Boys & Girls Together (55 page)

Or something, Branch thought.

Monday morning Branch and Rose went to work on schedule, talking amiably about nothing in particular. They worked together in the office until lunch, when Rose excused herself, so Branch ate alone. Rose returned in the middle of the afternoon, humming. She was not, ordinarily, musical, and Branch waited, but no explanation came. They finished work, returned home and had a quiet drink on the porch. After dinner

Branch excused himself and went up to his room to shower. When he was almost dressed, Rose walked in and sat on the edge of his bed.

“Date?”

Branch nodded.

“Annie?”

“Annie.”

“Give her my best.”

“Will do.” He took his change from the top of his bureau and put it in his pocket. Then he carefully combed his hair, bending close to the mirror, squinting, making sure the part was right. Rose watched him, stretched on the bed, her hands cupped behind her neck.

“You’re an Adonis.”

“Ain’t it the truth.”

“Be out late?”

“You never can tell.”

“Well, listen to him.”

Branch smiled, starting for the door.

“Have fun now.”

“I’ll try.”

“Oh, Branch?”

“What?”

“I was just wondering.”

“About?”

“Saturday.”

“What about Saturday?”

“You busy?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Well, that’s too bad.”

“Why? What’s too bad?”

“You remember that nice nurse, Mrs. Cortesi? She’s coming for the weekend to look after Mother.”

“Why is she coming?”

“You’re sure you’re busy Saturday?”

“I’m positive.”

“That really is too bad. I was lucky getting that nice Mrs. Cortesi on such short notice. Usually she’s busy for weeks in advance.”

“What does Granny need a nurse for?”

“You’re absolutely sure you’re busy on Saturday?”

“It’s the prom. I told you. Annie’s bought a dress specially for it.”

“Oh, well, you couldn’t miss that.”

“Miss it? What for?”

“What kind of dress did she buy?”

“Green, brown, I don’t know.”

“I bet it’ll be pretty. Well, I’ll just have to return the tickets.”

“Tickets?”

“Yes. It was a silly notion on my part anyway.”

“Tickets for what?”

“That show. That musical.”

“There’s no musical in Cleveland.”

“I don’t remember saying anything about Cleveland.”

“What musical? What musical?”

“Leslie Howard played it in the movies.”

“You’ve got tickets for
My Fair Lady
?”

“I’ve got tickets for
My Fair Lady
.”

“Saturday night?”

“Saturday night.”

“New York?”

“New York.”

Poor Annie.

