Pin (11 page)

He didn't say anything. It grew so quiet we could hear Ursula upstairs. She was still singing.

P
IN AND
I
SAT IN THE LIVING ROOM WAITING
. U
RSULA WAS
in the kitchen cooking. The dining room was all set up. It was half past six. Because of daylight savings time, it had been dark since five o'clock. There had been another heavy snow, but the roads were well plowed and the world outside looked like a jeweled kingdom. Passing clouds turned the moonlight on and off, making the branches of trees flicker and sparkle. Because we had no television on, no radio, nor any music, we could hear the clatter of dishes and silverware coming from the kitchen. Pin was very quiet. Lately he always reacted that way just before he knew he was going to meet someone new. In the old days, when he was with my father in the office, he could strike up a conversation with a
complete stranger so quickly and so smoothly that it would be difficult for an observer to realize that it was a complete stranger. Now, living in the cloistered world with us, he had grown out of touch with things. I could see the nervousness in his face. He was dressed in one of father's double-breasted suits because he favored them. Actually, he reminded me a little bit of the doctor, sitting there so rigidly in his chair.

More and more Pin had been striking up memories of my father for me. It had gotten to the point where I was confusing the two faces in my mind. He used all of the doctor's favorite expressions and dressed in his clothes … well, it was just getting more and more difficult to distinguish the two in my mind. I sat there wondering how the doctor would react to Ursula's bringing a man home for dinner. Would he be cordial? Formal?

At a quarter to seven, the doorbell rang. Stanley was fifteen minutes early. Ursula came out to the living room, wiping her hands on her apron. Pin didn't move. I bit my lower Up gently and waited to see what Ursula would do next. I was waiting for her to ask me to let him in. I knew it would come to that. I would have to introduce him to Pin. In the end, she wouldn't have the nerve. I smiled to myself and stood up. The doorbell rang again.

“I suppose that's our little soldier boy.”

“He's early. Probably anxious to meet you and Pin. You let him in, OK, Leon?”

“Sure. Go back into the kitchen, Ursula. Get the meal going. I'm starved.”

“Thanks, Leon.”

“You ready?” I said to Pin.

“Of course I'm ready. What's the big deal?”

“No big deal,” I said. I walked to the door, hesitated, and then opened it with a rough jerk. Stanley Friedman, carrying a box of candy wrapped in holiday packaging, stood smiling in at me. He was much stouter than I had imagined, but he was a good-looking guy. He did have wavy, light brown hair and a nice smile. It was a wide smile, warm and seemingly quite sincere. When he did step in, I saw that he was about an inch taller than me.

“Hi. I'm Leon.”

“Stan,” he said extending his hand. “I've heard a great deal about you.” He stepped in. “Ursula thinks a lot of you.”

“I think a lot of her.”

“Well,” he said, holding out the candy, “I brought some assorted chocolates. Hope you people go for them.”

“Pin loves them,” I said. “You can hang your coat up right here.” I opened the hall closet and checked out Ms right leg as he slipped out of his coat. It was difficult, if not impossible, to tell it was partly wooden. He limped some as we started down the corridor, though.

“This is quite a house, deceptive from outside,” he said, turning to me just as we reached the doorway of the living room. I noticed he had a slight lisp. For a guy who was supposed to be somewhat introverted, he seemed pretty relaxed. That introverted stuff was probably phony, I thought.

“Yes. It's an old house, but a comfortable one. My father, the doctor, did a lot to modernize it while he was alive. I'm afraid Ursula and I don't do much for it now, except see that it's kept reasonably clean.”

“It's nice. Ursula's hard at work, I suppose.”

“She's going to show off her domestic talents.”

“She told me you were quite a cook too.”

“I've had plenty of practice. Pin, too, is a great cook,” I added. “He knows quite a few recipes. He's quite the gourmet.”

“Can't wait to meet him,” he said, and I noticed the first signs of nervousness in his face.

“He's right in there,” I said, indicating the living room. My heart began beating fast, just as it always did right before someone new met Pin. I moved a little faster than Stan did because I wanted to be standing beside Pin when they met. I wanted to see the expression on Stan's face. “Right over in the corner in that chair.”

“Right,” he said, moving across the room. The limp became more pronounced. As we approached, I flicked on the little lamp just to the right of Pin. His face came alive.

“Pin,” I said, “this is Ursula's friend Stan. Stan, this is our lifelong friend and companion, Pin,” I added, and turned quickly to see Stan's face. He smiled and shot a glance at me. I must've looked very serious because his face snapped into a serious expression. There was a moment of silence during which Stan's face seemed to tighten and then relax. He straightened up as if he were being presented to one of his old officers and then shot his hand out so fast it took me by surprise. I stepped back.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, sir,” he said. Pin was surprised too. He didn't even lift his hand to shake. But Stan thrust his out so fast and so hard that he was only inches away. Then he had the nerve, the audacity, to push his hand into Pin's. Naturally, Pin,
being the gentleman he is, shook and disregarded Stan's aggressiveness. “I have heard a great deal about you, a great deal.” When he let go, Pin's hand dropped to his lap. I stood looking at Stanley and feeling a great sense of disappointment and anger settle over me. His reaction to Pin was a letdown. He was at ease with him, almost as much at ease as Ursula and I were. He was as nonchalant as could be. I watched him back up a few steps and look around the room. “Very nice, big room. You don't see many houses with these tall ceilings anymore.”

