Boys & Girls Together (111 page)

Across the room, Aaron smiled.

Sid clasped an arm around his son’s shoulder. “So are you nervous?” he said aloud, dropping his voice, whispering, “Coward, coward to run like that, coward.”

“Please,” Rudy said.

“Will you do it? Yes? What I want? Yes?”

“
Please
.”

“Rudy ...” Esther said.

“Talk to your mother, Rudy.”

“Why did you run, Rudy?”

“Excuse—” the boy began, starting to turn, but Sid anticipated, and when the boy made the turn there was Sid’s face, and there were Sid’s lips whispering “She’s crazy, you saw that, commit her, help me,” and Rudy closed his eyes, brushing by, and then he was safe in the corridor, heading toward the quiet of the bedroom, but when he got there he heard Esther’s voice, and he smiled at his mother and said “I don’t know” when she said, “What does he want from you?”

“What could it be?” Esther went on. “It must be something. Why did you run?”

“I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

“Sid says I made you run. Did I?”

“No.”

“Why did you run, then?”

“No reason. Mother—” he took her hands—“please, you are not as weak as you seem. I know, I know, you must be strong—”

“Yes,” Esther said. “I must be strong.” Then: “How do I do that? Why did you run from me?”

“You two talking?” Sid said from the bedroom door. “Tell her, Rudy.”

“Tell me what?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell her what you told me, Rudy. Remember—”

“I said nothing—nothing.”

“
Tell me what?
”

“Excuse me,” Rudy said, and he dashed by Sid, back into the living room and the heat and the noise.

Branch grabbed him.

Rudy broke free.

Sid came after him. “
Obey me. Tell her. Obey me for once in your life!
”

“Rudy ...” Esther called.

“I mean it, Aaron,” Walt said. “I’m getting sick and tired of the way you’re looking at Tony and me.”

“Sorry,” Aaron said, smiling, walking away.

Tony stopped Aaron. “Do you know me?”

“Of course I do. You’re Walt’s girlfriend.”

“Rudy—” Branch said.

“Rudy!” Sid said.

Esther called, “Rudy ... Rudy ...”

“I mean,” Tony said, “do I look familiar?”

Aaron said, “I don’t know, do you?”

Tony said, “That’s not an answer.”

“That’s right,” Aaron replied.

Rose called, “Can I get anybody anything?”

“Tell her,” Sid whispered. “Rudy, if you love me, if you love her, tell her—it would bring her such peace. You know she’s crazy—you knew it when you ran—so tell her, tell her—”

“Oh ...” Esther said, and she looked down for her purse.

Rudy scrambled after it.

“Thank you,” Esther said. She put her fingertips to her temples. “Thank you.”

“Tell her,” Sid whispered. “For the love of God—”

“Oh ...” Esther said, looking down.

Rudy stood very still.

Then the whole room turned and stared at him. All the things turned, the walls turned and the glasses and the rings on stubby fingers, and the floor buckled, staring up at him, and the windows turned and the furniture shifted so as to see him better, and then there was a deadly pause, and after it came the voices, the infinite whispering voices, all at once wondering if, by any chance, he might have had enough; did he think, just possibly, he might be ready now?

Rudy ran.

Sid started after him, Branch too, and for a moment they blocked each other, and Esther also went after him, first scooping up her purse, then trying to run, and Sid said “Have you seen Rudy?” to Rose and Rose said “Yes, I think he’s in the living room” and Sid said “Maybe” but ran on to the bedroom where Jenny said when asked, “No, he hasn’t been in here” and Esther looked all over the study and Branch scoured the kitchen but he wasn’t there either and then Rose said, “We’re out of soda, perhaps he went for that,” and Sid was hot from the chase and Branch was perspiring terribly and Esther feebly fanned herself, and Branch, after staring for a moment at his mother’s slender legs, turned violently away and Esther said “Oh ...” and Sid got her purse and smiled, saying, “We’ll find him, Tootsie, don’t cave in now,” and Esther answered, “No, I must be strong.”

