Songs in Ordinary Time Page 39

  Robert Haddad hadn’t left the couch all night. Thankfully, the party seemed to be fizzling. Corinne, one of Astrid’s girlfriends from the wire plant, sank down heavily beside him and yawned into her cigarette smoke. She was a skinny woman, heavily made up, with an intricately coiled hairdo. Like the rest of them in their slutty clothes, she drank, smoked, talked too much, and sat too close. “So how’s business?” she gulped at the end of her yawn, and poured more beer into her glass.

  Haddad ignored her. He watched Astrid, who stood by the hutch, talking to her manager from the wire plant. “That’s terrible!” she cried, with a poke in his ribs. He was a tall balding man whose wife was divorcing him. He put his hand on the wall over Astrid’s head and leaned toward her. Haddad was sure he was drunk.

  Haddad tugged his shirt cuffs down over the tufts of hair on his wrists. Astrid admired tall, slim, blond men, as well she might, being so fair, so beautiful herself. Before her he had never known happiness. Just the sight of her roused this ache, this pride that all that shimmering scented softness was his. His breath quickened with the dizzying rush of giddiness and fear that was more than sexual. It was mystical, a religious experience. She was the core of his being, the purity and goodness that once had been only words. Because of her he was becoming a moral man. Of course there had been a few missteps lately, aberrations so alien, so reproachful they only reinforced his yearning for decency in all things.

  Someone turned off a light and lit the candle on the windowsill. Didn’t they see how close to the curtains the flame was burning? Just a gust of wind would turn this place into an inferno. Were insurance men the only ones alert to such dangers? He started to get up, then changed his mind. She would berate him in front of her friends if he blew it out and turned the light back on. She would say he was trying to spoil everyone’s fun, and she would be right. He was tired. They were getting louder and drunker, and he wanted them to leave. A woman shrieked, then stumbled past him toward the bathroom. Her boyfriend banged on the door. “I gotta pee pee, too,” he whined. Couples danced in the flickering darkness. He leaned forward. Astrid and her manager were dancing. Their swaying shadow loomed across the ceiling.

  He tried to swallow. Business was lousy and the main office continued to hound him, and tonight, dressing for the party, she had again mentioned getting a job as a hostess in a cocktail lounge. It wasn’t the money, she had explained when he said he’d sell more policies. No, it was the glamour she missed, having a reason to dress up fancy like this every night. She needed something that forced her to be cheerful and funny. She wanted to hear people laugh. “I miss that, Bobby,” she had said, looking at his reflection in the mirror as she smoothed her yellow brocade dress over her hips. “I need that. I’m a very outgoing person.”

  This morning he’d gotten a letter from Sam Fermoyle, who wanted his policy sent to him at Applegate Hospital. There was no policy. He’d never sent that premium or any others in the last six months into the main office. Thinking that Fermoyle had been too plowed to even remember signing the contracts, he’d given the money to Astrid. She had probably bought that dress with it, the very dress that was glued against the manager’s body.

  Corinne shook his arm. She wanted to dance, too, she said, pulling him to his feet. She told him to kiss her and they’d make Astrid jealous, but he just shuffled clumsily to the music. She was kissing his neck. She wanted to give him a hickey. Astrid would love that, she said.

  “I can’t stay late, I told Astrid,” she murmured. “I gotta meet this guy first thing in the morning. He’s something. Hey, you’re in business, you know him? Omar Duvall? He’s an antroopeneer. Hey…hey…what’s the matter?”

  Haddad lunged at the manager, who was kissing Astrid.

  “Cut it out, Bobby!” Astrid screamed as his fist bit into the man’s mouth. The man reeled back, dazed, squinting as he lurched clumsily at Haddad, who struck him in the stomach. The man sank to his knees, then lay on the floor. Astrid tore at his arms as he kicked the crumpled manager’s back. Someone pulled him away. He just stood there with weighted arms at his sides and closed eyes while Astrid screamed at him.

  “Come on, honey,” Corinne kept saying.

  “Big deal, isn’t he? Big deal, kicking a man when he’s down. I hate you! I hate this place! I hate everything about you!”

  Haddad went into the bedroom and closed the door. He sat on the bed and whimpered into his palms.

