Gould (10 page)

here's
easy, but if we're in some other place or two removed from here—and say she's been thinking of me and my life. And also apologize for what she did to me ten to fifteen years ago and hope I'm well, family's well, everybody and everything's well and of course that this letter reaches me and even suggest I write her back but only if I care to—‘There have been so many false starts from me that I can see why you might not want to,' she could say. And then something about Timothy, ‘if you're still interested': married, divorced, remarried, children, he's become an undersea explorer, a real estate broker, an American folklorist, a professional coin collector, besides flying his own planes, but she won't give any hint where he lives or what airports he lands in. I'll almost be retired by then, or five to ten years from it. Have to wait till Josephine finishes college; that is, if we don't have a third child in the next couple of years, which'll make it two to three more years till retirement unless I'm somehow sacked—too befuddled to even find the classroom I would've been teaching in for thirty straight years; exposed myself when I thought the faculty club's fireplace was a urinal. Or they give me early retirement with the same tuition remission policy for my kids—I've never been able to figure that one out, how they save—but we'll talk about that some other time. But I know I won't ever be able to get in touch with her no matter how hard I try. If I called the landlord of the house she recently moved out of, what do you think he'd say? Let me tell you: No forwarding address, possibly not even one to send her rent deposit to, or if there was it'd be a General Delivery or P.O. box number in a big city. So I'll stop trying and it's unlikely we'll ever be in the same place in the next fifteen years where we bump into each other. Even if we were and we did bump, so many years would have gone by since we last saw each other that we wouldn't know who the other was except if my wallet dropped out of my pocket when we collided and a credit card or my driver's license or something like that fell out faceup before her eyes or she accidentally kicked it and picked it up to give it back to me and saw my name on it. ‘I don't believe it,' she'd say, ‘Gould? Or are you another Gould Bookbinder?' And for all I know she'd then say ‘Sorry, though, something imperative and I've got to run, but I'll write you, I promise, and you can answer back if you were the right Gould.' And I wouldn't hear from her again, since that accident would serve as her every-fifteen-year contact with me, till I was in my eighties and on my death bed, though of course she wouldn't know who I was, and whatever kind of communication from her, like letters, that people use then would be placed on my chest, but I'd be too blind to read it and too deaf to hear it read.” “So you tried,” she said, “and it's over with and nothing more to be done about it now. How'd the rest of your trip go?”

He was almost forty, never married, childless, seeing a woman for almost two years, they'd broken up several times during that period for a few days, weeks, once for a month, had lived together for half a year till she said she wanted her own place for the first time in her life—she was with her folks till she got married at eighteen, separated from her husband a few years ago and moved in with an old high school friend—and got a small cheap apartment and he stayed in his, now he was seeing her one or two nights a week and spending most weekends with her and they were also planning a month's bicycle trip in Holland and France this summer and when he came to her place on a Friday night for a long holiday weekend she immediately looked distant or cool, said “Gould, hi, how are you?” and swiveled around after he said “Fine, you?” and went into the living room, hadn't kissed him when she opened the door, he thought that surprising, couldn't remember her not giving him at least a perfunctory kiss hello on the lips or cheek when he made some kind of head or body move toward one when they were alone unless they were still angry at each other over something from the previous day or two or that hadn't been resolved from a week back or only she was still angry at him or thought it hadn't been resolved, and things had been pretty good between them the last few weeks, holding hands or his arm around her most of the time when they were walking outside, her head against his shoulder in the movie theater and a few kisses initiated by one or the other of them snuck in during a particularly dark scene, long deep lively conversations or just chats with lots of play, not a single argument or minor spat, nothing either of them said or did to tick the other off, exchanging I-love-yous and things like that at dinner in a restaurant and at night before they fell asleep after they'd made love, when