The Lord Won't Mind (The Peter & Charlie Trilogy) (25 page)

“About Peter? There’s not much to tell. He admitted that living together the way we were, he was beginning to get a funny feeling about me. He said he knew that that sort of thing could happen between men, and he agreed right away to move in with some friends he’s made at school. We didn’t talk much about it. He was pretty embarrassed.”

“I see.” A maid appeared and C. B. ordered ice. She rose and went to the bar cabinet and began to prepare drinks. “Well, if you’re satisfied, I must be, too. He apparently got a grip on himself after he left me.”

Just being with her dispelled any questions lingering in his mind. She always said the right thing, adopted the most accommodating attitude. Ice was brought, and he had no further excuse for postponing his announcement. He rose and took a few uncertain paces in her direction. She turned and held out his drink. He went to her and took it. “Listen.” He took a gulp of the drink. “I’ve got some pretty sensational news for you. You’ll probably think I’m crazy. Well, as a matter of fact, we got married today.”

“Really, my dearest? As far as I know, I haven’t been out of the house since yesterday. Perhaps you’d better tell me who ‘we’ is.”

He threw his head back and laughed with nervous relief. “I guess I’m not making much sense. Hattie, of course. Hattie and I got married about an hour ago.”

Her expression didn’t change. She reached out and took his glass from him and left both their drinks on the bar. She crossed the room and pressed the bell. She remained with her back to him until the maid reappeared. He stood rooted to the spot, barely able to breathe. Surely she couldn’t disapprove to the point of refusing to speak to him.

“A bottle of the Moët et Chandon, please,” she said. “In an ice bucket.” She turned and held her arms out to him, a smile beginning to play around her eyes. He stared at her and roared with laughter again and hurried to her. She kissed him on both cheeks and stood back and looked at him. “It was very naughty of you not to tell me, but I suppose that was Hattie’s doing.”

“Well, yes. She didn’t want anybody to know until it was done.”

“I quite understand. She was afraid that tiresome family of hers would make a display of you. There’s nothing more barbaric than long engagements. When did you decide?”

“Only yesterday. We’ve been seeing so much of each other that it seemed the only sensible thing to do. And then, with Peter gone, it was possible for her to move into the place with me.”

The maid entered with the champagne, and C. B. went to it and expertly uncorked it. She filled a glass and turned and held it up. “Here’s to you, my dearest. I wish you so much happiness.” She drank and then filled a glass for him and gave it to him. He felt like crying with gratitude and admiration and love. She was perfect. Who else could have taken the news without batting an eye, without a hint of reproach at its suddenness?

“You’re marvelous, C. B.” He lifted his glass to her. “Here’s to you.”

“Oh, my dearest, I hope this will be the happiest day of all our lives. It’s so thoughtful of you—both of you—to’ve come by yourself. It’s my last chance to be alone with you. From now on, you’ll be Hattie’s. I do want to enjoy this moment. Fill my glass. I should think we might get a bit tipsy.” She crossed the room and sat. Charlie brought the bottle in the ice bucket and put it beside them. They looked at each other and laughed. “I want to hear all about it,” she said. “When did you know you were in love? Of course, Hattie’s been in love with you right from the start. I saw that the first day you brought her.”

“So she says. I guess it took me a little longer.”

“I think that’s normal in a man. Women know their minds better about such things. How does her career progress? Will she go on with it?”

“Oh, yes. People say she’s good, you know. She’s waiting to hear about several possibilities.”

“Did I tell you I had a note from Sapphire? She’s invited me to her opening night, if you please. She has the last laugh. Thank heavens I didn’t try to keep her on here. Won’t it be a bit difficult for you if Hattie does find work?”

“How so?”

“The theater’s such a disorderly life. Up all night and sleeping all day. Oh well, perhaps she’ll give it up as she settles down. I’m sure she’ll find it much more satisfying being your wife than an actress.”

“I doubt it. She’s mad about the theater.”

