“This is where you belong, Andrea.”
“Yes, it is. It really is, and I still have trouble coming right out and saying that and making myself believe it. Why is that, do you suppose? Why do I have to keep learning the same damn thing over and over? God, I envy you.”
“You envy me? That’s crazy. The other way around, sure. I envy you in a lot of ways. Not in a sense of wanting to change places, but in other ways. Why in the world would you envy me?”
“Because you know who you are. You’ve always known who you are.”
“That’s just not having much imagination, that’s all. But I envy you. Going to New York, having the nerve to do it. Getting a job. Meeting people. I never could have done that.”
“Maybe you know better than to try.”
“Aren’t you glad you went, Andrea?”
“I’m sorry I hurt Mark the way I did—.” Up to a point they’d been even-up in at least that department... And Robin, she seems all right but how do you ever know with children?
“But aren’t you glad you did what you did?”
“Yes.”
“Of course you are. Don’t forget it,” said Eileen Fradin.
The last guests left shortly after midnight. Mark offered to help her clean up but she told him she wasn’t going to bother. “Everything can wait until morning.”
“Tired?”
“I guess I am. It wasn’t really that much work and I didn’t have much to drink tonight but I seem to be exhausted. Let’s go upstairs.”
But halfway upstairs, she changed direction and went to the kitchen for cigarettes. When she got to their bedroom he was standing in front of his dresser removing his cufflinks. She slipped an arm around his waist and settled her head against his shoulder, meeting his eyes in the mirror over the dresser.
“We don’t look so bad,” she said. “For a couple of old farts.”
“I think we look pretty good.”
“Love me?”
“No, I’m just crazy about your ass.”
“Do you love me?”
“Yes.”
“And I love you. Twelve years.”
“Not until Monday.”
“Twelve years. Ten wonderful years. Cass, a funny man.”
“I think that line came out of some nightclub comic’s routine.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. It was funny, though, the way he said it. After everybody decided it would be all right to laugh.”
“Oh, I think you’re exaggerating, baby.”
“Probably.” She yawned daintily. “‘To Mark and Andrea, an inspiration to us all.’ What do you think he meant by that?”
“Just something to say.”
“Sure... Are you glad you picked me?”
“Of course I am.”
“Even if I’m a pain in the ass?”
“Everybody’s a pain in the ass sooner or later. Hey, don’t cry, baby.”
“I can’t help it. I don’t even know what I’m crying about. Hold me? That’s better. Oh, Mark.”
“It’s all right, baby.”
“I don’t mean to be a pain in the ass.”
“I know, most of us don’t.”
“Yeah, sensational. Hitler didn’t mean to be a pain in the ass either. Is it a good average?”
“Is what?”
“Ten out of twelve.”
“I think we’re closer to eleven out of twelve, and that’s a hell of a good average.”
“Can we go to bed, Mark?”
“I think that’s a great idea.”
“Can we screw a little?”
“Even better.”
And, after lovemaking, after a warm silence had settled over them, she said, “Mark? Are you awake?”
“A little.”
“I just figured out something.”
“What?”
“I don’t know if it makes sense. I just figured out what I’m going to be when I grow up.”
“What?”
“Exactly the same.”
He didn’t say anything, and she thought that he had fallen back asleep. Then he said, “Yeah, it makes sense.”
“Does it?”
“Uh-huh. It’s scary, isn’t it?”
“Yes it is. But it’s a relief too. Mark?”
“What?”
“Oh, nothing, I guess. Just good night.”
“Good night, baby. See you in the morning.”