Эд Макбейн - Strangers When We Meet

Eve said, “Don’t cry, baby, Mommy is here. Now don’t cry, baby. Please don’t cry.”

David would not stop. She held him close to her breast, the way she had done when he was an infant, and he sobbed his misery against the naked flesh above the low-cut neckline.

“Please, darling. Come now, darling. Don’t cry. Mommy’s here,” she said soothingly, over and over again. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry, darling.”

He stood quite still by the telephone. He had not expected her voice. In the darkness of the bedroom, with the laughter coming from the next room, her voice sounded calm and warm and loving.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Home.”

“Him?”

“Upstairs. Asleep. I had to call you. Can you talk?”

“No.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll talk. You listen. Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you drunk?”

“Because I love you.”

“I miss you, Larry. I miss you so much. It’s torture to know that you’re there having a good time.”

“Please!”

“Is it bad?”

“Yes.”

“Very bad?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad. I want you to be miserable without me. I want you to miss me as much as I miss you.”

“I do. Maggie, what are we going to do?”

“About what?”

“I don’t know.”

“About what, darling?”

“About the world,” he said.

“The world?” She began giggling. “Honey, you’re drunk! You sound adorable! Oh, I wish I could hug you.”

“Honey, what’re we gonna do about the world?” Larry asked again.

“We’ll let the world worry about itself,” she said. “Let’s just worry about each other.”

“All right. But what about Puerto Rico?”

“What about it?”

“I don’t know. What about it?”

“Larry, I don’t understand you.”

“It’s poor and dirty,” he said. “It could be clean. I can make it clean.”

“Yes, darling.” She giggled again. “Oh, God, are you drunk! Oh, I could kiss you.” He heard a smack against the mouthpiece. “Did you get that? I kissed you. Did you get it, darling?”

“Yes.”

“Will you get drunk with me sometime? I want you drunk.”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow morning. We’ll get drunk for breakfast.”

She giggled again, her voice close to his ear, her giggle very warm and very intimate.

“I love you,” he said.

“Again,” she whispered. “Again.”

“I love you.”

“Don’t cry, David. There are people here, honey. You don’t want them to think you’re a baby, do you?”

“Where’s Daddy?” David asked, sobbing.

“Outside. Do you want him?”

“Yes,” David said, nodding, sobbing.

Eve went to the door frame.

“Larry!” she called. “Will you come here a minute, please?”

“I’ll get him,” Ramsey shouted from the living room. “He’s on the phone.” Ramsey got to his feet and walked to the bedroom. Leaning in the doorway, he said, “Hey!”

Larry turned from the phone, saw Ramsey, and then turned back to the mouthpiece. “Who did you want?” he asked.

“I want you ,” Maggie answered.

“I’m sorry,” Larry said. “I think you’ve got the wrong number.”

“I’ve got the right number, darling,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” Larry said, “there’s nobody here by that name.”

“Call me tomorrow,” she said.

“Yes.”

“I love you.”

“That’s quite all right, sir,” Larry said. “I feel the same way. Good night.”

“Good night, my darling.”

He hung up. He turned to Ramsey. “Wrong number,” he explained.

“Your wife wants you,” Ramsey said.

He walked past him and into the corridor, hearing Betty singing with Doris in the living room, seeing Felix off in the corner talking to Phyllis, hearing Murray telling a dialect joke to the Signora, watching Max using his hands to describe flight to the Garandis, seeing Fran stagger out of the living room toward the kitchen bar, her empty glass in hand. He walked past the living room and down the corridor to the boys’ room, and then into the room.

“You’d better talk to him,” Eve said frostily. “If you’re not too stinking drunk.”

“What’s the matter with him?” Larry asked.

“Nothing,” Eve said. “His father is a fool, that’s all.”

“What’s the matter with you? ”

“Nothing at all. I’m going to make some coffee. You can use a gallon or two.”

Larry walked to the crib. “What’s the matter, Chris?” he asked.

“I’m David.”

“Well, what’s the matter?”

“I di’n wet the bed.”

“Well, who said you did?”

“Nobody.”

“All right, so what’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” David said.

“I’ll make the coffee,” Eve said. She paused in the doorway. “Who was that on the phone?”

“Altar,” Larry said. Eve left the room.

“Mommy’s angry,” David said. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Women get angry.”

“She said you were drunk.”

“I am.”

“What’s drunk?”

“What’s sober?” Larry asked the wall. “Can’t you get back to sleep now?”

“Sure. I di’n wet the bed.”

“That’s a good boy.”

“I’m never going to wet the bed again. Then I can go to school with Chris.”

“Sure.”

“Can’t I?”

“Sure.”

“I’m going to be like Chris when I’m bigger.”

“That’s good,” Larry said. “Lie down, son. I’ll cover you.”

“And when I’m really big, I’ll be a daddy like you. You’re a good daddy. You’re the nicest daddy in New York.”

“Thank you, son,” Larry said. He kissed David on the cheek.

“Me,” David said. “I want to kiss you.”

He kissed Larry, and Larry suddenly clasped his son to him, holding him fiercely close.

“Good night, son,” he said. “Good night.”

“Good night, Dad.”

He flicked out the light and went out of the bedroom and past the bathroom and through the kitchen where Eve stood at the stove with the coffeepot and through the entrance hallway and then out the front door and onto the stoop. He walked down the front steps and down the path and he turned left at the sidewalk and then simply walked up the block, feeling the sudden cold, realizing all at once that he was in his stocking feet, not giving a damn, walking faster and faster and thinking only, I’ve got to get away, and not knowing from what he had to get away.

The development was closed for the night, the sidewalks pulled in, the eyes of the houses shut, the houses standing uniform and silent behind their lawn moats, the telephone poles stiff and unbending, the telephone wires zooming off into the distance, the sky a solid black slammed with stars and a storybook moon.

He walked alone on the silent streets, walked with a rushing, headlong pace, breathing hard, away, away , not thinking of where he was going and then suddenly knowing where he was going and stopping dead in his tracks. He was heading for Maggie’s house.

His arms fell to his sides. His head drooped, and he stood in the center of the sidewalk, limp within his body frame, shaking his head slowly and meaninglessly, thinking. What’s happening to me? What’s happening to my life?

He felt an enormous sadness. He knew he would not cry, but there were tears behind his eyes, silent tears that wept without moisture. The sadness was heavy, a burden that pressed on his shoulders and head, filling his chest and his eyes and his hands. He stood alone, unmoving, his stockinged feet against the pavement in the brilliant moonlight. There was no wind. The world was silent. He was alone in a silent world, alone and sad, and unable to think, able only to feel this enormous sadness.