LOIS HAMMOND
And the clock read 8:22.
And Rick was usually home at 4:30, the latest.
But the clock read 8:22, and the notes read WATCH RICHARD. THERE’S ANOTHER WOMAN, AT SCHOOL, ALL DAY, EVERY DAY. LOIS HAMMOND. And she couldn’t change what the notes read, nor could she change what the clock read, and she was dangerously close to tears, but she did not cry.
She looked at the notes again, and then she looked at the clock again, and she vowed to discuss it with him that night, because if it were true, she wanted to know, and if it were not true, she wanted Rick to know. She vowed to discuss it, and she picked up the notes tenderly, as if they were old friends, and she put them into their individual envelopes, and then she put the three envelopes into the bottom of her purse, under the disorderly array of junk she kept there.
She went into the living room where she could not watch the clock, and she turned on the radio, annoyed when an announcer gave her the time.
She was not frightened this time. She did not for a moment believe that Rick had met with another ambush. She did not know what to think, and she tried not to think that he was with Lois Hammond, but she could not forget the notes, and she did think he was with Lois Hammond, and that was why she wanted to discuss it with him, because it would certainly be better to bring this thing out into the open. She cursed the note sender again, thinking it would be better if she’d never known, and the notes ate at her mind, ate there like a disease, gnawed and ate until the disease showed on her face and in the clasping and unclasping of her hands in her lap.
He came into the apartment at 8:40.
She heard his key in the lock, and she bit her lip and stayed where she was in the living room, until she realized it would look strange, her not going to the door. She rose too hastily then, awkwardly, almost slipping, and cursing the mountain of flesh which she partially blamed for Rick’s behavior, if the notes were true. She rushed into the foyer, hoping all this didn’t show on her face.
He was closing the door, and then he turned and she went to him and kissed him tenderly, but he didn’t seem terribly interested. His face was very tired and somehow sad looking, but she’d got used to sad faces when he came home, faces that reflected the trouble he’d had with the kids all day long.
“How was it today?” she asked, trying to keep her voice light, but realizing at the same time that she had made no mention of his coming in at 8:40, and wondering if she shouldn’t make some mention because that would be the normal thing to do.
“Lousy,” Rick said. He shrugged out of his coat and dropped it onto the sofa. “I had a fight with Small.”
“Rick, you didn’t!”
“Yes, I did,” he said. “And Josh is quitting and... oh the whole goddamned setup stinks!”
“What did you fight about?” she asked, momentarily forgetting her resolve to discuss the notes with him, feeling that this was important, too, and if she had nothing else to offer him she could certainly offer sympathy and understanding.
Rick cupped the bridge of his nose with one hand, and sighed heavily. “Oh, we fought,” he said. “What difference does it make?”
“Well...” She paused, wondering if he hadn’t already discussed this with someone, wondering if that someone weren’t Lois Hammond. “I meant... don’t you want to talk about it, Rick?”
“He said I’d been intolerant in my classroom. He said...”
“What!”
“Honey, please don’t have me repeat everything a dozen times. I’m...”
“I’m sorry, Rick. I just...”
“I’m tired, and it only makes me more tired to have to remember what that bastard...”
“If you don’t want to talk about it...”
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to talk about it, Anne, for God’s sake...”
“I’m sorry, Rick,” she said.
They were both silent for a moment, and then Rick sighed again.
“Someone made a complaint to him. You remember that little lecture I gave? My bright idea? Well, someone misconstrued it. Accidentally on purpose.”
“Who?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
“Miller?”
“He wouldn’t tell me, Anne,” Rick said, trying to hide his exasperation, but not succeeding.
“How did it happen? I mean...”
“Stanley told me Small wanted to see me. I went down to his office and he started throwing rocks. ‘Did you use the expression nigger in your classroom?’ ” Rick mimicked. “ ‘Did you use the expression kike and mockie?’ ” He slammed a clenched fist into the open palm of his other hand. “Oh, the hell with him!” he said. “The hell with them all.”
“What did you say, Rick?”
“I told him he was wrong. I told him... what difference does it make, Anne? We kissed and made up, but he’s still a sonofabitch!”
Anne nodded, troubled by what Rick had told her, and then abruptly remembering the notes again.
“Have you... have you had supper yet?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “Where would I have supper?”
“I don’t know. I just thought... well, it’s rather late. I thought...”
“Oh, Josh and I went for a ride.”
“Oh.”
“Did I tell you he’s quitting?”
“Yes. Yes, you did.”
“Well, he is. He told me this afternoon, right after my wrestling match with Small. I thought I might be able to talk him out of it, so we went for a ride in his car.”
“You and Josh?”
“Yes, me and Josh. Anne, what’s wrong with you? I just told you it was Josh and me, and now you ask...”
“I’m sorry, it’s... the chops got overdone waiting for you, and now everything is cold. I just...”
“Oh, the hell with supper. I’m not hungry, anyway.”
She stood there awkwardly, wondering whether he had already eaten, afraid to ask him again, afraid because she loved him terribly and did not want to lose him, and afraid he would tell her the truth, and then she would know everything, and she would be forced to fight back, having none of the weapons a woman must use against another woman.
“Should I... some eggs, maybe? Or a cup of coffee?”
“Coffee,” Rick said.
She went into the kitchen and started getting the coffee ready, thinking I’ll talk to him about the notes when I go back into the living room. I’ll do it then. She puttered with the coffee pot for a long time, not admitting to herself that she was stalling, and then she dried the palms of her hands on her skirt and walked into the living room. Rick was sitting at one end of the couch, his head resting on his cupped hand. He did not look up when she entered the room.
“Rick,” she started, hoping her voice was not trembling.
“Coffee ready?” he asked.
“No, not yet, Rick...” She didn’t know how to say it because she’d never done anything like this before. How do you accuse your husband of infidelity? Or do you accuse him? Maybe she should just casually mention the notes, just casually say, “Oh, Rick, I meant to tell you about these silly little notes I’ve been getting, someone’s idea of a joke, I guess.” Except it wasn’t a joke to her, and she couldn’t joke about them, not if she tried with all her being. She realized that she was standing there after having started to say something, and she frowned, and Rick asked, “What is it, hon?”
“You’re... you’re awfully late,” she said.
“Yeah, we got to talking. Josh and I.”