After the Fire (39 page)

In her room, lit by a weak lamp, the lonely night stretched without end through the apartment, out into the street and the world. Light, cheer, hope, love, sun— all of them were faded. What was left? The children, who were in truth not really hers anymore? The glittering “career” that, for her at least, had lost its glitter?

“You need to work,” Francine had warned. “Work is the antidote for heartache.”

She had telephoned almost daily since that night when Will had met the children and everything had fallen apart. To her credit, she had asked no further questions. Well, thought Hyacinth, she hadn't really needed to; anyone could have predicted the course of events. She had only offered help (but there was none) and spoken kindly platitudes about keeping busy. Fran-cine herself was always busy with her projects; three scholarship college girls lived in the house; she liked giving personal charity; and besides, “they were good company.” Francine knew how to adjust and cope.

From Arnie, too, had come well-meant advice. When, after a few days, she had not answered the telephone, he had become worried, called Francine, and learned what had happened. If Hyacinth were not feeling so ill, she would even now be amused by the fact that behind his consolation lay a certain satisfaction with the disappearance of Will.

It was midnight. Reminding herself that tomorrow was to be another busy day and that she had already
skipped more than enough days' work, she laid the letter aside and switched off the lamp.

“You don't look well,” Lina said. She had been scrutinizing Hyacinth for the past few weeks and making these comments.

Also well meant, thought Hyacinth, like Francine's and Arnie's comments, but also to no avail.

Unfortunately, Lina refused to let the subject alone. “I'm truly, truly sorry, Hyacinth. I thought you were wonderful together, a perfect match for each other.”

It was not clear whether Hyacinth was supposed to agree or not. And Lina continued, “Fortunately, he seldom comes here. There's really no reason anymore for him to come, since we'll be meeting once or twice a year at corporate headquarters. So you won't have to see him here, which makes it easier for you, I'm sure.”

Unquestionably, she was waiting for an explanation of events, such as who had dropped whom and why, but since it was not forthcoming and Hyacinth's vague gaze was directed toward the gray sky beyond the window, she switched to practical matters.

“Do you realize that you've been mentioned in almost every major magazine by now? And even featured in three? Do you realize what you've accomplished?”

What good is it, thought Hyacinth. It has no meaning. I'm ill. I have no energy.

“I'm not worth much to you right now,” she said. “I've even been thinking that you may not be wanting me any longer.”

Lina's black eyes rounded as she cried her amazement.
“Not want you? Why, you little fool, you can go anywhere. Anywhere! Do you know that? In one hour you could get enough credit to walk out of here and set up your very own business. Whenever you want to, you can.”

“I would never think of doing that, Lina. Never. Why, you're the person who gave me my start. Would I do that to you?”

There was a sad touch to the older woman's little smile, as she looked at Hyacinth.

“Not many people are that loyal, my dear. Not anymore. You're from another age and another place. I don't mean that as a disparagement, not at all. It's a fine innocence that you have, a lovely naïveté, for all your talent.”

“That's what they always say about me. I'm naïve.” And Hyacinth gave a rueful laugh.

The fall days straggled like a beaten army. First summer, not entirely finished, burned through a stifling smog. Then came fierce autumn rains to batter the city's very stones and bones and give further emphasis to Hyacinth's defeat.

Now she began to work as she had never done before, all day and half the night at home, forcing the last shred of her unwilling energy. She worked because there was nothing else.

One day Arnie telephoned. He had not been in New York since the night he had met Will. She would never have expected to feel such a glow of gratitude as the one that came with the first note of his voice.

“Hello, Hy. I'm in town. How about dinner? Usual place? Usual time?”

He was enthusiastic and intimate, and he wanted to see her. Anticipation, in one instant, drew the scene: lights, warmth, music, and a person, a human being, who
wanted to see her
.

“I'll pick you up at work, and if you feel like doing it, we can walk uptown. Okay?”

“Very much okay. Six forty-five?”

“You work late!”

“That's nothing. That's early. We're getting the spring showings ready.”