  A door opened and closed. Voices called somber goodbyes. Someone was picking up glasses and closing windows. When he came out, the room was empty. The rug was still rolled up against the wall. The light was on under the bathroom door. He stood by it a minute, then moaned against the doorjamb. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Next week you can have another party, bigger even than—”

  “She ain’t in here,” a woman said; then the toilet flushed and the door opened. Corinne came out, spraying her hair. “She went to the lake. Jeez, you look shitty. Why don’t you sleep. Astrid’ll cool off and then she’ll come home dragging her tail behind her,” she assured him, with a quick glance in the mirror and one last spurt of spray.

  When the last couple left the beach, Benjy grabbed the blanket and ran to the car. He could wait in here. He opened the windows, reassured by the music and the voices from the hotel that Norm was close by. Soon he had to close the window because of all the mosquito bites he was getting. Now the glass kept fogging up. He doodled on the steamy windshield, then on the side windows and the ones in back. He wiped them clear with the blanket, then began to exhale rapidly. As soon as they steamed up again, he started over, this time writing swears in the tiniest letters he could make. Fuck you, Norm. Norm is a asshole. Norm is a dink. He paused, wondering what the difference was. Well, an asshole would be a real obnoxious jerk and a dink would be a creep who was scared of his own shadow and so afraid to do anything that he was always spoiling it for everyone else. He was a dink. And by that standard Norm was an asshole—well, sometimes. Norm had never been a dink, but then again, he himself had never been an asshole, which seemed like a good thing right now, like something to be proud of.

  Every now and again cars would arrive and people would go into the hotel. A man and a woman were coming down the wide wooden stairway now. Benjy ducked as they got into the next car and then left. A few minutes later another car pulled into the lot with its radio blasting. Three women got out. They were laughing so hard, they had to lean against the car with their legs crossed as if they were trying not to wet their pants. The last woman emerging from the back seat was Astrid Haddad. “Help,” she cried, halfway out. “I’m stuck.”

  “Here. You’re not stuck, you’re just drunk,” her friend said, giggling, pulling her the rest of the way out.

  “I am not!” Astrid protested as she teetered in a stiff little circle.

  The women linked arms. An uneasy feeling came over him as they bumped into one another on their way up the stairs to the hotel. Men were the perilous ones, not women. It was women who kept him safe, who always knew the limits. He lay back down on the seat and stared up at the bright stars and the moon for as long as he could without blinking. The record so far was two minutes. The windshield steamed up again. His eyes closed. He was asleep.

  Two hours had passed, but it seemed he had been sleeping for only a little while. He sat up and rolled down the window. The moon had risen over the lake, trailing a luminous path across the black water. The crickets were louder. There were only a few cars left in the lot. He opened the door, sighing as he urinated onto the gravel from inside the car. The car Astrid had come in was gone.

  What if Norm had gone home with someone else and left him here? He ran up the steps to the hotel veranda, which was lined with rocking chairs. The floorboards creaked underfoot as he crept from window to window, trying to find Norm. These were the dining-room windows, but he could see only a few people inside. Somewhere a piano was playing. Voices swelled now as he rounded the far corner of the building.
He peered through the parted curtains in the long windows. There was a dimly lit smoky lounge with a three-piece band playing. A couple was dancing, their arms around each other’s neck. The mirror behind the bar was cracked down the middle. Fishing nets and mounted game fish hung from the walls. He moved to the last window. From here he could see most of the tables.

  People in this end of the room were standing and clapping as they sang, “So drink, chug-a-lug, chug-a-lug, chug-a-lug. So drink, chug-a-lug,” while a guy drank a mug of beer in what looked like one quick swallow. Finished, he banged down the empty mug. It was Norm! Norm, blinking and wiping foam from his mouth with the back of his hand. Norm standing now, with his hands over his head, to acknowledge the cheers; his brother, Norm, drunk and sinking heavily back into a chair. A girl with long blond hair kept poking his arm, but every time she said anything Norm just laughed. A guy with a dark bushy beard had strutted over to their table, and now he was draining his mug dry while everyone chanted and clapped. Now Benjy noticed the chubby girl who had been timing the guy with a stopwatch. Norm hoisted his mug, gesturing for a refill. The blond girl said something, then got up and left. Norm raised the dripping mug to his lips, and Benjy ran back to the car. He climbed into the back and curled up on the seat, enshrouding himself in the blanket.

