James Baldwin - Another Country

“I had the feeling sometimes,” he said, “that you thought I was just being a pest.” And now he did curse himself for not saying more precisely what he felt and for sounding so much like a child.

But this was his day, apparently — he seemed to be coming to the end of the tunnel in which he had been traveling so long. “A pest!” she cried, and laughed. “If you aren’t the cutest thing.” Then, soberly, “I was the one who was the pest —but I just couldn’t help it.”

They turned into a gray, anonymous building which had two functionless pillars on either side of the door and an immense plain of imitation marble and leather beyond it. And he suddenly remembered — it had gone entirely out of his mind — that this lunch was for the purpose of celebrating the publication of Richard’s first novel. He said to Ida, “You know, this lunch is a celebration and I forgot to bring anything.”

The elevator man rose from his chair, looking at them dubiously, and Vivaldo gave him the floor number and then, as the man still seemed to hesitate, the number of the apartment. He closed the door and the elevator began to move upward.

“What are we celebrating?” Ida asked.

“You and me. We finally have a real date together. You didn’t call to break it at the last minute and you haven’t said you’ve got to rush right home after just one drink.” He grinned at Ida, but he was aware that he was speaking partly for the benefit of the elevator man, whom he had never noticed before. But he disliked him intensely now.

“No, come on, now, what are we really celebrating? Or maybe I should say what are Richard and Cass celebrating?”

“Richard’s novel. It’s published. It’ll be in all the bookstores Monday.”

“Oh, Vivaldo,” she said, “that’s wonderful. He must feel wonderful . A real, honest-to-God published writer.”

“Yes,” he said, “one of our boys made it.” He was touched by her enthusiasm. And he was aware, at the same time, that she had also been speaking for the benefit of the elevator man.

“It must be wonderful for Cass, too,” she said. “And for you, he’s your friend.” She looked at him. “When are you going to bring out your novel?”

This question, and even more her way of asking it, seemed to contain implications he scarcely dared to trust. “One of these days,” he muttered; and he blushed. The elevator stopped and they walked into a corridor. Richard’s door was to the left of them. “It looks like I’ve got my hands full right now.”

“What do you mean? It’s not working the way you want it to?”

“The novel, you mean?”

“Yes.” Then, as they faced each other before the door, “What did you think I meant?”

“Oh, that’s what I thought you meant, all right.” He thought, Now listen, don’t spoil it, don’t rush it, you stupid bastard, don’t spoil it . “It’s just that it’s not exactly what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” She was smiling.

“I meant — I hoped I’m going to have my hands full now, with you.” She called part of her smile back, but she still looked amused. She watched him. “You know — dinners and lunches and — walks — and movies and things — with you. With you.” He dropped his eyes. “You know what I mean?” Then, in the warm, electrical silence, he raised his eyes to hers, and he said, “You know what I mean.”

“Well,” she said, “let’s talk about it after lunch, okay?” She turned from him and faced the door. He did not move. She looked at him with her eyes very wide. “Aren’t you going to ring the bell?”

“Sure.” They watched each other. Ida reached out and touched him on the cheek. He grabbed her hand and held it for a moment against his face. Very gently, she pulled her hand away. “You are the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said, “you are . Go on and ring that bell, I’m hungry.”

He laughed and pressed the button. They heard the sour buzzing inside the apartment, then confusion, a slammed door, and footsteps. He took one of Ida’s hands in both of his. “I want to be with you,” he said. “I want you to be with me. I want that more than I’ve ever wanted anything in the world.”

Then the door opened and Cass stood before them, dressed in a rusty orange frock, her hair pulled back and falling around her shoulders. She held a cigarette in one hand, with which she made a gesture of exaggerated welcome.

“Come in, children,” she said, “I’m delighted to see you, but there’s absolute chaos in this house today. Everything’s gone wrong.” She closed the door behind them. They heard a child screaming somewhere in the apartment, and Richard’s voice raised in anger. Cass listened for a moment, her forehead wrinkled with worry. “That’s Michael,” she said, helplessly, “He’s been impossible all day — fighting with his brother, with his father, with me. Richard finally gave him a spanking and I guess he’s going to leave him in his room.” Michael’s screams diminished and they heard the voices of Michael and his father working out, apparently, the terms of a truce. Cass lifted her head. “Well. I’m sorry to keep you standing in the hall. Take off your things, I’ll show you into the living room and give you things to drink and to nibble on — you’ll need them, lunch is going to be late, of course. Ida, how are you? I haven’t seen you in God knows when.” She took Ida’s coat and shawl. “Do you mind if I don’t hang them up? I’ll just dump them in the bedroom, other people are coming over after lunch.” They followed her into the large bedroom. Ida immediately walked over to the large, full-length mirror and worriedly patted her hair and applied new lipstick.

“I’m just fine, Cass,” she said, “but you’re the one—! You got a famous husband all of a sudden. How does it feel?”

“He’s not even famous yet, ” said Cass, “and, already I can’t stand it. Somehow, it just seems to reduce itself to having drinks and dinners with lots of people you certainly wouldn’t be talking to if they weren’t”—she coughed—“in the profession . God, what a profession. I had no idea.” Then she laughed. They started toward the living room. “Try to persuade Vivaldo to become a plumber.”

“No, dear,” said Ida, “I wouldn’t trust Vivaldo with no tools whatever. This boy is just as clumsy as they come. I’m always expecting him to fall over those front feet he’s got. Never saw anybody with so many front feet.” The living room was down two steps and the wide windows opened on a view of the river. Ida seemed checked, but only for an instant by the view of the river. She walked into the center of the room. “This is wonderful. You people have really got some space.”

“We were really very lucky,” Cass said. “The people who had it had been here for years and years and they finally decided to move to Connecticut — or someplace like that. I don’t remember. Anyway, since they’d been here so long the rent hadn’t gone up much, you know? So it’s really a lot cheaper than most things like this in the city.” She looked over at Ida. “You know, you look wonderful, you really do. I’m so glad to see you.”

“I’m glad to see you,” said Ida, “and I feel fine, I feel better than I’ve felt, oh, in years.” She crossed to the bar, and stood facing Cass. “Look like you people done got serious about your drinking, too,” she said, in a raucous, whiskey voice. “Let me have a taste of that there Gutty Sark.”

Cass laughed, “I thought you were a bourbon woman.” She dropped some ice in a glass.

“When it comes to liquor,” Ida said, “I’s anybody’s woman.” And she laughed, looking exactly like a little girl. “Let me have some water in that, sugar, I don’t want to get carried away here this afternoon.” She looked toward Vivaldo, who stood on the steps, watching her. She leaned toward Cass. “Honey, who’s that funny-looking number standing in the do’way?”