Augusta Played (27 page)

Although Norman sensed that he was being unreasonable, this only added to his general irritability. He did not actually say to himself that Jackie Kennedy had no right to marry Aristotle Onassis, but the fact of the wedding put him on edge all the same, he felt in general annoyed with the state of the world, and one afternoon, on a whim, in a condition of generalized, unfocused, metaphysically pervasive disgust, when Gus was supposed to be in a practice room at Juilliard, he retrieved the Beethoven book from under the pile of socks in his chest drawer and dialed Birdie Mickle's number. If she answered, he would hang up. At most, he would find something inane and innocuous to say. But she didn't answer.

Norman knew his own father's voice, and this wasn't it any more than it was Birdie's. He took a chance. “Hacking?” he asked.

“Yes?” Richard said.

Norman slammed the receiver in its cradle. It was an old New York trick, and it had worked. His hunch, because he now discovered that he had had a hunch, was right. Practice room! For what Gus was blowing, she didn't need a perfect embouchure.

54

H
URTING
TERRIBLY
, feeling as if his heart were a piece of glass that splintered in his lungs every time he drew a breath, and at the same time experiencing that state of being existen-tially pacified, of being proved right, that the world's political deterioration had produced in him during the summer, Norman made another call, the one he had tried to make back at the summer's beginning. This time he succeeded.

He told Elaine Hacking the whole story—that her husband and his wife were meeting at Birdie Mickle's place on Madison Avenue and that Birdie was a stripper. He waited for her to say something, but she let the pause lengthen until he began to be uncomfortable. He supposed she needed time to come to grips with the concreteness of the information.

Elaine had forgotten all about Norman, but now she remembered everything in an instant. Everything. She could not very well tell him, half a year too late, that his wife was not in fact sleeping with her husband. What the hell, maybe Augusta Gold was sleeping with someone else. Like Richard. She said, “You called her Birdie?”

“That's right.”

“I've heard that name before,” she said. “This is very interesting. Do you know the telephone number?”

He gave it to her. “The last name is Mickle,” he said. “M-i-c-k-l-e. She could be a friend of his and he borrows her apartment. Or else he rents it for a fee. It's done. It's cheaper than hotels or leasing one yourself.”

“You sound very calm. Do you plan to do anything?”

“Do?” he said. “What's to do? Gus is just my wife. I don't own her.”

“No,” she said, “but you wouldn't have called me if you didn't want something done.”

“Mrs. Hacking, don't take this as a comment on your own person, but the truth is I think your husband is a reprehensible mother of the first water and if you want to murder him when he comes home, don't let me stand in your way. Did you have a nice summer?”

“Yes, thank you,” she said, thinking that she wouldn't wait until Richard got home.

55

I
T
WAS
CLEAR
to Elaine that Norman, like all men, had an ego that prevented him from seeing the truth wherever it downgraded his self-image. Evidently, he had figured out that Richard knew this Birdie Mickle—which was probably not hard to deduce, since Richard was so incompetent at deception that he left telltale signs wherever he went, an adulterer's spoor—but he couldn't believe that the woman he was cheating on his wife with, could be cheating on him with another man. Where did Norman Gold get off, calling her husband names? Richard had his faults, but he was no hypocrite. Elaine was glad she had told Augusta about Norman's affair. If Augusta hadn't said anything to Norman about it, she was either saving it for when it would be most advantageous to let him know she knew, or she had a reason for being glad he was occupied elsewhere.

That night, Elaine roused Jeffrey from deep slumber—in sleep, he was still a baby, his breath hot and earnest and his face flushed—and brought him out to the living room in his Dr. Dentons while she dialed the number Norman had given her. It was after midnight, and Jeff immediately started to fall asleep again, his wandering eyes pinwheeling in his round face. He didn't know why his mother had waked him up and brought him out here. Where was Jeremy? Then Jeff remembered—Jeremy was staying overnight with one of the boys in his class.