  He slept so soundly in the fuzzy darkness that it was not the sluggish voices that roused him as the front doors opened, but the sudden glare of the dome light filtering through the brown wool. The doors closed. He started to sit up, then lay back down. Astrid was behind the wheel, not Norm. He could hear Norm, but he couldn’t see him.

  “Oh you poor thing. Just put your head right there, you poor thing.” She started the car.

  Norm struggled to speak. “…get one…go gone…go…” Suddenly Norm sat up and opened the door. “…gotta go get…” He waved toward the beach.

  “All your friends’re gone,” Astrid said. “They left, honey. They left you all alone in there, but don’t worry, I’m gonna take good care of you, sweetie.”

  The wet prickly wool rubbing Benjy’s chin was all the shame he felt. How could Norm have let this happen? Especially Norm, of all people, Norm who couldn’t bear humiliation, reduced to this incoherent babble. He lay perfectly still. When they got home he would pretend he had been sleeping all this time. He only prayed that Astrid wouldn’t turn Norm in to their mother. This could be a double cross. How many times had they appeased and coddled his father just to get him out of the house or off the streets? She pulled onto the lake road with the back of Norm’s head bobbing against his window. “I’ll get you home safe and sound. Now, don’t you worry about a thing, sweetie,” she murmured. She was so short she had to peer between the dashboard and the top of the wheel to see the road that wended in and out with the shoreline. The tires squealed on the curve and Norm groaned.

  “You okay, sweetie? You look kinda peaked,” she said, and Norm grunted. “How ’bout if I just pull in here a minute? Actually I’m feeling kinda loopy myself.” She turned off the engine and rolled down her window, then fanned herself with her hand. “Phew! Hot in here. You okay? Here,” she said, reaching past him. “Let me get your window down. The air’ll perk you right up.”

  Now Norm’s head hung back out the open window. He was gasping.

  “What’s a matter, sweetie?” She touched his face. “You okay? Don’t scare me now. Just take it easy.”

  He moaned.

  “You’re what? You’re gonna what?” she asked. “Here, then, let’s loosen you up some.” Norm said something and she giggled. His belt buckle clinked. “So you can breathe better,” she murmured. There was a zipping sound. “There, how’s that feel?” She kissed him. “Feels good, huh?” She held his face and began to kiss him again. “It’s okay,” she kept saying. “I’m gonna help you, sweetie…Don’t you worry…It’s okay.”

  He couldn’t tell if Norm was trying to hug her or push her away, but his arms kept slipping off her shoulders. He was panting. Or maybe crying. Benjy raised his head to see.

  Astrid sat back. “God I hate bringing you home like this,” she sighed. “Your mother’s gonna kill you, you poor thing.”

  Norm’s agitation increased. “…this with the…the the the thing…with…Benjy!” he cried, pawing at the windshield as if to part curtains. “Where’s Benjy?”

  “Benjy’s home, sweetie.”

  “Benjy’s home?” He looked at her. “Huh?”

  “Yup. Sound asleep in his nice warm bed.”

  “Okay. Good. Okay.” He belched and laid his head back on the window well. “Benjy’s home. Good.”

  Astrid raised her arms and pulled her shirt over her head. “Come here, sweet baby,” she said, sliding next to Norm.

  Benjy could see her white shoulders, her bent head over the squeaking seat. He couldn’t see his brother, but he could hear the sounds he was making.

  “There, baby, there,” she moaned. “Go ahead. Oh. Oh. Okay, here. Try this one now.”

  The smacking, slurping sounds continued along with Astrid’s moans.

  His brain was on fire as he eased onto the floor, cocooned in the blanket. Flames, red and orange flames, in his brain, in his eyes.

  Norm hiccupped loudly and Astrid sat up. Benjy stared up at her breasts, hanging big and white in the moonlight just inches from his brother’s face. “I’m…gonna…gonna…” Norm groaned.

  “Gonna what?” Astrid gasped, trying to get her shirt back on.

  Not “gonna” any longer, he knew from the hot gagging spew of it; Norm already had. The car reeked of vomitous liquor.

