If Lewis refused to pay Pete and if Pete carried out his threat she would be conspicuous enough. And the children. They would have to leave Maidstone. Roy and Panther would see the papers and learn all about it. Well — about what? She was their mother, wasn’t that enough? It was enough for her. But Maid-stone was a nice place, and that house was in her name...
In bed with Pete she could say to him, listen, you gave me a wristwatch once, give me something else. Lewis doesn’t matter, but I do, don’t I? Only she would have to be careful when and how she said it or it might merely make him contrary. Before would be a mistake. Just after would be better, when he was smoking a cigarette and felt like talking.
The train had left One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street behind and was gliding through the long tunnel between the rows of steel pillars which supported the mansions of Park Avenue towering above. About here Lora often amused herself by trying to guess when they were passing Sixty-ninth Street, where Lewis lived in a duplex apartment with his wife who had furnished him with two children of alien baritone parentage. She did so now. Poor dear Lewis, who wanted an extension of his privileges! A week ago she had accepted that; now it appeared an absurdity.
The trainmen called out Grand Central, and the train slowed down and stopped with a jerk. What if he isn’t here, Lora thought as she moved with the crowd of passengers down the long platform and up the runway into the station itself. He had said he might forget; and, looking at the clock above the information desk and seeing that the train had arrived precisely on time, she found herself thinking, if he isn’t here and doesn’t come in ten minutes I’ll be able to catch the three-fifteen home. At that she stopped dead in her tracks, amazed at the feeling of that thought, for it was a feeling of relief! She stopped and stood still, incredulous and bewildered, demanding of herself what she meant by that. Then with a shake of the head she went on, to the waiting room.
She walked clear around it, up one side and down the other. Pete wasn’t there, but that wasn’t surprising, since he had never made a point of punctuality. She stood a few moments in the main aisle, and was about to look for a seat on one of the benches when she saw him entering at the Forty-second Street door. Hatless, in a dark suit that showed some signs of wear and none of ever having been pressed, he caught sight of her at once and strode towards her with a suggestion of a jerk, not enough to be called a limp, in his right leg.
“I’m late.”
“Just a minute or two.”
She saw that people were looking at them, and put her hand on his arm and moved towards the door. No wonder, she thought, he absolutely looked like a wild man, out like this, among other people. On the sidewalk, Pete motioned for a taxi.
“My room’s on Eighteenth Street,” he said. He gave the address to the driver.
She made no reply until after they had got in and the taxi had started. Drugstore, hotel — here I am, my god, here I am, was buzzing in her head.
“Let’s not go straight to the room,” she said.
“Got some errands?”
“Yes. Well... not errands. Would you mind if we drove in the park a while?”
“With that meter staring at me, and me out of a job, and your boyfriend telling me to go to hell?”
“I’ll tend to the meter.”
“Ah! Just like old times.” He leaned forward and slid the window open to speak to the driver, and, coming to Fifth Avenue, the cab swung north. Pete sprawled in his corner and looked at Lora.
“What’s the idea of the park?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
He peered at her for a long time in silence, while the cab crept forward with the solid lines of traffic on the avenue.
“Look at me,” he said finally.
She shook her head.
“Something’s happened to you,” he declared. “What’s up?”
Now was the time, she thought, to suggest the hotel, and ask him to decide which one; being a newspaper man he would know all about it. But first the drugstore. Perhaps on that point he could be trusted after all; it would be a nuisance to go clear to Eleventh Street and back. Of course there were hotels down there...
“Nothing,” she said.
“Don’t tell me.” He was still peering at her. “You look like Antigone ascending out of hell.”
“Nothing is up. I’ve come, haven’t I?”
“Sure you’ve come. What for? What has happened since last night?”
“Nothing.”
As she said it she knew it was false; and yet it was true. Nothing had happened; but something totally unexpected and disconcerting was happening now. She was angry with herself, and frightened, and would not believe it. She forced herself to look at Pete and smile.
“I was thinking it might be better to go to a hotel,” she said. “Your room... you said...”
“Yes, go on.”
“You know what you said.”
“No, I forget, what did I say?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She was floundering. “Let’s go to a hotel.”
He burst into laughter. “Hell,” he exploded, “let’s go and jump in the river; that’s what you sound like. We’re not going to a hotel, we’re going to the middle of Africa and live in a hut and eat coconuts, didn’t you know that? No, there wouldn’t be coconuts. We’ll eat alligators. By god, you’ve lost your nerve; something’s taken it out of you. Last night you wanted me; yesterday you wanted me, first thing — as a novelty, I thought, until you set me right.”
“I still want you,” she said desperately.
“Bah. You’re pale with terror for fear I’ll take you up. Don’t worry, my love; keep your legs crossed and I’ll try to control myself. But what the hell did you come for? Put on your swell rags and ride the damn train and stand around waiting for me — what was all that for?”
“I don’t know,” she said. I’m giving up, she thought, I’m done for good.
She looked at him and asked abruptly, almost angrily, “Why didn’t you take me last night? You could have.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Yes you could. If you’d held me in that chair one more second—”
“I don’t believe it. Why do you think I let you go? You weren’t having any just then, I saw that, and I swallowed your twaddle about the children and the sacred fireside. Listen.” He grinned at her and she turned her face away; he looked remarkably unprepossessing, she thought, with his teeth yellow from smoking and his white unhealthy face with the cheekbones sticking out. For that, instantly, she despised herself. To look away from Pete because he wasn’t handsome!
“Listen,” he was saying, “you mustn’t take it to heart. Everybody has to sell out sooner or later, and you’ve made a damn good bargain. It’s a very pretty little house, and the rugs and chairs and things are very nice. You’re a good honest woman too; when you got on that train today you really thought you wanted what you were coming after, I’ve no doubt of it.”
“I know I did,” Lora said. “I do. I’ve made no bargain.”
“Oh, yes you have. A good one. I envy you. Look at me, I was trying my hand at a little bargaining myself, and it didn’t work. Your boyfriend was too much for me.”
“You said he told you to go to hell.”
“So he did.” Pete grinned. “I saw him this morning. He said I had stated that I wouldn’t do anything vulgar and unlovely, and he was curious to find out if I meant it. That was worse than telling me to go to hell, it was shoving me in and putting the lid on. He’s no fool at all. That’s why he took me out to see you, he wanted to size me up; and here I am, hung out on a limb, with no one to blame but myself. I’m no fool either, I know what the trouble is, I won’t follow the rules. I despise their damn rules and I never have followed them and never will. One rule is you’ve got to lie; I never told anyone a lie in my life. I use these crude terms in deference to the simplicity of your mental processes. Another is that when you take something you’ve got to pretend you’re paying for it. Odious hypocrisy; to hell with it. What’s the result? I’m lucky to have a shirt. In the end I’ll probably either starve or blow my brains out. If they still had monasteries I’d take a crack at that — provided there were some women handy...”