Seasons of the Heart (18 page)

Something extraordinary happened to Phillip that day. Armed with his new card, he bought and bought as though there were no tomorrow. Then they lunched at Blum’s. Phillip allowed Evie to order anything she wanted … a hot dog … an ice-cream sundae with chocolate sauce, controlling his urge to insist on hot chicken soup and noodles.

As Phillip watched Evie happily eating ice cream, he thought she looked like a little princess even in her old clothes.

“Daddy, can we bring Mommy a box of candy?” she asked as they were ready to go.

“Of course, Evie. It’s too bad Mommy couldn’t come with us today, but we’ll bring her candy, and something nice for Christmas, too.”

He tried to think what would make Ann happy. A nightgown? One of those frilly pink things he had glimpsed at City of Paris? No, a glamorous nightgown was entirely too frivolous. Ann had become so practical and thrifty these days, she would probably return it. He remembered that just yesterday she had been saying she needed a new toaster. He went outside, holding Evie’s hand tightly in his own.

It was four on the kitchen clock. Since early that afternoon Ann had the gnawing feeling that something was wrong. Maybe Evie had gotten sick, or maybe they had had an accident. When she finally heard the key in the lock, she sprang to the door.

Evie had fallen asleep in the car and Phillip carried her into her room and laid her on the bed without waking her. He closed her door, walked into the living room, and tried to kiss Ann, but she backed away.

“My God, Phillip, I’ve been so worried! You’ve been gone since nine o’clock. Evie hasn’t had her nap or anything!”

“Well, she’s asleep now,” Phillip replied defensively.

“I should think so! What did you find to do with a small child for so many hours?”

“We’ve been shopping.”

“Shopping?”

“Wait till you see what I bought. Everything is in the car; let me go get it.”

It took three trips for him to bring in the tricycle, the panda bigger than Evie herself, the dollhouse—plus a new doll. Ann sat in a state of shock.

“You bought all this?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes. And wait until I show you the clothes.” He triumphantly pulled the lids off several boxes.

Ann looked from the pair of black patent leather shoes to a pair of white ones, three pairs of tights, lace-trimmed socks, two elaborate party dresses, and the French coat and bonnet. She shook her head as he smoothed the folds from the coat.

“We had an incredible time, darling! I only wish you could have been there. You should have seen Evie’s face.”

Ann just sat there, speechless. The floor was piled with things that Evie didn’t need, while Phillip stood in the middle, surveying them proudly.

“Phillip, how did you pay for all of this?” Ann asked, finding her voice. When he didn’t answer, she picked up a sales slip which had fluttered to the floor. “Since when do we have a charge account with the City of Paris?” Her eyes widened. “My God. Seventy-five dollars for a coat! Oh, Phillip! How could you have done anything so ridiculous?”

Without the atmosphere of carols and tinsel, here in his shabby living room, it did seem absurd.

“Ann—” he tried to explain.

But she wasn’t listening. “Why, for God’s sake, there must be over four hundred dollars’ worth of stuff here, Phillip! You must have lost your mind. How could you have done this?”

He suddenly remembered that Ann hadn’t had a new dress in God only knew how long.

“I guess I went a little overboard….”

“Overboard? Insane is more like it! Here we are, having such a difficult time with money, and you buy all this for Evie. Where is she going to wear two party dresses, anyway?”

Rather sheepishly, Phillip said, “I just wanted to give Evie a Christmas to remember.”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. She’s only three.”

He was about to respond when Ann opened another bag. “Oh … and what is this? A toaster. Is that for Evie, too?”

“No, that’s my tribute to you,” Phillip said, knowing that he was being unfair. “You’re the one who’s been bitching about the burnt toast.”

“Oh, I see. So this is my present?” she cried. “I had no idea how insensitive you could be! You have never bought me any kind of meaningful gift in all the years we’ve been married. I do count for something—and if you don’t mind my saying it, I think that I’m as important as Evie is!”

They day that had started out so enchantingly for Phillip had turned to ashes. He knew he was in the wrong, and that only made him angrier. “I can’t believe you begrudge your own daughter a happy holiday. I think you’re jealous, Ann.”

