Moving On (90 page)

But when Jim returned, just before lunch, it was clear he had reached no important decisions. He looked tired and unhappy, but not desperate and not at all decisive. He couldn’t even decide what kind of sandwich he wanted. The kitchen was dirty and Patsy cleaned it up in silence. They had lunch in silence. Davey napped and Jim read
Time
magazine. The afternoon looked like a completely unbridgeable gap of time. There was nothing to do but sit and feel sick and apprehensive. It was hard to imagine anything good happening, that afternoon or any time.

Thus the Horton boys were a welcome interruption. At Jim’s suggestion they all went to the zoo. Mrs. Greenway had bought the boys new red winter jackets and they were in the best of spirits and on their best behavior. The rain had blown away but the foliage and even the air were still wet. They gave the boys bags of popcorn, to Davey’s envy, and walked all over the zoo. For supper they got hamburgers and French fries and when Mrs. Greenway showed up, the boys were greasy and ketchupy and she looked somewhat disapproving.

“I’ve never known what people see in hamburgers,” she said.

But the afternoon had been passed, and during it Patsy and Jim achieved a state of complete politeness. It was so complete that she began to wonder if it might not last forever. They read all evening. Only at bedtime did Jim mention the problem again.

“When are you going to tell him?” he asked.

Patsy had given it no thought. “I don’t know,” she said. “When do you think I should?”

“Why put it off?” he said.

“Okay,” she said, shrugging. “I’ll tell him tomorrow.” The problem was less immediate than another. Jim was in bed and she was still at her dressing table. “Would you mind if I slept on the couch tonight?” she asked timidly.

Jim looked surprised. “Why should you do that?” he asked.

Patsy was at a loss. It seemed obvious to her, but she had no clear position on anything any more. She wanted to sleep on the couch but that scarcely seemed an important reason why she should; it was probably one more reason why she shouldn’t.

She said no more; she got in bed. But asking had been a mistake.

“Is there something wrong with me?” he asked angrily.

“No,” Patsy said. “Don’t be that way. Just forget I asked.”

“I’m not very good at forgetting the things you do,” he said. “Some night when we’re not so tired I want you to explain it all to me. There are a lot of things I’d really like to know.”

“Maybe we should consult an oracle. I doubt I can be very helpful. I don’t understand it myself.”

She knew from the way he looked at her that he was disgusted with that answer. He thought she knew exactly why she had done it and was merely too selfish to tell him. But it had been too long a day. She could not afford to take every disgusted look seriously. She turned off her light and went to sleep, and, through the night, kept as far as possible to her side of the bed.

3

S
HE AWOKE
not knowing what was going to happen—went through a day not knowing what was going to happen. Physically she felt worse than she had the day before. She had slept poorly and awoke with a knot in her stomach. It was raining again, and blowy, and she sat at the breakfast table wishing for some easy out, like the flu, that would give her an excuse to go to bed for a few days and hold all problems in abeyance. Jim and Davey were very cheerful at breakfast; she could not respond and was even a little annoyed by Jim’s cheerfulness. His resilience seemed to her a little too easy, and his cheerfulness either false or stupid. There was nothing to be cheerful about. He had pursued her across the bed during the night and had his arm across her body when she awoke. She had not liked it. It was that that had given her the knot. She didn’t want to be touched, and cheerful was nothing she was ever likely to be again.

Jim went off to the library and she moped through the morning. Juanita came but Patsy did not go out. She felt no desire to see Hank, no eagerness at all to make him go away or not go away, no inclination to do anything about anything. She sat in the rocking chair most of the morning, trying to read a fat novel by Doris Lessing. Jim had lugged it home from the library, but she couldn’t read it. Doris Lessing’s problems were as dull as her own. When Jim came in at lunch and deduced from the fact that she was still in her bathrobe that she had not gone out to give Hank the gate, he was annoyed with her, though he suppressed it as best he could.

After lunch she dressed and paid Flap a visit. Emma was not there. He was in a large ward mostly filled with Negroes. He was not very talkative and neither was Patsy. “You look hollow-eyed,” he said, appraising her. “Been sitting up all night reading Ginsberg?”

