The Fire-Dwellers (28 page)

Babble babble mutter

Look, sweetie – if you don’t want to talk, don’t talk. But just don’t give me that halfway stuff, eh?

  — That’s marvelous. Blame it all on her. For a second, there, I really wanted to swat her.

It’s okay, honey. Everything’s okay. C’mon – I’ll have some coffee and you’ll have some juice and we’ll feel a lot better.

  — Everything’s okay. Everything’s just dandy. Oh Luke. I want to go home, but I can’t, because this is home.

By that evening, Stacey has managed to tame and subdue the tangled jungle of her hair. Jen is in bed. Duncan, Ian and Katie are looking at TV. Stacey is wearing her black sheath dress, supposedly slenderizing. She tugs at the waist, trying to straighten the wrinkles in the material, but her hips are against her.

Do I look okay, Mac?

Mac is looking at his watch.

Fine fine you look fine. Aren’t you ready
yet?

Coming coming. Right this minute.

  — Still the same. Same drill, same marching tunes whistled by us both.

Thor has not risked his apartment. The party is being held on the roof of the building, an extensive patio-like square, which has been prudently fenced in with chicken wire to a height of some eight feet, for the area is habitually rented for tenants’ parties and the management does not wish to be sued by widows whose husbands have been accidentally splattered onto the far-down pavement below. The wire is threaded discreetly with green-leafed vines, placed with just enough gaps to provide one view of the city on each side. On top of the leaves, at regular intervals, small pink plastic flowers have been attached, as being more reliable than the live variety. Round white-painted tables with scrolled white-painted metal legs are sprinkled here and there, and potted rhododendrons still bear the brown corpses of this spring’s flowering. At one end is the bar, draped with a purple and gold
RICHALIFE
banner, and behind the arrayed bottles and siphons stands a worried-looking boy in a white drill jacket.

Most of the salesmen and their wives and the office staff are already here, in knots and clusters, drinking rye and proclaiming in voices which will carry as far as Thor their intentions of alternating each one with plain ginger ale.

Stacey grins and nudges Mac in order to overcome the ice which seems to have become lodged in her stomach.

So much for his tomato juice campaign, eh?

Sh. And for God’s sake don’t point it out. And don’t

Stacey’s upsurge of rage wipes out all memory of Mac’s pain over Buckle, all memory of his worry about Thor.

Okay. Fine. I get the message. I’ll be a campaigning teetotaller if you like. How be if I get an ax and break up the bar?

Christ Christ why do you always if you’re going to start
that
, then we may as well turn around right now and go home

Sh, for heaven’s sake. I won’t. I promise. Don’t talk so loud.

Me
talk loud? What about
you?

Sh sh sh here comes the angelman

Thor approaches like a mobile tower. He is dressed in a suit of pale pigeon-grey, and his turquoise eyes gleam flatly, exuding cordiality but betraying nothing of himself. His silver hair is ruffled very slightly and attractively by the light night wind.

Stacey Mac well,
hi
there. Wonderful to see you. How have you been, Stacey?

Oh just fine thanks

No more stigmata ha-ha?

Oh yeh well ha-ha no

  — Mean bugger.

Now – what’ll you have to drink, Stacey?

Mm – Coca-Cola please.

What? Hey, you don’t
have
to.

Mumble

Could it be that the Program is reducing your need for stimulants? How do you find you are, smoke-wise?

Madness seizes Stacey. Her smile glints up into his face.

Oh, I’m tons better. I hardly smoke anything at all now. And caffeine-wise I’m like a new woman. And golly, the kids have got so much energy now that I may have to put them back on to dreary old cod-liver oil, in sheer self-protection ha-ha.

She feels Mac’s fingers digging into her elbow. Thor turns the microscope of his eyes upon her.

Well well. You don’t say. Well, that’s great, isn’t it? Now, if you good people will excuse me, I see the Storeys have just come in.

He departs. Mac glowers.

You certainly overdid
that
bit.

Stacey shrugs. She is light-headed, euphoric, adrenalin-laden.

Not to worry. Nobody wins them all.

