The Age of Grief - Jane Smiley [18]
“That’s between you and Nancy. Ask her. It’s not my business.”
“But you know. And I’ve asked her. She’s said yes so many times to that question that it doesn’t mean anything anymore. You tell me. Does she still love me?”
“She hasn’t told me anything.”
“But you have your own opinion, don’t you?”
“I can’t see that that’s significant in any way.”
“Tell me what it is. Does she still love me?”
He seemed, with his chest, to be bearing down on her as she sat. She had lost all sense of where Nancy was, even whether she was still outside. Wherever she was, she was not coming to Lily’s aid. Perhaps she too was waiting for Lily’s opinion. Lily said, “No.”
“No, what? Is that your opinion?”
Surely Nancy would have stepped in by now. “No, it doesn’t seem to me that she loves you anymore.” Lily broke into a sweat the moment she stopped speaking, a sweat of instant regret. Kevin stepped back and Lily saw that Nancy was behind him, still and silent on the chaise longue. “Oh, Lord,” said Lily, standing up and taking her glass into the house.
The Humboldts stayed outside for a long time. Lily washed the dishes and got ready for bed; she was sitting on the cot in the guest room winding her clock when Nancy knocked on the door and came in. “We had a long talk,” she said, “and things are all right.”
“Did you—”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. This may be the best thing. At least I feel that I’ve gotten some things clear. And I think we’re going to leave very early in the morning, so I wish you wouldn’t get up.”
“But I—” Lily looked at Nancy for a moment, and then said, “Okay, I won’t. Thanks for stopping.”
“You can’t mean that, but I’ll write.” She closed the door and Lily put her feet under the sheet. There were no sounds, and after a while she fell asleep. She awoke to a rhythmic knocking. She thought at first of the door, but remembered that Nancy had closed it firmly. Then she realized that the blows were against the wall beside her head. She tried to visualize the other room. It would be the bed, and they would be making love. She picked up her clock and turned it to catch light from the street. It was just after midnight. She had been asleep, although deeply, for only an hour. The knocking stopped and started again, and it was irregular enough to render sleep unlikely for the time being. She smoothed her sheet and blanket and slid farther into the bed. Even after her eyes had adjusted, the room was dark; the streetlight was ten yards down, and there was no moon. Nancy and Kevin’s rhythmic banging was actually rather comforting, she thought. She lay quietly for a moment, and then sat up and turned on the light. She felt for her book under the bed. The banging stopped and did not start again, and Lily reached for the light switch, but as her hand touched it, Nancy cried out. She took her hand back and opened her book, and Nancy cried out again. Lily thought of the upstairs neighbor, whom she hadn’t heard all evening, and hoped he wasn’t in yet. The bed in the next room gave one hard bang against the wall, and Nancy cried out again. Lily grew annoyed at her lack of consideration. She put her feet on the floor. Once she had done that, she was afraid to do anything else. It was suddenly obvious to her that the cries had been cries of fear rather than of passion, and Lily was afraid to go out, afraid of what she might see in the next room. She thought of Kevin’s big chest and of Nancy’s carelessness about Kevin’s feelings. She opened the door. Lights were on everywhere, shocking her, and the noise of some kind of tussle came from their bedroom. Lily crept around the door and peeked in. Kevin had his back to her and was poised with one knee on the bed. All the bedcovers were torn off the bed, and Nancy, who had just broken free, was backed against the window. She looked at Lily for a long second and then turned her head so that Lily could see that her hair had been jaggedly cut off.