“No, but I like his beard,” she said, yawning. They both felt like taking a nap. Finally Flap did and Patsy left. The day seemed quite pointless. She went to the drugstore and had a Coke, wondering if Hank would come in. He didn’t; she bought some magazines and went home. Jim was home. She kept her silence, washed her hair, and read magazines until it was time to cook dinner. She had not had the energy to go to the grocery store and fell back on soup and rather uninspired bacon and tomato sandwiches. After supper, while she sat on the bed admiring Davey in his brand new winter pajamas, Jim got tired of suppressing his annoyance.

“You didn’t do it, did you?” he said.

“No, he wasn’t home.”

“It’s rather cruel of you not to look him up. He might be sick with worry.” There was an edge in his voice.

“Okay,” she said, sighing. “I promise to look him up tomorrow if you’ll drop it right now. I don’t like to talk about it while I’m playing with Davey.”

“Oh, shit,” he said. “You have a lot of refinement for someone who’s been sleeping around.”

“Shut up,” she said. “I haven’t been sleeping around.”

Jim shrugged. “Its just a phrase,” he said. “Anywhere that’s not here is around, as far as I’m concerned. But I apologize. I think it’s a little silly not to want to mention it in front of Davey. He doesn’t understand.”

“So I’m silly,” she said. “I’m a silly overrefined adulteress. Are you sure you want to keep bothering with me? I may be too frivolous for the scholarly life.”

Jim withdrew and let it drop. They spent the evening being strictly polite.

The next morning Patsy awoke with the same knot in her stomach and decided that, inasmuch as she felt bad already, she would go get it over with with Hank. She found him barely up and when he reached for her she brushed his arm aside with a movement of her shoulders and sat on the couch, her coat on and her purse in her lap.

“You look sick,” he said. “Where were you yesterday?”

“I was sick yesterday. I’m sick today and I’ll probably be sick tomorrow and for years to come, and it serves me right. We’ve been discovered.”

She watched him closely, hoping for some helpful reaction, but all he did was frown and sit down by her. “I guess that night was a mistake,” he said.

He reached for her but she made herself unapproachable. “Don’t touch me,” she said. “It won’t do any good. Off you go again, back to your goddamn plains. Too bad for your career.”

Hank shrugged and pushed her back on the couch. She didn’t fight but neither would she take off her coat or let go of her purse.

“Jim said you were a lousy graduate student,” she said. “Is that right? I assumed you were brilliant. You’re so silent I had to assume it.”

“I’m so-so,” he said. “My mind hasn’t been in the groove this year.”

“I’m well aware of what groove your mind’s been in. I ought to be, since it’s ruined my life. If you’re not brilliant you ruined me under false pretenses, you bastard.” She smiled a little. For a moment it ceased to seem so awful.

He made her let go of her purse, and caught her hands. “Quit,” she said. “I never meant to be ruined by a lousy graduate student. Boy, am I dumb. I could have been ruined by William Duffin if I’d wanted to. Why’d I pick you?”

For a moment it all ceased to seem serious. It was just another morning. The change that had taken place had taken place in the other world. Their world was still the same. It might not be enough, but it was the same. He smoothed her hair and she felt comfortable and welcome. She had to tug hard at her mind to remember that there was another, sterner world, in which she had duties. Her husband, at that moment, was waiting for her to come home and tell him she had put an end to something. She had forgotten how she meant to do it.

“I wish I felt as bleak here as I do at home,” she said. “Then it would all be easy. You could be shot down without impunity, you know. Or with impunity, whichever it is. Now your career is in ruins and you’re losing your true love. Why aren’t you bereft?”

But, looking at his face, she knew why. He was thinking about sex. He didn’t really take what she was saying seriously. She didn’t like it. The look on his face, so familiar and so thoughtless, made it all seem serious again.

“We could run away, I guess,” he said. “Ever consider that?”

“No,” she said. “You never gave me any reason to consider it. You don’t want to marry me. You wouldn’t know what to do with me, married, no more than Jim does. Don’t go fantasizing any miraculous elopement. What do you think I am? We just bought a house. The contract is signed. We have a child. I’m not going to run away.”

“I don’t like you living with him,” Hank said, as if it were something that had just occurred to him.

Patsy felt cold. “Thanks,” she said. “This is a great time for you to turn purist. Suddenly you’re an absolutist. I leave my husband for you or you go away. What happens to me then is no concern of yours, I guess. You’ll have your purity.” She had quickly become very agitated.

