Marilynne Robinson - Home

“I didn’t ask him to come. He just came on his own, as far as I know.”

He turned to look at her. “You’re whispering. So he must be downstairs.”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t hear his car. I guess I was asleep.”

“Well, he’d like to see you.”

“Have you told him?”

“No. Should I?”

“Please don’t. Don’t, Glory. It will never happen again, I swear.” He rubbed his face. “I’ll have to wash up. I shouldn’t have slept in this shirt. I could use an aspirin.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. “Where did I leave my shoes?” He rubbed his eyes. “Teddy,” he said. “That’s just what I need right now.”

She brought him the bottle of aspirin and a glass of water. Then she brought him a washcloth and a towel.

“Thanks,” he said.

“I’ll tell him you’ll be down in a few minutes. I’ll start some coffee.”

“Yes, coffee,” he said, scrubbing his face and his neck, then his face again. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry about all this.”

She went down to the kitchen. Teddy was standing in the porch looking out at the garden. “You’ve been busy,” he said.

“Jack did most of it.”

He looked at her, to gauge the ratio of truth to loyalty in what she said, ready to be pleased with either of them, just wanting the information. “Then he must be doing all right.”

“He was for a while.”

“I see.” Teddy with his crisp hair and his groomed hands, his soft brown sweater and his tortoiseshell glasses. He was mild and reassuring in every way he could be, by nature, habit, and intention. There was something of the scent of rubbing alcohol about him, so faint that he must have known it suggested illness or emergency and have scrubbed it off as carefully as he could. That would account for the cologne he wore, his only departure from decorous simplicity. After a few minutes he said, “I can leave, if that’s what he wants. I knew he wouldn’t be too happy to see me. You can tell him I won’t stay long.”

“Give him a few more minutes. He’ll be down. He probably wanted to clean up a little.”

Teddy laughed. “And polish his shoes, I suppose. Has he changed a lot?”

“I didn’t know him as well as you did. He’s still Jack.”

“Dad told me you and he get along. He worried about that.”

Jack came down the stairs in his stocking feet, wearing one of his own shirts, still trying to button a sleeve. He stopped by the door, glanced at Glory, and smiled. He folded the cuff over twice, then unbuttoned the other sleeve and rolled it up, too.

His brother said, “Jack.”

Jack said, “Teddy.”

“How are you, Jack? It’s good to see you.”

Jack propped himself against the counter and folded his arms. It was fairly obvious how he was. Still, Glory wished he were not so thin, that he’d put on a better shirt, that it was not so hard for him to raise his eyes. “I’m all right,” he said. He smiled and shrugged. “I’ve been looking for work.”

Teddy drew a breath. He said, “I’m your brother, Jack! Jesus Christ!”

Jack laughed.

“I mean, it’s fine if you’re looking for work. But it’s none of my business, is it.” Then he said, “Hey, Jack. Can we shake hands, at least?”

Jack shrugged. “Of course.”

Teddy went to his brother and took Jack’s hand in both his hands and held it. “So it’s true. You’re really here. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I’ve hardly been able to believe it.”

Jack laughed. “I could show you the wound in my side if you like.” Then, “Sorry.” And his head fell, and it was real regret. He was so tired of himself.

Teddy didn’t study him, exactly, though there was always something of the doctor in his kindest attention. They teased him about it. Once, when he had looked too intently into Hope’s eyes, she pulled down a lower lid to accommodate his scrutiny. Now he could not help but notice Jack’s color, notice how thin his hand was, that it trembled. How could he help but notice these things, and how could Jack not step back from him, with a smile of irritation?

“You’re a good man, Teddy. I remember you said that time I talked with you in St. Louis that you wouldn’t come looking for me again. I appreciated that.”

“Well, the fact is, I did. I just didn’t find you. I came back six times altogether. The last time was about two years ago.” He said, “Once, I thought I’d found your hotel. The fellow at the desk said you were staying there. That was a long time ago. My third trip, I think. I left an envelope with a note in it and some money. I guess it never got to you.”

Jack shook his head. “No.” Then he said, “Did the fellow have a bad eye?” He touched his face.

“Terrible,” Teddy said. “Did he ever see anybody about it?”

Jack smiled. “I wouldn’t know. The bastard evicted me. Sorry.”

“Well, I promised to leave you alone, and then I made a pretty good try at going back on my word. Sometimes I’d just get the feeling I had to see you again, and I’d take off for St. Louis. A couple of times I called home from the road to tell them where I was. I’d think I was going to get a tank of gas and I’d find myself headed for Missouri.”

Jack said, “I’ve put you to a lot of trouble.”

“No, no. Looking for you was sort of the next best thing to finding you. It made me feel like we were still brothers, I suppose.”

Jack said, “If we’re being honest — I saw you there once. You were getting out of your car. It was a black Chevy. You were wearing a brown sweater that day, too. I stepped into a cigar store and waited until you drove away. I had to buy a magazine because I’d read most of it. That didn’t make sense to me, but it did to the clerk. It took my last quarter.”

Teddy laughed. “Okay,” he said, and tears started down his cheeks. “I guess that doesn’t surprise me.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

Jack said quietly, “I don’t want you to give a damn about me. Any of you. I never did.” He looked at Glory as if he might apologize, and then there was a silence. He laughed. “What an asinine remark that was. I’m really sorry. It sort of makes a point, though.”

Teddy nodded. “There is clearly a good deal of truth in it.”

“I’m not sure I understand it myself. I don’t know why you’d put up with it. Me.”

Teddy said, “That is an interesting question. For another time.”

Jack laughed. He stood up. When they both looked at him he said, “Getting coffee. Would you like some more, Glory? Teddy? He took up Glory’s cup and saucer, but they chattered in his hand so he put them down. “I’ll get the pot.” When he had finished serving them he propped himself against the counter again.

“I’m doing all right, too,” Teddy said. “Hanging together. No major problems at the moment. So far as I know.”

Jack said, “Glad to hear it.”

Then their father called, “Is that Teddy! I believe I hear Teddy!” His voice was urgent with relief and joy.

Teddy said, “Here I am, Dad. I’m coming.” He went into the old man’s room, sat down on the edge of the bed, and took him up in his arms. The old man put his arms around him, rested his head on his shoulder, and wept. “I’m so glad you’re here, Teddy!” he said. He tried to speak in his reasonable, fatherly voice, but it was broken by sobs. “It’s been hard, Teddy. I knew it would be. But it’s been very hard!” And he wept. “I’m so old!” he said.

Teddy stroked his back and his hair. “It’s all right. It’ll be all right.”

Jack looked at Glory and smiled. He was very pale. “What the hell have I been doing?” He said, “What a fool—” And he went upstairs. She heard his door close.