Gryphon_ New and Selected Stories - Charles Baxter [32]
“I know.” She looks at him, top to bottom. “Get out and come over on this side,” she says. “I’ll drive back to my place. I don’t want you driving anymore.”
“All right.” He does as he is told. Now, with Meredith behind the wheel, he sits back, and the pain in his cheek flares up. She is driving. Harrelson does not know where they are. He feels sleepy. She is saying something, but he is not quite sure that it makes any sense. Then the car is parked and Meredith has helped him out, and he is sitting in her living room, his face washed lightly with a washcloth, his cut covered with antiseptic cream. Meredith’s radio is on, and Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau is singing.
Habe ja doch nichts begangen
Dass ich Menschen sollte scheu’n—
Welch’ ein törichtes Verlangen
Treibt mich in die Wüstenei’n?
“ ‘I’ve done no wrong,’ ” Harrelson translates, hoping to impress Meredith, “ ‘to shun other men, so what is it that sends me out into the wilderness?’ ”
“That’s the song?”
“That’s it.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. It’s German.”
“I know,” she says. “Isn’t it interesting?”
“I guess so.”
“There.” She is finished cleaning Harrelson’s cheek. “It’s a smaller cut than I thought. Aren’t you going to take off your jacket?” He nods but does nothing. She unzips it and helps him out of it. He is not really looking toward her but toward the stereo radio. “Poor John,” she says. “But listen: thanks for getting me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t realize how drunk you were.”
He waves his hand. “That’s all right.”
“Are you cold?” He nods. “Come in and take a warm bath.” She leads him into the bathroom and sits him down while she fills the tub. The warmth in the bathroom makes him sleepy again. He feels her taking his clothes off and helping him into the bathwater. The water’s heat is intensely painful on his chilled feet, like ice picks thrust into the skin. She is still talking. He is bent over in the water, looking at the hair on his legs. “I’ve made a decision,” she is saying. “I’m not going to marry you.”
Harrelson nods. “I know.”
“How did you know? I’ve only just decided.”
“I just knew.” He does not look at her.
“I decided a few days ago. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.” He puts his hand on the surface of the bathtub water and moves it back and forth, creating waves.
“I need more security than you can give me,” she says. “I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.”
“Of course.” Now he turns his head toward her. “Please don’t say any more.”
“I won’t.”
“Thank you.” He takes the soap and washes his arms and chest. “You know, I don’t feel very good.”
“Where?” she asks. “Is it your face?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t feel very good anywhere.”
She stands up and turns away. She opens the medicine cabinet and examines the bottles. “Want some aspirin?”
“No.”
He rises to his feet unsteadily in the tub. Meredith turns around, then takes his hand. With her other hand she reaches for a towel and dries him off. “You need some sleep,” she says. “We both need some sleep.” They walk together toward the bedroom, and Harrelson slips between the cold sheets. He hears the radio being turned off. In a moment, Meredith is in her nightgown, next to him. “We can still be friends,” she says.
“Yes.”
She leans over toward him and kisses him lightly. “We can still make love. There’s no harm in that.” His eyes are closed, but he nods. “Do you want to?”
“No,” he whispers. “I don’t.”
“Maybe next time,” she says. “When you haven’t had so much to drink.” He nods, then reaches his arms around her and rests his hands in their accustomed place below her breasts. As he falls asleep, Harrelson realizes that, after all, they are friends. Meredith does not think he will ever be a husband. Probably she is right. He does not have it in him to take care of another human being. It will never happen. As he drifts over, Harrelson has a premonition that he may not live for long. With what resistance he has left, he dismisses the idea as weakness, a bout of self-pity.
As soon as he is asleep, he finds himself in the company