“We’re good for one another,” Hank said, as if that too had just occurred to him.

“Good for one another!” she said. “What have we done for one another that was so good up to now? All we did was screw a lot!”

“I love you,” he said, trying to kiss her.

“I don’t want to talk about love,” she said, jerking back. “I don’t know anything about love. I don’t love you—I never said I loved you, not in a sane moment, anyway.”

“You have too!” he said, his voice rising. Her agitation startled him, scared him. “Think of the other night. What about that?”

“I don’t remember the other night,” she said bitterly. “I don’t want to, either. Think about what? So we screwed to our hearts’ content, so what. It’s nothing to bank on. I happen to have real obligations to live up to, thank you. Important ones. Just because you don’t, doesn’t mean I don’t. I don’t love you and that won’t ever happen again.”

She looked at him coldly and contemptuously and Hank, unable to stand it, suddenly hit her in the mouth, knocking her off the couch. He immediately caught the lapels of her coat and helped her back on the couch. They were both surprised and silent, and both were shaking.

“You do love me,” he said.

“No I don’t,” she said, shaking her head. “No I don’t.” She began to cry. “I don’t love anybody.” She hadn’t felt the blow at all but her lips felt numb.

Hank wiped her tears away with his fingers and then tried to kiss her. He was gentle about it and she let him, sensing that he was trying to make up for having hit her. She saw how agitated he was and raised her face to him. They kissed and were tender for a few minutes, sitting on the edge of the couch, but then the tenderness got lost in their separate confusions. They kept kissing but it changed. Wanting to be close so badly, they missed it, passed it somewhere, and began to move toward sex, hoping it would make them close. Neither felt sure about it but they moved toward it, anyway, hoping it would change something. It was awkward, since neither was sure. In time they got to the bed, in time got their clothes off, but they were sluggish at every stage and beneath it depressed and almost desperate. Patsy was waiting, hoping that the feeling that had always been there would be there again, so strong and clear that it would solve everything, make her know what to do, make her want to hold him. But they were trembling and hot and scared, not in touch with each other. Patsy lost it all, thought of Jim, grew sick with herself in the midst of it. She got up immediately, crying, suddenly sick with fear that Jim would suddenly decide to come looking for her. Hank got up and tried to calm her, but futilely.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Quit crying.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry,” she said, gathering up her clothes. “You did me a favor. You made it as bleak here as it is at home. I’m sure it will all be a lot easier now. You go back to your desert and I’ll go back to my family. This is just how we deserve to end.”

“I haven’t left yet,” he said.

“I’ll be glad when you do,” she said. “Had you rather we went on like this?”

He sat on the bed and twisted a sock around his hand. “Maybe I can get a job in a hillbilly band,” he said, trying to be light. “Follow in my father’s footsteps.”

He was trying to joke, but there was a plaintive tone in his voice that angered Patsy beyond control. Lost in fury, she turned, dropped her clothes, went to the closet, yanked the old guitar out of its case and swung it at the wall. It didn’t break. She hit the closet door with it, crying, then brought it down against the bedpost as hard as she could. The bottom cracked; she swung again and it splintered. Hank had been too surprised to act, but he recovered, stepped in and wrestled with her. Her face was twisted. She wouldn’t turn loose of the guitar. “No, you won’t, you won’t get to . . .” she said. He finally got the ruined guitar out of her hands and tried to hold her against him. She strained back and he had to settle for making her sit on the edge of the bed. Her body was shaking and heaving and she was still furious, but she became so weak that he was afraid she would be sick. She let him hold her, and gradually she calmed down.

“You can’t leave me and go sit around feeling sorry for yourself,” she said coldly, by way of explanation.

“I don’t want to leave you.”

“I don’t wish to argue. We’ll see what you do. I’m all right now. Please let me dress.”

They both dressed and she left with no more said. She softened just slightly, enough that they could manage a little lightness. He refused to say goodbye and she allowed it to stand that she would see him at least once more. But after she was out, all the spleen and hurt and anger came back and seethed in her for hours. Everything was ugly, she felt. Jim, it turned out, was at the library; he did not get back to see that she had done her duty for almost three hours. It made her the more angry and resentful. When he did come he noticed that her mouth was swollen and made a point of not commenting on it, which made her even more resentful. But in time she calmed a little, of herself.