American Music - Jane Mendelsohn [48]
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Joe knocked on the door. He walked in and Pearl was standing in front of the dresser facing the speckled mirror. She was looking down and so her face was absent from the reflection. She was fiddling with the clasp on her bracelet and she still hadn’t put on her makeup. She was half dressed in her slip that was already wrinkled and her filmy stockings.
Can I help you? he said.
I’m having so much trouble with this, she said, not looking up.
He came up and put his arms around her from behind and closed the clasp so quickly it seemed a kind of magic.
Thank you, she said, still not looking up.
Is everything all right?
Now she looked at him. Her eyes seemed tired and small.
I don’t know, she said. But she did know. Then she said: I’m not feeling well.
She walked over to the bed and sat down.
You seemed okay a little while ago.
I know. But I’m not now. My head hurts. Maybe it’s the flu. I’m so sorry. I know how much you were looking forward to this.
I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. He was ready. He had on a suit and his best black shoes.
Then she stood up and ran to the bathroom. He held her hair out of her face. He offered to stay home.
No, Joe, you should go. Why don’t you see if Bud will go with you? He’s on his own tonight.
It was Christmas Eve. Outside there was a deep stillness and the neighborhood felt empty. Random noises shot through the darkness up to the window from time to time, a car honk, a child’s voice, suddenly piercing the blanket of quiet.
I can’t leave you home like this.
You can’t stay with me either. You’ll be miserable. You’ll make me miserable, she said, smiling. She was still in her slip with her bracelet still on and it rattled against the kettle when she poured water to make tea.
Go, she said. I wouldn’t feel right if you stayed. And when you come back you can tell me all about it.
When he called Vivian’s house her mother answered and she sounded weary and then surprised and delighted as if this would be the most exciting event of her evening. He was after all a distant relative by marriage and she was always happy to hear from family. He heard her call Vivian and he could imagine the dim rooms with dark rugs and the carved old-world furniture. He could see Vivian reading next to a lamp. She would be surprised to hear from him. She would think he had gone out for the holiday evening with Pearl. She had known about the plan and she had also asked him not to call so often. They had tried to stay away. She had said she didn’t want to see him if he couldn’t tell Pearl and so far he hadn’t. He couldn’t. He had tried once or twice but the words were trapped in his head like dice in a cup and the hand wouldn’t come off the top. But tonight he felt sure Vivian loved him. He could see her look up from her reading and hear his name and without thinking her body would bring her to him. He pictured her as she contained her pleasure. He saw her mother handing her the telephone. He pictured her mother walking off down a dim hall. He pictured the old man lying under heavy sheets in the bedroom, his vibrancy turned in on itself and his stillness a kind of ancient unwavering judgment. For a moment Joe felt afraid. And then it passed.
On Broadway a row of buildings that sat low and drab during the day were lit up like demented birthday cakes at night. The signs on the roofs blared with red and white and the words in gigantic black letters or scripted in flowing light spelled out the names of bandleaders or movie stars and biggest of all were the names of the places themselves like billboards for imaginary worlds. Loew’s Mayfair, Lindy’s restaurant, the Paradise, the Strand, the Winter Garden, the Rivoli, Casa Manana. The Cotton Club, the Brass Rail, the Roxy, the Capitol, the Continental, and Roseland.