Эд Макбейн: Mothers and Daughters

“Did I congratulate you?”

“No, you didn’t. And don’t think I didn’t notice, either.”

“Congratulations. I’m very proud of you. You want some coffee?”

“No. Aren’t you warm? Why don’t you put down that hood?”

“I feel fine. Listen, are you going to the game Saturday?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember whether I made plans with Diane or not. Why?”

“I thought we might go together,” Morton said, shrugging. “It’s in New Haven, you know, and I have got the car.”

“Oh, all right,” Amanda said. “Morton, can you imagine it? Both ballets are mine. Do you know how many were submitted?”

“How many?”

“I don’t know, but plenty, I’ll bet. Morton, do you think I really have talent?”

“I guess so. Yes. Yes, you have.”

“I mean, really. I mean, do you think it’s really professional talent? I don’t mean by college standards.”

“Now, how would I know, Amanda?”

“I’m only asking your opinion.”

“I don’t know the difference between just ordinary talent and professional talent. What’s the difference, Amanda?”

“Well, professional talent...”

“Is what people pay for, right? Well, people are going to pay to see the Christmas Pageant.”

“That’s different. They only go because it’s tradition.”

“I would say, offhand, that if you have to ask whether or not your talent is professional, chances are it isn’t.”

“That’s a nasty thing to say, Morton.”

“I wasn’t trying to be nasty.”

“I will have a cup of coffee. Wait a minute, Morton. Just a minute. Do you know how I feel?” She leaned across the table, her eyes bright. “I feel as if the day is just starting. I feel as if that notice was only the beginning.”

“How do you mean?”

“Morton, you won’t tell this to anyone?”

“I promise.”

“Your word of honor?”

“My word of honor.”

“I feel as if this is going to be the most important day of my life.”

“How can you possibly tell that?”

“I just feel it. Inside.”

“Well, okay,” Morton said, and he shrugged.

“Don’t you believe me?”

“Sure, I do.” He stood up. “Cream and sugar?”

“Yes. One sugar. Morton?”

“Mmmm?”

“Do I sound silly?”

“You never sound silly, Amanda,” he said seriously, and he walked away from the table to join the line at the counter.

Amanda sat at the table, listening to the voices all around her, a part of the babble of conversation, the rush of sound, the clatter of trays and utensils, surrounded by people she knew, all talking about familiar things. She felt suddenly proud. It was good to be here, in this chair, at this table, in this cafeteria. She even felt a sudden sympathy for Ardis Fletcher, who came bouncing into the cafeteria from the far end, her red head bobbing, wearing a tight, pale-blue sweater, a string of pearls knotted about her neck, swinging wildly as she walked. She raised her hand the moment she saw Amanda, and came over to the table swinging pearls and hips, leaving a host of turning male heads in her wake.

“Hi,” she said wearily, and she collapsed at the table and rolled her blue eyes. “Oh, what a day, what a day.”

“Did you find your missing pages?” Amanda asked.

“No, damn it, I...” She stopped. “I’m sorry. I forgot you don’t like swearing. Do you suppose someone stole them?”

“Why would anyone want to do that?”

“I don’t know,” Ardis said. “It’s a pretty good theme, you know.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“Somebody probably stole those pages.” Ardis paused. “They were always stealing from Shakespeare, did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Sure. They still are. Half the movie plots today are stolen from him. The artist doesn’t stand a chance in today’s cutthroat world.” She rolled her blue eyes expressively. “I just came from home,” she said. “I went through my entire room, I turned it upside down, everything. I found things I didn’t even know I owned, letters from when I was at camp two years ago, can you imagine? But no pages. And I walked to school and turned over every scrap of paper in the gutter. Now, where could they have gone, would you please tell me? I’m convinced that inanimate objects can get up and walk around. Did you get your call?”

“What?”

“Your call. There was a long-distance call for you.”

“When?”

“About a half hour ago. One of the girls told me. I thought you’d—”

“Long distance? From where?”

“You’re supposed to call Operator 23 in Minneapolis. Didn’t you...?”

“Oh my gosh!” Amanda said. “I’ll bet it’s happened!”

She rose from the table suddenly.

“Drink my coffee!” she said.

“What?”

“Morton,” she answered, and rushed out of the cafeteria.

“Mother?” she said into the phone. There was a terrible electric crackling on the line, and she had to shout. “Mother, is that you?”

“Amanda?” she heard her mother say weakly. “This is Mother. I’ve been trying to...” and then the voice faded completely.

“Oh, for the love of... Mother? Mother!” Angrily she jiggled the hook on the wall phone. “Operator? Operator!”

“Operator, yes?” the voice said.

“Operator, we’ve been cut off.”

“Your party is still on the line, Miss.”

“Well, I can’t hear her, so what good is it if she’s still on the line?”

“One moment, please.”

There was more crackling, and then the background noises of a telephone exchange came onto the line, an operator haggling with a soldier in Fort Bliss, who was trying to reach New York, and then the background noises were cut off, and there was a clicking, and a hum, and then the operator came back and said, “Here’s your party. Go ahead, please.”

“Mother?”

“Amanda? What is going on with this telephone?”

“Did she have it?” Amanda asked.

“Yes, dear.”

“Is she all right, Mother?”

Two girls in the dormitory reception room began shouting at each other and Amanda yelled, “Keep quiet in there! I’m on long distance!”

“Well, pish-posh!” one of the girls yelled back, but they quieted down.

“Mother, is Penny all right?”

“Yes, she’s fine, darling.”

“What was it? What did she have?”

“A girl.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Amanda said, grinning. “A girl. But she’s all right? Penny?”

“Yes, she’s fine. I’ve been trying to reach you since ten o’clock, Amanda. Don’t they let you know when you have phone calls?”

“I’ve been in class, Mother. Mother, what’s her name? The baby’s.”

“Katherine.”

“That’s a good name.”

“Yes.”

“I like it.”

“Yes.”

“How’s Dad?”

“He’s fine. I left him at the hospital. I had to get back for the church social tonight. How’s school, Amanda?”

“Oh, wonderful. Mother, two of my ballets were chosen for the Christmas Pageant!”

“That’s good. Don’t they call you to the phone when you have a call, Amanda?”

“Yes, sure they do. I was in class. Mother, would you tell Dad?”

“Tell him what, darling?”

“About the ballets? About mine being chosen?”

“Yes, of course I will.”

“Mother, does Frank know yet? Did someone contact him?”

“Well, darling, he’s in the Pacific Ocean. We sent a cable, but Lord knows when that’ll reach him.”

“Doesn’t the Navy have some sort of a system?”

“I’m sure they do, Amanda, but they are fighting a war, you know. We’re going to get a letter off to Frank tonight, in case the cable goes astray.”