He shook his head. “I am a monster of consistency, little sister. Though increasingly I realize that the consistency was mostly alcohol. But now I am a changed man, most of the time. For example, I have just told you the truth about something. I owe it all to the influence of a good woman.”
She laughed.
He said, “What? Is that so hard to believe?”
“No, no. That’s a phrase I used to hear a lot, that’s all.” She said, “Should I tell you the truth about something?”
“Sure. But you don’t have to. This doesn’t have to be an exchange of hostages or anything.”
“I am giving you a hostage, though. I’m trusting you with this. You have to take it to your grave.”
“Will do. On my honor, as they say. If you really want to tell me.”
“I think so. I do want to tell you.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because you’re my brother, I guess. Because I want to see how it sounds when I say it out loud.”
“How it sounds to me, or to you? There could be a difference.”
“I suppose so. Does that matter?”
“Well, you know, I’m not the ideal sounding board. Especially if there’s moral complexity involved. That was never my strong point. You might reveal some embarrassing deficiency in me. One more deficiency—” He laughed. “I’m in enough trouble as it is.”
“All right,” she said. “No secrets, no confidences.” Then, after a minute, she heard herself say, “I was never married.”
“Oh?” and he began to laugh, wearily and uncontrollably. “Is that the secret? I’m really sorry. It’s because I’m tired,” he said, wiping tears from his face.
“My fault,” she said. “You gave me fair warning.”
“I did, didn’t I.” The laughter persisted, somewhere between a sob and a cough. “I’m really sorry. The thing is, you know, I’m not married either.”
“But no one ever thought you were. I mean, you didn’t make people believe that you were.”
He laughed into his hands, miserably. “That’s true. I never did.” Then he said, “I hope you’re not mad at me, Glory. I don’t know why you wouldn’t be. Please don’t be mad.” He was struggling to catch his breath.
“Oh heck,” she said. “I’m going to get you some coffee.”
“Heck, yes! Bring on the coffee!” he said, and he laughed.
“I say ‘hell’ sometimes. If I’m mad. But I’m not mad. I’m just sort of flummoxed.”
He said, “I do that. I flummox people. It’s really about the best I can hope for, in fact.”
“Well, I’ve gotten pretty used to it. It’s actually a little bit interesting, in a way.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Seriously. I know I did the wrong thing, laughing like that.” He shook his head ruefully, and laughed. “You’re a good soul, Glory.”
“I am,” she said.
“I know that what happened to you was bad. I was an idiot to laugh.”
“It was very bad. One midnight I went out and dropped four hundred fifty-two letters down a storm drain.”
He laughed. “Four hundred fifty-two!”
“It was a long engagement. A policeman saw me and came over to ask me what I was doing. I told him I was throwing away four hundred fifty-two love letters and one cheap ring. He said, ‘Well, I sure hope things work out for you.’” They laughed. “I’m all right,” she said. “It was all horrible enough to be funny, I suppose. Now that it’s over.”
“Yes, there’s always that to look forward to.” Then he shrugged and said, “It’s enough to make me hope there’s a minute or two between death and perdition.”
“Oh come on, Jack. I don’t really think you get to believe in perdition unless you believe in all the rest of it.”
“No? But perdition is the one thing that always made sense to me. I mean, it has always seemed plausible. On the basis of my experience. And I don’t think this is a good time to try to talk me out of it. I’m tired. I’m sober—” He laughed, and she glanced at her watch. “Let me guess,” he said. “Eight-twenty-eight.”
“Eight-seventeen.”
“If you tire of my company, I’ll understand.”
“No, not at all. Could I make you some supper?”
“I just had supper.”
“No, you didn’t. I watched. Six bites of potato.”
“I haven’t had much appetite, I guess.”
“Well, I have news for you, Cary Grant. Your pants have begun to bag.”
“Ah. You have mastered the art of persuasion. A scrambled egg then?”
“And toast.”
“And toast.”
Jack sat at the table, twitching his foot. He cleared his throat.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said. “Not a thing.” Then, after a minute, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe I have just been told that I am not the only sinner in this family.” And then he laughed and put his hand to his face. “Now, that was probably a mistake. What a fool I am.”
Glory said, “Well then, let’s just say you’re not the only fool in the family.” She broke an egg into the frying pan.
“But you haven’t told the Reverend about this, I take it.”
“How can you even ask?”
He nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
“Stupidity isn’t a sin, so far as I know. But it ought to be one. It feels like one. I can
