Margaret Millar - Wives and Lovers

No, Gordon thought, I didn’t. She never gave me a chance. If I so much as picked one of the children up, she always found reasons why I shouldn’t — I was holding them the wrong way, or watch-out-for-his-arm-Gordon! or it was too soon after a meal for them to be jostled around, or it was time for their nap.

“I feel,” Elaine said virtuously, “that it’s we parents who are to blame.”

Gordon nodded, and the pompons on his hat danced in wild irony.

“I might have known that something would happen tonight, it always does when I’ve been looking forward to something, like this party.”

“I’m sorry if — if I’ve spoiled it for you.”

Elaine gave a hard brief laugh. “You haven’t, don’t worry! I wouldn’t let anything spoil it. I’m not like some people. I don’t let circumstances get the best of me.”

To Gordon, her eyes added, I’m not like you, Gordon, you poor weak mouse, letting people, letting circumstances, letting—

Letting you too, Elaine.

Well, that just shows how weak you are. And you’ll go on letting me, forever and ever!

Gordon took off his hat and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

“It’s too bad you couldn’t have grown a beard like some of the other men,” Elaine said. “You’d look more authentic.”

“You look very authentic.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

“It was the way you said it that I don’t like.”

“Listen, Elaine. Would you mind if I had a drink before we leave?”

Elaine wrinkled her forehead in exasperation. “What on earth for? There’s going to be plenty of liquor there. The liquor was included in the price of the tickets like last year. Anyway,” she added as an afterthought, “Ruth is here.”

“What’s Ruth got to do with it?”

“Well, you know, she’s death on liquor. If she saw you taking a drink she’d probably go home and tell Hazel and Hazel would spread it all over the town, exaggerating it, of course. A dentist can’t be too careful of his reputation. Anyway, why do you want a drink now, just when we’re ready to go?”

“So I’d feel a little less foolish in this outfit, to dull my sensibilities, in brief.”

Elaine shook her head in wry satisfaction. “I knew, I said to myself, if we get out of this house tonight without Gordon making some kind of a fuss about his costume, it’ll be a miracle.”

“I wouldn’t call this a fuss.”

“I can’t understand why other people can dress up and go out and have a good time and you can’t even seem to make the effort. My goodness, what difference does it make whether you’re dressed up like a businessman or a gay caballero?”

“I don’t feel like a gay caballero,” Gordon said dryly. “That’s the difference.”

“Well, all right then! We won’t go! We’ll stay home! We’ll spend one of our nice jolly evenings at home for a change!”

“Not so loud, Elaine. Ruth and the kids will hear you.”

“Well, it’s time somebody heard me. It’s time somebody heard my side of the story!”

“Come on, Elaine, let’s go.”

“I won’t.” She sat rigidly on the edge of the bed, refusing to budge.

“Look at it sensibly, Elaine. You’re getting your own way. I’m wearing the costume, I’m not having a drink. I’m a gay caballero, see, come hell or high water, and lips that touch liquor shall—”

“You’ve got a nerve getting sarcastic again.”

“I wish I had a nerve. Or two nerves.”

“What would you do?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t quite figured that out yet.”

“That’s a very vague threat,” Elaine said, but she got up and went to the door. She seemed to have a sixth sense about how far she could go without rousing Gordon’s temper, and when she reached that point she stopped. Not that Gordon would actually do anything — he never had, the presumption was that he never would — but he could spoil the party for her by sulking or refusing to dance with some of her bridge-club friends or by drinking too much, as he had on one occasion.

Elaine folded her troubles away in one corner of her mind, neatly and carefully, so that it wouldn’t be hard to find them again and unfold them as good as new.

The caballero and his Spanish bride went down the steps together, trailing the faint odor of mothballs and the fainter but more pervasive and sour odor of a quarrel.

Ruth was sitting on the davenport in the front room, with Paul on her lap and Judith pressed against her side. “... and this little girl was in the first grade, just like you, Judy, and she had a little brother who was just going to start to school, like you, Paul. And they had a baby brother too, and a dog.”

“I want a dog,” Paul said. “That’s what I want, is a dog as big as a pony to ride and sleep in my bed and I sleep on the floor, or maybe both of us sleep in the bed.”

Ruth laughed, and stroked his hair gently. “Ah, I’m afraid Mother wouldn’t like that.”

“I’m afraid she wouldn’t ,” Elaine said with a smile.

“I want a small dog,” Judith said, “to go in my baby buggy.”

Elaine put on her sweetly reasonable expression. The children recognized it and knew what was coining. They waited, bored and resentful, for the judge to lay down the law and hurry out of court.

“Now children, I believe we’ve settled the dog question before. We’re going to get a dog when I feel that you’re both old enough to appreciate a dog and take the responsibility of looking after it properly.”

“Ruth has a dog named Wendy,” Judith said. “Ruth says it’s a Heinz dog.”

“A what? ” Elaine said.

“A Heinz dog, fifty-seven varieties.” Judith howled with laughter, and Paul joined in, laughing even harder than Judith because he didn’t understand the joke.

“Hush now,” Elaine said. “Be quiet. We’ll be later than usual tonight, Ruth, but Dr. Foster will drive you home and you can take a nap if you like.”

“Oh, I won’t get tired, Mrs. Foster, I never do.”

“Don’t wake the baby to give him his bottle. He’ll wake up about eleven or so. I guess that’s all. Well, goodbye, children. Be good now, won’t you?”

She hesitated for a moment, half-hoping the children would come over and kiss her goodbye. They made no move, so she waved goodbye to them from the doorway, very gaily, with her arm feeling heavy as lead.

Gordon was waiting in the car with the engine running (indicating, to Elaine, impatience). He looked tired (sulky), and he had taken off the hat which was too hot and heavy on his head (fussing about his costume).

“Did I keep you waiting?” Elaine asked, getting into the car awkwardly so she wouldn’t disarrange her mantilla or dirty the white lace skirt.

“No.”

“You must have gotten gas if you went for that long drive today. The gas tank’s nearly full.”

“That would be the first thing you’d notice, wouldn’t it?”

Elaine widened her eyes. “Well, my goodness, I wasn’t checking up on you. I always look to see how much gas we have.”

“O.K.”

“And if you’re mad because I kept you waiting all of two minutes, well, all I can say is, you might at least have stopped to say hello to Ruth. She’s very sensitive about lapses in good manners, you know that.”

“I didn’t know that. I hardly know her, so I couldn’t be expected to know she’s sensitive.”

“She’s got a very sensitive face.”

“Good.”

“You’re certainly in a mood tonight, Gordon. I hope you’re not going to sulk all evening the way you did at the Lamberts’ party.”

“I can’t remember sulking at the Lamberts’ party. I can’t even remember the Lamberts.”