Mr Peanut - Adam Ross [137]
He started his van.
I don’t care if I ever see you again, he thought.
He was a little late to the Houks’, not that Ethel cared. Now Mrs. Houk, there was a nice lady. Somebody who never deserved anything bad happening to her. Same for Mr. Houk, not only the mayor but also the town’s best butcher, and if he was there when Eberling finished up he sometimes gave him a New York strip as a gratuity, pressing down on the cold, moist paper it was wrapped in. “Rub it in olive oil,” Houk said, “sprinkle salt and pepper liberally, then four minutes high flame, no more, each side. But the secret, the most important thing, is to let it rest. Understand? Let the meat sit for half the time it’s cooked so all the juices spread.” Houk shook his finger at Eberling, then smacked him once on the cheek, like a father might have.
Eberling was only doing Mrs. Houk’s windows today, though that was plenty to do before racing to the Humphries’, and then he was finished.
I don’t care if I never see you again, he thought, leaning out the Houks’ second-story window, then he heard someone say his name. He thought it was Mrs. Houk and answered, and he pulled himself in to sit on the sill, waiting for his eyes to adjust, and then Marilyn emerged from that black pool.
“Hello, Mrs. Sheppard.”
She seemed a little winded, maybe from the stairs, but was smiling at him brightly, just the way she had a few days ago, and the sight of her was so overwhelming it confirmed for him that we’re afraid of what we want. He couldn’t look at her for fear he might laugh or cower, might give himself away, so he stared at the floor. She was talking very quietly. Eberling knew how sound carried in every house as if each were a fine instrument. Mrs. Houk couldn’t hear them now, but Marilyn was making sure.
“I was thinking about next week,” she said, “and I was wondering if you could come over on Monday instead.”
He could hear her swallow nervously. It was impossible that she was here, it was a dream, and he was so completely unseated he couldn’t speak.
“Come over in the afternoon,” she said. “Chip could go next door for a while. He won’t bother us.”
Eberling, still looking at the floor, was smiling too.
“Like I said, you could bring your swim trunks.” She moved closer to him. “We could play.”
He sat there silently, not moving a muscle.
“Would you like that?” she said.
“Yes,” he said. “But … ”
“But what?”
What was that he hadn’t imagined this. It was all so much stranger, so much more wonderful, that he told her now what he’d thought all day. “I wish it were sooner,” he said. Now that it was out, he braced himself for impact. This was the penultimate step before telling her anything he wanted from here on out, and he trembled.
“I wish it were sooner too,” she said, lowering her head and speaking even more softly. “I wish it were tonight.”
He exhaled loudly, through his nostrils, and looked up, feeling suddenly angry. If this was Mrs. Bradford, none of this would mean a thing to him. But this was different entirely. This was love. “Mrs. Sheppard, will you tell me something?”
“Certainly.”
“You’re not lying to me, are you?”
“Of course not,” she said.
“You could like somebody like me?”
“Yes,” she said.
“For a long time?”
She laughed her nasty laugh, a laugh that had confidence in it, conviction. “Why not?”
He looked down again, smiling at the floor. Dr. Sam wasn’t here now, he thought. It was finally just the two of them.
“Monday, then?” she said.
He nodded.
“I have to go.”
And she left.
For the rest of his time at the Houks’ and later at the Humphries’ he went through the motions stunned. Occasionally he’d catch a glimpse of his reflection doubly reflected, like when he cleaned the mirrors in the Humphries’ bathroom and could see both his back and his profile, as if he’d come upon a stranger, and he took stock of himself. He was strong-armed, wiry, tanned from mornings and afternoons hanging out of windows. He had ideas. He’d do great things! He’d look back on this as the very beginning. He’d always remember it because