She was sitting at her desk when Arnie arrived and stood for a moment in the doorway, taking in the scene. His eyebrows were raised in frank surprise. She understood that he must not have expected such a scene: the room, much smaller than Lina's and much more simply furnished, must nevertheless be fairly impressive, its desk piled high with papers and its bulletin board tacked solidly with photographs and clippings.

He kissed her fondly on both cheeks, then glancing around in his usual quick way, exclaimed, “Wow! I had no idea—but of course, I don't know a damn thing about this business except that women are damn fools enough to spend a fortune on a rag to cover their backs.” He laughed. “No offense meant. If you can make a fortune out of rags, go to it. Say, what's this? This is you.”

In a newspaper clipping at the top of a pile, he saw a style page from which half a dozen faces smiled: an Englishman's who was making a name for himself, a
midwestern woman's who specialized in knits, and Hyacinth's.

“Hey, look at yourself. Those eyes, and the hair. Damned if it doesn't look like silk.”

“A silk curtain,”
Will had said.
“I love to feel it on the pillow.”

“Picture doesn't do you justice, Hy. Damned if you don't get prettier every time I see you. What is it, some special vitamins or something?”

“Oh, just hard work, I guess,” she said, forcing a laugh.

“And in Canada—this paper's Canadian.”

“We do a lot of selling there.”

“Hard to believe all this. Gee, I still see you the day you drove up from Texas. Jerry was just out of diapers, and you were only a kid yourself.”

“Twenty-six.”

“Well, that's still a kid. And you still look like one, only better dressed.” He grinned. He marveled and made a wide gesture encompassing not only the room, but, past the window, all the stone towers in which lights were beginning to twinkle as far as the Hudson and beyond. “How did you do it?”

Hyacinth shrugged, meaning,
Why go into all this?
First it had been Granny, who taught her to sew and, at her death, had shown by her life's history how to persevere. And second was Will, who had directed her…. Best not to think of that.

“I'm starved. How about you? Let's get moving, if you're ready.”

“I'm ready.”

There could be no mistaking the season, colored as it was in harvest's yellow and plum, fading toward the year's end. Shop windows were decorated with blond sprays of wheat and chrysanthemums. With half a mind attentive to Arnie's observations and the other half making her own observations as they walked, Hyacinth drew pictures out of the past: first Halloween and pumpkin faces on the doorstep; then Thanksgiving (no turkeys on display in this part of the city); then Christmas, red, green, and tinsel—but look, somebody has already arrived at Christmas with a display of stockings and glass balls. Hastening the season, rushing time as if time did not rush enough! How many years now? Going on four….

And she had actually been glad of this evening! Now if she could decently get away from Arnie and go home alone, she would do it. But it was too late.

“Yes, you're an eyeful,” he began as he unfolded his napkin. “Let's order, and then I'll tell you about the kids. It's hard to go into things over the telephone.”

Suddenly anxious and tense, she said quickly, “I'll have whatever you have. I don't care what I eat. Is there anything special about the children? Anything different? They sometimes sound fine on the phone, and then again I get the same complaints that I can't do anything about.”

“Nothing's changed except that Arveen's gone and there's a new friend in the house. Name's Buddy this time.”

“Buddy? A boy?”

Arnie laughed. “No, none of that. Buddy is five foot
ten—could be a model, but she's a singer. Natural blonde, but had a bad nose and he fixed it, and she's in love with him. Or he says so, anyway. Cockeyed names these dames figure out. Buddy, for God's sake.”

Lead in Hyacinth's chest seemed to drag her down so that she sank back in a chair. So cheap, so—so vile! Without shame before his children.

“But she's good-natured, and the kids get along with her. So don't worry about that.”

There was a moment of silence during which Arnie thoughtfully refrained from looking at her. When he spoke, he kept busy buttering a roll.

“As I always tell you, you mustn't think Gerald neglects them. He's still crazy about them, but he's too busy with—with other stuff. And you see, they're not cute anymore. Women don't stop and gush over Emma, or over Jerry when he still wore gray flannel short pants, all dressed up, you know, that kind of thing. They're getting independent, talk back, you know, the way kids do. Not so much fun.”

She could not speak. And considerately, Arnie prattled.