“Jealous!” she cried, on the verge of tears. “How dare you say that to me! It’s unfair. I am not complaining about your buying Evie clothes—God only knows she needs them. But you didn’t have to go to the City of Paris. Look at these prices! A tricycle for sixty-five dollars. My God, Phillip, can’t you see how ridiculous that is? And if you had just asked, I would have told you that Ruthie was going to give me Jeremy’s old one.”

“Damn it!” Phillip exploded. “Don’t dictate to me what I should and shouldn’t do. If I want to buy my child toys, I’ll buy her toys. I am still the head of this household.”

“So you want me to give you a medal?”

Like so many arguments between husband and wife, this one went far beyond the cause. Both Ann and Phillip dredged up real and imagined wrongs. They uttered the most brutal things they could think of to wound each other, until Ann finally burst out, “I know what you’re trying to prove, Phillip—that you’re not a failure.”

Phillip dropped the little blue coat he’d been holding. “Is that what you think, Ann?” He didn’t know how the fight had escalated. He just had to get away from Ann’s tear-stained face. Without another word, he grabbed his jacket and walked out the front door. Ann’s words had cut him to the quick. She believed that he never would be able to provide for them properly. And in his heart of hearts, he knew she was right. As Kenny had suspected, he was a loser.

And how could he blame her for being angry? It was not just his extravagance today, she must have been disgusted with him for years.

Ann was suffering equal remorse. As soon as the door slammed behind him, she burst into sobs.
My God, I sounded just like Stella. I’ve turned into a bitch.
She knew Phillip tried his best and that he needed her support. She cringed when she remembered how she’d belittled him. She would have given anything to take back the words. She sat, the tears drying on her cheeks, until she heard the front door open again.

They came into each others’ arms before either could speak. Who was right and who was wrong no longer mattered.

It was Ann who broke the silence, holding his face between her hands. “Let’s try never to say such things to each other again. It hurts too much.”

“Never,” he whispered back.

And in that moment both believed their promise.

T
HEY PUT THE QUARREL
behind them. Ann’s days were filled with the house, cooking, and taking Evie to the park, the zoo, and the pediatrician. She rarely had time to stop and think.

Then one day when Evie was almost four the doctor recommended Ann enroll her in a play group. “She spends too much time with adults. She’s with you and Simon all day and Phillip at night. She needs playmates her own age.”

Ann took the advice, but the first day when Ann and her father-in-law took Evie to the church where the group met, the little girl refused to go in.

“I don’t want to stay here, Mommy. Can’t I go home with you and Grandpa?”

“Honey, look at all the toys they have here. Won’t it be fun to play with them?”

Evie shook her head, burying her face in Ann’s skirts.

“Evie, honey …”Ann said helplessly.

“How about if Grandpa stays here with you?” Simon asked. “Would you like that?”

Ann glanced at him. Wouldn’t it be too much of a burden for him, to be surrounded by all these noisy children? But he seemed delighted when Evie looked up at him hopefully. “Oh, yes, Grandpa, that would be much better! Will you stay here the whole time?”

They had come home that afternoon all smiles, and Grandpa had accompanied her the next day, and the next. Evie soon lost her fear of the play group, and the teacher asked if Simon would like to stay on as an aide. He was delighted, so every day the two of them trotted off together.

His new role gave Simon a new sense of self-worth. The children looked forward to seeing him, and Simon found a whole new world for himself. Best of all, he and Evie developed a special relationship.

Ann was delighted to see her father-in-law so happy, but with Evie out all morning and Simon gone as well, she found herself for the first time in years with time on her hands. Cleaning the small rooms and fixing supper left her with long hours to think about the future. She began to wonder if they would ever have the money to buy a house or even just redecorate the Coulters’ old apartment. She and Phillip had moved into the one real bedroom, Evie had Phillip’s old cubbyhole, and Simon slept on a rollaway bed in the living room.

Having been poor all her life, Ann had assured Phillip when they married that she would be perfectly content with whatever material things he could give her. In those days, she had been so in love that she would have been happy living in a tent. Now she wondered if their finances would ever improve. Since that terrible Christmas, they had never quarreled over money, but Ann knew someday they would have to face facts: Phillip was thirty-eight years old. He had worked for Kenny for seven years, and there was no reason to believe he would ever be more than a clerk. Meanwhile Evie was growing up, and Ann knew only too well what it was like to be a young girl without pretty clothes, without a nice home to bring friends to. More important, she wanted to save so Evie could go to college. Phillip didn’t seem to share these worries, and Ann knew she was becoming resentful.

