Ann Beattie - Chilly Scenes of Winter

“What do you think of these fancy shoes?” Bill asks.

“I was noticing them.”

“Yeah? My wife put me up to getting them. She said she’d seen enough of black and brown. I don’t know. Everybody looks like a clown nowadays.”

Back in their office building, Bill turns left and Charles turns right.

“Thanks for the advice,” Bill says. “I’ll keep you posted.”

“Sure,” Charles says.

Charles stops at the typing pool on the way to his office. Betty is still not there. Back in his office he tries to reach Betty, but there’s no answer. He tries Laura again; nothing there. He reaches in his coat pocket for the piece of paper he discovered early in the morning, when he was rummaging to see if he had his house key. He unfolds the piece of paper and stares at Sandra’s number. He dials that. A woman’s voice says, “Hello?” He has no way of knowing whether it is Sandra or not, because he doesn’t speak, and he can’t remember what her voice sounded like that day in the park. Why has he even dialed her number? He hangs up and throws the piece of paper away. He begins work on a report, then reaches in the waste paper basket and retrieves the number, smooths it out and puts it in his top drawer. Sandra somebody-or-other. It seems like months and months ago that he ran through the park. Why wasn’t he at work that day? Sore throat. But why …? Can’t remember.

He stops at a florist on the way home and buys yellow tulips for Laura. They are in a pot, so they won’t make her sad. It is a silly blue pot, with a ceramic windmill at one end. At least the tulips are pretty. Coming out of the florist’s he sees a hardware store across the street. What the hell. He puts the tulips carefully on the seat and locks the car. He runs through the heavy traffic to the hardware store and asks where they keep the car wax. A salesman points him to the back of the store. “Aisle two,” he says.

Charles picks up three containers of Turtle Wax and checks out. He runs back to the car. A day of good deeds: advice to his boss, a present for Laura, and Turtle Wax for Pete. He drives to his mother’s house. The Honda Civic is parked outside. He will lie to Pete and say that he didn’t notice it, swear that he didn’t notice it. It is so silly-looking — a toy.

Pete’s face is white when he answers the door.

“Charles! How’s my boy?”

“Fine, Pete. I stopped by with something for you.”

“Is that so? Well, I’m mighty glad to see you. What a surprise.”

“How’s everything?” Charles says. He never comes here uninvited.

“Today things couldn’t be better. Come upstairs and see.”

“She’s in bed?” Charles whispers.

“Mommy had, Clara had a bit of a setback, but she’s as bright as a firecracker now. Come on up.” Pete gestures nervously from the steps.

“Honey,” Pete calls, “you’ve got a visitor.”

“No!” she shrieks.

“What’s the matter with her?” Charles says.

“It’s just Charles,” Pete calls.

They reach the top. Charles whispers to Pete: “What is it?” Pete shakes his head, keeps walking.

“What a nice surprise, isn’t it?” Pete says loudly. They stand in front of his mother’s door.

“My firstborn,” she says.

“Isn’t this some surprise, Mommy?” Pete says.

“How are you doing?” Charles says. The room smells very perfumy.

“She’s as fresh as a daisy in the field today, aren’t you, honey?” Pete says.

Clara stares at them.

“Were you … sick?” Charles asks.

“I was in the hospital,” she says.

“What?” Charles says, turning to look at Pete.

“Well, now, you were in the hospital a while ago, but you haven’t been back now, have you?” Pete says.

“You mean when Susan and I came before?” Charles says.

“I know you did,” Clara says.

“We all know that,” Pete says, slapping Charles on the back. “How about taking a seat?” he says to Charles. Charles sits in the pink tufted chair. Pete strolls around like a master of ceremonies.

“I was quite sick,” she says.

“You’re looking fine now,” Charles says.

“Oh, Pete says that I have to be freshened up. He throws me in the tub, Charles, and squirts perfume all over me and I’m too weak to get away.”

Charles looks at Pete in confusion. Pete reddens.

“We have to freshen up,” Pete says. “We can’t lie in bed without a bath for a week, can we?”

“I hate to be freshened,” she says.

“Look at Mommy’s — Clara’s — nice pink bed jacket. Her thoughtful husband got that for her. If Mommy — Clara — takes to bed, she might as well look cheerful.”

“What’s new?” she says to Charles. She looks like she expects to hear the worst.

“Not much. Back to work and all that.”

“I can’t seem to do my household work,” she says.

“That’s all right,” Pete says automatically. “If you’re going to get all confused when you get out of bed, I’d just as soon have you in bed.”

“I get confused,” she says to Charles.

“Yeah?” he says.

“Don’t I?” she says to Pete.

“We don’t want to dwell on this,” Pete says. “Aren’t you mighty glad to see Charles?”

“I know it’s Charles,” she says. “I’m not confused when I’m in bed.”

“Can I fix coffee for anyone?” Pete says.

“No thanks,” Charles says.

“Susan wrote me a nice letter,” Clara says.

“Mommy mislaid it,” Pete says.

“Oh. That’s nice,” Charles says. “How is she?”

“I want you children to keep contact. You do keep contact, don’t you?”

“Sure we do. I was just talking to her on the phone,”

“I talked to her on the phone,” Clara says. “It was in the day, and Pete doesn’t believe me.”

Pete turns red.

“What did she have to say?” Charles says.

“Mice and rice and everything nice,” Clara says. Charles looks at the floor.

“Say,” Pete says. “What about a look at a little something I’ve got?”

“What’s that?” Charles says, playing dumb.

“Come on, come on, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

“A death car,” Clara says.

“A Honda Civic,” Pete says, louder than Clara. “Come take a look.”

Charles walks in back of Pete, out of the room and down the stairs.

“Here,” Charles says. “This is to celebrate the new car.”

“What’s this?” Pete says. “Hey! Turtle Wax!”

Charles nods.

“I knew you didn’t really forget. Say, thanks a lot. What do I owe you?”

“Nothing,” Charles says.

“Come on.…”

“Really, it’s a present.”

“Hell,” Pete says. “My own son couldn’t have given me anything I wanted more.”

Pete puts the bag on the hall table, puts on his coat and walks outside.

“She’s much worse,” Charles says.

“She’s out of her goddamn mind, to be honest with you. She gets up and flips around like a fish when I’m not there. Not that water ever touches her. I have to do that once a week. Throw her in. What else can I do?”

“Christ. Have you spoken to a doctor?”

“No. I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“What are they going to do but take her to the hospital? Then what happens? I’m there all the time, the house is like a tomb.…”

“What if she does something to herself?”

“She’d forget what she was doing if the knife was poised at her heart. Really. You can’t imagine what bad shape she’s in.”

“I think I get the idea.”

“I’m not calling any doctor,” Pete says. “I’m not going to run back and forth to the hospital. They don’t do anything for her there, anyway. Put her in a room with a murderer.”