  — I couldn’t care less. Less than absolute nothing do I care what Thor thinks of me. Am I deliberately trying to sabotage Mac’s job? There’s a thought. I don’t think so, but I might be. How can you tell? Oh Katie, imagine thinking that I always knew what to say. Well, the hell with it. I will not be intimidated by that white-haired boy, that hybrid offspring of a moronic lion and a lady wrestler. Thor – what a name, anyway. Even if you were christened that, imagine keeping it. If I knew any good hexes, I’d sure put one on him. I will carry off this evening with tremendous dignity and poise if it’s the last thing I ever do. I’d give my eyeteeth for just one large Scotch. But I won’t. Damned if I will.

Mac has drifted off to talk to Mickey Jameson. Stacey perceives that a small detachment of lone wives is making its
frilly way towards her. She recognizes them but is totally unable to remember any of their names.

Hi there, Stacey.

Oh, hi. How
are
you? Nice to see you again.

Yeh. Say, this is some
place
, eh? I was just saying to Joanie, here, this really is a lovely spot for a party, isn’t it?

Yeh lovely

  — Joanie Storey. Praise the Lord. Now get to work on detecting the others, oh female Saint.

The babble and babel of voices go on, rising to crescendo, to cacophony. Stacey shouts questions and answers. How many kids you got? What grades are they in? It’s been a pretty good summer so far, hasn’t it? Yeh, no rain to speak of.

  — I am, though. I am now. Why did it have to happen like that? Why couldn’t it have been different – Luke older – me unattached? If only I could get out of here.
If only I could get out
. What if everybody is thinking that, in some deep half-buried cave of themselves? What an irony that would be. If that were so, you’d think we ought to be able to move mountains. But it doesn’t happen that way.

Stacey’s resolve breaks at eleven thirty and she goes to the bar for a double Scotch. She drinks half of it in a mouthful. Then she sees the diversion which is happening on the other side of the plateau, an entertainment for men. Somebody has
produced a large number of beach balls, in as many colors as Richalife pills, scarlet jade azure apricot. The men are busily pelting one another. The laughter is hoarse, explosive.

Here y’are, Mick. Catch!

The ball flies strongly and catches Mickey Jameson on the shoulder and off guard, nearly knocking him over. The thrower roars gleefully.

Pow! Gotcha!

Stacey stares as the game gets rougher. A number of other women are also watching. Some of them are clapping and cheering. Some are standing in silence. Then Thor bounds like an outsize faun into the middle of the group. He, too, is laughing. He picks up a beach ball as though it were the world and hovers for a moment with it, searching.

Mac has not been participating. He is standing with a glass in his hands at the extreme edge of the group, looking on. Thor makes as though to throw the ball directly ahead, then abruptly swings around and sends it in the opposite direction. Mac sees it coming too late. It catches him squarely in the face. His neck jerks back, and Stacey’s guts turn over. A few men gasp and a few women shriek titteringly. Then the clapping and laughter go on as before. Mac’s head rights itself and Stacey can now see the dribble of blood from his nostrils. His fists clench and unclench and clench again. Stacey can see his jagged breathing. Then Thor’s voice.

Hey –
sorry
. You oughta been looking
out
, fella.

Mac’s voice is low but steady.

Yeh. I’ll know better next time.

You’re not
hurt
, are you?

No. It’s nothing.

The game breaks up and chatter fills the gaps. Somebody puts a record on, and dancing begins. Stacey sees Mac going
through the door which leads to the lower regions. She follows him. He is wiping his face with his handkerchief. They go into the elevator without speaking. Then outside and into the car.

Do you want me to drive, Mac?

Yeh. I guess you better. Still a certain amount of stars inside my head.

Goddam him. Goddam him. Goddam him.

Mac’s voice is tight and controlled, grating.

Yeh. It would be nice to know why he’s got it in for me. One of life’s mysteries.

At home, Stacey makes coffee and takes it upstairs. Mac is already in bed, sitting up and smoking.

How is it now, Mac?

Oh, okay. It wasn’t anything much. It’s what’s behind it

I know.

He turns to her, propping himself on an elbow.

