Henry Roth - Mercy of a Rude Stream - The Complete Novels

“He’s been going through a great deal of soul-searching,” Edith said cheerfully. “It’s been something of a crisis for him.”

“Yeah, I see. Is he over it?”

Edith gazed at him. “Not quite. For a while he considered remaining in the church as an as-if priest, if you know what I mean. As if he did believe, because that way he would comfort others, his congregation, his flock.” She tilted her head, charitably smiling. “But in the end, he’s decided against that too. He wouldn’t be true to himself. And if Marcia sues for divorce, as she undoubtedly will, he’ll have no alternative except to resign from the priesthood.”

“Why?”

“He won’t contest it.” She went on to say something about the church’s not tolerating such permissiveness on the part of one of its priests.

“Where does he live now?” Ira asked.

“In the Village.”

“Down here?”

“Yes. On Barrow Street.”

So that was that, that was about as much as he needed to know. Well, what else could you expect. Lewlyn was a grown man, an adult, steady, presentable, self-sufficient, a man with a Ph.D., a man with a teaching job at CCNY. Boy, the way his own fantasies ran away with him. Wasn’t he a loksh though, a lymineh golem .

“She can’t make up her mind,” Edith was saying. “He’s been trying to counsel her—”

“ He’s been trying to counsel her ?”

“Yes. Console her. Quiet her down. She gets quite frantic when she doesn’t receive a letter from Robert.”

“Oh, boy, is that the guy she’s leaving him for, the guy she met on the boat? Robert?” It would take a year and a day before he understood, before he could really comprehend that world. Maybe he never would: priests that married, consoled their wives when they cast them off—

“He’s still quite in love with her.”

“This Robert?”

“Oh, no, Lewlyn. He actually speaks of Marcia’s beautiful body, her white breasts.”

“To you? He tells you?”

“And to others of their former friends, other women. Léonie has told me. And about his devotion to Marcia. It’s touching, in a way, his trying to help her do the thing best for her, make the right decision.”

“It’s touching. That’s what you call it?” Ira stuck both hands in his pockets, heard the wicker chair creak loudly as he pushed against the back.

“You’re such a strange lad,” she said. “So blunt and so sensitive. So mature in so many ways, and so withdrawn. You’re the only one I’ve spoken to about it. Of course, Léonie knows, and one or two others of Marcia’s friends know.” She referred pensively to her reflection in the mirror across the room.

“I don’t know how mature I am. Maybe I’ve been through a few things. But to tell you the truth, I don’t understand most of this. It’s not the way the people I know would have done.”

“What would they have done? He’s moved out of the apartment.”

“Well, that isn’t all. Gee. Moved out of the apartment.” Ira shook his head. “Boy.” He placed his hand on his cheek. “I guess that’s the way you should do it.”

“If you’re at all civilized.”

“Yeah?”

“They’ve remained on perfectly friendly terms — needless to say. Marcia promised Lewlyn when the two went on their separate projects last year that she would never leave him, except for someone she loved more.”

“And what about him?”

“It wouldn’t have mattered. He would have remained faithful to his vows, no matter what.”

“Because he was a priest, you mean?”

“Quite probably. But I think that was his nature.”

“You mean he’s like that. Is she in the same church too?”

“Oh, yes, Marcia’s family has always been Anglican. It was she who convinced him to switch from Lutheran to Anglican.”

“She convinced him ? Why?”

“The Anglican ritual is much more beautiful, has so much more sensuous appeal, than the plainer Lutheran one, in fact, the Protestant ritual in general.”

“And that counts. I get you.” He jerked his head suddenly. “Humph!”

“Why?”

“I was just thinking of a synagogue. Not that I’ve gone there very often. Especially of late. But talk about lack of appeal.”

“I went to a newly consecrated one in Silver City. It was quite attractive. In fact, it had a new organ.”

“Yeah. The one Larry’s folks go to on the high holidays is very fancy — I understand. But the only ones I ever knew were little stuffy dumps — you know, three-room flats on the ground floor. Anyway, she feels free to get a divorce. He doesn’t.”

“He won’t contest it.”

“Because he’s a priest. Or something like that. Boy, I get about thirty-five different ideas running through my head all at the same time. She convinced him to leave the Lutheran Church and join the Anglican one. Convince a Jew to quit the synagogue for a Christian church, no matter how beautiful. Wow. How’d I get out on that topic?”

“I’m afraid I led you astray.”

“No. Well. I better keep quiet awhile.”

They gazed at each other in silence while she toyed with a yellow pencil. Silent, while all about were the tools of her trade, or profession, whatever one called the clutter of learning: the massive Underwood typewriter with its black cover on the floor next to the desk, brown briefcase too, and manila files open and closed in haphazard fashion, carbon paper, letters, magazines, The Nation and The New Republic , easily recognizable, the New York Times Book Review . A desk drawer protruding. . A quite place too. Outside noise was almost inaudible.

“You’re very dear to me, Ira.” Her tiny hand suspended the pencil at either end. “I know I can trust you completely.”

“Thanks. You’ve got no idea what I’ve learned through Larry and through you. This is where I’ve really learned. CCNY is a washout. I’ve told you that before.” He waited, while he scratched his brow. “Mind if I ask you something?”

“What is it, child?”

“Does Lewlyn know about Larry?”

“Yes, of course.”

Again a silence, solemn.

“We both understand this is a friendship. We’re not bound by any vows, if you wish. It’s the kind of relationship in which we’re both free. It’s friendship.” She paused, leaning forward winningly. “We’re both mature enough to know we can’t rule out sex, the last step in intimacy between a man and a woman.”

“Yeah.” Ira hunted for his pipe in his jacket pocket.

“It’s the thing missing from my relation with Larry, and why I have to protect him. His attachment was romantic from the beginning, and remains so.”

“I think I understand. I think I do.” He probed the bowl of his pipe, rubbed forefinger clean of char. He wished he could say something wise, appropriate, could make a plausible forecast into the future; but the future offered no more outline than the inside of his pipe bowl. Dense, he was dense, that’s all.

“Of course, if two people intended to have children, that would change things,” Edith said. “It’s difficult to imagine having children without a marriage license.” She smiled. “Of course you can.”

“Oh.” Why hadn’t he said that? “That’s how it goes?”

“Yes.” And then blithely, “I might as well tell you Lewlyn is taking me to visit his parents’ home next weekend.”

“Where do they live?” Ira asked.

“In Pennsylvania. In a small town. His father is a country doctor there.”

“Oh. Like that.” He finally realized that she was talking about more than a mere visit: the contentment on her face, the look of anticipation, that was it. Jesus, they didn’t tell you what they meant. You were supposed to understand. And now he understood. He felt almost proud of himself, despite the absurd end of an illusion.