Nothing That Meets the Eye (33 page)

For days afterward, people stopped and petted Baldur on the street, and Dr. Fenton was asked if he were really Baldur. Baldur acknowledged the pats and praise with tail wags, but as time passed he acted impatient with the acclaim, as if he knew when the excitement should be wearing off. Dr. Fenton felt that Baldur kept a sharper eye than ever on him, and he decided to give up the idea of suicide as long as Baldur was with him. He felt trapped, but from the time of his decision not to attempt suicide again, he felt also reconciled. His feeble instinct of self-preservation began to stir again, and showed first in his holding his head up when he and Baldur walked on the street together. He also squared his shoulders and walked with a quicker step. Now, at least, Dr. Fenton thought, passersby could not say that he looked so much worse than his dog.

Dr. Fenton tried hard to take pride in his work, too. He did not know if his work improved, but three weeks passed without his making a mistake. Evenings after his dinner, he plunged into books of philosophy and history. He bought Berlitz School records and studied French. His mind, trained in dental school to attack facts and retain them, assailed his French grammar the same way. To improve his fluency, he chatted with himself in French under the shower and while he shaved. Studying and reading until midnight or later made it difficult for him to fall asleep once he went to bed, so he kept his radio on softly all night, tuned to an FM station that played only classical music, which he knew Baldur preferred to dance music. Mozart and Richard Strauss Dr. Fenton found he liked, too, and he bought some long-playing records of their music for the phonograph that he had not touched for two or three years.

When the Kirsteins called him up to invite him to a Saturday night poker game, Dr. Fenton politely begged out on the grounds of having another engagement. Actually, he preferred to stay home with his books, he realized, and the prospect of Bill Kirstein's loud laughter, of losing twenty or thirty dollars, which he always did, and of having a hangover Sunday besides was not attractive to him. He had used to see the Kirsteins out of loneliness, but he no longer felt so lonely. After all, there was Baldur, and he felt that the dog regarded him less critically since he had taken up French and classical music, but perhaps it was only that Baldur was glad himself of quiet company every evening. It had been weeks now since Dr. Fenton had even gone to a movie.

His practice slowly began to pick up. There were no more empty hours and half hours in the day. His old clients had always sent a few new ones to his office, but now they arrived at the rate of half a dozen a week. Dr. Fenton raised his prices very slightly. He was still below the price level of the majority of dentists of his ability—two or three of his clients told him so themselves—and he knew that people would respect him more if his prices were not rock bottom. That was human nature. With the extra money, he bought new carpets for his office, some attractive Cézanne and Matisse reproductions for his walls, and finally even had his office repainted a dark, pleasant green.

All this put him on a different footing with Baldur. At first, he had thought he only imagined it, but now he was sure. Baldur really smiled at him when Dr. Fenton proposed a walk in the park. When he ate his dinner, with a book propped in front of him, the dog lay quite close to his feet and no longer stared at him with a covert disgust. And in fact Dr. Fenton did not see how the dog could view him with disgust at dinner now, since the table was always impeccably set, lit with candles, and the food was no longer out of a can, either. In the last months, Dr. Fenton had been reading a French cookbook by way of familiarizing himself with the phrases found on French menus, and was experimenting with many of the recipes. There were evenings when his cooking was so good, he wished he had invited a friend to dinner. This wish lasted only while he was eating. He was glad enough to have the rest of his evening to himself.

One morning he received a telephone call in his office from Theodora. For an instant, his blood ran cold and a kind of panic made him tongue-tied. The Robert Fraziers II stood for a Medusa-like monster that he had been trying to keep at the very back of his mind, since to think of them even briefly was to paralyze himself, to demolish the ego that he had been so painfully rebuilding. Fortunately, during the minute he felt tongue-tied, Theodora kept talking. She said in a very kind tone that she hoped he had been well the last year, and that she was calling to ask if he would come to a cocktail party that she and her husband were giving the following Friday.

“I—well, I think I am free, yes. That's very—”

“Good! Bring Baldur, too, Ed. We've got a Briard and they can keep each other company.” She laughed her gay, easy laugh, and gave him the address.

When he hung up, he was trembling. He had accepted before he realized what he was doing. If he'd only had some warning, so that he could have prepared a courteous, convincing statement as to why he could not come! He thought of calling back that evening and declining, but it seemed cowardly. No, face it, he told himself. Keep your head up the way Baldur does, face it for half an hour and take your leave.

