Sol Stein - Other people

"I'm awfully sorry, Ned. This is George Thomassy. I'm just back from out of town and was hoping to catch Francine early this morning. Is she awake?"

"I'm not. She called late last night to say she wouldn't be staying here."

"She wouldn't have gone back to the apartment with Koslak out on bail, would she?"

"I certainly hope she didn't. She. " He stopped, and didn't seem to want to continue.

"Where'd she call you from yesterday evening?"

"I didn't ask. As you said, George, she's on her own now. I don't supervise her social engagements."

I thanked him, and apologized for waking him up. Was she out on a date? Was I jealous? This is stupid. I dialed her apartment. Again, several rings, and a sleepy Francine said, just as her father had, "Yes?"

I hung up. I didn't want to apologize for waking her until later. I got into the car and drove within the speed limit for a change because I sure as hell wanted to get there alive.

"Who is it?" she said through the door in a voice that grumpily indicated she had gone back to sleep.

"George."

She opened it on the chain. Didn't she believe it was me?

"Wait a minute," she said.

I was impatient, anxious, and it took at least two or three minutes for her to come back and let me in. She was wearing a housecoat. She may have run a comb through her hair, but it sure didn't look it. I didn't care. She looked as I had dreamed of her looking this morning.

"Do you realize what time it is?" she said.

I looked at my watch. It wasn't seven-thirty yet.

"Sorry to be so early," I said. "I thought we might spend the day together. There's a lot to talk about. I'm sure the rain won't last. I thought we might—"

"Where were you yesterday?"

"Oswego, with my old man."

"Did you find my note?"

"I was going to drive to Chez Widmer straight from the airport. Good thing I decided to wait till morning. I found your note. I was almost tempted to drive over then. But I waited. Woke your father. I thought you were scared to stay here alone?"

I put my hands out in the way I had done before but she did not take them. She said, "George, could you go for a walk or a drive for half an hour and come back?"

"It's raining," I said. "Besides, I want to stay right here."

"I have to dress."

"I'll watch you dress."

"Please, George."

I wasn't getting it until I noticed that the door to the bedroom was closed. Probably a mess.

"Please give me half an hour."

I guess it comes from having been a lawyer for the worst sort of clients, from handling matrimonials, from my instincts about the human race. I went to the door and before she could stop me, opened it.

The kid in bed was terrified. She'd obviously warned him.

"Who the fuck are you?" I said.

"Bill Acton."

Francine was right behind me, saying, "It's not his fault. I invited him. We can talk about it. I can explain it."

I turned to look at her. For a split second I thought of Koslak, who had forced her in this bedroom. The kid hadn't forced her. She'd invited him. He was her age. I was so afraid of the billowing anger inside me, I was careful not to slam the outside door.

Saturday is my day of rest. Sunday is my day of peace. Priscilla and I had lazied around on Saturday, gone to an early evening showing at Cinema Two. When George woke me Sunday morning, I didn't go back to sleep. I was ready to commune with the out-of-doors. I planned to put on my chino pants and a T-shirt and see if I couldn't transplant the Exbury azalea that was being crowded by a fountain of weigela without mucking up the root system, the kind of thing I could do perfectly if my mind was at ease. As it was, until I pulled the drapes and saw the rain streaming down against the evergreens. Dear God, You had all week long to water the lawn and You, in Your wisdom, saved it for Sunday. The lengths You will go to to get a few reluctant parishioners into church!

In the shower, soaping myself, I thought why not take the bar of soap out-of-doors and shower in the rain? No one would see. It wouldn't be dotty. Showering in the shower was unnatural if it was raining outside. Was the peace I felt attributable to Sunday? Or to Francine going out with that nice young man again? Or to learning that Thomassy had reported that Koslak's lawyer would plead his client and the trial I didn't want to imagine would now not have to take place? I had started it with the phone call. Now it could all stop. I wish I had the talent to write a ballad, a song that could tell it all.

"You were singing in the shower," said Priscilla.

"Oh was I? I don't recall."

"Who was that who phoned so early?"

"George Thomassy. Looking for Francine," I said, toweling myself dry, wondering if I was a visual temptation to Priscilla as she was to me when she gentled a bath sheet around her.

It was early afternoon when Francine phoned. She sounded upset. "You should be in a celebratory mood," I said. "Aren't you glad you won't have to go through with the trial? By the way, did George Thomassy reach you?"

She started to cry. I couldn't make the connections, but I invited her to come over.

Priscilla poured tea for the three of us. "Damn rain wiped out my gardening for the day," I said, but I could see Francine was not up to small talk.

"What is it, Francine?"

"I seem to have mucked up my life."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Yes and no."

"You should be very pleased about Koslak going to Jail. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"I didn't think what happens when he gets out of jail. I can't go on living in the same apartment, waiting for him to get out. Do I move to a different part of the country? Do I change my name? I'm determined to make a career for myself in broadcasting, how the hell do I do that anonymously?"

"Koslak," I tried to reassure her, "is likely to be chastened by his punishment."

"Are you kidding?" she exclaimed. "He's a nut! He'll want revenge!"

I had thought the story was over. It was apparently not to be.

"First things first," I said. "Thomassy has got to get you out of that place."

"I thought leases were unbreakable."

"No contract is unbreakable if your lawyer is good enough. I'll speak to your friend Thomassy."

"I guess you might as well know. George and I are no longer… friends."

I had to conceal my delight. "He's still your lawyer."

"I don't know if that's possible."

"I'll have a word with him. Now do have another cup of tea."

I had to think.

I knew a guy what did time for knocking off cars. He came to me last winter when his regular fence had the flu to see if I could lay off a Buick quick. He was the one told me the clink, when you get used to it, it's like anything else.

"But they don't let you do what you want to do," I told him.

He laughed like I'm some nut.

Well, it's worse because they make you do what you don't want to do. I wrote to Mary: Tell Brady the hacks are nothing in this place compared to the other prisoners.

When I'd asked the guy with the Buick about sex, he said, 'They ain't gonna cut your hand off."

He must of knowed. He was just stringing me along, figuring I'd find out soon enough.

The last day Harry was out on bail, that was the worst. I thought we ought to take the kids out in the park, you know, for a walk, kind of to say goodbye. I told him private before we went out that he shouldn't let on where he was going, a business trip, he would be away awhile, et cetera. The kids hear about other fathers going on business trips, so it wouldn't seem so different.

So we're in the park with Mike and little Mary. Harry sits down on a bench, the kids are standing in front of him, he brings their faces real close. I'm like turning away because it's his private discussion with them, and he says, "I got something to tell ya."