Branch, completing his violent turn, aimed for the bedroom, where Jenny sat alone, smiling, because she had just realized that what she was was the biggest fool in all the world, because if the play failed and nobody came to see her she would just go off and marry Tommy Alden, which was what she should have done in the first place, years ago, because he loved her, and then she thought that even if the play was a hit and
everybody
came to see her, she would
still
marry Tommy, and
then
she thought,
well
, if the play was a hit and
everybody
came to see her and offered her some
just fabulous part
, what she would do would be to act in it for
just a little
bit and
then
marry Tommy.

“Have you seen Rudy?” Branch asked again.

Jenny just smiled in the terrible heat, because no matter what happened now, she had nothing to lose anymore.

Above her, on the fire escape, Rudy soared. He dashed up past the tenth floor, the eleventh, the twelfth, past the fourteenth, all the way to the top of the building, and then he sat and stared down, but only for a moment, because his feet were alive, his feet needed movement, so he was off again, flying again, down the rusted steps, jumping six at a time, eight, sometimes ten, landing catlike in the heat, whirling around a corner, darting down another and another floor. When he reached the sixth, he rested above the window, out of sight. Across from him was the dark side of another building; below him, a darker alleyway, with one or two cars parked, single file. But the cars, like the windows across, were empty. No one could see him, so no one could catch him. Of course, even if someone did see, he would still be uncatchable. No one could ever catch him, not on a fire escape, not as long as he stayed just right where he was, winded and warm, rust-surrounded, safe.

Aaron poured himself another shot of Scotch and threw his arm around Walt’s shoulder. He gestured toward Tony, who was talking to a sweating Sid. “What color’s that dress?” Aaron wondered.

“Watermelon, word reaches me.”

“Whatever it is, she sure looks cool.”

Walt nodded.

“She’s sure something,” Aaron went on. He slapped Walt on the back. “Boy, you must be tired.”

“We’re all tired, Aaron. You too, I bet.”

Aaron smiled. “You must just be beat down to the ground.”

“Well, like I said—”

“What I’m trying to say,” Aaron went on, “is that your little ole ass has just got to be dragging.” He grinned in Tony’s direction.

“I don’t get you,” Walt said.

“Is she still such a fabulous fuck?” Aaron wanted to know.

Walt shook his head. “
What’d
you say?”

“My buddy Hugh White used to fuck her and he said—”

“
Aaron
—”

“—she was the finest fuck in Sarah Lawrence hist—”

Walt grabbed Aaron.

“And Hugh—well, Hugh, believe me, was a connoisseur.”

Walt shoved Aaron against the wall.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Shut your goddam mouth!”

“Ask her.”

“I said—”

“Afraid?”

“Aaron, I’ll kill you, so help—”

“Ask her if she fucked for Hugh White or not. Go on. Back at Princeton—”

“God damn you,
shut up
!”

“I’ll ask her, then. Hey, Tony. Tony—”

Tony hurried over. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Walt told her. “Nothing.”

“Walt wants to know—” Aaron began.

“Aaron, I’m warning you, God damn you, shut your—”

“
What is it?
” Tony said.

“Walt wonders if you remember Hugh White,” Aaron said.

Tony stopped dead.

Walt let go of Aaron, dropped his hands.

“Oh my God,” Tony said, and she stared at Aaron. “You were somebody’s blind date.”

Aaron laughed. “See, Walt? Am I a liar?”

Walt said nothing.

Tony looked at him. “What did he tell you?”

“ I was very complimentary,” Aaron assured her.

“
What did you say?
”

“I mentioned certain intimacies is all,” Aaron answered.

“You son of a bitch!” Tony said.

“I’ll allow that,” Aaron said. “But I’m not a liar. Am I? Am I?”

Tony said nothing.

Walt excused himself.

Aaron smiled.

“Can I get anybody anything?” Rose called. “Except soda.” She hurried into the foyer after her son. “Branch?”

Branch walked away.

“Branch, what’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing. I’m looking for somebody.”

“Well, please don’t run away whenever I come near.”

“
I’m just looking for somebody
,
Mother
.”

Rose, in the foyer, whispered, “Please.”

Walt, at the bar, filled a glass with ice cubes, then with gin. The heat was unbearable now, and the cigarette smoke stung his eyes, and after the first large swallow of gin he came close to gagging. He remembered that he had not eaten much that day, so he slapped some bologna on a piece of rye and wolfed it down, then gulped the glass of gin.