They stayed at the Plaza (Branch’s choice), arriving on Friday night, too late for the theater but not too late for a walk, after unpacking, across Central Park South to Broadway, then down Broadway, down through the theater district to 44th Street and Sardi’s, where Branch thought he saw Rex Harrison and Rose ate spaghetti with meat sauce. After Branch’s third stinger, they left the restaurant and returned to the hotel, where Rose, exhausted, slept till after ten, finding, on awakening, a note from her son saying that he was off to the Frick and not to worry, but she did, and when he finally returned, at noon, babbling about some Greco cardinal, she was undecided as to whether to hug him or shout him down to size, choosing the former, after some hesitation, with only a twinge of regret. They lunched at the Waldorf-Astoria (once she had honeymooned there) and went to the Radio City Music Hall (her choice) in the afternoon. That night they saw
My Fair Lady
and it was every bit what everybody said it was. Originally they planned to return on Sunday because Annie was graduating Tuesday afternoon, but they were having such a good time that Rose decided, then insisted, they stay the week, so after Branch was convinced they extended their reservation at the Plaza and Sunday was spent in Greenwich Village watching the artists and
The Threepenny Opera
at night, which Rose thought was dirty but never told Branch because he loved it and would only have chided her for her prudish ways. Monday it rained, so they shopped, taxiing from Brooks Brothers (Branch got a coat, dark tweed) to Saks (where Rose almost got a dress but it wasn’t quite the right shade of green) to Bendel’s (still not the right shade) and then around the corner to Bergdorf’s, where Branch selected a pair of high heels for his mother which he promised made her legs equal to Mistinguette’s. They lunched at the Plaza and then took a long hansom cab ride in the rain, finally returning to the hotel and napping until it was time for the theater. Tuesday they museumed, the Metropolitan and the Modern Art, and after lunch they toured the galleries and Rose had to keep Branch in tow lest he buy something, not that she couldn’t have afforded to please him, but the thought of hanging some pointless paint splattering in her nice clean house (she would have to hang it if she bought it) or, worse, having to
look
at the thing all her life pulled her purse strings tight. Wednesday (Rose was wearying) Rose slept late, letting her son roam, but they met at a matinee and saw something (she could no longer keep them straight) and ate someplace, and then saw something else, and before she slept that night she made two plane reservations home for the following evening, Thursday. Thursday morning she mentioned to Branch that she might like to go home soon and what did he think? And he thought no! Not yet! And she allowed as to how she didn’t want to push him but if they could get tickets for a plane out that night she was going to take them, and when it turned out (surprise) that she could indeed get tickets she demolished his objections with a few well-chosen words and napped while he voyaged through the city, trying to get everything done in one thin afternoon. Branch ran through the heat and urged his taxi drivers to great speeds, tipping them well, because what did money matter when the city was being taken away from him and he had so much to do. He drove north to the Cloisters, south to the Staten Island Ferry, then north again for a final run through Greenwich Village, then north and east and a quick sad look at the Biltmore Bar. There was too much, too much to see, but he tried. He saw the lobby of the Mark Hellinger (I could have danced all night) and he saw the bar at Sardi’s (empty). He saw the Greek’s
Toledo
. He saw the shops on Fifth, the movie houses on Broadway. He saw Central Park. He saw Picasso’s
Guernica
, the UN from the roof of the Beekman Tower, a Chippendale chair up for auction at Parke-Bernet. He saw poodles in Sutton Place, cats in Washington Square, blue girls from Brearley, black ones from 125th. He saw women, fair-skinned (Park Avenue), foul-mouthed (Garment District); he saw brittle men, mean men, rich men, beggar men. And, quite by accident, for but a few, few minutes late on that last afternoon, he saw: Aaron.

“You’re sure all hot and bothered,” Rose said, taking a green skirt, smoothing it carefully with both hands, finally folding it neatly into her suitcase.

“Well, it’s just such a great city.” Branch paced nervously behind his mother. “You’ve got to admit that.”

“It’s big,” Rose replied. “And you’d die without air-conditioning.”

“It’s not just big, Rosie. Come on. Where else can you find so many things to do? Name me any other place that compares.”

“You all packed?”

“And the people. How about them?”

“Plane’s got a schedule, you know. You better be ready.” She picked up her new shoes, blew on them, then inserted them into a plastic bag and wedged them into a corner of her suitcase.

“Oh, this city,” Branch said. “This goddam city.”

“Chicago’s just as nice. So’s Cleveland.”

“Cleveland? Cleveland! That’s the funniest thing you’ve said all week.”

“Where did I leave my bathrobe? Oh yes,” and she moved to the closet, took her robe off the hook and started folding it.

“You’ve had a good time here; admit it.”

“I’m not sorry I’m leaving; I’ll admit that.”

“But you’ve had a good time.”

“Good company, good time. You didn’t forget your hairbrush, did you? Double-check everything.”

“I can’t tell you what this town does to me.”

“I hope Mother likes her surprise. Do you think she will? I got her two beautiful decks of playing cards. You can wash them when they get dirty.”

“Oh, this town. This crazy town.”

“You make me dizzy with all that walking.”

Branch went to the window and looked out. “This beautiful goddam town.”

“What’s so beautiful about an air shaft? That’s all you’re looking at and you’re swearing too much. Now double-check your packing.”

Branch stooped, ducking his head toward the air-conditioner. “Ahhh.”

“If you wouldn’t walk around so much, you wouldn’t get sweaty.”

Branch spun away from the wall and toured the room, his fingertips touching the walls. “I love this hotel. I just love it.”

“Branch, are you packed?”

“Can you love concrete? I love New York.”

“I’ve asked you a thousand times, Branch. Now answer me. Are you packed?”

“Rosie ...”

“Answer me.”

“Rosie ...”

“I mean it, Branch.”

“No.”

Rose turned on her son. “You’re not packed, is that right?”

“I don’t want to go back,” Branch said. “I want to stay here.”