he phoned her two days ago she said she was looking forward to a three-day weekend with him, he thought they might even resume living together after the summer trip if things continued to go this well though he'd tell her to sublet her tiny apartment just in case it didn't work out, it might even end up in marriage in a year or so, he thought, even if she told him a few months ago she was dead set against getting married again to anyone, so soon after her divorce, for three more years and if he didn't like that arrangement he better stop seeing her now, that she just wanted to continue being out on her own and entirely paying her own way for that long, and he said now when he caught up with her in the living room, she putting a record on the turntable, then turning the machine off and looking at him standing beside her, “Anything wrong?” and she said “Why, I look it, something I'm giving off?” and he said “Yeah, sure, it seems obvious to me and even more so after what you just said; what is it?     and your racing in here away from me, turning the record player on, turning it off,” and she said “You're right, something is the matter, in a way. I've something important to tell you, didn't want to say it the second you got here and probably couldn't hide that it was bothering me     . something you might not like but which you have to know,” and he said “Come on, what, what? From you I'm up to hearing anything with equanimity unless it's that you're very sick with an incurable illness, God forbid, or you want to give me the can,” and she said “The can?” and he said “‘Get rid of me'—it's not the right use of the expression or even an expression to you?” and she said “What I want to say is nothing like that, but you have to wait, I'm not done with the preparations before I go into what I'm going to tell you     if we don't want any music let's sit on the couch,” and he said “I don't want any—it'd just interfere,” and they sat on the couch and he said “Can I get even a smidgen of a kiss to alleviate this a bit?” and she said “Let's be serious,” and he said “I'd really love one but okay, serious, right, let's    .  so what is it, you have a lover in the closet and you want me to leave for the next hour?” and she said “What are you talking about? What does it even mean that you're not aware it does?” and he said “Nothing, only kidding, it was dumb of me, really dumb, and he isn't in the closet, he's downstairs waiting for me to leave    .  no, sorry, dumb again, knock knock, what's there?” banging his skull with his knuckles, “I'm just nervous because of your so-serious face and everything else about you that seems so serious—I'm expecting the worst,” and she said “Once again, it is serious, but please no more silly other-lover talk—men are the furthest thing from my mind,” and he said “Good, I'm glad to hear that  .     okay, then this: after all your  .    .  your, wanting to hold off     no, I shouldn't say it, I've been dumb enough, not that what I was about to say was,” and she said “What?” and he said “For two or three more years as you've said—marriage, that now you want to with me after all and are afraid I'll think, after everything you've said about it, that it's the most outrageous request I've heard and I'm going to stomp right out of here, when I actually wouldn't look at it as too bad an idea, and I'm now being serious,” and she said “Oh yes, that's it; I wish it were as easy as that but this is much more complicated in what's involved between us and on my part solely in the yes or no,” and he said “Don't ask me why but I've no clue as to what you're saying. Let's go back a bit: what preparations did you want to make for me before you got into the heart of what you have to say?” and she said “I'm not sure; hoping you'll be calm and truly consider my viewpoint and so forth—most of it by now I forget. Thinking of what you're going to say beforehand and how you're going to say it shouldn't be done, I think, when it comes to something like this. All I should have done at the door was say ‘Hello, I've something very important to tell you, it's not about my health or someone else, come in,' or ‘it is about my health in a way and to some people, but not me, it is about someone else,' and then ‘come in,' and even given you a kiss because I'd really want to and you expect one when you come and then we'd sit where we are now and I'd say it,” and he said “You're pregnant with our dear little baby, and I'm not joking there, I swear,” and she said “That's right, though it can't show, it's too early. But I am, I just found out—yesterday; I even went to my gynecologist for a test—and I'm going to have an abortion, but how'd you know?” and he said “What do you mean?” and she said “Why, what do you mean? Wait, you don't think I'm having the kid, do you?