“Of course, she’s not really part of it yet. As she goes along, she’ll doubtless find that it’s really too disreputable. Nobody can have anything to do with it without being soiled by it, though I’m sure Hattie would prove an exception. I suppose you’ll be looking for a bigger apartment.”

“No, we haven’t thought about it.”

“But you must, my dearest. You must consider Hattie. The place isn’t suitable for a couple. A woman needs some modicum of privacy.”

Charlie thought of Hattie last night and almost laughed. What would she need privacy for? “Well, we’ll see. She hasn’t moved in yet, naturally. She’s home now packing a bag. She won’t bring all her stuff until tomorrow.”

“I see. Well, I’m sure you’ll find that I’m right. You be the one to suggest it. Don’t make her feel that she’s being difficult. It would’ve been perfectly normal for her to refuse to marry you until you found something bigger.”

“OK, I’ll ask her, but I don’t think she really cares.”

“Nonsense. Let’s see. I suppose I’ll have to stop your allowance. I know you wouldn’t accept it now.”

“Why not?” he exclaimed. She couldn’t mean it. She must know that he really needed it now, as he hadn’t before. Hattie was a free spender; he couldn’t have thought of marrying her if it hadn’t been for the allowance.

“But you’re a married man, my dearest. It wouldn’t be right for you to be in any way dependent on me, much as I might like you to be. I’m sure Hattie wouldn’t want it. Women like to have their men all to themselves, even to the exclusion of harmless old grandmothers. You must have gone over your finances together. You surely didn’t expect the allowance to go on indefinitely. Perhaps Hattie has some money of her own.”

“A little, I think,” he admitted unhappily. She was obviously right. He ought to be ashamed of himself for having counted on her help.

“Well, there you are, you see. We must think of a splendid wedding present. Money? It’s so cold-blooded. Perhaps you’ll let me furnish your new apartment. Some really good things. A charming setting is so important.”

“What if we don’t move?” Money, rather than furniture, was very much on his mind.

“There is that. Well, now that you’re safely married, I think you’ll agree we have time to see how everything works out.”

“Oh, sure.”

“You know all I have is for you. Your mother will get nothing, nor your brother. I wish there were some way for you to have your money when you need it, now, while you’re young, but I’m afraid you’ll have to be patient, my dearest. I can’t last forever.”

“Don’t be silly, C. B. I don’t want anything. You’re not even old yet.”

“I don’t feel old, thanks to you. It’s been such a delight watching you grow up, developing into the man I hoped you would be. And now it’s done. Married. I don’t suppose any female relative is ever really quite prepared for that. The next thing I know, you’ll have turned me into a
great
-grandmother. How ghastly.”

“You’d love it. I must say, I would too.”

Her eyes slid past him and focused on something in space. “Tell her to call me. Perhaps she can have lunch with me tomorrow. You’re not invited, my dearest. I hardly know her. You really hadn’t prepared me for this.”

“I can’t believe it yet, myself.”

“What about your parents? Will you deign to tell them?”

They laughed and drank their champagne. Parties were discussed. She would make something special of the coming Sunday. Later, there would be dinners.

When he left her, in spite of the champagne and her ready acceptance, he was vaguely dissatisfied with the big event of the day. She had made him feel somehow that life was over. Money. No more allowance. He couldn’t possibly quit his job now until something very sure came along. He didn’t mind too terribly, but Hattie would. C. B. had generously excluded Hattie from her general condemnation of the theater, but there was something in what she said. He thought of Meyer Rapper and of how tempted he would have been if he had been approached differently. Hattie’s insistence on her nightly round of the bars was faintly whorish. Life wasn’t over; it was just beginning and it promised to be far from simple. He thought of Hattie moving in. He quickened his pace. It wasn’t seven yet. He wanted to get home before she did.

