Freedom [52]
“Westchester County.”
“Same as me. Though presumably a different part of Westchester.”
“Well, the suburbs.”
“Definitely a different part than Yonkers.”
“I’ve seen Yonkers from the train a bunch of times.”
“Exactly my point.”
“So are you driving to New York?” Patty said.
“Why?” Richard said. “You need a ride?”
“Well, maybe! Are you offering one?”
He shook his head. “Have to think about it.”
Poor Walter’s eyes were falling shut, he literally was not seeing this negotiation. Patty herself was breathless with the guilt and confusion of it and crutched herself speedily toward the front door, where, at a distance, she called out a thank-you to him for the evening.
“I’m sorry I got so tired,” he said. “Are you sure I can’t drive you home?”
“I’ll do it,” Richard said. “You go to bed.”
Walter definitely looked miserable, but it might only have been his exhaustion. Out on the street, in the conducive air, Patty and Richard walked in silence until they got to his rusty Impala. Richard seemed to take care not to touch her while she got herself seated and handed him her crutches.
“I would have thought you’d have a van,” she said when he was sitting beside her. “I thought all bands had vans.”
“Herrera has the van. This is my personal conveyance.”
“This is what I’d be riding to New York in.”
“Yeah, listen.” He put the key in the ignition. “You need to fish or cut bait here. Do you understand me? It’s not fair to Walter otherwise.”
She looked straight ahead through the windshield. “What isn’t fair?”
“Giving him hope. Leading him on.”
“That’s what you think I’m doing?”
“He’s an extraordinary person. He’s very, very serious. You need to take some care with him.”
“I know that,” she said. “You don’t have to tell me that.”
“Well, so, what did you come over here for? It seemed to me—”
“What? What did it seem to you?”
“It seemed to me like I was interrupting something. But then, when I tried to get away . . .”
“God, you really are a jerk.”
Richard nodded as if he couldn’t care less what she thought of him, or as if he were tired of stupid women saying stupid things to him. “When I tried to get away,” he said, “you seemed not to want to take the hint. Which is fine, that’s your choice. I just want to make sure you know you’re kind of tearing Walter apart.”
“I really don’t want to talk about this with you.”
“Fine. We won’t talk about it. But you’ve been seeing a lot of him, right? Practically every day, right? For weeks and weeks.”
“We’re friends. We hang out.”
“Nice. And you know the situation in Hibbing.”
“Yes. His mom needs help with the hotel.”
Richard smiled unpleasantly. “That’s what you know?”
“Well, and his dad’s not well, and his brothers aren’t doing anything.”
“And that’s what he’s told you. That’s the extent of it.”
“His dad has emphysema. His mom has disabilities.”
“And he’s working construction twenty-five hours a week and pulling down As in law school. And there he is, every day, with all that time to hang out with you. How nice for you, that he has so much free time. But you’re a good-looking chick, you deserve it, right? Plus you’ve got your terrible injury. That and being good-looking: that earns you the right not to even ask him any questions.”
Patty was burning with her feeling of injustice. “You know,” she said unsteadily, “he talks about what a jerk you are to women. He talks about that.”
This seemed not to interest Richard in the slightest. “I’m just trying to understand this in the context of your being such pals with wee Eliza,” he said. “It’s making more sense to me now. It didn’t when I first saw you. You seemed like a nice suburban girl.”
“So I’m a jerk, too. Is that what you’re saying? I’m a jerk and you’re a jerk.”
“Sure. Whatever you like. I’m Not OK, You’re Not OK. Whatever. I’m just asking you not to be a jerk to Walter.”
“I’m not!”
“I’m simply telling you what I see.”
“Well, you see wrong. I really like Walter. I really care about him.”
“And yet you’re apparently unaware that his dad’s dying of liver disease and his older brother’s in jail for