Эд Макбейн - Mothers and Daughters

There was the smell of dust in the shop. The shop was almost empty. An old woman with a flowered hat was picking through the stalls searching for a bargain. A bald-headed man in a tweed overcoat was at the far end of the shop, taking a book down from the shelves, replacing it, taking another book down. The proprietor sat behind a high counter just inside the entrance door, reading Dostoevski. Amanda browsed idly. She looked at her watch. It was only five thirty-five. Slowly, she worked her way toward the back of the shop. She found a battered old copy of a Nancy Drew mystery. Excited by her find, she decided to buy it for Kate, and then realized Kate had outgrown Nancy Drew. Reluctantly, she put it back on the stall.

“I used to read Bomba the Jungle Boy ,” the bald-headed man said.

“Yes, weren’t they fun?” she answered, almost without turning, smiling at the man in an idle reminiscent way, and then moving past him to the other side of the stall.

“And Tom Swift ,” the man said.

Amanda glanced at him, smiled in polite dismissal, and began walking toward the front of the shop.

“Amanda?” the man said.

She stopped. Puzzled, she turned.

“It is Amanda?”

“Yes,” she said, “but...?”

She looked at the man more closely. He had a round face, and a bald head, and the collar of his tweed coat was pulled high on the back of his neck. He looked very sad, a chubby man wearing a very sad face.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Morton,” he answered. “Morton Yardley.”

For a moment, the name meant nothing to her. And then the man made a curiously embarrassed gesture, pulling the coat collar higher on his neck, as if he wanted to pull it completely over his bald head, and all at once she remembered Morton Yardley and his hooded Mackinaw. A smile broke on her face. She rushed into his arms spontaneously and hugged him.

“Morton!” she said. “ No! Morton, is it you?”

“Hullo, Amanda,” he said, and he hugged her with great embarrassment, grinning, awkward.

“What are you doing here?” She pulled away from him and looked into his face. “Of course it’s Morton! Oh, how good to see you!” She laughed, still unable to believe it, and then they fell silent and stood staring at each other somewhat curiously. The hugging was over and done with, the surprise was past, the first rush of honest emotion was gone. Now two strangers looked at each other in the cluttered aisle of a musty bookshop, each taking the measure of the other. Amanda touched her hair unconsciously, fluffing it.

“How have you been, Amanda?”

“Fine, thank you.”

“Are you married now?”

“Yes. Yes, I have two children.”

“How wonderful for you.”

Don’t let us be this way, she thought. I liked you so much, Morton. Don’t let us end as strangers talking about the weather.

“Are you married?” she asked.

“No. No, I never married, Amanda.”

“Is your parish here in New York?”

“My...? Oh, well, I sort of changed plans.” He nodded. “I gave up my ideas about the ministry, you see.” He shrugged. “I work in a bank now. I’m an assistant manager. Manufacturer’s Trust, do you know it?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, well, that’s where I work.”

There was a long pause. Morton wet his lips nervously. He really has lost all his hair, she thought, but he still looks so sweet, he is still a very sweet person.

“Do you live in New York?” he asked.

“No, we live in Talmadge.”

“Really? Near the school?”

“Well, fairly near. On Congress.”

“Oh, yes.” Morton nodded. “You didn’t marry a professor, did you?”

“No, a lawyer.”

“I thought because...” He nodded. “Well, a lawyer, that’s good. Gee, it must be... how many years?” He nodded again, and then was silent.

The silence lengthened. There seemed to be nothing more to say. After all these years, there was nothing to say but How are you? Are you married? Where do you work? Where do you live? She didn’t want it to be this way. She wanted to know about Morton, and she wanted to tell him about herself. She had liked Morton too much, had shared too much with him, had touched his life with her own, and been touched in return, had really known Morton too well to allow this to happen. You can destroy a place, she thought, you can come to it with all the tricks and veneer of living, come to it with cynical eyes and destroy the memory of innocence, but you cannot do that with people. I won’t let it happen with people.

“Could we have a drink together?” she asked. She smiled gently. “I don’t have to meet my husband until six-thirty.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Morton said. “I’m sorry, but I can’t, Amanda.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. Maybe you can do it with people, she thought. Maybe life is simply a matter of learning that the present has nothing whatever to do with the past or the future.

“I’m going over to the museum,” he said. “I have to see this movie.” He paused. “Would you like to come with me?”

She almost said no. This was going badly, this was awkward, this was stupid and disenchanting, and she almost said no. She shook her head, not in reply, but as if to clear it.

“I would like to come, Morton,” she said.

“Good. Gee, that’s... well, good, Amanda. Good.” He grinned.

“Is it far?”

“Fifty-third.”

“Let’s walk,” she said. “Then we can talk to each other.”

Morton let out his breath. “I was hoping we could talk,” he said.

October dusk had settled on the city. The subway-bound office workers rushed along the streets with their heads bent against the strong wind, their hands thrust into their pockets. The sidewalks echoed with the clatter of high-heeled shoes, the streets with the empty bellow of bus horns. The sky was a mottled deep blue, not yet black, no moon showing as yet, no stars.

“I like this time of day best,” Morton said. “Everybody going home. I feel very good at this time of day.”

“I do, too.”

“Are you warm enough with just that little thing?”

“No, I’m freezing,” Amanda admitted.

“It’s very pretty. What is that? Mink or something?”

“Yes.”

Morton nodded. She had the impression this was the first time he had ever had a close look at mink. There was something very naïve and boyish about him, as if he had learned none of the... the tricks of living, as if there were no guile in that entirely open face.

“I’m glad we got out of that shop, Amanda,” he said. “You know what I thought? I thought we would shuffle our feet around a little more, and then say goodbye. That would have been sinful, I think. Don’t you think so?”

“Yes,” Amanda said, smiling. “Absolutely sinful.”

“Are you kidding?” He turned to her, his eyebrows raised.

“No. I’m serious.”

He smiled. “Good.”

“May I take your arm? I’m very cold.”

“Sure. Here. Do you want my coat, Amanda? Let me give you my coat.”

“No. Thank you, Morton.”

“Come on, I don’t need it. Look at you. You’re shaking.”

“I’ll be all right.” She smiled at him and hugged his arm. “I’m glad we ran into each other, Morton.”

“Yes, I am, too. You’ll like this picture, Amanda. A friend of mine made it. I don’t know what it cost him, thirty cents or something. Anyway, it was very cheap, and it’s received all sorts of praise. Do you know you look exactly the same? You haven’t changed a bit. Not a bit.”

“You haven’t either.”

“Amanda, I’m all bald! ” he said, laughing, as if surprised by the knowledge but willing to share it with her.