Эд Макбейн - Mothers and Daughters

“ Why did he want to die? ” David said slowly and evenly.

Julia’s eyes held his steadily. Her voice came as slowly and as evenly as his own. “I don’t know why,” she said. “He never told me why.” She paused. “Perhaps he was just tired, David. Perhaps he was suddenly too tired.”

David stood by the chair and looked down at her. “I don’t believe you,” he said.

Julia made no sign that she had heard him.

“But I don’t suppose that matters a hell of a lot to you.”

“It matters, son.”

“Sure, Sure, it does. The way it mattered that I was in California waiting for you to...” He shook his head violently. “Forget it!”

“I came to see you,” Julia said quietly.

“Once! In four years, you came once!”

“Some get nothing,” Julia said, almost in a whisper.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Nothing.”

He stared at her for a moment, and then picked up his brandy glass and went into the next room. He took the decanter from the sideboard, and then went upstairs.

He had left the house drunk, and she lay in bed wondering where he was and whether he was all right, and telling herself, He is twenty-eight years old, he can take care of himself, and yet thinking it was her fault that he’d drunk so much brandy, her fault that he was somewhere in the night now probably drinking himself into a stupor, I shouldn’t have told him.

She could not sleep.

She threw back the covers and went to the telephone. She dialed, and then waited. He is a grown man, she told herself. She could hear the telephone ringing at the cottage next door. It’s almost midnight, she thought. I shouldn’t be doing this.

“Hello?” the voice said.

“Amanda?”

“Yes?”

“This is Julia.”

“Oh, hullo, Julia.” Amanda’s voice was edged with sleep. “Is something wrong?”

“Did I wake you?”

“No, no, that’s all right. What is it?”

“Could I speak to Matthew, please?”

“Yes, just a moment.” She heard Amanda’s voice recede. “Matthew, it’s Julia,” and she heard Matthew answer, “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know. Take the phone.”

“Hello?”

“Matthew?”

“Yes, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry to be calling at this hour...”

“Don’t be foolish. What is it, Julia?”

“David left here drunk. I’m worried about him.”

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know.”

“You want me to look for him?”

“Would you? He took the Alfa, and I’m just afraid he might...”

“I’ll get dressed,” Matthew said.

“Thank you, Matthew. I appreciate...”

“I’ll call you later,” Matthew said, and he hung up.

“What did she want?” Amanda asked.

Matthew took his trousers from the chair. “David’s crocked and on the town. She wants me to find him.”

“He’s not a child,” Amanda said. “Really, I think—”

“I know he’s not. But he’s Julia’s son, and she’s worried about him.”

“And that’s enough to drag you out of bed in the middle of the night?”

“I suppose it is. Julia’s our friend, Amanda. For God’s sake, David put out a fire in this house today, the least I can...”

“Yes,” Amanda said.

“So?”

Amanda did not answer. As he went out of the house, she said, “Be careful.”

He found David in the third bar he tried. The bar was a wood cabin set some fifty feet off the state highway between Lake Abundance and Talmadge. A few dozen automobiles were parked in the gravel parking lot. A neon sign smothered with moths blinked in the summer night, advertising the name of the place, and the single legend DANCING. A cocktail glass fizzing with bubbles decorated one corner of the sign. From within the roadhouse, Matthew could hear a jukebox oozing a Frank Sinatra tune. He opened the door and stepped into the smoky room. There were booths on one side of the table, and a long bar on the other side, stretching from just inside the entrance door to the far wall, which held, in sequence, the door to the kitchen, a telephone booth, the ladies’ room, and the men’s room. David was sitting on a stool close to the entrance door. Matthew climbed onto the stool next to his.

“Hi,” Matthew said.

David turned and studied Matthew with the careful scrutiny of a man who is unwilling to commit himself.

“Ain’t nothing lasts from here to eternity,” he said.

“Maybe not,” Matthew answered.

“No maybes about it,” David said, and he nodded his head exaggeratedly. “Nothing. The world is ephemeral.”

“Listen, how would you like to go home?” Matthew said.

“What for?”

“Your mother’s worried about you.”

“Oh, yeah?” David began laughing. “She’s too late. She should’ve worried about me a long time ago.”

“Yeah, well come on, finish your drink and—”

“Listen, go take a walk, Matthew.”

“Let’s take a walk together.”

“No, listen, you go take a walk all by yourself. I’m pretty happy right where I am. Go on, go take a walk.”

“No, I’ll stay with you!”

“I don’t trust guys with mustaches.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t. You need a shave.” David paused. “That’s just what he said to me. ‘You need a haircut, Regan. And shine those shoes.’”

“Who said that?”

“A friend of mine,” David answered. “Long time ago. Nineteen... forty-three?” He opened his eyes wide in amazement. “You know that’s ten years ago? You know that?”

“That’s right.” Matthew signaled the bartender and said, “A bourbon on the rocks.”

“You going to join me?”

“If I can’t fight you, I might as well.”

“Mister, you can’t fight it,” David said.

“I guess not.”

“What the hell’re you agreeing with me? You don’t even know what I’m talking about, and you’re agreeing.”

“All right, what is it you can’t fight?”

“The pattern, the design.”

The bartender brought Matthew’s drink, and he picked it up.

“Cheers,” David said.

“Cheers,” Matthew said, and he drank.

“That’s right, the pattern,” David said. “The same design. There ain’t nothing you can do to change it. It’s a big cycle.”

“That’s right,” Matthew said.

“You’re agreeing again, and you still don’t know what the hell I mean.”

“You mean life is a cycle, don’t you? There’s a certain pattern to it, an over-all design.”

“That’s right ,” David said, nodding.

“And it’s difficult to break away from the pattern.”

“Not difficult, impossible. Because nothing lasts.”

“Some things last.”

“Nothing. Listen, did she last, huh?”

“Did who last?”

“What’s her name? You know.”

“No, I don’t know.”

“Gillian,” David said. “That’s right. Gillian.”

“I knew a Gillian once.”

“There’s only one Gillian in the world, so it must have been her. Gillian Burke. That the one?”

“That’s the one,” Matthew said.

“Right! Nothing lasts, and the world is rotten.”

“That’s a pretty cynical attitude, David.”

“Hey, how come you know my name?”

“We’ve met before,” Matthew said, and he smiled.

David leaned closer to him. “Oh, yeah. That’s right. Why don’t you shave off that mustache? Jesus!”

“My wife likes it,” Matthew said.

“You married? Oh, yeah, Amanda, that’s right. Beautiful girl. Congratulations.”