Jeff was still in kindergarten. He had to wait one more year before he could go to school, but if Jeremy could do the work, Jeff wasn't worried. It must be easy work. In Jeff's opinion, Jeremy was not very bright. Was his mother calling Jeremy now? Was something wrong with Jeremy? Jeff sat up, wide awake. Suppose something had happened to his brother? He began to cry.

56

R
ICHARD
!” Birdie gasped, thrusting the receiver at him. “It's your wife!”

“I'm not here!”

“I heard that,” Elaine said, her voice materializing like a genie through the receiver into the airy space between Birdie and Richard. Birdie thought it was creepy.

“Hello,” Richard said, taking the receiver. “How are you?”

“How am I!”

“Good grief, Elaine, I'm just trying to make pleasant conversation.”

“How can you even think of such a thing?”

“But why did you call, if you didn't want to talk? You make it sound like conversing is a sin.”

“Don't talk to me about sin!”

“I'm glad to hear you say that, Elaine. Now, the way I look at it, there are two possibilities. We can make pleasant conversation or we can make unpleasant conversation. I have spent the entire evening giving the clarinet hell, and I really don't feel like shouting anymore. He was flat.”

“I'll flatten you, Richard.”

“How did you find out where I was?”

“It wasn't easy.”

“I know,” Richard said, proudly. “This time I really kept you guessing, didn't I!”

“Richard, all my adult life you've been doing this to me, but now the time has come. This time you're not going to get away with it. I know all about your Birdie Mickle. I know where she lives.”

“Where she lives? Who told you that? Who gave you this number? Oh no,” Richard said, thinking of Sid, “he told you! I didn't think he meant it!”

“He meant it,” Elaine said, thinking of Norman, “and what's more, he said he would be glad to see you dead.”

“Did he say that?”

“More or less.”

“Uh,” Richard said. “That's not how you feel, is it?”

“I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about how I feel. Richard,” Elaine said, looking at the photograph over the bar, “I keep remembering the girl I used to be. Lainy O'Hara. I was so bright, Richard! You remember, don't you? I didn't know I was going to devote my life to shouting. You're the one who made me do that.”

“I didn't mean to make you do that, Elaine. I don't mind if you quit shouting.”

“You're missing the point, as usual. The point is all that lost promise, down the hatch. It's gone for good, Richard.”

She said this as if Lost Promise were a dear departed one, and Richard felt he should wait a decent interval before speaking again. In the silence, he heard sobbing. “Are you crying, Elaine?” he asked. She had probably been drinking.

“That's your son,” she said. “In case you've forgotten, you have two.”

“What's he doing up at this hour? What's going on, Elaine?”

“I'll tell you what's going on. What's going on is that you're going to start keeping your promises. No more lost promise, Richard. You”—she meant people in general—“can't go through life not fulfilling the basic contracts.” She was speaking existentially, after the manner of Camus, but to Richard's ears, sensitized by Sidney, it sounded more like Al Capone. “From here on out,” she said, “we're all going to keep all our promises.”

“I'm always willing to do whatever you say, Elaine,” Richard said. “You know that.” But he was surprised that she was so eager for him to fulfill his promise to Birdie. Sid must have told her the whole story. God, she must really hate him if she was willing to conspire with Sid Gold and resort to violence to keep him. “Why is the kid crying?” he asked.

“He wants to tell you himself,” Elaine said. “Don't you, darling?” she asked, putting Jeff on the phone.

“Daddy?”

“Jeremy?”

“I'm Jeff, Daddy,” Jeff said, gravelly. “I hit Jeremy. He's not dead, is he?”

“Ask Daddy why isn't
he
at home,” Elaine said to Jeff.

“Why aren't you here?” Jeff said. “Mommy wants to know.”

“Because you keep hitting Jeremy,” Richard said.

“He won't let me watch Batman.”

“That's no reason to hit him.”

“It's all your fault, Richard,” Elaine said, speaking into the other side of the receiver. “You told Jeremy he was entitled to his privacy. Frankly, I don't see why a person should be allowed privacy if he's not going to make good use of it.”

“What do you want him to do? He's only eight, Elaine!”