Aaron watched him, then turned and stared out the window at the Hudson. The view, as always, was lovely, and he wondered how much longer he could take it living among the spies on 84th Street. What I need, he thought, is a fairy godmother, and he smiled at his joke, turning for another drink. Walt was still at the bar, refilling his glass, so Aaron decided to wait a while.

Esther sank down onto the living-room sofa and pinched at the bridge of her nose.” I want my Rudy,” she said. “Sid, where is Rudy?”

“Easy, Tootsie,” Sid said, giving her a little kiss. “He’ll be back.”

Rudy sat, his feet dangling in space, and he thought about his grandfather, about that great nose and the pickle barrel and reading tuna-fish labels and playing Seek the Seltzer, and Rudy said, “So, Joel, what now?” because below him was the silent babble of the party, and probably she was crazy, but he knew he could never commit her and he knew also that he was too tired either to deny his father or to run away. “So, Joel, what now?” Rudy said again, and then he closed his eyes because it was very hot and because he was very tired and because once you’ve seen the earth you’ve seen it all.

I have tried, dear God, to play this game of yours, but I am no one to carry the flag. I am tired, God, a poor Jew, tired, so let me please lie down. Give me a bed, God, because there is a limit to love and mine has long ago been reached, so just give me a bed to lie alone in. I have failed them, all who ever loved me, and for this last I have clung for dear life to life, but now I find it not so dear. I have had enough. I am ready now.

He vaulted up, balancing on the top of the railing.

Across were the empty windows, below the cars. Alive, he was nothing, a bringer of pain; dead, he was nothing too, but dead she was uncommitted. Sid defied.

Rudy smiled a final smile.

And dead, perhaps, perhaps someday in someone’s mind, he might flicker for an instant: a quick sweet memory.

Rudy looked down the six floors. A wink was all it would be, a speedy jaunt, one way, and he suddenly felt at such peace that he had begun his drop through space before it crossed his gentle mind that the shock of his death would likely send his mother mad.

He turned, grabbing for the railing.

Too late, too late.

Wanting to rise, he fell, screaming “No!” every hot inch of the way.

His body caromed off the curving roof of the rear car, spun in the air, dropped. He landed on his face. Blood came quickly, from all over; it seemed not to have a central source. Rudy did not move, and probably would not have had not his pain been sufficient to force a gasp. The gasp made him realize that he was still alive, and that seemed to him such a cruel, such a God-less trick that he began to cry. He wept and tried to rise and, weeping, fell back. Then, through his tears, he saw the bottom of the fire escape and he knew he would always be safe if he was on a fire escape, so he turned his attention to getting there. It took much time and more pain, but he had plenty of that and to spare, and once he had done it, gotten there, once his broken hands had closed around the railings, he set his mind to pushing up that first step and, that conquered, the next. It seemed a foolish voyage he was on, but foolish or not, he was on it, and he only hoped that someday it would end.

Stagpole’s appearance at the party came as a complete surprise to Jenny. Not that she had forgotten her invitation; it was the possibility of his acceptance she had dismissed, so when she opened the door to the apartment and saw the red-haired writer she could only say, “My God, you came.”

“My God, it isn’t air-conditioned,” Stagpole said.

“Just fancy that,” Jenny said, and she closed the door behind him.

Stagpole lingered in the foyer, dabbing a monogrammed handkerchief at his hairline. “It’s a genuine inferno,” he said.

“Come into the living room,” Jenny said.

Stagpole sighed.

Actually, he loved entering rooms.

His red hair was eye-catching and his face was a famous one and there was always that moment after his entrance when everything froze and he knew that all eyes were on him. That frozen moment he relished because, with quick practiced flicks of his green eyes, he could catch and discard twenty faces in an instant. And sometimes if a proper, an appealing face appeared—well, that was enough to make a day. Originally he was quite catholic about which faces he found proper, but now that he was fifty he insisted that the face be young. And thin; gaunt, if possible.

And, of course, masculine.

Now, as he entered the steaming living room, the frozen moment came. Stagpole’s green eyes flicked out like a serpent’s tongue and when he saw the gaunt face by the window he smiled because his last lover had certainly been thin but this—
this
was going to be like making love to a cadaver.

Aaron, by the window, spun his face toward the glass, whispering exultantly, “I got him.
I got him
!”