Ann Beattie - Picturing Will

“Probably. The truth is, I don’t half listen to what he says anymore. I think he doesn’t half listen to what’s said to him, either; he just starts kicking his legs and waving his arms like one of those wooden pull-toys. He’s a very physically active man for a minister. I find it a little distracting. When Eddie and I had our appointment with him, we went downstairs and he was there pushing his fingertips into the wall — some kind of exercise, he said. Not that there’s anything wrong with exercising,” Corinne said. “But it’s a little strange that he’s always out of breath from riding his bike to the church on Sundays, and you always see him jogging around town with his face as bright as the sun, or collapsed on some bench. I saw him purple in the face, panting on a park bench. I really did.” Corinne stubbed out her cigarette. “That’s a funny way to find your minister is all I’m saying.”

“Well, I guess so many of them are alcoholics, we should be glad he’s not one of those,” Corky said. She stopped, hearing her own words: making everything all right in her mind again.

“Speaking of alcoholics, how about one of those drinks?” Corinne said.

“Oh, sure,” Corky said. “Should I put on some music, or would that disturb the baby?”

“This baby won’t be disturbed until it’s time to go to sleep.” Corinne put her hand over the baby’s cotton bootie. Small meteors streaked across the baby’s instep in an arched trajectory toward the side stitching. The booties were a present from Marian, who had sold her a maternity bathing suit. Corky turned on the radio. She always kept it tuned to an easy-listening station. For a few seconds, she mistook “Yesterday” for “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head.” She looked at the kitchen clock — the grinning black-faced cat with a swishing tail that had been a present from her sister — and saw that Wayne should be getting back from work any minute. Then Will would arrive. She felt bad about not being able to ask Mel if he wanted to stay the night, but Wayne had said that he drew the line at entertaining his ex-wife’s live-in lover. There were times when Wayne was judgmental in ways that surprised Corky. She wondered what he thought of Eddie and Corinne’s marital problems — whether Eddie had even told Wayne. She didn’t want to say anything herself because she feared Wayne might think that women used babies as retribution, or as a way of shaming men into staying. She had probably already hinted at too much to Wayne by saying that Corinne tricked Eddie. She only wanted to point out her own maturity, but it might have backfired.

There was a nice aroma in the kitchen as they had their drinks. Corky hoped it would linger, and that Will would come into the house knowing there was something good for him to eat — something special. She thought about getting out the icing tube but decided that frosting the cupcakes with a spatula would be good enough.

“And do you know what Eddie thinks?” Corinne said. “He thinks I’m sweet on the minister. He honestly seems to think that.”

“Well, at least he agreed to quit the softball team,” Corky said.

“That’s true,” Corinne said, taking a sip of her drink. “Umm,” she said. “An adult milkshake.”

One song fed into another. The song now was “Cherish.”

“Have you had any luck talking Wayne into a baby?” Corinne said.

“I think that he really wants one. He’s just scared,” Corky said. “But if he and Will can start to have a better relationship, maybe that’ll pave the way for another baby.”

“Will’s not a bad boy, is he?” Corinne said.

“He’s always been a nice child. I know that as boys get older they get more troublesome, but I think a lot of it has to do with how you treat them. I have to say that his mother seems to have done a good job.”

“It’s none of my business, but why did they get divorced?”

“He says they just married too young. And that she was always intent on having a career. You know, he was married to another woman before her, and she died in a car accident. When something like that happens it can make you very afraid of the future.”

“A car accident?” Corinne said. She put her hand on the baby’s bootie.

“She and Wayne were having a trial separation. She was in the car alone, somewhere in the South, where her parents lived, and they think she missed a turn — ended up at the bottom of a ravine. I think it was raining.”

Telling the story, Corky realized she did not know the details at all. If it hadn’t been raining, why would such an accident have happened?

“And then he married — what is her name?” Corinne said.

“Jody. He was still grieving when he met Jody, and they were too young to be married, because apparently she was very independent, and she didn’t understand how important carpentry was to him. She just wanted him to be an intellectual.”

Her own voice stunned her. She was making up stories. And it was easy to do! No malice was intended. She just filled in the blanks with whatever seemed appropriate. Her heart went out to him: His heart had been broken when his first wife plunged into the ravine. In trying to disentangle himself from his sad fate, he had acted too quickly, married impulsively, let himself be drawn into a relationship in which a woman expected too many concessions, too soon. That he had emerged as little scathed as he had was testament to his solidity. His fine values.

Corky had finished her drink. The timer went off, and she inserted a toothpick into the cupcakes, careful not to burn her hand on the top of the oven. The toothpick came out clean. The cupcakes were baked. As Corinne moved her chair aside to escape the oven’s pulsing heat, the doorbell rang. Corky stopped, oven mitt suspended in midair.

“That can’t be Will,” Corky said.

The doorbell rang again.

“Where’s Wayne?” she whispered.

She went toward the door. Simply rushed forward, as if she needed fresh air. She thought again of the day she stood with her mother in the side yard, and of her mother’s words: “I’m just airing the mattress. Is it a crime to air the mattress?”

Mel stood in front of Corky, taller than she remembered, pale and obviously tired. Standing beside him was Will, the small boy who would determine her future. Corky bent forward and kissed Will on the cheek. “We’re so happy you’re here,” she said, realizing as she spoke that there was no we . She folded her arms around him. What would she say when she let go?

The awkward handshake with Mel. They never knew whether to embrace or to shake hands.

Beyond Corky, Will saw the baby on the table. He wondered if he had a brother or a sister. He wished that Wag could be his brother. As they came up the front walk, Mel had made him promise that he would not ask about visiting Wag until the next morning.

I should of brought my camera,” Susan said. “I put it out and everything, and then I just forgot it.” It was the end of the day and everyone was in good spirits. To Wayne’s amazement, Corky actually seemed to enjoy talking to Susan. If he had overheard correctly, Corky was going to see if Marian was hiring anyone else for part-time work at Bathing Beauties. He felt a twinge of gratitude toward Corky, not because he cared anything about Susan, but simply because Corky really did have a good heart. She cared what happened to people who were down on their luck. Wayne knew that, in a way, both he and Will were down on their luck. He was grateful for her affection toward them. It seemed that she and Will had really warmed up to each other after their day of exploration in the gem store. Will wore a small bluish crystal around his neck. The crystal was crisscrossed with thin leather cords and dangled like a miniature papoose. He gave Corky credit for knowing what Will would like. He would never have thought of cupcakes and crystals. And the boy could swim! He was really pleased when he saw that — as pleased as a parent learning that his child had tried out for, and made, the Olympic team. Maybe one day Will would: Will, butterfly-stroking on TV, with a muscular body the girls would all adore, a body that would make the men take it easy on the buttered popcorn. Right now Will was a little skinny.