Harlan Ellison - Shatterday

Novins felt a hand squeeze his chest. “What did she say?”

“She said she knew you lied when you were down in Florida. She said she loved you and she forgave you and all she wants is for you to share your life with her.”

Novins closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about it. His mother was in her eighties, very sick, and just recovering from her second serious heart attack in three years. The end was near and, combining a business trip in Miami with a visit to her, he had gone to Florida the month before. He had never had much in common with his mother, had been on his own since his early teens, and though he supported her in her declining years, he refused to allow her to impose on his existence. He seldom wrote letters, save to send the check, and during the two days he had spent in her apartment in Miami Beach he had thought he would go insane. He had wanted to bolt, and finally had lied to her that he was returning to New York a day earlier than his plans required. He had packed up and left her, checking into a hotel, and had spent the final day involved in business and that night had gone out with a secretary he dated occasionally when. in Florida.

“How did she find out?” Novins asked.

“She called here and the answering service told her you were still in Florida and hadn’t returned. They gave her the number of the hotel and she called there and found out you were registered for that night.”

Novins cursed himself. Why had he called the service to tell them where he was? He could have gotten away with one day of his business contacts not being able to reach him. “Swell,” he said. “And I suppose you didn’t do anything to make her feel better.”

“On the contrary,” Jay said, “I did what you never would have done. I made arrangements for her to come live here with me.”

Novins heard himself moan with pain. “You did what!? Jesus Christ, you’re out of your fucking mind. How the hell am I going to take care of that old woman in New York? I’ve got work to do, places I have to go, I have a life to lead…”

“Not any more you don’t, you guilty, selfish sonofabitch. Maybe you could live with the bad gut feelings about her, but not me. She’ll be arriving in a week.”

“You’re crazy,” Novins screamed. “You’re fucking crazy!”

“Yeah,” Jay said, softly, and added, “and you just lost your mother. Chew on that one, you creep.” And he hung up.

They decided between them that the one who deserved to be Peter Novins should take over the life. They had to make that decision; clearly, they could not go on as they had been; even two days had showed them half an existence was not possible. Both were fraying at the edges.

So Jay suggested they work their way through the pivot experiences of Novins’s life, to see if he was really entitled to continue living.

“Everyone’s entitled to go on living,” Novins said, vehemently. “That’s why we live. To say no to death.”

“You don’t believe that for a second, Novins,” Jay said. “You’re a misanthrope. You hate people.”

“That’s not true; I just don’t like some of the things people do .”

“Like what, for instance? Like, for instance, you’re always bitching about kids who wear ecology patches, who throw Dr. Pepper cans in the bushes; like that, for instance?”

“That’s good for starters,” Novins said.

“You hypocritical bastard,” Jay snarled back at him, “you have the audacity to beef about that and you took on the Cumberland account.”

“That’s another kind of thing!”

“My ass. You know damned well Cumberland’s planning to strip mine the guts out of that county, and they’re going to get away with it with that publicity campaign you dreamed up. Oh, you’re one hell of a good PR man, Novins, but you’ve got the ethics of a weasel.”

Novins was fuming, but Jay was right. He had felt lousy about taking on Cumberland from the start, but they were big, they were international, and the billing for the account was handily in six figures. He had tackled the campaign with the same ferocity he brought to all his accounts, and the program was solid. “I have to make a living. Besides, if I didn’t do it, someone else would. I’m only doing a job. They’ve got a terrific restoration program, don’t forget that. They’ll put that land back in shape.”

Jay laughed. “That’s what Eichmann said: ‘We have a terrific restoration program, we’ll put them Jews right back in shape, just a little gas to spiff ‘em up.’ He was just doing a job, too, Novins. Have I mentioned lately that you stink on ice?”

Novins was shouting again. “I suppose you’d have turned it down.”

“That’s exactly what I did, old buddy,” Jay said. “I called them today and told them to take their account and stuff it up their nose. I’ve got a call in to Nader right now, to see what he can do with all that data in the file.”

Novins was speechless. He lay there, under the covers, the Tuesday snow drifting in enormous flakes past the forty-fifth floor windows. Slowly, he let the receiver settle into the cradle. Only three days and his life was drifting apart inexorably; soon it would be impossible to knit it together.

His stomach ached. And all that day he had felt nauseated. Room service had sent up pot after pot of tea, but it hadn’t helped. A throbbing headache was lodged just behind his left eye, and cold sweat covered his shoulders and chest.

He didn’t know what to do, but he knew he was losing.

On Wednesday Jay called Novins. He never told him how he’d located him, he just called. “How do you feel?” he asked. Novins could barely answer, the fever was close to immobilizing.

“I just called to talk about Jeanine and Patty and that girl in Denver,” Jay said, and he launched into a long and stately recitation of Novins’s affairs, and how they had ended. It was not as Novins remembered it.

“That isn’t true,” Novins managed to say, his voice deep and whispering, dry and nearly empty.

“It is true, Novins. That’s what’s so sad about it. That it is true and you’ve never had the guts to admit it, that you go from woman to woman without giving anything, always taking, and when you leave them—or they dump you—you’ve never learned a god damned thing. You’ve been married twice, divorced twice, you’ve been in and out of two dozen affairs and you haven’t learned that you’re one of those men who is simply no bloody good for a woman. So now you’re forty-two years old and you’re finally coming to the dim understanding that you’re going to spend all the rest of the days and nights of your life alone, because you can’t stand the company of another human being for more than a month without turning into a vicious prick.”

“Not true,” murmured Novins.

“True, Novins, true. Flat true. You set after Patty and got her to leave her old man, and when you’d pried her loose, her and the kid, you set her up in that apartment with three hundred a month rent, and then you took off and left her to work it out herself. It’s true, old buddy. So don’t try and con me with that ‘I lead a happy life’ bullshit.”

Novins simply lay there with his eyes closed, shivering with the fever.

Then Jay said, “I saw Jamie last night. We talked about her future. It took some fast talking; she was really coming to hate you. But I think it’ll work out if I go at it hard, and I intend to go at it hard. I don’t intend to have any more years like I’ve had, Novins. From this point on it changes.”

The bulk of the buildings outside the window seemed to tremble behind the falling snow. Novins felt terribly cold. He didn’t answer.