Эд Макбейн: Mothers and Daughters

“You curse a lot.”

“Who?” Gillian said. She flicked her head, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. “Me?”

“Yes. Every other word out of your mouth is a swear word.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Gillian said, and she went back to examining her toe.

“Well, you do,” Amanda said. “Curse a lot, I mean.”

The room was suddenly hung with silence. Amanda bit her lip. She felt there was going to be an argument, and she did not want one. And yet she had to settle this swearing thing. Across the room, Gillian was studying her big toe and nodding, as if she had finally got the message and was pondering it before answering. She uncrossed her legs, leaned back on the bed, propped by her arms, and — still nodding — said, “What is this? A formal complaint?”

“Yes, I suppose it is,” Amanda answered.

Gillian said nothing. She rose suddenly, went to the desk for one of her books, and then walked stiffly back to her bed with it.

“I think we should settle this,” Amanda said. “If we’re going to be roommates, I think we should settle this.”

“It’s settled,” Gillian answered.

“I don’t see how.”

“What the hell do you want me to do? Shave my head and take the vows?”

“No, but I think—”

“This is the way I talk,” Gillian said. “This is me. ” She nodded emphatically. “It shouldn’t surprise you to realize I’d sooner change my room than my personality.”

“I don’t see that cursing adds anything to your personality.”

“Well, I don’t see that muttering all those prayers adds anything to yours.”

“I was raised on prayer,” Amanda said.

“And I was raised on swearing.”

“Well, that’s no answer.”

“No, I guess it isn’t.” She put down her book. “I’ll contact Female Berthing. I’m sure she can find another room for me.”

“Maybe you’d better do that.”

“I will. In the morning.”

There was silence again. In the silence, Gillian took off her clothes and got into her pajamas.

“I’m sorry,” Amanda said. “I just... I’m just not used to such language.” She paused. “Nobody in my house talks that way.”

“This isn’t your house,” Gillian said, and she got into bed.

“No, but—” Amanda cut herself short and frowned. “Wh... what do you mean?”

“I mean this isn’t Crackerbarrel Falls, Minnesota. This is Talmadge University, part of the great big wide world. And there’s an even bigger world outside Talmadge. And this may come as a great shock to you, but there are millions of decent God-fearing people in this world who aren’t considered lost souls because they say ‘hell’ or ‘damn’ or—”

“That’s enough, Gillian!”

“Okay, the thing is settled. I’ll change my room tomorrow. But you’re here for an education, Amanda. And it just might include something more than Beethoven’s Fifth. ”

“I don’t see how—”

“I’m a person,” Gillian said flatly. “You’re going to meet a lot of people between now and the time they bury you. It’s entirely up to you whether you’re going to ask all of them to please change rooms.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean that’s a fine way to live, if it’s what you want. But if they keep changing rooms, you can bet on one thing, Amanda.”

“What’s that?”

“ Your room’ll never change.”

“Maybe I don’t want it to change.”

“Great. You’re nineteen years old, and everything’s set already. Don’t move any of the furniture, Amanda might trip and fall.”

“I don’t see how listening to a lot of swear words is going to round out my education. I don’t expect to be hanging out in... in barrooms or... or pool halls... or... or...”

“Neither do I,” Gillian said. She sighed deeply. “Let’s forget it. I’ll call Female Berthing in the morning.”

She did not call Female Berthing in the morning. In the morning, Amanda said to her, “Well, I... I think we were both a little hasty. But since you know how I feel about it, couldn’t you make some kind of an effort? I mean, couldn’t you at least try , Gillian?”

Gillian grinned. Her green eyes suddenly sparkled. “I’ll try,” she promised.

There was a joke current that year, a joke about two nuns who went to see one of the most foulmouthed plays on Broadway. They sat shocked through the first act, appalled through the second. During the third act, one of the nuns reached under the seat and began groping around on the theater floor.

“What is it?” the other nun whispered.

“I dropped my goddamn beads,” the second nun whispered back.

The influence of Gillian Burke was not quite that strong. And yet Amanda found her ears growing accustomed to the sound of profanity. And whereas she never once used any of Gillian’s words herself, she came to accept them as a part of Gillian, an essential part without which Gillian would have seemed somewhat pallid. There was, Amanda discovered, a great deal about Gillian that at first caused annoyance, and then gradual acceptance, and finally seemed to be part of the natural order of things.

The mess, for example.

Amanda was a neat girl who took off a skirt and immediately hung it in the closet, who made her bed each morning before classes, who put her books in the same spot on the desk each evening when classes were done, whose life was governed by an orderly, efficient routine. Gillian, on the other hand, seemed to have no respect for her own possessions, no concern for time, no patience with the ordered cadence of the world around her. Her habits infuriated Amanda at first. Amanda was a music student whose early study of the piano had been strictly regulated by the unwavering beat of a metronome. When she looked at the signature of a composition, she knew instantly the key and tempo, and she knew these would remain constant until the composer indicated a change. The world of music was rigid and unbending. In 4/4 time, there could never be five quarter notes — until Gillian came along.

At first Amanda was at a total loss. She would come back to the room to find Gillian’s sweater hung over a chair, her blouse on the desk, her slip and bra scattered on the floor, her stockings trailing over doorknobs, her books opened or closed wherever Gillian happened to drop them, the radio blaring, cookies crushed into the hooked rug before Gillian’s bed, the bed still unmade, Gillian herself lying naked in the center of it, or, on at least one occasion, covered only by a copy of The New York Times .

She spoke to Gillian about the condition of the room, and Gillian promised to be more careful. But instilling order into the chaotic frenzy of Gillian Burke’s life was an impossible task. Amanda found herself picking up after her roommate, folding her sweaters, placing her loafers neatly on the floor of the closet, even making her bed — and then rebelling against all this when she noticed something telling about Gillian’s seeming disorder.

She noticed that no matter how disrespectful of her own possessions she seemed, Gillian would never touch anything belonging to Amanda. When she tossed her bra casually across the room, it never landed on Amanda’s bed. When she left unwashed glasses around, or open boxes of crackers, they were always on her side of the room. She never imposed her disorder upon Amanda, and Amanda realized it was unfair to impose her order upon Gillian. So she stopped trying. She learned that Gillian’s very lack of order was an order in itself, and her own possessions went undisturbed. In the midst of the maelstrom, she was certain that Gillian would never flop down on her neatly made bed, would never move so much as a bobby pin from where Amanda had placed it. The two separately revolving worlds managed to wheel about the sky without colliding.