Clemmie (28 page)

“Jesus! I’ve got to straighten it out at the plant somehow.”

“Stop being a scared little man. I hate that. It’s degrading.”

“All right, degrading. It’s just filthy money.”

“Don’t shout, dear. And
do
go put something on. Put your robe on or something.”

“How long are you going to soak? I want a shower.”

“You’re going to have to wait. This is Mother Clementina’s home cure for the trembles. But I could be bribed.”

“How?”

“Is there just
one
more icy beer?”

“Two left.”

“One more will do it, and I can get out that much quicker. And could you possibly find a real scratchy towel. A big rough one. The kind that makes you glow?”

“I’ll look.”

“And I can’t possibly get back into my clothes. Do you think you could find something of Maura’s that wouldn’t be too grotesque on me?”

“I don’t think so.”

“There must be something around here. Panties with an elastic top. Any kind of wrap-around skirt. A white shirt of some kind. I could just fold it over and tuck it in.”

“I’ll look.”

He got his robe, got the beer, found a big towel, went through the things Maura had left behind and picked out things that might suit her, and took the things into the bathroom. Her eyes were closed. She took the beer and said, “Just leave the towel here. The steam will melt those clothes.”

“Do you think they’ll do?”

“How can I
possibly
tell until I try them?” she said. “Put them on the bed. And see if you can find my shoes.”

“They’re in the kitchen.”

“I don’t think I’ll be much longer, darling.”

He went down and pulled a chair over to the phone table, dialed the plant and asked for his office. Betty answered, saying, “Production Control Section, Miss James speaking.”

“New way of answering the phone, Miss James?”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Fitz.”

“Betty, I’m sorry about that phone call on Friday.”

“There’s no reason for you to apologize to me, surely.” Her voice was very formal.

“Frankly, I was drunk.”

“I gathered that, particularly after the third call.”

“My God! Did I do that?”

“Yes, Mr. Fitz.”

“What’s this deal on Production Control Section?”

“I believe that was arranged in a conference in Mr. Ober’s office Friday morning. You were supposed to be at the conference.”

“Did I know that?”

“You certainly did!”

“What happened?”

“Whenever you report back to work, you are to go immediately to Mr. Ober’s office. If he isn’t in, you are to wait there until he comes in.”

“What does that mean, Betty?”

“I’m sure I don’t know.”

“Look, come off it for a minute, will you? I’ve been in a tail spin for three weeks.”

“Longer than that.”

“I’m trying to pull things back together.”

“I think it’s too late for that, Mr. Fitz.”

“Betty, for God’s sake!”

“All right. I’ll tell you something, Craig. Listen good because I’m going to tell you good. I took it. I took it right between the eyes for those three lousy weeks because I’m a sucker. Now I don’t give a damn if the main switchboard is listening in. I took it and I tried to cover for you. I worked like a lousy dog trying to keep it at least a partial secret that you were floating around here in a big fat alcoholic dream. I wrote memos for you. I did a lot of the
things you should have been doing. I was worried sick about you. I couldn’t reach you. I couldn’t find out what was happening. You wouldn’t let me make a doctor’s appointment for you. You scared me on Friday. I was still your loyal dog. I was sick with fright. So I came from work right to your house. Anybody who comes to your front door can look right into the living room. I didn’t quite ring the bell, thank God. I stood there for thirty seconds, probably, and then I left. I stopped in a bar and took on a load myself, and carried it home. Mother damn near died of shame. I’m through, Craig. When I’m through I’m all the way through. I’m not tying my little red wagon to an anchor. If there’s any way I can knife you, I’ll do it, just to prove that I’m off your leash. I hope you have a big happy time with that little black-haired slut, whoever she is.”

Dazed by the tirade, he said, “Her name is Clementina Bennet.”

“You’re still drunk. Miss Bennet is a lady, not a half-naked, leering, cavorting, drunken slut. You’re on your way to the gutter, right where you picked her up, and the faster you go, the better I’ll like it.”

The phone snapped in his ear. He put it down gingerly. He thought for a long time and then dialed the plant again and asked for Mr. Ober’s office. Miss Commerford answered.

“Miss Commerford, this is Mr. Fitz. I understand that Mr. Ober is anxious to see me.”

