Evan Hunter - Nobody Knew They Were There

“You’ve got a wife, for Christ’s sake,” Sara says.

“That’s true.”

“What’s her name?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“If I’m going to be involved in a goddamn sordid affair, I guess I ought to at least know your wife’s name.”

“Abigail.”

“Abigail. Do you call her Abby?”

“Yes.”

“What does she call you?”

“Sam.”

“I am at least unique in that respect,” Sara says.

“What?”

“ I call you Arthur.”

“Yes. You call me Arthur.”

“Go to sleep, Arthur,” she says. “I want to think a little.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to decide whether I’ll stay here or not.”

“I thought we already decided….”

“ I have to decide, Arthur. There’s no we involved here. You’ve already got a little closed corporation back in New York, so don’t give me any of that we stuff.”

“Okay, Sara, you decide.”

“I will.”

In as dignified a manner as I can muster, I go to the closet, remove the overcoat, hang it up, and then go back to the bed and get under the covers. Sara turns on the television set. They are showing a five-year-old movie about four affluent teen-agers summering on a vacation island. “Did you see this picture?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Do you think kids really behave like that?”

“I never thought it was about kids.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought it was about adults. ”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sara says. “Everyone knows it was about kids. Anyway, you didn’t answer my question.”

“I have no concept whatever of how kids really behave.”

“Is that a crack?”

“It’s a bald statement”

“You ought to know how kids behave,” Sara says. “You have sons, don’t you?”

“I have one son. The other is dead.”

“I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“That’s all right.”

She snaps off the television set The room is silent. She still sits with her legs outstretched, her arms folded. She is starting at her toes. “I didn’t mean to be cruel,” she says.

“I know.”

“I just…”

“Yes?”

“I just keep wondering why you’re here, that’s all.”

“I’m here…”

“I think I’d rather not know, Arthur. I think knowing would frighten me terribly.”

“You do know, Sara.”

“The train?” She shakes her head. “No. I don’t think that’s why you came here at all.” She looks up suddenly. “Do you know what I think? I think you came here to meet me ”

“So why should that frighten you?”

“Because that’s only part of it”

“What’s the rest?”

“The rest is what frightens me.” She gets out of the chair suddenly, rushes to the bed, and gets in beside me. “Hold me, Arthur,” she says. “Just hold me.”

I hold her.

(I hold her very close; fantasies are gossamer.)

Sara must leave by eight in the morning. Her exam is at nine o’clock, she tells me as she dresses. She wants to do some last-minute studying, and she also has several telephone calls to make. When I suggest that she make her calls from here, she says she would rather make them at home.

“Who are you going to call?” I ask.

“Some friends.”

“Which friends?”

“Some friends who said they would be here yesterday. Some very dear friends.”

“Would be here? What do you mean?”

“From Los Angeles. Something must have happened. That’s why I have to call them. To find out if and when they’re coming.”

“Will they be staying with you?”

“If they come, yes.”

“That’s not so good.”

“It’s very good. They’re close friends of mine. I want to see them.”

“I was thinking of me ” I say.

“Yes, everyone seems to be thinking only of himself these days.” She kisses me on the cheek. “Call me later,” she says, and hurries off.

I order coffee and sweet rolls from room service. I am sitting by the window looking down at the street when the knock sounds at the door. I look at my watch. It is only ten minutes to nine. The dynamiter is early. I go to the door and open it

Abigail is standing there.

“Hello, Sam,” she says.

She looks quite beautiful. She is wearing the ocelot coat I bought her last Christmas. A small black fur hat is angled onto her forehead. Blond hair frames her face. One hand is sheathed in a black fur muff; the other is clutching a small overnight bag. I should be surprised to see her, but somehow I am not I should be concerned about whether Sara has left any of her personal possessions in the room, but somehow I am not It is as though my life is rapidly funneling toward a conclusion already vaguely perceived, and nothing matters but that conclusion.

“Come in, Abigail,” I say calmly, and we embrace, and I kiss her cheek, and I feel nothing.

“Are you surprised to see me?” she asks. She puts down the bag and looks around the room. “What a dreadful room,” she says. “Is this the best room you could get?”

“I didn’t ask for the best room, Abby.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” she says. She takes off her coat and puts it on a hanger in the closet She is wearing a simple black suit with a gold pin on the collar. “ Are you surprised?” she asks again.

“Yes,” I answer, but I am thinking there are no surprises left; I am terribly sorry, Abigail, but there are no surprises left

“Eugene told me where you were. I thought I’d better come out”

“Why?”

“To see you. To help you.”

“I don’t need help, Abby.”

“You’ve needed help as long as I've known you.”

“But not now.” I look at my watch. The dynamiter should be arriving in three or four minutes. “Abby,”

I say, “you picked a very bad time for a visit. I’m expecting someone in a few moments.”

“Oh?” she says, and arches one eyebrow.

“A man involved with the contract. A Mr. Weglowski.”

“That’s all right,” she says. “I'll keep myself busy till you get back. There seemed to be some very nice little shops in town.”

“Abby, I may be gone all afternoon.”

“I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Abby, I don’t want you here.”

“You made that apparent when you called. But you see, Sam, I am here.”

The telephone rings. I answer it at once, and the desk clerk informs me that there is a gentleman in the lobby to see me.

“Tell him I’ll be right down,” I say, and hang up. “He’s here, Abby. I don’t know what time I’ll be back, but when I do get back, I’d like to find you gone.”

“It’s impossible to find someone gone,” Abby says.

“Phrase it however you want. Just go home.”

“No.”

“I can’t argue with you now. I’m asking you to leave, Abby. You’re in danger here, believe me.”

“I’m in bigger danger if I’m not here,” Abby says. “You’d better go. Your Mr. Kowalski is waiting.”

“It’s Weglowski.” I put on my overcoat and go to the door. Before I step into the corridor, I say, “Abby… go home,” and then close the door behind me and walk to the elevator. The black chambermaid asks if I would like to buy an almond crunch candy bar for the support of the local children’s home. I ask her how much the candy bar is. She says it’s fifty cents, and I tell her I’ll take two, and give her a dollar bill, and ask her to leave the candy in my room. She thanks me profusely and assures me it’s very good candy, and all for a very good cause.