Friday at six, as he rang the bell marked r. frazier in the East Eighty-eighth Street apartment building, he felt that his self-confidence was only a thin shell around him, no deeper than his freshly pressed suit. The first sight of Theodora, he thought, radiantly happy in her marriage to Robert Frazier II, would crumple him to that wretched image of the skunk which he still vividly remembered. Theodora answered the bell. Dr. Fenton had rather expected a maid.

“Welcome, Ed!” she said with an abandoned swing of her arm. “And Baldur! My, hasn't he grown! Come in!”

The room was quite small and crowded with people, all noisily talking. Theodora took him directly to a gateleg table covered with bottles and glasses and soup bowls of ice cubes, and mixed a strong scotch and soda for him, saying that he probably didn't know anybody here and could face it better with a glass of something. He realized then that she was a little high.

Suddenly a huge, shaggy Briard bounded out of nowhere and crashed against Dr. Fenton's thighs, nearly knocking him down. His grip on Baldur's short leash tightened, but there was no need, because Baldur stood quite still in the face of the Briard's barking, which sounded like claps of thunder in the small room.

“Susie!—Susie, quiet!” Theodora was yelling, tugging at the dog's collar, but Susie would not be silenced and her splayed legs made it impossible for Theodora to budge her. Susie crouched, barking, wagging her tail, inviting Baldur to romp, but Baldur only gazed at the dog with the smiling indulgence that an adult might show toward an unruly child.

“I suppose Susie's just a pup!” Dr. Fenton shouted over the barking, smiling.

“A what?—Susie!” Theodora's head snapped back alarmingly as Susie bolted free, and she caught herself against Dr. Fenton's shoulder.

Susie had begun to run in a circle around Baldur. People shrank against the walls to get out of her way, jostling each other, spilling drinks. A small end table was knocked over.

“I shouldn't have brought Baldur!” Dr. Fenton yelled apologetically. “I'm sorry! Shall I take him out?”

“Susie, stop!—Bob, lock her up in the bathroom!”

“Somebody'll only let her out again!” shouted a plump, pink-faced man.

One of the male guests made a dive for Susie's collar, hung on and stopped her, then tugged her into an adjacent hall.

“I suppose she's just a pup,” Dr. Fenton said to Theodora, smiling.

“She's four. She's Bob's dog. I can't do anything with her and he won't. Just look what she's done to the sofa end.”

Dr. Fenton realized with a shock that was almost horror that the plump, pink-faced man in the armchair, whom Theodora had called Bob, must be Robert Frazier II. “He's—your husband?” Dr. Fenton asked, still incredulous.

“Yes. Come and meet him. Bob? Want you to meet Ed Fenton, one of my former husband's old friends,” Theodora said carelessly.

Robert Frazier II did not get up, only waved his glass and said, “Hi, Ed, make yourself at home. This is a housewarming, y'know, and we want it warm.”

“I didn't know,” Dr. Fenton said, not knowing what to say. The man's appearance still held him rigid with surprise. He looked about thirty-five, though his face was so soft and weak, he might have been older. And he was certainly drunk. “Where have you been living?”

“With his parents in Pennsylvania,” supplied the blond girl seated on an arm of Robert Frazier's chair. “But they've thrown the honeymooners out now, and he's going to make his own way in the world, isn't he, Bobsie?” She kissed him on the cheek.

“She's my cousin, y'know,” Robert Frazier said with a wink to nobody in particular.

“Kissing cousins! Ha! Ha! Ha!” somebody yelled.

Speechless with shock and embarrassment, Dr. Fenton moved away, looking for Theodora. She was standing by a window, gazing dreamily out. Once beside her, he did not know what to say. He had prepared himself to ask if she had gone to Europe since he had seen her, prepared even a congratulatory statement about her husband. The statement was quite impossible to make now. Dr. Fenton glanced around the room and his eye fell on a wide silver bowl that he recalled from the days when Theodora had been married to Alex Wilkes. It was a beautiful bowl, Grecian in spirit, and it had always held grapes or floating flowers of some kind at Alex and Theodora's house. Someone had set a half-finished highball in it. The beauty of the silver bowl made him realize the ugliness and mediocrity of the rest of the furnishings—the varnished bookshelf, the busily patterned drapes, the clumsy armchair in which Robert Frazier II slumped. Dr. Fenton suddenly recalled the smell of lamb stew that had greeted him when he stepped out of the elevator a few minutes ago. And the people here—Dr. Fenton had expected the upper crust of international society, or at least of American society. It was almost funny. The people were about the caliber of the Kirsteins. He had no sooner thought that than the Kirsteins came in the door. One of the guests had opened the door for them.