“Nothing much to tell you since I last saw you. I've been sending Diamond to a couple of races out of state, and he's doing well. A gorgeous-looking horse. Got prospects. Major, of course, I ride, lots of times along with your kids. But you know all that. Let's see. What else? Oh yes, I've been looking at some land. I'm sick of living in apartments, so I may build a house for myself. Why not?”

He was telling her that she had only to say the word.
Yet with kindly tact, he sensed her state of mind and was not about to press her right now. And then, as if to confirm this judgment of hers, he asked very gently the inevitable question.

“Have you seen him since we last talked?”

There was no need for any agonizing details, so she said simply, “It's over. Completely. He wanted an explanation that I couldn't give him. That's all.”

Arnie whistled. “I expected it. I believe I told you so.”

“You did.”

“So where are you now?”

“Here, as you see.”

“No chance of starting up again?”

“How could there be? I'm not out of the woods yet. Will I ever be?”

“To tell you the truth, Hy, one never knows. Of course, the more time goes by, the better. Yet you read the papers, you see how stuff is found out years after the event. And this isn't even four years yet.”

“I know. It was a silly question.”

“I'm sorry. I'd like to see you get past all your troubles. I hate to see you so hurt. If I could take the hurt away, I'd move a mountain to do it.”

Quite moved, she said only, “My mother calls you a prince, and I guess I have to agree.”

“How is your mother? How's she doing?”

“She's as busy as any two people could be. Also, she's just met a very nice man, and I'm glad about that, so I don't see much of her. But we will be going down to Florida together for Thanksgiving with Jerry and Emma. Why—what's the matter?”

Arnie's face had clouded. “I wanted to let you enjoy your dinner before telling you. Gerald is taking them on somebody's yacht for Thanksgiving weekend, and he's taking them someplace else over Christmas and New Year's. Acapulco, I think.”

Hyacinth's fork clattered on the plate. “I don't believe it!” she cried. “He can't do that.”

“I'm afraid he can. I've tried to talk him out of it, but he's made his plans already. You'll have the February school vacation, he says, and that's a promise.”

“His promises! A beggar at a table, that's what I am, waiting for crumbs! And what if he says ‘No crumbs today, lady, there's nothing left for you'? What then?”

“Hush, Hy. That won't happen,” Arnie whispered, for in her outrage, her voice had risen.

“Oh, can you guarantee that?”

“I never guarantee anything. But I don't believe he will. He never has, has he?”

“Not good enough,” she said.

“Eat something, Hy. You haven't touched a forkful,” Arnie reproved, for the fork still lay on her plate. And when she still did not touch it, he turned jovial. “You need food. Men don't like skeletons.”

“Men!” she cried bitterly.

“You're scared to death and you're angry, aren't you? And no wonder. I know this is lousy, but what can you do? Gerald's probably already sorry about this, but he won't admit it. So take the ten days in February. Come on down, and you'll have a great time.”

Arnie's smile was meant to be encouraging, and his eyes were almost pleading with her. He was comfort and
warmth. Most of all, he was
there
. And that being so, Hyacinth owed him a bit of cooperation by way of thanks.

“All right. I'll settle for February. I suppose there's no sense banging my head against a stone wall, is there?”

“Ah well, Hy, you have to look at it that way. It just wasn't meant to be. And you're going to be just fine.”

It was one thing to take valiant resolve, and quite another to hold that resolve; through days of work, one had to be alert and quick to smile, but at home alone the visions crowded, the past full of mistakes, the present full of confusions, and the future unfathomable, all merged into a kind of steaming brew.

And one night before Thanksgiving, which Hyacinth was to spend, and did not want to spend, with Lina's glittering guests at her splendid East Side house, she lost her resolve. Francine had wanted her to go along out west to visit the family there, but since even Lina's party would be preferable to that, Francine was going by herself. Flying from New York, she was to spend tonight with Hyacinth; inevitably their talk would be about Gerald, the cruelty, the outrage, the mystery, and the usual:
Why in heaven's name will you not tell me what this is about?

It was too much. And springing up from her chair so abruptly that she almost tipped it over, she ran to the telephone and called Gerald's number.