“I can connect you, sir.”

“No, please. I understand he wants to see me in person. Would you give him a message, please. I’ve been having a nasty bout of intestinal flu. I thought I might be able to make it by tomorrow, but the way I feel, it’s going to be at least Wednesday before I can get in.”

“Please hold the line one moment, sir.”

She came back on the line very quickly. “Mr. Ober asked me to tell you not to come in until you feel fit, sir. He’ll talk to you when you come in. There is no hurry, he says.”

“Thank you very much, Miss Commerford.”

He went back up to the bedroom. Clemmie was out of the bathroom. She had put on the pair of panties. They
were light blue. She snapped the elastic experimentally against her middle.

“Who were you talking to?”

He sat on the bed. “Miss James.”

“And how is the gentleman’s gentlewoman?”

“She blew my head off. Things are in a mess. My job has been switched around somehow. Ober wants to see me.”

“What upset Miss James, pray tell?”

“This is pretty awkward. She came here to see me Friday night. Standing by the front door she could look into the living room. I guess it upset her. She said she stood there thirty seconds. She called you a cavorting slut.”

Clemmie grinned broadly and then gave a sharp yelp of laughter. “Cavorting slut. That’s pretty good. And I bet you it was closer to thirty minutes than thirty seconds, if I’ve been able to guess right from what you’ve said about her.”

“Aren’t you sore?”

“Why should I be? Maybe an eyeful of riotous gaiety will do her some good. Friday. About sixish? My memory is fogged over, but I think I was doing some dancing about that time. You look licked, guy. Get that damn office off your mind, will you?”

“It’s only the way I earn a living.”

“Nuts. How long do you think I’ll let you keep that job after we’re married? I will
not
be tied to this grim town. I’ve told you that. You’re going to be a kept man, my friend.”

“But …”

She moved closer to him. She put her hands on her hips, and bent forward slightly from the waist. Her body was pink from the heat of the bath. Her hair was still damp. She glowed with health, with emotional intensity. Her naked breasts were like weapons aimed at him.

“Now look you, Craig Fitz. Now that this has come up, there is something that I am getting damn sick of. And we are going to finish it right here, and right now. Nobody is going to do a single thing until this is settled. Do you understand?”

“What do you mean?”

“The letter! The letter! I’m sick of all the stalling.
You are stone cold sober right now, and you can’t get out of it. You are going to do it right now. Is that clear?”

“But, Clemmie, don’t you think—”

“The letter. Write the letter. We’ll go right down to the desk.”

“Clemmie, I …”

She bent backward from the waist, legs spread, hips thrust forward, head tilted back. She squeezed her eyes shut, opened her mouth, and yelled as loudly as she could, “
WRITE
THE
LETTER
!”

“Honest to God, Clemmie. I’ll write it, but right now I can’t seem to think clearly and …”

“
WRITE
THE
LETTER
!”

He got up and she followed him down the stairs. He opened the typewriter and rolled paper into it. He looked blankly at the paper.

“Come on,” she said. “Dear Maura. You’ve stalled long enough. Write!”

He typed Dear Maura. And looked blankly and hopelessly at the paper. “You type then,” she said. “I’ll write it. Let me see now.” She began to stride up and down the room behind him. There was an oval mirror with a gilt frame over the desk. He could see her in it each time she passed behind him, frowning. The blue panties were too large around the waist. They would slip lower with each stride and when they were almost gone she would jerk them up again impatiently.

“Dear Maura. This is the most difficult thing I have ever had to do. I do not expect you to ever forgive me. All I can hope for is a little bit of understanding. Got it?”

“Just a moment. Okay.”

“All right. I guess the most merciful way is to do this quickly. I have fallen deeply in love with another woman. I cannot imagine spending the rest of my life apart from her.”

“Isn’t that a little—”

“Just type it, mister.” When the typing stopped she said, “Ready? I did not look for this. It happened. And now that it has happened, there is nothing that can stop it. Our love had—make that
has
changed to contentment. What I feel for this girl is love. You must believe that. It is not infatuation. Going too fast?”

“Hold it a minute.”

“Ready now? I do not expect the children to understand. I must have a divorce, as soon as possible. You may have custody of the children, of course. And I will make as generous a financial arrangement as I can manage.”

