Rona Jaffe - Mazes and Monsters

He entered his apartment with the same mixed feelings he always had, but this time they were a little different. His mother wouldn’t be there, elusive and unloving, but on the other hand, if she had changed his room he wouldn’t have the outlet of yelling at her. His fists clenched. If she had touched his room he’d call her in Key West, embarrass her right in front of her client. That would fix her.

He drew a deep breath and went into his room. It was fabulous! He couldn’t believe it! She’d done it like a Sydney Greenstreet movie, complete with mosquito netting, a ceiling fan, and palm trees. His beloved old movie posters were on the sisal-covered walls. It was the tropics; glamorous and sleazy. There should be a bar down the street, with Rita Hayworth in it, or Ingrid Bergman, or spies and writers. And the nicest thing of all — almost a loving touch if he didn’t know his mother better — was a beautiful brass stand with a hook for him to hang up Merlin’s cage.

“I love it, I love it, I love it!” he sang. “Don’t you love it, Merlin?”

Merlin blinked in surprise.

“Hey, Merlin? What do you think? Should we write her a thank you note?”

“Birds can’t talk,” Merlin said.

He would definitely have to invite those people over for a drink, just to see this.

Kate got along with Daniel’s parents immediately, and knew they liked her too. She was crazy about his brother and future sister-in-law, and thought the only thing that was missing to make this a perfect family environment was a couple of animals like she had at home. She had never seen so many books in anyone’s house; they were even piled up on the floor. She was touched that Daniel’s mother had fixed up the guest room specially for her. It had formerly been his brother’s room. There were brand-new sheets, still stiff from just being taken out of the package and not laundered yet; new carpeting and towels in the bathroom, and a new shower curtain. There was even pretty guest soap and cologne. Daniel had rented bikes for them both, since he’d left his locked in their room at college (Kate thought of it as “their” room already, although hers was still hers), and she and Daniel rode into town where she bought a plant and candy and a bottle of wine for his parents. She would have bought them the world if she could afford it. They made it so obvious they were glad she was making their son happy.

His parents went out with their friends or visiting or to meetings quite a few evenings, and Kate and Daniel were able to be together for a while in Daniel’s bed. She wondered if his parents had any idea. She thought they did; they just didn’t want to be confronted with what was happening.

Kate loved his childhood room, filled with souvenirs and memories. She made him show her his yearbooks from high school, and pictures of when he was a little boy. She looked through his old, discarded records, and the books he’d loved as a child, and they compared tastes. All of these things had helped make him the person he was today, and she felt sentimental about them. She even loved the low mirror in his bathroom, picturing him when he was short.

They rode their bikes all over Brookline, and he showed her where he’d gone to school. He took her into Cambridge and Boston in his father’s car, and he showed her Harvard, where his father taught, and all the historic sights. They went to movies and out to eat with a lot of his old friends. It was probably the best vacation Kate had ever had in her life.

Daniel was worried his parents might say something to him about Kate not being Jewish. He knew his mother. Sure enough, one morning when Kate was upstairs taking a shower, his mother approached him, a cup of coffee in her hand, a nervous look on her face.

“I like Kate,” his mother said.

“I’m glad. She likes you too.”

“She’s not Jewish.”

“I know.”

“Do you think she might convert?”

“ Convert? Mom, I just started going with her — we haven’t talked about getting married.”

“I know what will happen,” his mother said. “You’ll go with her for a couple of years, you’ll probably live together like your brother and Beth, and then you’ll get married. You won’t discuss religion. Then you’ll have children and what will they be?”

“Boys or girls,” Daniel said.

“Very funny. What about her parents? Do you think they’ll like you?”

He shrugged. “Kate says they’ll love me.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” his mother said.

“I don’t intend to.”

“I think it would be nice to have Jewish grandchildren,” his mother said. “Not half-and-half. Not let-them-decide-later. Not atheists. It’s important to me. They have to know who they are.”

“They’ll know,” Daniel said. He didn’t like having this discussion. The way he dealt with things was first things first, and there were so many things that had to happen before he and Kate even planned marriage that it was frightening to think of all of them at once. He was trying to plan the next couple of years, and his mother wanted him to arrange the lives of people who didn’t even exist yet. Why did her generation worry so much?

“I know the two of you never discussed it,” his mother said.

“No, we didn’t. We’re still getting to know each other.”

“That’s a good subject for getting to know each other,” his mother said. “Just ask her.”

Kate came downstairs then and saved him.

Cat Wheeling felt right away that something was wrong when Robbie didn’t come home for Spring Vacation the day they were expecting him. The next day she was sure of it. She tried to keep from getting hysterical; telling herself that boys his age got caught up in their social life and forgot to make phone calls. But Robbie had always been a responsible person. She telephoned him at school, but the phone in his room rang and rang and no one ever answered. She thought of him in a car wreck somewhere on the highway and felt sick with fear.

His father started calling the hospitals. No eighteen-year-old student named Robert Wheeling had been admitted for any reason. Was there some hospital they had forgotten? But Robbie had identification, and someone would have called his family. If he hadn’t been taken to a hospital … if he were dead … the police would have called.

Cat drank steadily, to keep sane, and her husband looked at her with such hatred she wanted to throw the glass at him. “Can’t you even stay sober for this?” he said.

Her knuckles on the glass were white. “Call his friends,” she said.

“No wonder he doesn’t want to come home.”

“That was a vile thing to say to me. You are a disgusting man. Call them!” Her words came out with a hiss from behind clenched teeth. She would have called them herself, but she knew how drunk she would sound.

Hall sighed. “If Robbie were with a friend he’d phone us,” he said. “Robbie never just disappeared. He knew how much it meant to us to know he was safe.”

Neither of them said: Because he’s the only one we have now. But they were both thinking it. They could not believe it could happen all over again. It would be too unbearable.

“What about his friends from school?” Cat said. “What if he decided to visit one of them?”

“He’d have called. Besides, we don’t know who his friends at school are.”

No, they didn’t. Not even a first name. He’d always said school was fine, his classes were interesting, he was still swimming on the team. But no names, no anecdotes. How could they know, when no one ever had a real conversation with him? Robbie was so well adjusted, so polite and helpful and nice. He always wanted to know what he could do for you. It was as if he were trying to deflect attention from himself and keep his secrets. Could that be possible? Robbie with secrets?