Rose nodded, picked up a green flowered dress, tucked the neck under her chin, and folded the flowered sleeves across her body.

“I belong here, Mother.”

Rose bent over the edge of the bed and folded the dress at the waist, smoothing out the wrinkles.

“I know this probably comes as a surprise to you, but believe me, I’ve thought about it. It’s not a whim. I’ve really thought. A lot. The theater. I want to get in the theater. That’s my place, don’t you see?”

Rose lifted the flowered dress and placed it in her suitcase.

“I’ve known that for a long time now. Back in college. You remember back in college?”

Rose glanced at her watch, nodded, then walked to the closet, taking out her green traveling suit. Laying it on the bed, she started to unbutton her dress.

“That crazy little show we had in college? That nutty little show we put on, you remember?
I
put it on, Mother. Me. You didn’t see me on the stage, but I put it on. If it hadn’t been for me, there wouldn’t have been a thing. Not one lousy thing.
I
got the money,
I
got the ads for the programs,
I
took care of everything. Me, myself, alone.”

Rose stepped out of her dress and folded it into the suitcase. She ran her hands down along her slip, making sure it was straight. There was no extra flesh on her squat body. Her stomach was firm and flat and there was no fat puffing the tops of her arms and her breasts didn’t sag. Again she straightened her slip, running her small hands down her body.

“I was happy then. That’s the thing. That’s the only thing, Mother. It’s what counts. I was happy. Some people, they can be happy anywhere. Put ’em on a desert island, they’ll be happy. But I’m not like that. You just can’t say, ‘Branch you go be happy’ I’m not set up that way. I was happy back then. Well, I can be happy again. Here. Here in New York. I can be happy, Mother. Don’t you understand? That’s important, don’t you see?”

Nothing from Rose.

“Oh God, I wish you could see how important this is to me. I wish you could come right into my brain, right here, and read every single thought I have so you’d know how important it was. Believe me. Believe me.”

Nothing from Rose.

“I’d still come home. I’d come home a lot. And you could come here. What’s a two-hour plane ride? You could be here whenever you wanted. And we’d do things together, go all over. You’d like that. And it wouldn’t cost all that much. I’m no drunken sailor. I’d borrow the money from you. I’ll write you a note, nice and proper, and when I get successful I’ll pay back every penny. You know I will.”

Nothing from Rose.

“Rosie! You’ve got to do this for me. It is important. My happiness is important. And that’s what I’m asking you for. I want my happiness Rosie. You can give it. I want my happiness, you hear me?”

“You’re not saying anything.”

“What?”

“I don’t hear anything and do you know what that means? It means you’re not saying anything. Not a word. ’Cause I got good ears and if you were talking I’d hear you. I don’t hear you. That means you must not be talking.”

Branch moved to the window, staring.

“There hasn’t been a sound in this room. I’ve been packing and you’ve been walking around but we didn’t speak. No sound. Just the air-conditioner, that’s all I heard. Understand me, Branch. Get me now. No one has said nothing.”

Branch spun from the window.

Rose waited.

“You don’t love me,” Branch said.

“I don’t, huh? I don’t, huh?”

“I belong here.”

“Where? At the Plaza Hotel? With hot-and-cold-running room service and maids to fluff your pillow? Terrific. Wonderful. In a few months if you have to pinch pennies you can go rough it at the Waldorf.”

“You don’t love me.”

“You said that for the last time.”

“It’s the truth. Let’s just admit it. If you loved me you wouldn’t make me go back to goddam West Ridge. I hate that pit.”

“Watch it, baby.”

“I’m dying back there.”

“Please watch it, baby.”

“I’m not going back. I’m staying here.”

“
Stay!
” Rose advanced on him. Branch’s back was to the wall.

“The old woman, she knows her baby. The old woman knows what’s best for her baby.” Rose was on top of him now and Branch stared at her fist as it beat steadily against her chest. “You say you’re dying back there? You know what the old woman thinks? She thinks if you come here, then you’re really dead. She had a baby but he died. The old woman’s baby died dead. And after a while she’ll think she never had a baby. No son. She never had none.”

“Mother ...”

“Who are you?”

“Rosie ...”

“Do I know you?”

“Please, Mother ...”

“You look like somebody I think died.”