“All right.”

“Now we have to wind it up. I will confer with my attorney as soon as possible, and move my things out of the house. I will leave the keys with—with who?”

“Irene.”

“And we might as well leave her that dismal car of yours too. No need to put that in the letter. Believe me, it would be easier to cut off my right hand than to do this to you, but … uh … circumstances have made it inevitable that I do this thing. There! Now what do you put at the end of this kind of a letter? Cordially? Hell, no. How about regretfully. That will do.”

She leaned over his shoulder. When he had typed the last word she ripped the sheet out. He turned in the chair. She stood and read it, half frowning, chewing her lip. Then she smiled at him.

“Was at so awful, honey baby lambie?”

“I don’t think …”

“At this point you are not supposed to think. Just do it. Just sign it and stuff it in an envelope and turn it over to the intrepid airmen. And it’s over. So eeeeasy. Sign right there, sir. I assure you, you will never regret this move. It’s a sound piece of property. Can’t help but increase in value. That’s a good lamb. Now go take your shower,
please
. You look all fingerprints.”

After he had showered and shaved and dressed, he came down stairs. Though the skirt was far too long, she did not look grotesque otherwise. He recognized the skirt as one that Maura had made for herself.

“Now you look better, darling. Feel better?”

“A little.”

Her soiled clothing was wrapped in her dress, making an untidy bundle. She smiled at him. “We better not lean on that sauce so hard, Craig. You look sickly and I feel all shaky. It isn’t good for us. Fun is fun, but not this much fun. I’m going to run along now and get gallons of sleep. I’ll send Olsen over right away. Then you better fold too. Going to work tomorrow?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Why don’t you just take a run over and dictate a letter of resignation to that nosey Miss James?”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

She came over and kissed him lightly. “Poor old dissipate. Get your rest, dearest. Lots and lots of it.”

He glanced toward the desk. “Where’s the letter?”

She patted her purse. “Right here. I found stamps in the drawer and I typed the envelope. I got the address from one of her envelopes in the same drawer. I’ll take care of it. I’ll mail it on the way home.”

“Let me see it.”

“Now why in the world do you want to see it? It won’t do any good. It’s all sealed and everything.”

“I can reseal it with tape. I never did get a good chance to read it over.”

She sighed heavily and patiently and handed it to him. She sat on a chair arm, swinging her red shoe. He slit the envelope and pulled it out and read it. It did not seem right. It was not the way he would say things. It was too blunt.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really can’t send this to her.”

She jumped up. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t get angry. I just mean that I can do a better job if I’m alone and I have a chance to think.”

“All right then. All right. But do it. And when you come to my place tomorrow, you have your version with you. Unsealed. I want to read it and then I am going to mail it. I have the address memorized. And if you don’t show up before six o’clock tomorrow night with a letter ready to go, I swear I’ll write her, and it won’t be any pink tea letter either. If you don’t have the guts, I do.”

He heard her heels on the porch, then on the steps, clacking quickly and angrily. A little while later the motor of the car burst into life. She cut around through the yard, bounced over the curb and bullied her way into a solid lane of traffic while horns blew in protest.

After she had gone he turned on the radio and as soon as he heard a time signal, he turned it off and set his watch. Exactly two o’clock. Another wave of weakness came upon him and he sat down quickly, sweating, shaking.

He sat with his eyes closed and let his mind range back over the past three weeks. He could remember so little. Quick sharp fragments. Most of it blurred. What are people saying about me? It’s so easy to see them. Knowing nod and smirk. There he goes.

He remembered an amusement park from his childhood, and a huge disc like a phonograph record. You all got on and got as near the middle as you could and braced yourself as best you could, and soon the wheel started, and the women screamed. It went very slowly at first and you laughed when the first ones went, sliding ludicrously off, sliding on their backs, kicking their arms and legs like a bug. The wheel went faster and more slid off, yelling. Then you didn’t laugh so much because you felt the strain on your hands and wrists, and felt an uneasy micrometric skidding of the seat of your pants. The amusement park whirled around and around the wheel and quite suddenly you were gone, sliding, spinning, being carried into the scuppers to pile into a man who pushed you away roughly and angrily, as if you had done it on purpose.