scored a new fifteen-inch foam mattress and can make her come down off her ladder with one well-placed beckoning glance.
Since we had to do our shopping on foot, and since we had a little extra money, I started checking out used cars. I read the want ads, Betty peering over my shoulder. Big cars were cheap because people panicked about gasoline. Big cars were the last flicker of a dying civilization, and now was the moment to take advantage of it. What difference does it make-sixteen or twenty miles to the gallon? Is it really worth making a big deal over?
We wound up with a Mercedes 280, fifteen years old and painted lemon yellow. I wasn’t wild about the color, but it ran well. At night I’d look at it through the window before going to bed. Sometimes a little ray of moonlight would hit it. It was by far the coolest car on the street. The front fender was a little dented, but it didn’t matter much. What bothered me most was that the headlight frame was missing. I tried not to notice. The back three- quarters looked like new, though. That’s how it is everything in life is but an illusion. Every morning I’d look to make sure it was still there. Eventually I got used to it. I got used to it until the day I had a fight with Betty-the day we were coming back from the supermarket.
She had just calmly run a red light-we had missed becoming pancakes by a hair. I offered a subtle reflection: “Keep this up and we’ll be walking home with the steering wheel in our hands. Is that the idea?”
We’d gotten up early that day. We were planning to start on the biggest part of the renovation. At seven in the morning, I took the first swing with the sledgehammer into the wall that divided the bedroom from the living room. I went right through it with ease. Betty was standing on the other side. We looked at each other through the hole while the dust settled.
“You get a load of that?” I said.
“Yeah… you know what it reminds me of?”
“Yeah. Stallone in
“Better than that. You writing your book.”
She came up with things like that from time to time. I was starting to get used to it. I knew that she was being sincere, but she also had this need to prick me with a needle, to see if I reacted. I reacted. When I thought about it, it gave me a feeling like having a bullet lodged in my back. It would move without warning. The pain made me groan inside. I looked away. But that wasn’t the most important thing. Sometimes life seemed like a forest full of vines-you have to grab hold of one before you let go of the other, or else you wind up on the ground with both legs broken. In the end, it was all amazingly simple-a child of four could understand. I discovered more things living with her than I ever would by sitting in front of a blank page, my brain boiling. The only thing worth anything here on earth is what you learn by doing.
With my finger I dislodged a little brick that was getting ready to fall.
“I don’t see really the connection between breaking a wall down and writing a book,” I said.
“I’m not surprised. Forget it,” she said.
I went back to smashing the wall without a word. I knew it hurt her when I said things like that-spoiled her fun-but I couldn’t help it. I had the feeling I was talking to myself. We spent most of the morning piling up boxes of broken plaster on the sidewalk. She didn’t unclench her teeth once. I didn’t want to annoy her. I even made a little small talk here and there, not needing a response-about how warm it was for January, how one sweep of the vacuum cleaner would make it look like nothing had happened, how she ought to at least stop and drink a beer, how I’ll be damned if the house doesn’t look completely different now, how won’t Eddie be thrilled when he gets a load of this?
I tried a potato omelet to get her mind off it, but it didn’t work-the spuds just stuck to the bottom of the frying pan like the lowlife trash they are. “There’s nothing more depressing than grabbing onto a branch that only breaks in the end.
It was hard to go back to work comfortably after that. I thought we ought to get a little air. We took the car- destination shopping center. I needed more paint, and I knew she had two or three things to buy-it’s rare when a girl isn’t out of some cream or moisturizing lotion, it’s rare when a girl refuses to go shopping. If everything worked out, I’d be able to chase away the dark clouds with a tube of lipstick, two or three new pairs of panties, or an industrial-strength candy bar.
We drove slowly up the main street with the windows half open-the noonday sun like peanut butter slathered on holy wafers. I zipped into the parking lot. She hadn’t said a word the whole way, but I wasn’t worried-in thirty seconds I’d have her in the cosmetics department, and the game would be won. I pushed the shopping cart myself. She kept her hands in her pockets and her head turned aside. Twenty more seconds, I told myself.
There weren’t many people. I stayed behind her, letting her go, watching her toss box after box into the basket. I thought maybe I could get a discount at the checkout line-all I had to do was show them how damaged their packaging was. But I kept my mouth shut. I still had a few good cards left to play.
We went toward the beauty department. We went right by it, not even stopping. I didn’t get it. There was a foxtrot coming over the loudspeakers. Maybe she had decided to keep sulking until nightfall-at any rate that’s the way it was looking. I’d have to play it close to the chest.
Same story in lingerie. She didn’t even slow down. It didn’t matter, though-I stopped anyway. I parked in second gear. I picked out two pairs of panties in a hurry-shiny ones-and caught up with her a few seconds later.
“Look,” I said. “I got you size twenty-four. Nice, huh?”
She didn’t turn around. Fine. I took the panties and threw them into a bin of frozen food as we went by. Worst thing that’ll happen, I told myself, is that in a few hours the night will fall, and she will have kept her oath. I saw that I was going to have to bear with it. I slowed down and stopped in front of the paint with a beatific smile. As I was perusing the labels, I heard what sounded like the flapping of birds’ wings behind my back, followed by a small collision. I lifted my head up. Betty and I were the only ones in the aisle; she was standing farther down, looking at the books. Everything seemed calm. The books were arranged on five or six revolving stands in single file, just in front of the computer-memory stoves and microwave ovens. Despite the presence of a lovely girl in the area, there were no birds flying around. Still, I could have sworn… I lowered my eyes, looking at a can of acrylic one-coat, and the flapping noise started again. There were two noises this time-one following the other in some sort of aerial ballet. Indeed, such a loving mysterious prologue, the shadow of which I might have surprised, had I not first heard them splatter against yon far wall.
I turned toward Betty. She had just picked out a book-a fat one. She flipped through three pages, then threw it angrily over her head. This one didn’t go too far. It fell almost at my feet, then went sliding across the center aisle. I decided not to pay attention. I tilted my paint can and started reading the instructions calmly, while books went flying in all directions.
When I’d had enough I stood up. I picked up my paint can and put it into the cart. For a moment our eyes met. It was hot in the store. I would have loved something to drink just then. She shook her hair all around her, then grabbed the revolving stand in front of her and pushed it with all her might. It turned over with a horrendous crash. She overturned the others without breaking stride, then took off running. I stayed there, nailed to the floor. When I got my wits back, I turned the shopping cart around and walked away in the opposite direction.
A guy in a salesman’s coat showed up, running after me. He was so upset I thought he had the devil on his heels. He was red as a bloody poppy. He grabbed my arm.
“My God,” he said. “What just happened over there?”
First I took his hand off me.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Why don’t you go take a look?”
He didn’t know if he should let me go or survey the disaster area-I could see he was really torn between the two. His eyes were wide, and he was biting his lip, incapable of making a decision. I thought he was going to start whimpering. Sometimes things happen in life that are so horrible you have every right to scream your rage to high heaven, to bewail your helplessness. I pitied the guy. Perhaps he had been born there, raised from childhood in the store itself, passed his whole life there. Perhaps it was all he knew of the world. If everything worked out he could stay there another twenty years.
“Listen,” I said. “Take it easy. It’s not the end of the world. I saw it all-nothing’s broken. Some little old lady tipped the book stands over, but there’s no real damage. You’ve had a shock, that’s all…”
He managed to give me a pale smile.
“Yeah? Think that`s all?”
I gave him a wink.