Bill Kirstein greeted Robert Frazier noisily, then saw Dr. Fenton and charged toward him. “Ed, you old jerk, where've you been hiding? I ­didn't expect to see you here!” His hearty slam of Dr. Fenton's shoulder brought a very low growl of warning from Baldur, which Dr. Fenton felt as a slight vibration of the leash. “Business still the same old grind? Still got that hound, I see.”

“Oh, I've been staying home quite a bit lately,” Dr. Fenton said with a smile. “How've you people been?”

Bill Kirstein looked at him suspiciously. “Say, what're you getting so high-hat about? Snubbing all your old friends?”

“Not at all!” Dr. Fenton felt himself blushing a little. On the other hand, why should he feel apologetic? What had he done? He stood up still straighter and looked Bill right in the eye, pleasantly.

“Be seeing you.” Smiling in a slightly rattled way, Bill drifted off to Theodora. Dr. Fenton watched her come awake and kiss Bill on the cheek, and Bill circled her waist with his arm, familiarly. He never would have done that with Alex around, Dr. Fenton thought, and Theodora would not have permitted it, either. Alex and Theodora had known the Kirsteins slightly for several years, Dr. Fenton knew, but they had never been close friends and the Wilkeses had not invited them, he distinctly remembered, after one party at their house at which Bill had gotten obstreperously drunk.

Baldur stood by his side, gazing straight before him with a rather puzzled expression, Dr. Fenton thought, at a woman who was sitting on a man's lap.

“Tell me about Baldur,” Theodora said suddenly, reaching down to pet the dog's head. “Has he been a good companion for you?”

She evidently hadn't read about Baldur saving his life, or was too drunk to remember it now, Dr. Fenton thought. “He's been a wonderful companion,” he said, smiling. “Haven't you, Baldur? Don't you recognize Theodora?” he asked the dog, and the look in Baldur's eyes as he glanced up at him made Dr. Fenton wish he hadn't asked that question.

“Have you taught him any tricks?” Theodora asked, pushing back some straying hair with one of the long, limp hands that Dr. Fenton had once thought so exquisite.

“He doesn't need to learn tricks. He understands everything that goes on, just like a human being,” Dr. Fenton replied.

Theodora's face changed slowly. She tried to stand taller, swaying a bit. “You're different, Ed.—You've changed a lot,” she said almost hostilely. Drunken tears suddenly poured into her eyes, making them glassier. “If you don't like me anymore, why'd you come here?”

“But Theodora, I do like—”

“I may be living a lot more simply, but it's my life, isn't it? Who're you to look down your nose?” Her voice rose and the hubbub in the room came to an abrupt halt.

“Siddown, hon, you've had enough!” yelled Robert Frazier II from the depths of his armchair.

Somebody laughed. Conversation started again.

“My apologies, Theodora, but I still don't know what I've done,” Dr. Fenton said with a smile. “It's a charming party and I'm very happy to see you.”

“I don't believe you!” Theodora said with a persistent stare, and though her voice was loud, nobody paid any attention now.

“I think I should be going, Theodora. Thank you very much for asking me, and thanks from Baldur, too.” He turned and walked to Robert Frazier II. “Good-bye, Mr. Frazier. It's been a pleasure meeting you.”

“Glad you came. Don't mind Theo, she gets like that.” Robert Frazier waved casually.

“And good riddance! Stuffed shirt!” Theodora's voice yelled behind him as he opened the door.

The door closed behind him, but did not quite shut out a horselaugh from Bill Kirstein. Dr. Fenton caught the elevator down and started walking the twenty-odd blocks to his apartment, conjugating French subjunctives to relax his taut nerves. After several blocks he began to feel better, and he remarked to Baldur that it was only two more weeks until summer vacation. Dr. Fenton was taking a month off and going to a hotel in the Adirondacks where Baldur, he had learned, would be welcome.