He was very grave. It crossed my mind he was too grave; that he really did not want to go, but was agreeing nevertheless, as his way of going through on a bargain, one that hadn’t been made, for we had never talked of this moment, but one that had been there, just the same, lurking under the surface.
I called Ethel and asked if I could bring my new husband “to call,” and I suppose enjoyed for a moment the stunned way she took it. There was dead silence for some little time, and then: “I’ll be here, of course-I can’t speak for Jack, he isn’t home yet, and it may be late when he comes. But-very well, I’ll expect you.” Then Earl and I were in the car, Jasper driving, on our way over. No one was out front when we pulled up, and we were out of the car when Ethel appeared at the front door, in Levis. They were her way of cutting us down to size, as she’d had plenty of time to go up and put on a dress, and when she hadn’t paid us that courtesy, it showed what she thought of us. When I presented Earl, she nodded and exclaimed “White-so that’s what your name is. In Joan’s wire that she sent from London they spelled it What, which we all thought must be a mistake, but of course we couldn’t be sure. Why don’t we go out back?”
Earl had smiled, but said nothing to her bitchy show of bad manners, and let her lead us past the house, by the walk that ran beside it, to the backyard, where my heart gave a jump, as there by the back fence, with two other children, playing on a slide, was Tad. He didn’t seem to see me, which suited me just as well, as it gave me a chance to tell Ethel why we had come, which I proceeded to do: “Well, he looks fine, Ethel, and I’m eternally grateful to you, the wonderful way you’ve taken care of him-but I’m taking him now, if you don’t mind. At last, I have a wonderful place for him, thanks to my new husband-so you won’t have to bother with him anymore.”
“… I thought I’d made clear by now-he’s no bother, Joan-to me, anyhow.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, he seems to have been quite a bother to you, but if things are different now-”
“He was never a bother to me, as I think you know-”
I would have said more, no doubt, but Earl cut me off by raising his hand, and saying, most soothingly: “I’m sure he’s never been a bother, to you, Mrs. Lucas, or anyone-and he won’t be one to us. Tell me, how much do we owe you?”
It was the very way to cut her down, and I couldn’t have been happier with Earl than in that moment. She protested that nothing was owed, but Earl already had a palmful of money out, carelessly extracted from his pocket, and he picked out bills totaling a hundred-fifty dollars, then added twenty extra for good measure. “Here. Please accept it, it’s nothing to us and I’m sure you can use it.” Oh, the look on her face! But she took the money, of course.
And now I said: “I think it’s time Mr. White made Tad’s acquaintance.”
“… Yes, of course.”
So, while Ethel plopped herself down in a garden chair, I led him back to the swings. When Tad saw me at last he came over, not running or with much show of interest, but at least with a smile, as though he was glad to see me. I stooped down and kissed him, and then made a mistake. Instead of presenting him to Earl, quietly, with no explanation at first, and letting him get acquainted little by little, I was too excited to use good judgment, or quite to know what I was doing. I leaned down, kissed him, held him close, and said: “Yes, it’s Mommy, it really is, and she’s glad, so glad, to see you. Are you glad to see her?”
He nodded, his shyness wearing off, and held his mouth for another kiss. I gave him one, and then at last got to it: “And now for Mommy’s big surprise, the wonderful surprise she has for you. Tad, this is Mr. White, Mommy’s new husband, who’s going to be your father from now on-and we’re all three going now, in his big automobile, to the beautiful new home we’re going to have, where we’ll all live together and-”
With that I picked him up and held him out. But before any more could be said, he took one look at Earl, who was standing there, smiling at him, his hand held out, and let out a scream, not only of fear, but one of utter horror. Then he started to kick and twist and wriggle, so I had to put him down. Without the least hesitation he started for Ethel, where she’d got up from her chair. She gathered him in her arms and began kissing and patting and shushing him, until at last he was quiet. I had to stand and watch it, and hadn’t a word to say, as there was nothing else she could do. I don’t take exception, even now, but there’s a limit to what you can take.
Presently I mumbled: “Then, Ethel, if you can keep him a little bit longer-”
Her eyes danced, gloating at me over my son’s head. “Yes, Joan. You needn’t even ask.”
“Just till we get straightened out a bit better, how we’re going to do-”
“Joan, he’s welcome the rest of his life, if that’s how he wants it to be.” She broke off, and then burst out again: “And how he wants it to be is something you might have thought of, when you had this grand inspiration.”
“Ethel, I think we’d better be going.”
“Perhaps you’d better, at that.”
So next, we were walking around the house once more, Earl and I, and then were in the car, driving back.
I have to say he was very decent about it, and very understanding, patting my hand, and telling me: “Don’t be upset-it was just one of those things that happen, we don’t know why. I assure you I did nothing whatever, at least that I know of, to provoke it. I thought him a most attractive child, a wonderful little boy.” I kept saying it wasn’t his fault, but mine, mainly, “for not handling it right,” but my mouth was taken over, so I hardly knew what it said. At the house, when we got out and went inside, I suddenly heard myself tell him: “Earl, I’m going up to my room. I want to be alone. I have to be alone.”
“But of course, Joan. O.K.”
So I went up, took off my things, lay down, and closed my eyes. Then at last I knew the truth: My beautiful dream, that I’d worked and schemed and plotted for, and then at last had made come true, in one ghastly, dreadful moment, had exploded in my face.
For some time, there with myself alone, that was as far as I took it, or could take it. The effect it would have on the future, on Tad’s future, on my future, on my future relations with Earl, I didn’t get to at all- I was too shocked, too numb, even to try. When at last my head began to clear I began wondering what had caused it, this reaction of Tad’s — what I had done, what Earl had done, what Ethel might have done to account for something that seemed to be automatic, completely instinctive. And for a time I blamed myself, for rushing things, introducing a new father and promising a new home all in one breath, as part of a wonderful surprise. If I’d just taken one thing at a time and let that soak in before going on to the next, things might have gone differently. Indeed, for some little time it seemed that I could start over, perhaps put Tad in the car, bring him over here, and then see the surprise Earl had bought him-a new tricycle perhaps, or a little car, or something. But then suddenly I sat up in bed and began staring out the window, as the truth dawned on me, why the child had been terrified of Earl.
If I was, why wouldn’t he be?
I knew then, at last, that the thing that had happened was final, that nothing could be done. There popped into my mind the things I’d felt when he’d held me in the car before our wedding, and when we’d kissed, and the way I felt about him when he barged into my room, claiming the right to watch me undress. And my belly began to tell me how deep my fear was. And then at last I began to realize how terrible a thing it was, the dream that you make come true.
26
It was dark when a tap came on the door, and when I called, he came in. I turned on the light and he sat down in the chair beside me, where I still lay on the bed. “Feel better?” he whispered.
“I suppose so, a little,” I told him. “At least I’m getting readjusted. Earl, I’ve lost my child.”
“Perhaps not-all sorts of things can happen. But I’d like to say one thing. Joan, I’m as baffled as you are. I swear I did nothing to make him act that way-”
“Earl, I know you did nothing, know it without your telling me.”
He was doing nothing now, and yet as I lay on the bed, I felt the same clutch of fear as Tad had betrayed with that scream. His eye moved to my legs, which were crossed in my pantyhose. I took no notice, but switched the talk to Ethel, saying: “It’s what she’s been hoping for-she lives for the day when she can claim Tad as her own.”