—is that what you're saying?” and he said “Let's talk about it first,” and she said “Do you or don't you?” and he said “Why not have it?” and she said “‘Why not?' We're not married, for one thing, but almost the least thing, but let me get this straight: you are talking of my having the baby and not having the abortion, right?” and he said “Of course, and why can't you?” and she said “That marriage business, to begin with, and also because, and this a more important reason, I don't want a baby now and even if I did I wouldn't have it on my own,” and he said “So situation solved. We'll get married and have it and if you don't want to zip into marriage because of it then you'll stay with me at my place unmarried or we'll get a new bigger place and that way you won't have to have the baby on your own. Because as I've told you—” and she said “You and a bigger place? You can barely afford your low-rent slum some months so how do you expect to pay for a more expensive apartment while also supporting me when I'm out of work having the child and also paying to have the baby and then taking care of it? There's doctors, hospitals, all sorts of expenses—carriage, crib, clothes, diaper service. And neither of us has medical insurance and if we wanted to get on a plan they wouldn't take me because I'm pregnant and if only you got on I couldn't join it because we wouldn't be married. Even if we were married they'd disqualify the pregnancy part for me,” and he said “We wouldn't tell them you're pregnant,” and she said “They'd count the months, and besides, it'd be wrong,” and he said “How many months pregnant are you, one?” and she said “Whatever I am, I wouldn't participate in anything illegal and by the time you joined a plan there'd be lots of months gone,” and he said “Listen, I'll work harder at getting a lucrative job—two jobs, what do I care? For I've told you, to get back to before—plenty of times I said this—I'd love marrying you and having kids. One kid now, more later; or just a second, and it could be much later. So one or the other or both: marriage or no marriage but living together somewhere and having the baby—it's all fine with me, great, what I want most,” and she said “Really, you're going crazy with this talk, none of it has anything grounded in reality,” and he said “It's not that way at all. It's real and I meant it and it's possible and—” and she said “See? Calm. I wanted you to be calm, reasonable, I knew this would happen, and you're not. That's why I should have been persistent in preparing you for this. Because as you told me, then as I told you: my marriage disgusted me so much about marriage that I won't be ready for another one for a few years and I'd probably never be ready for it with you. That I got pregnant with you is the mistake of my life. Excuse me—just letting myself get pregnant was, or almost as big a mistake as my marriage. No, more so, because now there's a life-and-death question involved. Anyway, to answer your thing about marriage, simply because we were all right for each other in bed and a few other things and felt very good about each other now and then doesn't mean we're right for each other forever—for marriage—for however long marriage is,” and he said “Wait, don't jump into inextricable positions. Ones you can't—places, I mean, where you bind your—for things are different now, a kid's a kid, a pregnancy's not an ordinary  .     a—But let me get my thoughts collected, on line, I'm altogether confused. I won't say nothing like this has ever happened to me, but not at this age. Let me start again, that didn't come out sounding right, where—” and she said “Look, Gould—” and he said “Stop using my name,
please,”
and she said “When did I?” and he said “That way, I mean, for I hate it when you use it like that, saying it as if—for I know what's coming next and I don't like what I see,” and she said “What?” and he said “The worst, the goddamn worst,” and she said “Now you're getting angry and I—” and he said “I'm not, my face isn't, I don't feel it, in the face or building up in the body, or my anger,” and she said “Then worked up, because that's another thing I wanted to avoid,” and he said “I'm not that either; I'm listening and maybe at times commenting or just answering,” and she said “Then just listen, all right? Now: it's fun a great deal with you, this by way of introduction—” and he said “Oh boy, some woman said that to me years and years ago and the introduction meant the end,” and she said “Will you please
just
