The Misfortunes of Others (27 page)

BOOK: The Misfortunes of Others
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“Really? The two of you don’t look like you’ve been losing sleep over it.”

Snooky grinned at him serenely. “No, we had a wonderful time.”

Bernard grunted. He drank his coffee.

“Have you taken care of Weezy’s place?”

“Maya watered all the plants once a week, even, may I add, when she wasn’t feeling well, and—”

“Hold on. Why didn’t you take over for her?”

Bernard threw him a contemptuous glance. “Do you think she’d let me take care of the plants? She knows I’m not a plant person. Naturally I offered, but she said she wanted to do it. She was convinced that without her loving touch all the plants would keel over and die. I spent quite a lot of time trying to disabuse her of that notion, but she didn’t want to listen to me.”

“Oh. That’s true, I remember what happened when she gave you that little cactus. She told me you were the only
person she ever knew who could kill a plant that didn’t even need to be watered for half the year.”

“Well, it damn well needed to be watered the other half of the year,” said Bernard with asperity.

“Every living thing needs water sometime, you know. I mean, it’s a fact of life. The universal solvent. Why don’t you set up a Japanese stone garden or something? That sounds like it might be more in your line.”

Bernard shrugged. “I followed all your long-distance instructions. I called Weezy’s cleaning lady last week, and opened the front door so she could get in. We went by later and locked up. Anything else on your list?”

“Yes. I have to pick up Weezy’s mail for the whole summer.”

“She has to do that, they won’t give it to you.”

“I don’t want her to do it. I was wondering if you would come with me. They know you down at the post office, and if Weezy called they might let you pick up her mail. Don’t you think so?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Snooky glanced at him uncomfortably. “What are the chances that there’s another one of those letters there?”

Bernard drummed his fingers on the table. “Almost a certainty.”

“I agree. That’s why I want you to come with me. I don’t want Weezy to have to be there when we get it.”

Bernard sat thoughtfully for a few minutes. Then he nodded, drained his coffee and pushed back his chair. Misty grumbled at his feet. “All right. Let’s go now.”

“Now? Right now?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing if not a man of action,” Snooky said approvingly.

When they reached the local post office Snooky did most of the talking while Bernard, after saying hello, lapsed into silence. The postmaster put up only a minimum amount of resistance. Ridgewood was a small town and Bernard was a well-known figure at the post office, coming in from time to time to mail off his manuscripts and galley proofs. After a brief argument, the postmaster nodded. “There’s a lot of it, though,” he said over his shoulder, going into the back. “A lot.”

He re-emerged with a large cardboard box filled with letters and magazines. “Here you go, Mr. Woodruff.”

“Thank you very much.”

They drove back to Weezy’s house. It seemed strange and still and airless inside, like a buried time capsule. Snooky threw open all the windows and let the summer breeze come in. Then he and Bernard sat down in the living room and began to sort through the mail.

“Here’s one,” Snooky said almost immediately. He turned it over and glanced at the postmark. “July sixteenth.”

“And here’s another one,” Bernard said a little while later. “Postmarked August tenth.”

“Nearly one a month since we’ve been away.”

“Yes.”

Snooky opened the first letter and read it, his face impassive. Then he tossed it across the coffee table. “Take a look.”

Bernard picked it up.

I HATE YOU  I HATE YOU  I HATE YOU

He turned the page over. That was the entire message. “More succinct than the others.”

“Uh-huh. Distilled to the essence. What’s the other one say?”

Bernard tore it open and removed the page inside. His
heart was beating fast. The letters were repellent, and yet he felt a great curiosity to find out what they said. It seemed incredible that someone like Weezy could be the focus of such hatred.

YOURE NOT SUCH A GREAT ARTIST  YOUR PAINTINGS ARE NO BIG DEAL  IM JUST AS GOOD AS YOU  JUST AS GOOD

“Hmmm,” said Bernard. He showed it to Snooky. “What do you think?”

