Promises (12 page)

The dogs, who had been alone all day, rushed to greet Adam, but having no heart for them, he let them out without a word or touch. With the shades drawn against the heat the house was dim and dreary. Every move he made, when he pulled a drawer open to get a fork, when he closed the door of the freezer and set a plate down on the table, resounded through the emptiness. He ate quickly without appetite, washed the dish,
and after that did not know what to do with himself. The long night loomed.

He thought then of the previous night. She had not telephoned him today. Perhaps she had meant it literally when she said, “No more talk.” But after all, had he not wanted her to mean it? Yes, certainly he had. And why? Because the weight of guilt on his shoulders was just too heavy, so heavy that it had been visible even to her. Had she not told him so?

But how weak he must look to her, like a man afraid to take the pleasure he wanted, a man tied down, regulated, and controlled as if he were a child! What he had done last night—had it harmed anyone? According to the articles that filled the newspapers, more than half the married men in the country took their secret joys on the side. Half of them also got divorced.

But that was something else again, something too utterly unreal to fathom. To leave Margaret, his good wife, and their three children! Unthinkable.

In the front hall there was a mirror over a small chest that held a lamp. Passing through, he stopped for a moment to examine himself. Not much more than forty, he was trim and youthful with a fair complexion and all his hair. He did not even need glasses.

“Don’t we make a handsome pair?” Randi had said as they were standing before her full-length mirror.

Male and female, unclothed and ready, they had been perfect together. And he stood now, quite still, remembering.…

It was seven o’clock. He locked up the house, got in his car, and drove. Speed, dispelling the heat, filled the car with a joyful breeze. A part of his mind still recognized how absurd it was that the mere anticipation of
sexual ecstasy could so swiftly smother all his very valid fears. Nevertheless, it was so. He felt free and younger than he had felt in years.

When he rang the bell and gave his name, she opened the door. She was totally naked and laughing.

“Ah, I knew you would come!” she cried, as he fell upon her.

I
t was a new experience for Adam to join with Randi in her spontaneous way of life. It was nothing for her to jump out of bed right after making love and go to broil hamburgers in the kitchen. Hamburgers at midnight were certainly not something to which he was accustomed. And he had to smile inwardly at the spectacle of himself with Margaret, both in their night-clothes, pouring ketchup on their french fries. After love they always went to sleep.

At home, even on weekends, they lived by the clock. Saturday was the day for all the errands and appointments that Margaret, occupied with school, was unable to fit into the week: the library, the dentist, Julie’s piano lesson, new shoes or shoe repair, Megan’s haircut, or Danny’s Cub Scout meeting. They were always going somewhere, meeting some obligation hour by half hour. Sometimes it seemed to him that if all the clocks were to break down, the family might free itself from these demands.

Of course, this was sheer wishful fantasy and quite ridiculous. Fantasy, nevertheless, had its place.

In the office he found himself one day staring at Margaret’s photograph on his desk. And studying her face with its calm, candid forehead, he felt such shame that he had to turn away. Yet he knew that as soon as the day’s work was over, he was going to go back to Randolph Crossing.

On the second Saturday he arrived there with the dogs, explaining that since he was to stay until Sunday night, he couldn’t leave them alone.

“They’ve been abandoned this whole week, poor things. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“No, but it’s a good thing they can’t talk.”

She had prepared an outing at the new house. Sleeping bags and a portable icebox were piled by the door, ready to go.

“The electricity’s on, so we can cook, even though the stove’s a mess. Or we can make a campfire. I thought it might be fun to stay overnight there and see how it feels.”

For their first meal they made a campfire, roasted potatoes, and toasted marshmallows.

“This makes you feel young, like a kid,” Adam said, watching the marshmallows turn brown.

“How many years is it since you felt like a kid?”

He did not want to think. He only wanted to lie back on the grass with his head in her lap. As the day cooled and the wind came up, the sunshine of late afternoon was friendly. A pungent pine scent blew on the breeze. From somewhere out of sight he heard the distinctive notes of a cardinal. How long it had been since he had
stretched out on the grass, empty of thought, just drifting and feeling and drifting!

“Poor boy,” Randi murmured. “Your scalp is so tight. You worry too much.” She stroked his head from temple to crown, smoothing his hair with a gesture almost maternal.

His worries were nothing he cared to reveal: responsibilities for his children’s future, expenses, promotions, and, like a shrouded ghost, the threat of unemployment.

“Poor boy. Relax. Randi just wants you to be happy. Do whatever you like. Why, you don’t even need to make love to me tonight if you’re tired. Just go to sleep now.”

