“I guess I’m not.”
“It’s that man who’s responsible. He’s no good for you. He’s blinded you to—”
“A lot of blind people do very well,” Louise said. “With luck, so will I.”
“So now the man isn’t enough. You’re demanding luck too, are you?”
“No, I’m praying for it.”
“Well, I hope you get it.”
“Then sound as if you hope it, will you? Just for once, sound as if you believed in me, as if you wanted me to have a life of my own, independent of you, unprotected by you.”
“Oh, do hush up, both of you,” Mrs. Lang said, brushing some dust off a plate with her apron. “It’s hot in here. Open another window, will you, Joe? And Louise, don’t forget to take a coat. You never can tell when the fog might come in.”
The sun had gone down and stars were bursting out all over the sky like fireworks that would burn themselves out by morning and begin their infinite fall.
Charlie leaned against the side of the building. Of all the things Miss Albert had said to him, only one had registered in his mind: Louise had gone home. When he desperately needed her reassurance, she had gone where he was afraid to follow.
Home was where people went who had never done anything wrong — like Ben and Louise. For the others — the ones like him, Charlie — there wasn’t any room, no matter how large the world. There wasn’t any time to rest, no matter how long the night. Whatever their course of action or inaction they were always wrong. If they called out for help they were cowards, if they didn’t call they were fools. If they stayed in one place they were loitering; if they moved they were running away. “We, the jury, find the defendant guilty of everything and sentence him to a life of nothing—” And all the people in the crowded courtroom, all the people in the world, broke into applause.
He knew it hadn’t really occurred like that. No jury would say such a thing even though it might be what they meant. Besides, there’d been no jury, only a judge who kept leaning his head first on one hand and then on the other, as if it were too heavy for his neck. And the courtroom wasn’t crowded. There were just the lawyers and bailiffs and reporter and Ben and his mother sitting near Charlie, and on the other side of the room, the child’s parents, who didn’t even glance at him. The girl herself wasn’t brought in. Charlie never saw her again. When it was all over, Charlie rode in the back of the Sheriff’s car to the hospital with two other men, and Ben took his savings and his mother’s, and borrowed money from the bank, and gave it to the girl’s parents, who’d sued for damages. They left town and Charlie never saw them again either.
That time it had happened. Even Louise couldn’t have said it didn’t, that it wasn’t real, that the girl was at home safe in her bed. Perhaps she would have said it anyway, knowing it wasn’t true. He couldn’t afford to believe her ever again. He had to find out for himself what was real and what wasn’t and which children were safe at home in their beds.
(18)
Ellen had expected a dull evening because the Arlingtons were usually tense and quiet the night before Howard was to leave on another business trip. She was pleasantly surprised by Virginia’s show of vivacity and by the sudden interest Howard was taking in Jessie.
While the others ate at the redwood picnic table, Howard sat with Jessie on the lawn swing, asking her all about school and what she was doing during the holidays. Jessie, who’d been taught to answer adults’ questions but not to speak with her mouth full, compromised by keeping her answers as brief as possible. School was O.K. Natural history was best. During the holidays she played. With Mary Martha. On the jungle gym. Also climbing trees. Sometimes they went swimming.
“Oh, come now,” Howard said. “Aren’t you forgetting Aunt Virginia? You visit her every day, don’t you?”
“I guess.”
“Do you like to visit her?”
“Yes.”
“You go downtown shopping with her and to the movies and things like that, eh?”
“Not often.”
“Once or twice a week?”
“Maybe.”
Howard took a bite of hamburger and chewed it as if his teeth hurt. Then he put his plate down on the grass, shoving it almost out of sight under the swing. “Does anyone else go along on these excursions of yours?”
“No.”
“Just the two of you, eh?”
Jessie nodded uncomfortably. She didn’t know why Howard was asking so many questions. They made her feel peculiar, as if she and Virginia had been doing wrong things.
“It’s nice of you to keep Virginia company,” Howard said pleasantly. “She’s a very lonely woman. You eat quite a few meals with her, don’t you?”
“Not so many.”
“When you’ve finished eating, what then? She reads to you, perhaps, or tells you stories?”
“Yes.”
“She tells me some, too. Do you believe her stories?”
“Yes, unless they’re fairy tales.”
“How can you be sure when they’re fairy tales?”
“They begin ‘Once upon a time.’“
“Always?”
“They have to. It’s a rule.”
“Is it now,” Howard said with a dry little laugh. “I’ll remember that. The ones that begin ‘Once upon a time,’ I won’t believe. Do I have to believe all the others?”
“You should. Otherwise—”
“Otherwise, she’d be telling fibs, eh?”
“I don’t think so. Grownups aren’t supposed to tell fibs.”
“Some of them do, though. It’s as natural to them as breathing.”
Although Virginia was talking to Dave and Ellen and hadn’t even glanced in Howard’s direction, she seemed to be aware of trouble. She rose and came toward the swing, her stole trailing behind her like some pink wisp of the past.
“Have you finished eating, Jessie?”
“Yes.”
“It’s getting close to your bedtime, isn’t it?”
“The kid has parents,” Howard said. “Let them tell her when to go to bed. It’s none of your business.”
“I don’t have to be told,” Jessie said with dignity, and slid off the swing, glad for once to be getting away from the company of adults. She wished Michael were at home so she could ask him why Howard and Virginia were acting so peculiar lately.
“Well,” Howard said, “I suppose now the party’s over for you, Virginia. Not much use sticking around after the kid goes to bed. Shall we leave?”
“I’m warning you. Don’t make a scene or you’ll regret it.”
“Your threats are as empty as your promises. Try another approach.”
“Such as begging? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? The only time you ever feel good any more is when I come crawling to you for something. Well, you’re going to have to think of other ways to feel good because from now on I’m not crawling and I’m not begging.”
“Three days,” Howard said bitterly, “I’ve been home three days and not for one minute have I felt welcome. I’m just a nuisance who appears every two or three weeks and disrupts your real life. The hell of it is that I don’t understand what your real life is, so I can’t try to fit into it or go along with it. I can only fight it because it doesn’t include me. I want, I need, a place in it. I used to have one. What went wrong, Virginia?”
Dave and Ellen exchanged embarrassed glances like two characters in a play who found themselves on stage at the wrong time. Then Ellen put some dishes on a tray and started toward the house and after a second’s hesitation Dave followed her. Their leaving made no more difference to the Arlingtons than their presence had.