He found the place empty. He went immediately to the drawer where his drawings were hidden, under shirts and a sheet of lining paper. Once Hattie was installed, there was no knowing how completely she would take possession. He didn’t want to keep them, anyway. He drew them out and shuffled through them without looking at them squarely. Destroying them would destroy the pain he felt simply holding them. C. B. was right as usual. He must never again allow himself to get so involved with anybody. He saw that his self-portrait and a particularly explicit one of Peter were missing. He tore them into small pieces and realized that the fragments were still too compromising to throw away. He went to the kitchen and put them in a pot and set fire to them, listening for Hattie all the while. They made a brief, alarming blaze. When it had subsided, he took the pot to the bathroom and emptied it into the toilet and flushed. Dead and buried. Now if Hattie would get here quickly, it would be all right. Keep busy, be with people—that was the solution. It was bound to pass. It had to. He didn’t see how he could go on living if it didn’t.

The apartment was filled with an acrid smell of burned paper. He opened the kitchen window and fixed himself a drink. When he heard her coming down the hall, he closed the window and opened the door for her. She entered with a suitcase and a bag of groceries and the air of a conquering hero. She stopped in the hall and wrinkled her absurd nose.

“Do they burn rubbish in the back yard?”

“Not often.”

“What a stench.” She dropped her suitcase and took the groceries to the kitchen. “A drink. My God, a drink. And please address me only as Mrs. Mills. I have to keep being reminded I’m married. I don’t feel any different than I did last night. I mean,
after
. I’ve been thinking of that all day.”

“Shall we go to bed and celebrate?”

“What a dreadful waste of all the lovely food I’ve bought.” She looked at him and laughed. “What’s it doing now? Is it getting hard for me?”

“You can find out for yourself any time you feel like it.”

“That sounds like being married. That’s better than being called Mrs. Mills. I’ve got a man.” She went to him, and he put his arms around her and they kissed. She thrust her hips up hard against him. “Mmm. It’s up to its usual tricks. Shall we forget about food? No, it’s legal now. We can wait.” Accustomed to embraces being followed by active love play, he was unprepared for her to break from him and take her drink into the living room. She left him aroused and belligerent. He was damn well going to teach her to consider his needs. He followed her and found her peering pensively into the alcove. “Where am I going to put everything? I took a look at my closets and almost fainted. Where did I get so much junk?”

“C. B. says we should find a bigger place,” he said, making it sound like a reproach.

“Oh, no. She’s not going to turn me into a housewife. This is quite big enough. I’ll jam everything in somehow.”

He smiled in spite of himself. There was no denying that she was fun. “How did it go? Is your family still speaking to you?”

“They tried to look disapproving, but I was right. They never believed their nutty daughter would settle for anybody so presentable. Are you ever in for it. We’re going to be up to our ears in family for weeks. Now that it’s done, they’re going to pretend they planned it this way. Of course, they were sure I was pregnant, but once I convinced them I wasn’t, they actually smiled.”

“How do you know you’re not?”

“What do you think I’ve got my gadget for? If anything goes wrong with that, Margaret Sanger will wish she’d never been born. No babies for at least ten years. If then. How was C. B.?”

“Wonderful. Really marvelous. She acted as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Almost as if she expected it. She wants you to have lunch with her tomorrow. She’s got parties on the brain, too. Of course, she’s stopping my allowance.”

“The bitch.” Her eyes bulged with indignation. “What do you mean, ‘of course’? Oh, I knew it. I knew she wouldn’t let her precious Charlie go without a struggle. Why do you think I wanted to get it over with quickly? I don’t give a damn about my family, but I knew C. B. would fix us if she could. Stopping your allowance. As if that’ll satisfy her. I can’t wait to see what she tries next.”

“Don’t be so ridiculous.” This was a legitimate excuse for attack. He would make it clear right from the start that he wouldn’t take any nonsense from her. “The allowance was just to help me get started. She said herself it wouldn’t be right for me to be in any way dependent on her.”

“Ha, ha, ha. Did you tell her you were going to quit that lousy job?”

“No, I didn’t. I don’t have to tell her everything I do.”

“Like being an actor, for instance. You wouldn’t want to tell her that, would you?”