Douglas Kennedy - The Pursuit of Happiness

'He told me, that's how'.

'I had to keep it from him. Until I was sure that...'

'Hey, I'm not criticizing you here. All I'm saying is that your crazy brother adores you more than anything in the world. You should hear how he talks about you. You're everything to him. And now along comes this guy - whom he met once before, right?'

'Yes - and they hated each other on sight'.

'There you go. So this Jack guy suddenly shows up again in your life - and it's obviously so damn serious that you keep it all a secret from your brother. For months. And now he's feeling anxious about losing you'.

'Losing me? That's the last thing that would ever happen'.

'You know that. I know that. But jealousy isn't exactly the most rational of emotions, is it?'

I sat around with Ronnie until about six, hoping Eric might wake up. But when it became apparent that he was out for the night, I headed back to my apartment. I desperately wanted to hear from Jack - but the phone remained silent. At eight the next morning, however, my doorbell rang. I jumped out of bed, flung on a robe, and raced to the front door. Standing there was Eric. His eyes were bloodshot, his face ashen. He was visibly nervous.

'Will you ever speak to me again?' he asked.

'I don't have many other options, do I?'

He came inside. I put a pot of coffee on the stove. He sat at the kitchen table, saying nothing. After a few minutes I spoke.

'So, let's hear the act of contrition'.

'I was wrong'.

'Incredibly wrong'.

'Now Jack hates me'.

'Do you really care whether he does or not?'

'Yes, I do. Because I know he means so much to you'.

'Then it isn't just me to whom you should be apologizing'.

'True', he said. 'It won't happen again'.

'No, it won't. Because I don't want to be put in a position where I am forced to choose between you and Jack. There's no need for that choice to be made'.

'I know, I know. Ronnie told me the same thing last night... after giving me the hardest time imaginable for what I'd done. He told me I'd behaved like a thirteen-year-old'.

'That's giving a thirteen-year-old too much credit'.

'Do you think Jack will forgive me?'

'Try him'.

I didn't hear from Jack that weekend - which worried me, because he usually checked in at least once on Saturday. By late Sunday evening, I was wondering if, in the wake of Eric's little performance, he'd suffered a change of heart. By Monday morning, I was certain what was coming next: a tense phone call, during which he'd inform me that, after much reflection, he'd decided that he simply could no longer sustain such divided loyalties, and had to return permanently to the bosom of his family. Or maybe a Dear John letter would arrive in the morning mail, in which he would state that Eric's outburst on Friday had crystallized matters for him, and he now realized we had no future together. Or, worst yet, he'd resort to a telegram, with the same message that he sent me all those years ago:

I'm sorry.

Jack

It's amazing how silence brings out our most terrible fears - and makes us expect the worst.

But then he called me at nine on Monday morning.

'I thought I'd never hear from you again', I said.

'I'm not that stupid'.

'But you were angry'.

'Yeah - I was angry. But not at you'.

'You still didn't call. And it got me worried'.

'I needed to calm down. Then the weekend at home went all wrong. Charlie came down with a temperature of a hundred and six...'

'Oh my God. Is he all right?'

'Yeah. We had to get a pediatrician to make a house call. It was just a viral thing. But we were up all night Friday. Then on Saturday morning, when we were having breakfast, Dorothy suddenly broke down and started crying. When I asked her what was wrong, she refused to say. Of course, I knew why she was so upset. But when I tried to get her to tell me what was bothering her, she clammed right up. That's when I asked, "Do you want me to leave?" Suddenly she wasn't crying anymore. She was just angry as hell.

'"Oh, that would suit you right down to the ground, wouldn't it?" she said.

' "No," I said, "it really wouldn't."

' "Well, I don't know if I can stand this anymore," she said, and went running into the bedroom. I decided it was best to leave her alone. Around a half-hour later, she came out, dressed, fully made up, looking completely calm. She gave me a kiss, asked me to forgive her for her outburst, and then told me that, since we were housebound today with Charlie, she was now going out to our local deli to buy us a big lunch. She was gone for around thirty minutes. When she came back, it was like nothing had happened. We sat down, we ate, Charlie's fever finally broke, we watched Milton Berle on TV... one big happy family. And for the rest of the weekend, she didn't say a thing about getting upset. This morning, I packed my suitcase, told her I'd be out of town until Thursday night. She kissed me goodbye, and said something cheerful like, "Don't forget to call." And I've got to tell you, Sara, I never felt like a bigger heel in my life'.

'Then end this, Jack'.

'You don't want that, do you?'

'Of course not', I said. 'Do you?'

'I want you more than anything. If you weren't there, I don't know how I'd get through the day. Sorry... I'm starting to sound like a sentimental idiot'.

'That's quite all right by me. Keep sounding like a sentimental idiot'.

'I heard from your brother today'.

'You what?' I said, sounding shocked.

'There was a wrapped gift and a letter waiting for me here at the office when I walked in this morning. Want to hear what he wrote?'

'Of course'.

'It's short and sweet: "Dear Jack: I behaved like a child the other afternoon. A drunken child. I can't excuse my behavior. Sometimes we do dumb things in life. This was dumber than most. I know how much my sister loves you. I would never do anything to intentionally hurt her - but I know my actions on Friday have hurt her terribly, and for that I feel shame. Just as I also feel total shame for treating you with such contempt. If you don't want to forgive me for that outburst, I won't blame you. All I can say, in closing, is this: I was wrong. And I am so sorry."

'He added a PS - "Here's the bottle of champagne I was going to buy you the other night. I hope you and Sara will toast your happiness with it." I have to say, I was kind of touched. And I just wrote him back a note: "Thanks for the bubbly. No hard feelings. Jack." You think that's enough?'

'I think that's just fine', I said. 'Thank you'.

'For what?'

'For being forgiving. It's not an easy thing to do sometimes'.

'I love you, Sara'.

'Ditto, ditto, Jack. Will I see you tonight?'

'Well, I'm not going to drink the champagne on my own'.

From that moment onwards, an entente cordiale was established between my brother and Jack. Though they hardly saw each other, each made a point of politely asking me about how the other was doing. Jack was a big fan of The Marty Manning Show, and frequently dropped Eric a card whenever he particularly liked one of his sketches. When Jack's next birthday came around, Eric made a point of sending him a beautiful Parker pen.

Of course, I was delighted that Eric and Jack had established an armistice between them. Because, at heart, they were such polar opposites with profoundly disparate world views. I knew they really didn't like each other - but, after that incident in the St Moritz, they both went out of their way to avoid saying anything to me that could be construed as a cutting comment. Perhaps both realized that it was foolish to vie for my affections, as such gamesmanship is inevitably alienating and self-destructive. Anyway, I didn't want to have to choose between them - because that would have been a horrible decision which would have left everyone bereft. As I said to Eric in the wake of his apologetic note to Jack: