After Robinson was dead, Jake switched off the TV and took her into the bedroom.
He made love to her gently that night, not playing rough until near the very end. Through it all she lay quietly and submissively, still tasting popcorn.
And it was morning and the alarm was warbling.
“Jesus!” Jake said groggily. “Turn that fucking thing off!”
Though she was only half awake, Mary groped blindly until her hand closed on the vibrating plastic clock. She pressed the button that quieted the alarm, and the clock suddenly lost life in her hand and silence hummed in the room.
She struggled out of bed and walked stiff-legged into the bathroom, then stood beneath the shower, letting the needles of water wake her all the way.
Jake remained sleeping soundly while she got dressed in the dim bedroom to the lazy rhythm of his breathing. She took time for a breakfast of a piece of toast with strawberry jam on it, and a cup of coffee.
She was about to leave the apartment when Jake appeared in the kitchen doorway, wearing only his Jockey shorts and yawning. “Want me to walk you down to your car?” he asked.
“Why would you want to do that?” She put the jam jar in the refrigerator.
“I mean, after what was done to your front door, and the bird on your car aerial outside Casa Loma, I figured it might be wise.”
“Nothing like that’s happened lately,” Mary said. “Anyway, you’re still in your underwear. I better get to work, Jake.”
She was almost out of the kitchen when sharp realization made her stop and turn to face him.
She said, “I never told you about the dead bird.”
He looked startled and seemed to snap fully awake. “Oh, I guess Angie musta mentioned it.”
“When’d you talk to Angie?”
“Hell, I dunno.”
“I never told Angie, Jake.” And she was sure he hadn’t heard about it from any of the dancers; he didn’t know any dancers. Fred? No, before walking to her car that night, she’d seen Fred driving away from Casa Loma with the blond woman.
She watched Jake, reading the guilt on his face, knowing the look so well. “Jesus, Jake-you!”
“Listen, Mary-”
She felt like hurling herself at him, beating him with her fists. Reacting as he would react. But she didn’t move. “Why would you do those sick things?”
“Because they were sick, don’t you see? I wanted you to be scared, think you were threatened by some psycho so you’d feel the need for protection and take me back. Maybe it was wrong, but I did it for us, Mary. And it worked. It did work.”
“That isn’t why we’re back together, Jake.”
“Think about it before you jump to any conclusions, Mary. You’ll understand my point of view.”
“I want you gone for good when I come home, Jake. Outa here!”
He took a step toward her. Instead of retreating she moved toward him, surprising both of them.
“I’ll go to the police, Jake. I filed a complaint about the door, and I can tell them about the rest. They’ll haul you into court, send you to a goddamn mental hospital.”
He smiled, but there was more fear than confidence in it. “Are you gonna do that, Mary?”
“Just be here when I come back and find out.” She spun around and walked fast out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.
By the time she reached the street her heart had slowed enough so her pulse wasn’t pounding in her ears.
There was an accident involving a school bus on Grand Avenue, stopping traffic for blocks. Mary was twenty minutes late for work. “Tardy,” it had been called at Saint Elizabeth’s Primary. Probably it was still called that, and in the same accusing tone. She and the students were tardy today.
Her nerves were frayed by the time she nodded hello to Jackie Foxx and Joan the receptionist and walked into her office.
Even before she’d sat down at her desk, she saw the messages in her box. One of them was about a client who was supposed to come in and pick up an amortized loan schedule.
The other message was a request to call Dr. Keshna at Saint Sebastian Hospital.
Mary punched out the scrawled phone number, gave a hospital operator a department code, asked for Dr. Keshna, and waited through two minutes of barely recognizable Beatles music.
Finally Dr. Keshna’s lilting, gentle voice came over the phone. “Miss Arlington, I thought I should call you about the results of your mother’s tests.”
“Are they-Is she all right?”
“For the most part, yes, she is. Please don’t worry. I want to tell you, also, that she gave me permission to talk to you about this only after much persuasion on my part.”
“What about the tests?”
“There’s evidence of heavy damage to her liver and pancreas. Also there’s some heart fibrillation, probably due to alcohol ingestion over the years. She’s in no immediate danger, but I must stress to you, as I did to her, that it’s important for her to stop consuming alcohol.”
“Entirely?”
“Entirely and for the rest of her life, Miss Arlington.”
“I’m not sure she can do that.”
“I’m not, either. I know it’s difficult, but the purpose of my call is to convince you that your mother has no choice. I’m afraid irreparable damage has already been done. She’s on the threshold of some very grave medical problems. It’s my duty to try to see that she, and you, understand this.”
“I understand,” Mary said. “Does Angie?”
“I’m not sure. That’s why I thought I should talk to you.”
Mary could imagine the gentle Dr. Keshna trying to reason with Angie, when Angie didn’t want to reason. “I see. Thanks, Doctor.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Arlington.” Dr. Keshna hung up softly.
Mary sat staring at her desk, seeing nothing on it.
“Anything wrong?”
Victor, smiling down at her.
“Nothing!” she almost barked. “Everything’s fine. I’d like to be left alone, is all.”
Startled but still smiling, he backed away. She was immediately sorry she’d been so sharp with him, but dammit, why didn’t he realize she didn’t yearn for his company? Why was he always trying to insinuate himself into her life?
Indomitable, he cheerily called good-bye as he left the office. He glanced in at her as he strode past the window, swinging his right arm and attache case like a pendulum.
Mary remembered her conversation with Jake and pushed it away from her thoughts. She didn’t have to think about Jake anymore. Didn’t have to, and wouldn’t. It was over.
That evening she drove to Romance Studio straight from work and arrived half an hour early for her tango lesson with Mel. She was relieved to see Ray Huggins relaxing in his office with his feet propped on his desk. He was wearing gray leather Latin dance boots.
As she suspected, he didn’t object at all to her making copies of programs from past competitions. He assumed she was interested in the ads for dance shoes and various paraphernalia placed by the mail order houses and dealers with booths in the vending areas. Huggins seemed pleased by her interest, and in fact offered to give her the programs.
But Mary said copies would do fine. Becky the receptionist came in to run them off on the Xerox machine, saying she’d give them to Mary after her lesson with Mel.
It wasn’t her best lesson. Mary’s body discipline broke down and twice she misread Mel’s lead. She explained to him that she was simply having an off night, but he was plainly worried. If she could have such an off night here in St. Louis, it was possible in Columbus.
When she got home there was no sign of Jake. She checked the closet, then the dresser drawers he’d used.