“Pin,” I said, keeping my eyes on Stanley as I talked, “Stan has brought some assorted chocolates. After dinner, we can come in and have a few.”

Stanley turned and smiled. Then he limped to one of the big chairs and settled himself in it. I was fascinated with his poise. Pin eyed the chocolates greedily. It made me laugh.

“He'd like to skip dinner and have them now, wouldn't you, Pin?”

“I can wait, Leon. I have a great deal of self-control.”

“We can't permit that,” Stanley said. Then he leaned over toward us. “We can't do anything to spoil Ursula's dinner, now, can we? For a woman, a dinner is like a performance,” he said, sitting back again. He was right at home.

“She oughta perform more often then,” I said. It was a bit cruel and I regretted saying it immediately. “But I'm sure she'll do well.”

“Ursula tells me that you're working on an epic poem.”

“She did?” I wasn't sure whether I felt indignant or proud.

“I'd like to read some of it sometime.”

“Maybe Leon'll read some of it after dinner,” Pin said.

“Yes. Perhaps, if we're all in the mood, I will read a little of it after dinner.”

“I've always wanted to sit down and write something, but I've just lacked the patience. I admire you for having the discipline.”

“Yes, it takes discipline. It's far from finished and it has a lot of rough spots.”

“Don't be so modest, Leon,” Pin said. “You know you've worked some of those lines over twenty or thirty times.”

“I bet Pin's a good listener,” Stanley said. His tone of voice was confusing. Was he mocking me or did he mean it?

“He's a good critic, very honest.”

“I just say what I like and what I don't.”

“Hi,” Ursula said stepping into the room. Stanley got up. Standing from a sitting position was an awkward movement for him, but he didn't seem at all self-conscious about it. “I see you've gotten to meet everyone all right.”

“From the way you described them, I feel as if I've known them almost as long as I've known you.” They both laughed. I didn't like the way they looked at each other—how they tolerated the small silences between them and stared. I looked at Pin and smirked, but he seemed quite taken with Stanley. I was very surprised and somewhat annoyed.

“Care for a cocktail before dinner?” Ursula asked.

“Sure.”

“I'll make them,” I said. “What'll you have?”

“Bourbon and soda?”

“Sure thing. Pin, the usual?”

“Yes, Leon, the usual.”

“What's his usual?”

“Ask him,” I said quickly. Ursula's smile faded slowly, but Stanley's froze.

“Of course,” he said, “how rude of me.” He turned to Pin, shot a quick glance at Ursula, and then asked.

“I like a little rye, ginger ale and a slice of orange.”

“Do you have the orange for his drink?” Ursula asked.

“Yes, I was prepared, sister dear,” I said.

“You've got quite a house here,” Stan said, and they got right into a conversation about the place. I made the drinks and distributed them. I never saw Pin so quiet. He just sat back and listened to Stan and Ursula talk. They were so involved in each other that I felt Pin and I should start our own conversation.

“You must tell us about the war,” I said suddenly, interrupting them. Stan turned with a quizzical expression on his face, almost as if he were going to say, “What war?”

“I don't like talking about it too much. It was a horrible war.”

“What war isn't?” Pin said.

“Hear, hear,” I added and toasted the air and then drank.

“For us, it was militarily, politically and morally a big mistake,” Stan added.

“You must be very bitter, then,” I said, “having made a physical sacrifice for a big mistake.”

“Well,” he said, smiling that wide, warm smile, “I used to feel self-pity. That turned to anger. But now I've kind of settled into a warm indifference. A lot of suffering can have that effect on you.”

“Very true,” Pin said, “very true.” I shot a glance at him. Did he have to be so impressed?

“I'm hungry,” I said. I was getting impatient. Pin was a doting idiot, a great disappointment. Usually, he tore a newcomer apart, mocked him, ripped every remark down to its barest inanity. I rationalized and figured his new behavior was due to the fact that it had been so long since we had any guests.

“Everything's ready. Should we go into the dining room?”

“Good,” I said. Stan stood up, still smiling. I was waiting for this moment too. Slowly I walked over to the corner and pulled the folded wheelchair out from behind the bookcase, figuring the sight of it would bring some unhappy memories back to Stan. I snapped it open and pushed it over to Pin, eyeing Stanley the whole time. He watched with great interest.

“Need any help?” he said. I was surprised by the offer.

“No,” I said quickly and quite definitively. His smile left his face, but he stared with continued interest as I lifted Pin out of his seat and into the wheelchair. I set his feet comfortably in the footrests and stood up, Ursula had gone into the kitchen. Stanley waited.

“I almost ended up in one of those,” he said. “I can appreciate the difficulties.” His calmness amazed me. Nothing bothered him.

“No difficulties. We're quite used to things by now.”

“Speak for yourself,” Pin said. I pushed him forward and the three of us entered the dining room.