  “Shit!” she cried, hitting the wheel. “Shit, shit, shit. That’s it! I’m done! I’m through! I never shoulda come here! Never, never, never!”

  “I’m sorry,” Norm muttered as his head fell back against the open window again.

  “Wake up! Norm, don’t do this, damn it, wake up!” she said, but he was so deeply asleep that he began to snore. She started the car and drove back to Atkinson, crying all the way. Curled on the floor, Benjy felt every bump jolt up his spine. The car slowed, then turned, and he knew by the passing trees and rooflines that he was almost home.

  The minute she pulled into the driveway, she turned off the motor and the headlights and got out of the car. Nauseated, Benjy pushed the blanket off his face. He looked up to see Astrid at Norm’s window. She kept whispering his name, trying to wake him up. “Shit!” she gasped as Klubocks’ dog began to growl from the lilac bushes behind her. She froze and Benjy realized she was staring at him. Without a word she stepped out of sight. After a moment he sat up and looked around. She had delivered them to the wrong driveway. She was running down the street with her high heels in her hands.

  “Norm! Norm!” he whispered, shaking his shoulder. “You gotta wake up! We’re in Klubocks’ driveway!” The white Cadillac was parked out front, which meant that Omar had spent another night on the couch.

  Norm’s eyes opened. “There’s Benjy! Good. Tha’s good. Good.” He smiled, then, with a heavy sigh, closed his eyes again.

  He begged Norm to wake up. He shook his arm, nudged his head, thumped the top of the seat, warning of the trouble they were going to be in. Bad enough he was drunk and had thrown up all over the front seat of their mother’s car, but being in Klubocks’ driveway, well, that was the far greater offense. “You’re gonna get killed, Norm!” And now it hit him. So was he. He opened the door and ran toward the house, not realizing until he got to the steps that Klubocks’ dog was chasing him. He grabbed the dog’s collar and, running in a crouch, dragged him back to the bushes, ordering him back in there! Stay! Stay! Stay, he prayed as he raced back to the car and tried again to rouse Norm, whose stupor had deepened. He looked at the parallel driveways. All he had to do was back straight out of Klubocks’ onto the street, turn slightly, then head into their own driveway. That might even wake Norm up enough to get him inside. He just prayed the damn dog stayed where he was and didn’t start barking. He got behind the wheel and turned
the key, wincing with the thundering engine. He shifted into reverse and the car jerked back. Panicking, he tried to get it into park again, but the car lurched forward. He jammed his foot onto the pedal—the wrong pedal. It was the gas pedal, he realized as the car surged forward, turning, turning right into the lilac bushes. Branches cracked. “No!” he cried with the sickening bump. He hit the brake, shifted, then turned off the engine and ran into the house. He climbed into bed and lay sobbing with the pillow over his head.

  In the morning Alice’s eyes shot open to the commotion downstairs. She threw back the sheets and sat up trembling. She had overslept. The priest would be here soon. Her mother was screaming. She ran around the room, trying to get ready.

  Norm’s voice, congested and quivering, rose from the kitchen. “I said I’m sorry! It wasn’t my fault. I can’t help it if I got food poisoning!”

  “Food poisoning!” her mother cried. “You were drunk! You were so goddamn drunk you plowed into Klubocks’ lilac bushes and killed their goddamn dog!”

  “You think I killed it on purpose? I was sick, Mom! Honest to God. I got food poisoning.”

  “Food poisoning! You don’t even remember what happened!”

  “Because I must’ve passed out!”

  “How could you do that? How could you do that to me? To yourself! Jesus Christ, Norm! After all you’ve seen. After all we’ve been through!”

  “We had those lousy hotdogs. Ask Benjy. That’s what it was.”

  “Benjy!” she scoffed. “According to him he slept all night. He barely remembers coming home!”

  “See! He’s probably got food poisoning, too!”

  “I don’t want to hear about food poisoning!”

  “Well, you should at least check him! I mean, what if he’s in a coma or something!”

  “Don’t say it again. Don’t! You hear me, mister? Because now I want the truth!”

  “That is the truth!”

  “What a mess,” Alice groaned as she clipped her stocking into her garter belt. Poor Benjy, he liked the dog even more than the Klubocks did.