“Redundant.”

“Yes. The same message over and over. Trying to drive the point home, apparently.” He watched as Snooky put the letters back in their envelopes and stuck them in his pocket. “Are you going to show them to her?”

“Yes. I don’t want to, but she’s already told me if there are any, she wants to see them. I just wanted to be the first line of defense, that’s all.”

“I hate to see her upset.”

“Me, too. Bernard … do you think she’s in any danger?”

“I don’t know.”

“I hate this,” Snooky said vehemently. “I feel so helpless, I don’t know what to do. Maybe I should hire her a real bodyguard.” He looked dejected at this thought.

“Maybe you should.”

“Do you think so?”

“I don’t know what to think,” said Bernard. “None of it seems to make any sense.”

“That’s what Weezy’s said all along. She said she never bragged about her career or pushed herself forward. She can’t imagine who could hate her so much.”

“If she’s in some kind of danger and we didn’t do anything, I’d never forgive myself.”

“Yes. If this person feels so tortured, maybe they think that killing her would be the answer.”

Bernard nodded.

Snooky opened the drawer of a small cabinet and took out the telephone book. He opened it and began to thumb through the yellow pages.

“Where do I look? Under
B
for bodyguard?”

“No, I don’t think so.”


M
for muscleman?
T
for thug?”

“Try
S
for security. How do you survive in the world, Snooky? Don’t you know anything at all? How do you function?”

“Not very well, apparently,” said Snooky in a bitter tone, drawing the phone towards him and starting to dial.

“I don’t want a bodyguard,” said Weezy. She looked down at the letters in her lap. “I don’t want a bodyguard.”

Snooky took her hands in his, covering them with his warm, comforting grip. “I know you don’t, sweetheart. But you have to. Look at those letters, it’s getting more personal now. Even worse than before.”

She nodded slowly. “But I don’t want a bodyguard.”

“I know, sweetheart. I don’t want you to have one, either.”

“This is so creepy. I’m afraid to go outdoors. My whole life has stopped.” She leaned against him, and he put his arms around her. She had borrowed Maya’s car to come and see her house, and he had shown her the letters. Bernard stood uncomfortably, a frozen statue, in the background.

“I know, I know,” murmured Snooky.

“Can’t we just go away again? Why can’t we just go away?”

“We can, if you want to. Of course we can. It’s not a bad idea.”

“I was happy when we were away.”

“Yes. Me, too.”

“Let’s go away again. Why can’t we just live away? You do that, don’t you? You never stay anywhere for long. Can’t I go with you?”

He held her in a fierce embrace. “You can go anywhere with me. You know that. I’m not leaving without you.”

“We could go back to St. Martin. I was happy there, Snooky. We could go back to the islands and I could paint like Gauguin. I’ve never wanted to paint like Gauguin, but you know what I mean. Island scenes, stuff like that.”

“Okay. Whatever you want. I’ll call Peter and Nancy tonight.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” said Weezy, suddenly irritable. “We can’t impose on them again. I gave the housekeeper the key, I can’t ask for it back. Don’t you have any other friends?”

“I have lots of friends. Millions of friends. We’ll go somewhere else. How does Majorca sound to you?”

“Majorca,” Weezy said dreamily. “Yes. Majorca. You know somebody there?”

“Oh, yes. They love me in Majorca. We’ll leave tomorrow.”

“You’re wonderful,” said Weezy, and gave him a long, lingering kiss. In the background, Bernard twiddled in an agonized manner with the leaves of a large plant. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “If I may say something …”

Weezy looked up. “Yes?”

“It’s not a bad idea, going away for a while. Things might change while you’re away.”

“Wait a minute. I can’t go. The baby’s coming next month. Snooky, we can’t go.”

“There’s plenty of time to see the baby,” Snooky said. “Majorca is a great idea. It would be better if it were winter here, but never mind, it’ll be winter soon. We’ll stay away for a nice long time.”

