Bingo (35 page)

“That doesn’t exactly follow.”

“Yeah, it does but you have to know her. If she’d thought anyone knew she was gay she would have died on the spot. She was so far in the closet she was voted Miss Garment Bag of 1977. Anyway, I respected her wishes and we didn’t go anywhere publicly together but as time went by, as time does, a few people noticed that she was in her thirties and unmarried with a roommate. When the roommate was determined to be me, the plot thickened. So she dumped me and maybe it was just as well, because I
can be quiet, you know what I mean, but I have a damned hard time lying. If someone had put it to me: ‘Are you Frances’s lover?’ I don’t know what I would have said. Anyway, I’m probably not the easiest person to live with.”

“Why is that?”

“ ’Cause I love my cat and dog more than anything or anybody else.” I laughed.

“That’s a sad story.”

“Not as sad as you think. The happiest day of my life was when Frances moved in with me and the next happiest day of my life was when she moved out.”

“Not everyone is as brave as you are.”

“I’m not brave, Michelle. Don’t ever mistake me for someone brave. I just happen to be a bad liar. Even a child could see through me. Anyway, I think the reward for conformity is that everyone likes you except yourself.”

She thought about that. I opened my drawer to push in the paper clips of colors I didn’t like. On Tuesday nights I’d substitute those colors for the good colors in other people’s paper clip boxes and so far no one had ever noticed.

I put the paper to bed about ten. The Hart scandal was exploding but Roger and Michelle had their fingers on the pulse and I figured they’d be in early tomorrow. I went into the bathroom and combed my hair. I was sure there was more silver in it than at the time of my haircut. Then I rooted around in the cabinet and found a tube of lipstick that Michelle must have left there, Mango Ice. After all these years I couldn’t get it exactly right and left a streak of Mango Ice on my front teeth. I rubbed it off.

Lolly and Pewter led the way. Jackson was glad to see me and I was glad to see him, even if I was steamed about Eagle. On top of my car damage I’d now have legal fees. After all, Jackson couldn’t work for free.

After a proper social kiss on the cheek we settled down to work.

“Jack, you’ve got lipstick on your cheek.”

“Gives me a raffish look. I won’t wash my face for days.” He smiled and then gasped. Ragged pain etched on his face.

“Jackson?”

Sweat poured down his face. He couldn’t answer me. His left arm twitched. His breathing was harsh. My father died of a heart attack and I knew one when I saw one. I also knew if I took him to the hospital at this hour we’d both be ruined.

I picked up the phone. He frantically waved at me with his right arm. He was thinking about the rescue squad, and on Tuesday nights Peepbean Huffstetler was in charge over there.…

“Don’t worry, honey. I have a plan.” My voice sounded reassuring and calm.

My plan involved calling Mr. Pierre so he could carry Jackson to the hospital in his car. But Mr. Pierre was out and about. Now I was in trouble. Without a second of hesitation I dialed Mother.

“Mother, come over to Brown, Moon, and Frost right away. Jackson’s had a heart attack.”

“Is he dead?”

“Only socially.” How could I be flippant at a time like this? I always came up with smart-alec stuff when I was most scared. “Mom, I think he suffered a mild one. I can explain later.”

We hung up the phone without goodbyes.

Mother arrived within three minutes. Together we helped Jackson down the back stairway to Mom’s car. At this point he was more frightened than in pain, although he could have another attack, and Mother and I knew she had to get him to the emergency room fast.

Mother, cool as a cucumber in danger, whispered to me: “You go pick up Regina. Tell her I called you and don’t tell her anything else. I’ll have time to think of a story on the way to the hospital.”

She shut her car door and took off. I could see that with her right hand she was rubbing Jackson’s neck.

Regina was checking her course plans for the horse show. I
had only to say, “Come with me,” and she came without resistance. I explained about Jack while we drove to the hospital.

When we arrived she turned to me. “Come in with me.”

“Sure.”

Mother and I stayed there until Jackson was comfortably settled in his room. Mom said that she’d gone over to the office late to change her will. Evening was the only time Jackson had open today. He suffered the attack and she rushed him to the emergency room because she didn’t want to wait for the rescue squad; not that the squad wasn’t good—they were—but she thought she could get him there five minutes faster by herself. She said she’d called me from the emergency room so I’d go pick up Regina. Mom covered all the bases.

When she left, Mother looked tired. Memories of Dad’s heart attack must have been going through her mind because her face was so sad.

I took Regina back home, once she was satisfied that Jack would be all right. I wanted to make sure she’d be all right herself. We talked with the windows down, and the sweet smells of spring perfumed the conversation. She said that every woman married to a middle-aged man was secretly braced for this kind of thing. Jackson pushed himself too hard. He simply could not admit that he was growing older. Then she smiled and said if he recovered she’d go out and buy a Porsche 911 Cabriolet, white. She’d worry about paying for it later.

When I walked Regina to her door I hugged her and told her I loved her.

I drove back with Lolly and Pewter, who’d endured the whole ordeal with me. I felt as low as, maybe lower than, I did the moment I knew I’d lost the
Clarion
. I just about lost Jackson. Whoever said “Here today and gone tomorrow” wasn’t kidding.

The difference between genius and stupidity is that even genius has its limits. How stupid I was to assume that tomorrow would be like today. The vicissitudes of romance were painful but
it never occurred to me that Jack could die. He wasn’t even fifty. I was beginning to realize that even if we all lived to be one hundred we wouldn’t be who we were today. We can only imagine the future in terms of our own current emotional state, and it’s well nigh impossible to imagine feeling emotions you’ve never felt before. Time would propel us through new situations, new emotions. The thought of Jack dying was a new, terrifying emotion.