You know something, Stacey? I damn near hit him as hard as I could. For a second, there, it was almost like an automatic reflex. I didn’t care about anything. I couldn’t even look ahead as far as any consequences. I thought afterwards – I wonder if a lot of murders are done that way? Not that I would’ve been able to do him that much damage – but you know what I mean?

Yes. I know. What stopped you?

Mac shrugs and lights another cigarette from the end of the first.

I don’t know, really. You, I guess.

Me? How come?

Well – the kids and you, and me with no job at my age

Mac, you’re forty-three. You talk as though you were a hundred. Has it bugged you so much? The possibility of
being without a job? You’re a damn good salesman. They’re in demand.

Yeh, I know all that. It’s a hangover from the past, I guess. Also, it isn’t so easy to re-establish yourself. I’ve done better, at least financially, in this job than I ever have. Not that that’s saying much.

Stacey is shocked by the bitterness in his voice.

What do you mean? You’ve done all right, Mac.

I would’ve liked to do better. You know – something that meant something. I won’t, now. I guess that’s why I had to convince myself that Richalife was pretty terrific.

Stacey’s hands are shaking. She sets the coffee cup down on the bedside table.

  — Now is a fine time to tell me. Why didn’t he tell me before? Okay, I know why.

Mac – why didn’t you say all this before? What do you really think?

About the firm? I think it’s a load of crap. I don’t suppose the bloody pills actually do anybody any harm, though. But probably I’d sell them even if they did.

Stop it. You’ve got to. You mustn’t be that tough on yourself. Look what all you’ve done.

Yeh, just look

But why didn’t you ever say? Why didn’t you level with me?

What good would that have done?

It would’ve it would’ve

Mac’s voice is abrasive, bound with ropes of an effort not to let go, an effort which almost doesn’t work.

No, it wouldn’t. It’s my problem. Can’t you see? It’s got to be.

  — I see. Maybe I do begin to see. If he doesn’t deal with everything alone, no help, then he thinks he’s a total washout. Thanks, Matthew – you passed that one on all right, but at least you had your Heavenly Father to strengthen your right arm or resolve, to put the steel reinforcing in your spine. Mac’s got only himself. And if he doesn’t speak of it to some extent, one of these days he’ll crack up.

Okay, I guess it has to be that way, Mac. If you insist. It would’ve helped me, though. It would’ve made me feel you needed me, even just to talk to.

You mean you ever doubted
that
, Stacey?

Yeh. I doubted it all right.

Oh Christ. How could you?

I don’t know. But I did.

Mac turns away from her, as though at the moment of turning closer or being forced there by innumerable and to her unknown memories, he still must keep private his face, his eyes.

How could I tell you it scared the hell out of me when Thor needled me? He’s been doing it in various ways a lot of the time. That would’ve made me look pretty useless, wouldn’t it, to be bugged that much by a thing like that?

Not to me. Only to yourself. And that’s crazy, Mac. You’re not made of granite. Nobody is.

Why do you think I’ve worked like the devil? Just so he couldn’t point to anything which would give him a real excuse to get rid of me. What else did you expect me to do? Christ, Stacey, the mortgage company isn’t going to wait for the payments, is it? And Katie’ll be ready for university in another three years.

  — He took us all on at a time when most of us didn’t then exist. I guess he wouldn’t ever believe he’s brave.

I know. I know. I know. I didn’t expect you to do anything else. I always blame myself that we’ve got so many kids. Not that four is all that many but you know what I mean like, Duncan

You
blame yourself? But that’s insane, Stacey. Anyway, that’s all in the past.

The past doesn’t seem ever to be over

Mac stubs out his cigarette and she does the same. He leans across and switches out the light.

We’ve gotta get some sleep, Stacey. It’s past one. I got a million things to do tomorrow.

Yes. Mac – are you going to stay? With the firm? Now?

He hesitates before replying. Her eyes, unused to the darkness, cannot discover anything from his face. When he speaks, it is very slowly.

I don’t know. I just don’t know. I don’t see how I can stay and yet I don’t see how I can leave, either.