Most of the girls Ann had known in high school had lovely houses; some had moved down the Peninsula to country places with pools and tennis courts. Their husbands all seemed to have done well in the postwar boom. Ann no longer met them for a day in town. The Coulters’ budget couldn’t stand lunching out, and Ann’s old school friends now shopped in fancier places than she could afford.

She and Phillip didn’t even socialize with Ruthie and Kenny anymore. A definite constraint had developed in their relationship. Ann didn’t blame Kenny for Phillip’s failure to advance, but her loyalty to her husband made her loath to discuss it with Ruthie.

The result was that Ann kept everything bottled up inside her. She and Phillip hardly communicated at all. They talked around things, or avoided them. He had long since ceased to share his dreams with her—if he still had any.

The few times she had brought up the subject of a raise, or the possibility of changing jobs, he had snapped, “I’m doing the best I can, Ann. I can’t do more than that.”

It always reduced her to tears.

Later, more calmly, all he would say was that he didn’t care about “keeping up with the Joneses—or the Goldbergs,” and Ann would try to put thoughts about moving to a nicer place out of her mind until the next incident arose to trigger her discontent.

It was late in the spring of 1954 that Ann received an invitation from the Newmans to a housewarming. She hadn’t even known they had bought a new house. She glanced at the address—Washington and Cherry—the heart of Pacific Heights!

That was moving up with a vengeance! Kenny apparently was taking in a pretty profit from the firm to be able to afford that house. Funny, she had gotten the impression from Phillip that business was pretty stagnant. Or had he implied that simply to keep her from asking awkward questions about his own prospects?

The party was in full swing by the time Phillip and Ann pulled up in front of the house, which was aglow with lights. A very correct French maid in a black uniform with a crisp, organdy-frilled apron took their coats. Ann and Phillip stared about the imposing hall with its cathedral ceiling. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, and candles highlighted spectacular arrangements of roses and orchids placed at intervals on the sweeping staircase. Ann tried and failed to picture the little Ruthie she had grown up with descending those stairs. The house was so formal, so ornate. But when her friend rushed over to greet them, she realized Ruthie had changed too. She had bleached her hair a soft blond, and her beaded gown showed off a much more svelte figure than Ann remembered.

“You look lovely,” Ann murmured, trying not to feel envious. “And the house is magnificent.”

“We like it,” Kenny said, coming over and welcoming them. “Go in and make yourselves at home. Give the bartender a little business.” He took Ruthie’s arm and went off, leaving Ann to nervously face the crowd. She glanced at Phillip and noticing his grimly set jaw, realized he was no more relaxed than she. As they waited at the bar for drinks, Ann began to notice some familiar faces. Wasn’t that Polly Schwartz—no, Polly Greenberg now—with her husband, Ron? He was balding but well-dressed and prosperous looking. Ron and Polly had moved to Atherton, with their three children. Ron was a vice president of a bank he and a partner had started shortly after the war. Polly was blond now, like Ruthie. Blond hair must be in this year, but it looked great on Polly. You’d never know she had three children—her figure was stunning.

And there was Sheila Levy. She still had dark hair, but she looked so chic in a vivid red dress and ruby earrings. Her husband, Morris, was a stockbroker, and Ann had heard they had bought a new house in Burlingame.

Ann remembered when she and Ruthie and Polly and Sheila were still in school, how they had giggled and whispered and passed notes during class. In those days none of them had any money. They had all worn hand-me-down clothes, and saved up for movies and sodas. Seeing them now, Ann realized just how far behind she had been left. She glanced at Phillip, who was still the handsomest man in the room, scar or no scar. But if Ann could have read his mind, she would have realized that he was having more trouble facing his friends’ newfound affluence than she was. He remembered Sea Cliff, with its old-world charm, and knew that these new mansions weren’t what he wanted. He also knew he was judged by his own lack of success.