Marilynne Robinson - Home

“I get tears. I can’t help it. They don’t mean anything.”

“They’re nice, actually. To be honest, I think I tell you my sad stories to see if they really are sad. And sure enough, the tears start, and I can relax about it. I mean, there’s nothing sad about getting what you deserve. So I’ve been told. I feel a little vindicated when you cry.”

“I don’t know. Maybe getting what you deserve is the saddest thing in the world.”

“Really? I think about little Annie Wheeler, the non-bride of my non-youth.” He looked at her. “That’s sad. You see, I just mention her name and here come the tears.” Then he said, “I’m really sorry. I should have known better.”

After a while Glory said, “I wouldn’t mind talking about her. I think about her, too.”

He cleared his throat. “Do you know where she is? You don’t have to tell me. I mean, I don’t think she’d have any use for me. There are plenty of bums in Chicago. I just wondered if you knew.”

“If her family knew, they wouldn’t tell us. Papa talked to them about it a number of times, thinking they might hear from her. He has worried about her.”

Jack said, “I really shamed him.”

“It was a hard time.”

He fiddled with the deck of cards, cutting it and squaring it and cutting it. “That last time I spoke to him, before I left, I knew I had done something he couldn’t forgive. He thought he could. He said he had, but he’s a terrible liar. It shocked me that I could hurt him so badly. It scared me. It was what I expected, but it scared me. It was like stepping off a cliff. And it was a relief, too. I thought, It’s finally happened, I knew it would.” He laughed. “I believe I was drunk for the next three years. Teddy found his vocation keeping me alive. The poor devil, when I think of what he went through with me. When he was nineteen, trying to study, trying to make varsity baseball, trying to get me to class. He was caught cheating once. Teddy. He took my place at an exam. I believe my sense of decency must have stirred briefly, because that was when I went off to St. Louis. Apparently the dean decided Teddy violated the honor code for honorable reasons, I don’t know. But it could have kept him from finishing. It could have been a blot on his record, kept him out of medical school.” He said, “St. Louis was stepping off another cliff. And that was a relief, too.”

He shuffled the cards, laid them out, swept them up, and shuffled again. “None of this makes sense,” he said. “It’s all pretty ugly. For a while I thought I might have come to the end of it. No, I knew better than that. I knew better.” He said, “Della’s father asked around. He wanted — character references.” He smiled.

“I’m sorry.”

“He told me some things about myself I’d forgotten. He showed me a letter he had written to Della. He said he wouldn’t give it to her if I let her alone. I couldn’t do that. But she stuck with me. That was hard.”

“But you were all right then, when you were with Della.”

“‘Can the Scotsman change his skin or the leopard his spots? Then may ye also do good that are accustomed to do evil.’ He was just trying to look out for his daughter. I respect that. He’s a lot like our reverend father, in fact. Always trying to look after everybody.” He laid out the cards. “Anyway, I feel more like myself now. Wanting, hoping — it’s like the old fellow said, those things take a lot out of you. But this — this I can do.”

“You are going to send the letter.”

He nodded. “There’s no point in sending it. On the other hand, why waste a stamp?” He glanced at her. “Gloria Dolorosa. It’s good of you to take it all so hard, chum. It really is.”

She made up the dumpling batter and dropped it onto the stewed chicken. She, also, had eaten some terrible dumplings. It occurred to her to wonder if they were ever good in the ordinary sense, if at best they were not just familiar, inoffensive. They really were too inoffensive. It might have been the word “dumpling” she liked rather than the thing itself.

She said, “I have an idea, Jack. I could go to Memphis. I could talk to her. If you fix the car, we could drive down together. We’ll call Teddy, and he’ll come here to look after Papa for a few days. He would do that if you asked him to. And then I’d just go to her house. Or to her church. No one would notice me, and maybe I could get a chance to talk to her.”

“That’s kind. But let’s just say they don’t notice you.” He laughed. “I’m pretty sure they would. But if they didn’t. What would you say to her? That no one will give me a job, and I’m drinking again, and I recently failed to fire up the DeSoto and sail off to perdition? That I am metaphysically responsible for the floweriest little grave in all Gilead?”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“What would you say, though, Glory? You see my point.”

“I’d say you were waiting in the car.”

“With a dozen roses. And the engine running.”

“And a box of chocolates.”

Jack looked away and smiled. Then he said, very softly, “Don’t, Glory. I have to deal with reality. Or at least accept the fact that reality is dealing with me.” He touched his face. “I’m a rougher-looking bastard now than I was when I came here. And even then I was surprised that you’d let me in the door. I don’t think I’d want her to see me now.”

“You’ll be better in a day or two. Then you can decide.”

He laughed. “This is a terrible plan. I can’t tell you how bad it is.”

“Well, you can think about it.”

“Yes,” he said. “It is nice to think about. I’d like to show them what good people I come from. If I could get the radio working, we’d hear some music on the way to Memphis. I might as well take a look at that engine, anyway. You were getting some use out of the old crate. I’ll try to get it running again.” Then he said, “Is my shirt still out there?”

“No, I brought it in this morning. I tried laundry soap and that didn’t do much. I doubt bleach would, either. I thought I might ask Lila. But that sleeve isn’t stained very badly.” She said, “Your suit is hanging in the porch. I burned your socks.”

He looked at her. “Tears again.” He laughed. “Regret is wasted on me, Glory. I do the damnedest things, and there’s no help for it. I kept that shirt for a long time. I don’t often manage to keep things.”

She said, “I haven’t given up yet. If I can’t get those stains out, I’ll sew the sleeve into your other shirt. That wouldn’t be hard.”

“Don’t,” he said. “Let me get used to things the way they are. That’s the biggest favor you can do me, Glory.” He smiled. “But thanks. You’re a good kid.”

“Yes. In the morning I’m going to take your letter to the post office.”

“All right.” He said, “You did get those bottles out of my dresser?”

“While you were asleep.”

“Good. It would be a mistake to trust me. I’m sorry about that.”

While she looked after her father, Jack set the table. She brought the old man out to the kitchen and seated him. He said, “Yes,” and bowed his head and said no more for a little while, then, “If you wouldn’t mind, Glory.”

“All right. Dear Lord, bless these gifts to our use and us to Thy service, and keep us ever mindful of the needs of others. Amen.”

“Yes, I’ve always objected to that prayer. If it were only a little easier to know what they are. The needs of others. A good deal more is required than just being mindful. That has certainly been my experience.”

Jack served the chicken and dumplings with something of the wry decorum of former days, but quietly, calmly, the old suspense gone now. The dumplings were tacky on the outside and doughy on the inside, but that might just be how they are, she thought. How they have always been. Her father said, “Excellent,” and ate half of one.