I knew he’d be all right. I prayed that he would be all right—but now I had a vision of my life without the people I loved. Losing Dad was agony enough. No one else could go. Other people’s friends could die but not mine. I needed them too much. I loved them too much. Would life be worth living without them? I knew I’d find out in the decades ahead. I felt as though I’d been hitched to Calamity’s traces and was now pulling heavy, unwelcome knowledge.

R
egina called at seven-thirty
A.M
. to tell me the doctor confirmed that Jackson had suffered a mild heart attack. Somehow it was consoling to have the doctor say what we already knew. He’d be out of the hospital in a few days, after they ran tests on him.

I told her to come to the stables around five. We could ride and take her mind off her troubles. She said she might.

The
Clarion
chugged along, its last week at the southeastern corner. Charles stepped with a heavy tread. The enormity of what had transpired was seeping into his pores. As it was, nobody was smiling much.

Mother called. She expected to see me after work, ready to paint and ready to talk. My hand shook when I hung up the phone.

Michelle noticed. “You all right?”

“Mom’s working on my mood.”

“Juts doesn’t appear to be the kind of woman to mince words.”

“Yeah—I know.” I opened my drawer to see my penknife and my “good” paper clips, lined up. The order made me feel better. “I can’t fault her this time. I’ve been stupid. I sat up half of last night thinking about stupidity. You know, Michelle, history is not intrinsically cyclical. The cycles only mean we haven’t learned anything from the past. Therefore, one factor is not cyclical: human stupidity.”

“So much for history. What about you?”

“You’re getting cheeky, you know that? The bingo article was fine. Don’t let it go to your head.”

Michelle, when she first arrived, would have backed down with her tail between her legs. Not now.

“Who died and made you God?”

That phrase out of Michelle’s mouth stopped me cold. “You’ve been talking to my mother.”

“She took me out for breakfast last week, remember?”

I remembered. “What’d she do—tell you every sin I’ve committed since birth?”

“No, she advised me that your bark is worse than your bite.”

“My mother said that?” Now how was I going to scare Michelle into submission when she sprinkled adjectives with gay abandon throughout her work?

“She talked mostly about herself.”

“Her favorite subject.” I was a trifle unkind.

“It’s everybody’s favorite subject.”

“It doesn’t seem to be yours.”

She shrugged. “What can I say? I come from a family where my father wears a coat and tie for dinner and he calls Mother ‘darling’ when he wants to call her ‘bitch.’ I’d rather deal with your mother any day.”

“Sure, she’s not your mother. I could probably deal with yours better than you do.”

“If you can get the shot glass out of her mouth.” A flash of anger illuminated her face.

“I’m sorry.”

“I used to be. Now I’m disgusted. If Mom and Dad had any guts they would have gotten divorced years ago. However, their place in the social set is more important than anyone’s happiness, even their own. You’d be surprised at how many people live their lives like that.”

“I guess Diz and Liz do. I never thought about it much.”

“I didn’t either until I came here. My first few months on this
paper I felt like I was in a foreign country.… I was. People say anything to one another. They curse and throw glue pots. Even the men cry.”

I heard Lolly thumping her tail under my desk. “Actually, people don’t say as much as you think. I guess we do show a fair amount of emotion, but don’t be deceived. There are emotions hidden as deeply here as the ones you’re talking about back home.”

“I suppose if someone was a murderer they’d hide it.”

“Who wouldn’t? No, I mean the resentments. The old pains. You and I see the surface angers but I’m not sure I know where they started. Like the bickering between Mom and Wheezie. I don’t think they know anymore.”

She was considering this when I observed Roger crossing the Square. He was coming from the Bon Ton building.

“You going to blackout bingo with Rog?”

“Yes, but I’m going to tell him it’s our last date. That deadline gives me time to work up my courage.”

“Don’t hold this against him.” I swept my hand in the room, indicating the paper itself. “He did the smart thing.”

“I know but I feel like I’m leading him on.” I understood and we shut up when Roger came through the door. He may have a felt a bit traitorous, because he was conspicuously silent too. Breaking up the old gang was hard but we had two more days together as a full staff, so we might as well enjoy them.

Gene canceled our riding date so I scooted directly over to Mother’s. Might as well get it over with.

I wasn’t going to enjoy painting Mother’s living room or enduring a scene over Jackson. I pulled the Chrysler up her manicured driveway. Lolly, Pewter, and I hopped out and let ourselves in the back door. The kitchen shimmered with the aroma of fried chicken, greens with fatback, and grits. Well, if she was going to lay me out to whaleshit, she was going to feed me well while she did it.

Mother was in the living room. She’d prepared everything for me. All I’d have to do would be to dip the roller in the oil-based paint. We never used acrylic paints. She’d assembled good brushes for the trim work too.

She let me get started. While I painted she rewired a lamp.

“So?”

“Mom, what can I say? I was having an affair with him. I broke it off. Last night we really were doing business—not what you think.”

“It took two of you to make that mistake. What’s he got to say for himself?”

“The only thing he ever said to me was that he loves Regina but twenty-two years—is twenty-two years.”

She was carefully stripping off the covering of a wire. “Heard that one before.”

“Mom, why don’t we just fight and get it over with? You can call me any name in the book. I deserve it but I might lose my temper anyway.”

“You and Jackson were like two shits that passed in the night.” Her crooked smile twitched.

“Go on.” My cheeks were warming up.

“I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re not?” I bobbled the roller.

“Careful!”

I regained control of it. “Yes, ma’am.”

“It could have been worse. You could have acted like the Siamese twins of love, joined at the hip.”

“Thanks.” I was not enthusiastic.

“I don’t care about sexist acts between consenting adults.” She twisted the wires together. “I mean sexist.”