“Sometimes it is, in some ways,” he said brusquely. “I don’t expect to go around laughing all the time.”
After a moment’s hesitation Virginia went over to the bed and started taking the things out of his suitcase and putting them away in the clothes closet and the bureau drawers. She worked quickly and nervously as if she wanted to get it done before he had a chance to protest. Neither of them spoke until the suitcase was empty and snapped shut and hidden under the bed. Then Virginia said, “I’m sorry I was such a poor sport this afternoon.”
“I knew you were a poor sport when I married you,” Howard said quietly. “I should have had more sense than to plan a beach picnic.”
“But you wanted one, you deserved one. You work hard at a difficult job and—”
“Come on now, don’t go to extremes. I do a job, like any other man. I also get mad and lose my temper. Yes, and I guess I get jealous, too... I’m sorry I made an ass of myself in front of the kid. Giving her twenty dollars like that — God, what’ll Dave and Ellen think when she tells them?”
“Nothing. She won’t tell them.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’d make her return the money and she doesn’t want to.”
Howard sat down on the edge of the bed, shaking his head ruefully. “I’m sorry. I’m very sorry.”
“Stop thinking about it. We were both wrong and we’re both sorry.” Virginia sat down beside him and put her head on his shoulder. “I’m a poor sport and you’re a jealous idiot. Maybe we deserve each other.”
“Your sunburn—”
“It doesn’t hurt so much anymore.”
After a time he said, “I’ll be very gentle with you, Virginia.”
“I know.”
“I love you.”
“I know that, too.”
She lay soft in his arms, her eyes closed, thinking that it had been exactly seven months and one week since she’d told Howard that she loved him.
(7)
Louise dressed carefully in a blue linen sheath with a Peter Pan collar, matching flat-heeled shoes that emphasized the smallness of her feet, and white gloves so tiny that she had to buy them in the children’s department. At the last minute she pinned a bow in her short brown hair because Charlie liked girls to wear bows in their hair.
She went to the living room to say good night to her parents. Mr. Lang was doing the crossword puzzle in the evening newspaper, and Mrs. Lang was embroidering the first of a dozen pillow slips she would send to her relatives at Christmas.
“Well, I’m off,” Louise said from the doorway. “I won’t be late, but don’t wait up.”
Mrs. Lang peered at her over the top of her spectacles. “You look just lovely, dear. Doesn’t she, Joe, look lovely?”
Mr. Lang put down his paper and stood up, as if Louise were a stranger he had to be polite to. Sitting, he had appeared to be of normal size, but when he stood up he wasn’t much taller than Louise, though he held himself very straight. “You look very lovely indeed, my dear. Is this a special occasion?”
“No.”
“Where are you going?”
“To Ben and Charlie’s.”
“It sounds like the name of a bar and grill on lower State Street.”
“What a way to talk,” Mrs. Lang said quickly. “You stop that, Joe, you just stop it. You know perfectly well who Ben and Charlie are. They’re nice, respectable—”
Her husband silenced her with a gesture, then he turned his attention back to Louise. “Other girls seem to find satisfaction in dating only one gentleman at a time. They are also, I believe, called for at home by the gentleman. Are you different, Louise?”
“The situation is different.”
“Exactly what is the situation?”
“One that I’m old enough to handle by myself.”
“Old enough yes — at thirty-two, you should be — but are you equipped?”
“Equipped?” Louise looked down at her body as if her father had called attention to something that was missing from it, a part that had failed to grow, or one she had carelessly lost somewhere between the house and the library. She said, keeping her voice steady, “Daddy, I’m going over to play cards with two friends who happen to be male. Either one of them would be glad to pick me up here, but I have my own car and I enjoy driving it.”
“Louise, honey, I’m not questioning your motives. I’m simply reminding you that you’ve had very little experience in — well, in keeping men in line.”
“Haven’t I just.”
“I also remind you that appearances still count, even in this licentious world. It doesn’t look right for a girl of your class and position to go sneaking off surreptitiously at night to visit two men in their house.”
“Home, if you don’t mind.”
“Call it what you will.”
“I’ll call it what it is,” Louise said sharply. “A home, where Charlie and Ben have lived since they were children. As for my sneaking off surreptitiously, that’s some trick when you drive a sports car that can be heard a mile away. I must be a magician. Or are you getting deaf?”
Mrs. Lang moved her heavy body awkwardly out of her chair, grunting with the effort. She stood between her husband and daughter like a giant referee between two midget boxers who weren’t obeying the rules. “Now I’ve heard just about enough from you two. Louise, you ought to be ashamed, talking fresh to your father like that. And you, Joe, my goodness, you’ve got to realize you’re living in the modern world. People don’t put so much stock in things like a man calling for his date at home. It’s not as if Charlie was a stranger you didn’t know. You’ve met him and talked to him. He’s a nice, agreeable man.”
“Agreeable, yes.” Mr. Lang nodded dryly. “I said it was hot and he agreed. I said it was too bad about the stock market and he agreed. I—”
Louise interrupted. “He’s shy. You embarrassed him by asking him personal questions about his background and his job.”
“I don’t mind people asking me about my job and my background.”
“You’re not shy like Charlie.”
“What makes Charlie shy?”
“Sensitivity, feeling—”
“Which I don’t have?”
Mrs. Lang put her hands, not too gently, on Louise’s shoulders and pushed her out of the door into the hall. “You go along now, dear, or you’ll be late. Don’t pay too much attention to Dad tonight, he’s having some trouble with his supervisor. Do you have your latchkey?”
“Yes.”
“Enjoy yourself, dear.”
“Yes.” Slowly, Louise reached up and touched the bow in her hair. She could scarcely feel it through the fabric of her glove but it was still there, for Charlie. “Do I — look all right?”
“Just lovely. I told you that before, at least I think I did.”
“Yes. Good night, Mother.”
Mrs. Lang made sure the door was locked behind Louise, then she went back into the living room, panting audibly, as if it took more energy to be a referee than to be a contestant. She wished Joe would go to bed and leave her to dream a little: Louise will be married in the church, of course. With a long- sleeved, floor-length bridal gown to hide her skinny arms and legs, and the right make-up to enlarge her eyes, she’ll look quite presentable. She has a nice smile. Louise has a very nice smile.
Joe was standing where she’d left him, in the middle of the room. “Sensitivity, feeling, my foot. He seemed plain ordinary stupid to me. Hardly opened his mouth.”
“Oftentimes you don’t bring out the best in people, Joe.”
“Why shouldn’t I ask him questions about his job? What’s he got to hide?”
“Nothing,” his wife said mildly. “Now stop carrying on, it’s bad for your health. Charlie Gowen is a fine-looking young man with good manners and gainful employment. He probably has a wide choice of female companions. You should consider it a lucky thing that he picked Louise.”