“I'm five,” Jeff said, claiming the receiver again.

“You shouldn't beat up your big brother. If anything, he should be beating you up,” Richard said.

“He can't. He doesn't know how to. I box like Cassius Clay, Daddy. When I grow up, I'm going to be the greatest.”

“If you were ever here,” Elaine said, “you'd see what a wonderful boxer your son is.”

“I don't need children who box. Elaine, why couldn't we have had a couple of pacifists? If they were old enough, our sons would be Green Berets. Have you checked Jiffs nightstand for scalps lately? He probably hides them under the mattress.”

Jeff started to cry again.

“Now see what you've done,” Elaine said. “He only wanted to ask you to come home.”

“Jeff,” Richard said. “Listen to me, Jeff. Are you listening?” Jeff sniffled. “You're not crying anymore, are you? Now listen to me, Jeff. Daddy's very tired. You have to forgive Daddy. Daddy thinks he needs a good long rest in Florida, but first he has to take care of some promises he made. Maybe next spring we'll all go to Florida, would you like that?”

“Can we leave Jeremy at home?” Jeff asked, brightening.

“We'll see,” Richard said, sighing.

“There,” Elaine said. “That's just like you, isn't it? Equivocating. I am warning you, Richard. This time you had better come through for all of us. If you don't, there's no telling what could happen. You are forewarned, all right?”

She had divorce in mind, but he thought she meant murder. He didn't think she was capable of pulling the trigger, but you never knew. Ninety-five percent of all violent acts in the United States were perpetrated by people who knew their victims. Husbands and wives killed each other all the time. Look at the fruit of Elaine's womb. Jeff was a natural-born killer if ever there was one. Would Sid Gold really go this far just to give Birdie what she wanted?

“Forewarned,” Richard said, softly, to himself, as he put the receiver down. “Birdie, how powerful is Sidney Gold?”

“Sidney? Why, he's extremely powerful. If he gets on the Supreme Court he'll be one of the most powerful men in the United States of America. Being a classical musician, you probably don't know that you have to
be
one of the most powerful men in the United States if you want to
get
to be one of the most powerful men in the United States. I should know, because this is Sidney's area of expertise.”

“Did he really run arms to Israel?”

“Certainly,” Birdie said, with pride. “Sidney is a secret partner in a munitions firm!”

“Oh my God,” Richard said. “Why didn't you tell me this before?”

“Well,” Birdie said, “it's a secret.”

“Birdie, I'm going to get you that engagement you wanted. You can tell Mr. Gold that.”

“Oh, Richard,” Birdie said. “Oh, Richard, oh, Richard!” She knew better than to ask him what his wife had wanted or how she had tracked him here. The time to ask questions was when things were going wrong, not when they were going right. She clapped her hands and said some more, “Oh, Richard, Richard!”

“Well,” Richard said, “that's enough, now.” But it was nice to see her so excited. It was why he had agreed to this in the first place, wasn't it? The trouble was, he had no more idea now than he had had then of how to set up an interpretative dance concert for a strip-tease artist.

“When will it be, Richard?”

“Very soon,” he said. “Next month.” Recklessly, he added, feeling that at this point he might as well go the limit to keep absolutely everybody happy, “On my word of honor!”

57

T
HE
VISITOR
who rang the downstairs buzzer said via the intercom that he was a friend of Norman's, so Gus pressed the buzzer to open the downstairs door. When she opened the door to the apartment, she saw the bellhop. She shut it again, in a panic.

“Wait!” he said. “It's okay! I do know Norman.”

She opened the door again.

“I came on business,” he said, looking at her. He was remembering what she looked like without any clothes on.

She could see her diminished image in both of his blue eyes. She was wearing jeans and an army shirt, but he made her feel as though she were dressed in skin and sunlight and nothing else. He was about sixteen, maybe seventeen, and he looked like something out of a Zeffirelli movie. “What do you mean?” she asked. “What kind of business? My husband will be back soon. He just went out for cigarettes.” Norman was at Columbia and might not be back for hours.