“Your friends won’t mind? Wait a minute, why do I even ask? Your friends never seem to mind. I don’t know where you find them.”

“Oh, here and there, here and there. When you travel a lot, you find people who don’t mind unexpected visitors. You’ll love Diane and Frank, they’re great. They’ve got two kids and these gigantic dogs that look like ponies. I don’t know what they’re called.”

“Scottish deerhounds?”

“No.”

“Irish wolfhounds?”

He shook his head. “Some exotic name. Unpronounceable.”

“But anyway, what about the baby? I can’t leave before the baby’s born,” she said fretfully, turning to Bernard. “What should I do? Maya will kill me. Stop playing with that philodendron, please, you’re going to bruise it.”

Bernard let go of a leaf. “Maya will understand. I think, if you don’t mind my saying so …”

“Yes?”

“I think it’s more important that you go away right now. We’ll all be here when you get back.”

Weezy nodded. She picked up the letters and crumpled them savagely, then threw them on the floor. “Can I ever come home, do you think?”

“This won’t go on forever,” said Bernard.

“Oh, really? Why not? What’s going to stop it?”

Bernard had no answer to this. He remained silent. Weezy gave a brittle laugh.

“Woman without a country,” she said.

That night Bernard had trouble falling asleep. He tossed and turned in bed, pulling the covers this way and that. He muttered to himself, dozing off fitfully and awakening a few minutes later. Maya, who barely slept at all anymore, switched on the light and regarded him kindly.

“Having trouble falling asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” she said, switching the lamp off. “Misery loves company.”

When he turned he woke her, and when she turned she woke him. They snarled and hissed at each other like cats in the night. Finally Maya fell asleep, her stomach propped up on two pillows, a pillow between her legs, a pillow behind her back and two more pillows under her head. She sighed as she slept, murmuring to herself.

Bernard lay awake, staring angrily into the darkness. He hated not being able to sleep. He could tell already that it was going to be a long night. He felt that sleep was far away, a land he had been to once but for some reason was not permitted to visit again. He wondered how he had ever been able to fall asleep, it seemed impossible. He turned over cautiously, rearranging the blankets, trying not to disturb Maya. She spoke suddenly, in a loud, interested tone.

“Didja?” she said. “Didja really?”

Bernard’s heart nearly stopped, it was so unexpected, but she was sound asleep. She burrowed deeper into her pillows and her breathing became calm and regular again.

There was something bothering him. Something Snooky
had said today had triggered off that memory in the back of his mind again, and now it was jumping up and down, screaming at him. Something Snooky had said … something almost inconsequential, something Bernard knew already, something everyone knew, but they didn’t realize how important it was …

He pulled up the covers and grumbled to himself under his breath. “What? What is it?”

The darkness did not answer. He felt disgusted with himself. What was it? Why couldn’t he remember? He squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to recall. It was something so … so
obvious
.

At last Bernard dozed, a shallow sleep filled with nightmares. He was wandering in the woods … he was looking for a baby, but at every turn it eluded him … he knew the baby was his responsibility and he shouldn’t have lost it, but it was getting away, fleeing farther and farther into the distance. He woke up with a jerk, snuffling and snorting miserably. With a trembling breath, he lay down again. Next to him Maya, for once, was sleeping peacefully. Bernard thought with some bitterness that he seemed to have absorbed all the insomnia and bad dreams from her, and tonight it was his turn. He was almost afraid to fall asleep again, but when he did dream, the images had changed. He was sitting at a table and eating … eating and drinking, but what was being served to him was something noxious, something thick and creamy and poisonous. He knew he shouldn’t keep eating it, but he couldn’t help himself, he ate and ate and ate, all the while knowing that he was poisoning himself, eating wildly with tears in his eyes. He consumed unbelievable amounts, amounts that in real life would have killed him. At last, with a snuffle, he awoke with real tears in his eyes.

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