The Marriage Plot - Jeffrey Eugenides [198]
Madeleine shifted abruptly, as if wrong-footed by a serve. “I just came to see if you were ready to leave,” she said quietly.
“I do want to leave. But first I want to finish this conversation.”
She looked at Mitchell as if he might object. But he seemed eager to have her leave as well. And so she gave a little wave, trying to seem in command of things, and backed out of the room.
Returning to the party, she tried to resume enjoying herself. But she was too preoccupied. She wondered what Leonard and Mitchell were talking about. She worried that they were talking about her. Seeing Mitchell had stirred up an emotion that Madeleine couldn’t quite identify. It was as if she was excited and regretful at the same time.
After fifteen minutes, Leonard finally came out of the bedroom, saying he wanted to go. He didn’t meet her eyes. When she said she wanted to say goodbye to Kelly, he told her he’d wait for her outside.
Madeleine was acutely aware, as she found Kelly and thanked her again for helping find her a place, that Mitchell was still somewhere at the party. She didn’t want to talk to him alone, because her life was already complicated enough. She didn’t want to explain her situation or face his recriminations or feel whatever talking to him might make her feel. But as she was just about to leave, she caught sight of him and paused, and he came up to her.
“I guess I should say congratulations,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“That was kind of sudden. Your wedding.”
“It was.”
“I guess that makes you a Stage One.”
“I guess it does.”
Mitchell was wearing flip-flops and jeans with the bottoms rolled up. His feet were very white. “Did you get my letter?” he asked.
“What letter?”
“I sent you a letter. From India. At least I think I did. I was somewhat high at the time. You really didn’t get it?”
“No. What did it say?”
He was looking at her as if he didn’t believe her. It made her uncomfortable.
“I’m not sure it matters now,” he said.
Madeleine glanced toward the front door. “I have to go,” she said. “Where are you staying?”
“On Schneider’s couch.”
They stood smiling at each other for a long moment, and then suddenly Madeleine reached out and rubbed Mitchell’s head. “What did you do with your curls!” she groaned. Mitchell kept his head down while she ran her hand over the bristles on his scalp. When she stopped, he lifted his face. With his hair buzzed off, his big eyes looked even more imploring.
“Are you coming into the city again?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I might.” She glanced toward the door again. “If I do, I’ll call you. Maybe we could have lunch or something.”
There was nothing left to do but hug him. As she did, Madeleine was startled by Mitchell’s pungent smell. It felt almost too intimate to breathe it in.
Leonard was smoking in the corridor when she came out. He looked for some place to toss his cigarette but, finding none, carried it into the elevator. As the car descended, Madeleine leaned against his shoulder. She felt a little drunk. “That was fun,” she said. “Did you have a good time?”
Leonard tossed the butt on the floor, crushing it with his shoe.
“Does that mean no?”
The door opened and Leonard walked through the lobby without a word. Madeleine followed him out to the sidewalk, where she finally said, “What’s the matter with you?”
Leonard faced her. “What’s the matter with me? What do you think? I’m depressed, Madeleine. I’m suffering from depression.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? I’m not so sure you do. Otherwise you might not say stupid things like that.”
“All I did was ask you if you had a good time! God!”
“Let me tell you what happens when a person’s clinically depressed,” Leonard began in his infuriating doctorly mode. “What happens is that the brain sends out a signal that it’s dying. The depressed brain sends out this signal, and the body receives it, and after a while, the body thinks it’s dying too. And then it begins to shut down. That’s why depression hurts, Madeleine. That’s why it’s physically painful. The brain thinks it’s dying, and so the body thinks it