listen?” and he nodded, and she said “It is fun and has been most times—well, not fun now, and it's been more than fun, of course—and I like you a lot, I think you're a very dear person,” and he said “Watch it, Jack, here comes the kiss off,” and she said “It isn't; now listen. And I once thought I was in love with you, before we—” and he said “Either you were in or you weren't and if you felt you were—thought it—you were,” and she stared at him and he said “Vow: silence,” put a finger over his lips and she said “love with you before we started living together  .   I'm sure it's what made us live together or encouraged us to,” and he said “Excuse me, I know I shouldn't be talking, but I want to remind you that you said last week you loved me. It was at dinner, the Egyptian Tavern, over that mixed Middle Eastern appetizer platter if you want to get exact about it—I can even tell you what we wore, your hair was up not down, the main dishes we had,” and she said “And what we drank, because we were a little tipsy at the time, bock beer at home—” and he said “Shared, one twelveounce bottle shared,” and she said “Wine you brought to the restaurant. I think we drank a whole bottle, before even the main dishes came, and French too, which I always feel is more potent than the others,” and he said “A cheap French wine, probably from Algeria, so not so potent; I even told you that at the table, making the Middle Eastern connection. And almost the whole bottle, though maybe half before the main dishes came, but we ate a lot over a long period because the service was slow. And we were feeling fine, just fine, couldn't be better, we held hands, kissed over the table—lips and hands, you even kissed mine,” holding his hands out, “and a week or two before that in bed after making love we said it too—I love you, you love me—I don't know who said it first; you did, or I, but the point is we both felt it at the same time—it was obvious to me, obvious,” and she said “Where's this conversation getting us, Gould?—oh, I'm sorry, I'm not supposed to use your name,” and he said “I'm trying to replicate the circumstances of the events, disputing you amicably in proving that we said we loved each other then so
were
in love, for after you told me it at the table and in bed, I told you it too, or the reverse,” and she said “All right,
then
, I felt and said it
then
, and we were
then
, but only after we were half smashed or had made love as you said and I was no doubt feeling good in bed, spirits high and body excited and satisfied and mind relieved of whatever shit this city and practically everyone in it gives. But I shouldn't have said it when I was in that particular state, not even to tit for tat your I-love-you if yours was first, since it's the equivalent of saying it when you're drunk,” and he said “And that could've been the night you conceived,” and she said “It's possible, if it was a few weeks back; but we're together two to three times a week and usually on those days, unless I'm hemorrhaging or down with a bad cold or flu, we make love. But it's unimportant now how the baby happened. Whether conceived in love or friendship or doggy passion or out of coercion on your part or generosity on mine when you couldn't go to sleep without it or because you were so nice that day I couldn't deny it or that some of your come dribbled off my stomach into me after your interrupted ejaculus, if it was a night when I was too tired to put my diaphragm in or couldn't find it and had asked you to withdraw, not to say that if I did use my diaphragm then it was the first time in about a thousand for that one that it didn't work. But it's still a conception we have to deal with and I'm dealing with it this way by getting rid of it. So whatever was said or done between us, I'm saying to you, ours is not the kind of love that sticks around and goes trippingly on and on and which I want to happen to me to get married again. And even if I were in love with you or anyone, and deeply, which I'm definitely not with you, the first point I made is the truest and most immutable and that's that I'm not at all ready to have a child now or get married. I have to be on my own more. I've said it and I'll say it again,” and he said “You don't have to,” and she said “No, I want to, because it's not getting through: I have to be on my own more—I must. All this comes too soon after my marriage ended, which I got too dumbly into to begin with, so do you understand now, this ‘wrong time' business I've brought up again and again? Do you understand and that nothing will make me change my mind?” and he said “But I want the baby,” and she said “Fine, but not this one and never with me. Break off with me completely and find a woman who does want one now and have it with her—I'm saying you should do that. In fact, I'm saying that this is probably the last time we should see each other; that right after this discussion—” and he said “So it is the kiss off,” and she said “All right, so that's what it's ending up being, but it's not the word I'd use. It's more a facing of reality, confronting it full out, seeing things as they—” and he said “They're all the same and they add up to kiss off,” and she said “Then fine, then that's what it is, this is the kiss off, but I'm also telling you we're not good for each other anymore. Maybe we were for lots of things—” and he said