Jonathan Franzen - Strong Motion - A Novel

“It was a business lunch. I thought I explained that to you at the time.”

“What did you eat?”

“I don’t remember, Louis.”

“You don’t remember? That was three days ago! Piece of fish? Reuben sandwich?”

They could hear Mr. Rudman handling dishes in the kitchen now, whistling a show tune.

“What is it that you want?” Melanie asked levelly.

“I want to know what you had for lunch on Thursday.”

She took a deep breath, trying to contain her annoyance. “I don’t remember.”

He scrunched up his face. “You serious?”

“Louis—” She waved a hand, trying to suggest some generic entree, something not worth mentioning. “I don’t remember, a piece of fish, yes. Filet of sole. I’m extremely busy.”

“Filet of sole . Filet of sole .” He nodded so emphatically, it was like bowing. Then he froze, not even letting breath out. “Broiled? Poached?”

“I’m going back to the dining room now,” Melanie said, remaining rooted to the center of a Chinese rug. “I’ve had a very upsetting week—” She paused to let Louis challenge this. “A very upsetting week. I’m sure you understand that and can show some consideration.”

“Yeah, well, we’re all grieving in our own way, obviously. It’s just I heard this crazy rumor about your having inherited twenty-two million dollars.” He tried to meet her eyes, but she’d turned away, squeezing her thumbs, fists balled. “Crazy, huh? But getting back to this lunch, let’s see, Mr. Aldren and whatever his name is, Tweedledum, they had steak, right? And Mr. Stoorhuys—” He snapped his fingers. “Rabbit. Half a rabbit, grilled. Or what do you call it? Braised.”

“I’m going back to the dining room now.”

“Just tell me, come on, is that what he had? Did he have rabbit?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t happen to notice—”

“You didn’t notice rabbit? Sort of stretched out on the plate? Maybe a little cranberry sauce with it? Or red cabbage? Potato pancakes? What kind of restaurant was it? Help me picture this, Mom. Was it really expensive? ”

Melanie took another deep breath. “We went to a restaurant called La Côte Américaine. I had filet of sole and Mr. Aldren and Mr. Tabscott and Mr. Stoorhuys had soup and grilled steaks or chops, I truly don’t recall exactly what—”

“But not rabbit. You’d recall that.”

“But no, not rabbit, Louis. You’re being quite a bit less funny than you seem to think you are.”

Louis’s eyes narrowed. “All right,” he said. “Let’s get back to the twenty-two million, then. What are you going to do with it?”

“I have no idea.”

“How about a yacht? They make nice gifts.”

“This is not at all funny.”

“So it’s true?”

Melanie shook her head. “It’s not true.”

“Oh, it’s not true. Meaning it’s false. Meaning, what, twenty-one point nine? Twenty-two point one?”

“I mean it does not concern you.”

“Oh, I see, it doesn’t concern me. Let’s forget it, then, let’s drop it. Hey, people inherit twenty-two million dollars every day. What’d you do at work today? Oh, I inherited twenty-two million dollars, would you pass me the butter?”

“Please stop mentioning that figure.”

“Twenty-two million dollars? You want me to stop mentioning twenty-two million dollars? All right, I’ll stop mentioning twenty-two million dollars. Let’s call it alpha.” He began to pace around the rim of a rug. “Alpha equals twenty-two million dollars, twenty-two million dollars equals alpha, alpha being neither greater than twenty-two million dollars nor less than twenty-two million dollars.” He drew up. “How’d your father get so rich?”

“Please, Louis, I asked you to stop mentioning the figure and I meant it. It’s very painful to me.”

“Yeah, so I see. That’s why I suggested we call it alpha, although I’m afraid alpha doesn’t quite capture the impact. What a terrible painful thing, to inherit that much money. You know Dad says he’s not even going to quit teaching?”

“Why should he quit teaching?”

“Don’t tell me you need his salary when you’ve got twenty-two, oops.”

“I would be grateful if you did not try to tell me what I need and don’t need.”

“You’d be grateful if I just walked out of here and never mentioned this again.”

Melanie’s face lit up as if he were a student of hers who’d blurted truth. “Yes, as a matter of fact, that’s exactly right. That is what I would most like from you.”

Louis’s eyes narrowed further. He said: “Twenty-two million dollars, twenty-two million dollars, twenty-two million dollars.” He said it faster and faster, until it twisted his tongue, becoming twollers, twollers . “What a huge amount of money. It means you’re rich, rich rich rich, rich .”

His mother had turned to face the mantel and covered her ears with her palms, applying such strong isometric pressure to her head that her arms trembled. This was as close to fighting as she and Louis ever got; and it wasn’t really fighting. It was like what a pair of bar magnets do when you try to force the north poles together. It had always been this way. Even when he was a boy of three or four and she had tried to smooth his hair or wipe food off his face, he had twisted his head away on his stout, stubborn neck. If he was sick in bed and she laid a cold hand on his forehead, he had tried to press himself into pillow and mattress with triple gravity, as blindly and determinedly resistant to her touch as the magnet to whose permanent invisible force field the relief of rupture or discharge can never come. Now she raised her head, her white fingers flat on her cheeks, her elbows on the mantel, and looked up at her father. From the rear of the house came the sound of television, amplified rumblings and collisions: bowling.

“I’m paying Mr. Rudman for his time, Louis.”

“Right. What’s a lawyer get, a couple hundred bucks an hour? Let’s say 220 an hour into twenty-two million (oh, I’m sorry, there I go again), ten to the second into ten to the seventh, that’s a hundred thousand hours, and assume ten-hour days, two hundred fifty days a year, my God, you’re right. That’s only forty years. I’ll try to be quick.”

“What is it that you want?”

“Well, let’s see, I’ve got a job and a cheap apartment and a car that’s paid for, I’m not married, I don’t have expensive habits, and in case you haven’t noticed, I haven’t asked you and Dad for a single thing since I was sixteen years old, so it’s probably not money I want, is it, Mom?”

“I appreciate all that.”

“Don’t even mention it.”

“I will mention it. I never get to tell you how proud I am of your independence.”

“I said forget it .”

She turned around to face him. “I have an idea,” she said. “I suggested something like this to Eileen and she seemed to feel it was a good idea. I hope your father will go along with it too. I think we should all just act as if this never happened.”

“This twenty-two million dollars.”

“Please. Please, please, please . I think we should all just go on with our lives as if nothing is different. Now, it may be that as time goes by a few things will change, in small ways and perhaps in large ways too. For example, I’ll probably be able to make it very easy for you to go back to school if you should ever decide to. And I’m not promising anything, but it’s possible that if you or Eileen ever want to make a down payment on a home I could be of some help there too. But all these things are in the future, and I think the best thing for the four of us to do now is just put it out of our minds.”