He slept. When he woke, she had still not moved. He turned on his elbows and looked up at her, asking, “What have you been thinking of all this time?”

She was gazing out through the gap in the trees toward the river. “Do you really want to know?”

“Tell me.”

She looked down at him. “I’ve been thinking how sad it is that we’ve wasted all these years.”

He understood that she must be expecting him to say, “Yes, I know,” but how could he call a waste the years during which he had lived peaceably with his wife, rearing two fine daughters, Nina, and his Danny?

Yet, remembering how once she had been everything to him, remembering his anguish when she abandoned him, he was overcome with a sense of life’s cruelty. And raising her hand to his lips, he kissed it.

“The one year you and I had was worth more than all the rest put together,” she said. “I think of it all the time, of little funny things, like arriving at that surprise
party on the wrong day, and the switched raincoats with the secret address book in the pocket. We had fun, didn’t we? Oh,” she cried, “I know you’re remembering that it ended so horribly! I know. I guess I’ve deserved what I got. Chuck was wrong, all wrong. And losing the baby was such a queer, mixed-up experience, sad and still a relief because, poor baby, it wouldn’t have had much stability in its life, would it? Bunting was nice, but there wasn’t any
love
with him, just peace for a time, and then he died. I wonder what would have happened if he hadn’t died.…”

Randi’s voice trailed away. He was trying to find something encouraging, something conclusive, to say when abruptly, she jumped up and pointed to the house, where the dogs were lying on the doorstep.

“Why, look how they’ve made themselves at home! I want you to do the same, Adam. I want you to consider this your house, where you can come and go as you please.”

“I won’t be able to come very often, Randi.”

“I know. But you can invent a conference out of town now and then to allow for a day, or even a week. You’ll keep clothes here, and we’ll hide out together in comfort. Someday I want to build a pool in back of the house. With my first sizable commission, after the place is completely furnished, I’ll do it.”

He smiled. “It sounds luxurious.”

“Not really. I’ve saved a few dollars, and I never spend what I haven’t got.”

Through the high windows late that night, they lay watching the stars. “Just as I promised,” Randi said. “Before you fall asleep, let me tell you what I thought of. You know that strip of motels on the highway south
of Elmsford? Well, I can easily drive in sometimes and spend the night there. You can leave home early in the mornings, say that you have a load of work at the office, and come to my room. That way, we can have a couple of hours together.”

Not quite two weeks more, he was thinking. I won’t be able to end this then.… Yet he would have to.… The thought of all the lies, of going home to Margaret’s bed, of her not knowing, was appalling.

“I hate to lie,” he said very low.

“Well, it isn’t the best thing in the world. But it isn’t the worst, either, and sometimes you have to lie a little. The fact is, this is our private affair, and we aren’t hurting a soul by having it.”

No, he had to admit they were not hurting anyone.

“All right, then, my darling worrywart, enough. We’ve had a great day, and tomorrow will be another one.”

On Monday, Margaret telephoned the office. “I’m beside myself,” she cried. “I was almost going to call the police, but everyone here talked me out of it. Where were you last night?”

“Why, home. Where else would I be?”

“I don’t understand. I kept calling you again and again, from eight o’clock on. Didn’t you hear the phone?”

“At eight I was outdoors. I did some weeding, took the dogs for a walk, and stayed out as long as I could. The house was hot as hell, except for the bedroom, and I didn’t feel like sitting there.”

“I called at eleven. Then I gave up.”

“At eleven I was asleep. The air conditioner hums, and I sleep like a log, anyway. You should know that.”

“Well, as long as you’re all right. I was so worried. I didn’t sleep all night.”

“Gosh, I’m sorry, Marg. Were you calling for anything special?”

“Only because I was lonesome and wanted to hear your voice. I had mailed a letter to you, but that wasn’t enough for me. You’ll probably get it today.”

“Well, you’ll soon be home.”

“Ten days. It seems too long.”

His mind raced as she spoke. A double life! He, Adam Crane. He wasn’t the kind of man who lived that way. But what kind of man did live that way? Was such a man in some fashion marked so that you could recognize him? When he hung the receiver up, he was sweating.

At home that evening, Margaret’s letter was in the mailbox. She had enclosed a snapshot of Danny grinning over a huge trout which, presumably, he had caught himself. For a long minute Adam held the picture as though he were memorizing it: the grin, the torn sneaker, and the red hair so obviously slicked flat because he hated curls. It seemed to him that his Danny had grown taller in this short time away.

Then he sat down and read the letter, which was a long one.