Brass Bed (12 page)

She took her cheek off my hand and looked at me, and it was remarkable but true that even after jumping into a river and being badgered by a sheriff she was still incredibly lovely and somehow untouched and possessed of a kind of pathetic dignity.

“If that is how you feel,” she said, “I suppose I will have to go.”

She walked over to the Caddy, and Sid followed her. Fran turned to Harvey and shook her head regretfully.

“Under the circumstances,” she said, “I will have to go also.”

“It looks like it,” he said.

The Caddy left. I sat down on the ground, and Harvey sat down beside me, and the cabin and the clearing and the river were no longer the familiar features of a fine and comforting place to fish, but the strange and threatening remnants of an ugly, ending world.

“Do you mind my saying that I think you were pretty rough on Jolly under the circumstances, old boy?” Harvey said.

“Yes, I do. I mind.”

“Well, you are upset, and I must say it’s no wonder. I guess this place will never seem the same again, will it?”

“I guess it won’t.”

He looked off across the river and thought about something for a while. Then he stood up. “I think I’ll pick up a few of the cans,” he said.

W
E RETURNED
to town that evening, and it was dusk when Harvey let me out in front of the house I lived in. The street lamps were on, and the lights in the houses, and there were live things making noises in the trees. “Won’t you come up?” I said.

“No,” he said, “I think I had better get along if you don’t mind.”

“It’s all right. I don’t mind.”

“I’m sorry for what happened, old boy.”

“I’m sorry too, but it can’t be helped now.”

He drove away with the boat on the trailer behind the car, and I went upstairs to the apartment. I opened the windows, and the dead air stirred, the cooler night air moving into it from outside, and I undressed in the dark room and put on a robe and went down the hall to the bathroom and had a shower. When I returned, the room was already considerably cooler, and I put on a clean pair of shorts and sat on the bed in the shorts in the dark, feeling the air move on my skin and staring at a white blur in the corner of the room which was a blank sheet of paper in my typewriter. I wondered if the novel about the goliard would ever get finished, which didn’t seem at all likely the way things were going, and I wondered if it would ever get published, even if it got finished, and this also seemed very unlikely in the general run of luck as it was.

It is possible that it happened just the way she said,
I thought.
It is entirely possible. Perhaps he stood up in a spirit of anger or of amorousness and started toward her and simply lost his balance and fell. Perhaps the boat had
drifted far enough away by the time he came up so that he could not reach it, and perhaps, as she said, the first thing that occurred to her was to jump in after him and try to save him, and if that is what she thought and tried to do, it was really a brave and commendable thing, though possibly mistaken. He was very big and strong, much too big and strong for so slight a woman, and if he was terrified and fought her, as frightened people are supposed to do in the water, it is certain that she could not have held him or helped him or prevented his slipping away.

This is what I thought. I lay on my back on the bed and tried to hold the thought in my mind until it became strong and secure and sure of itself, but I began to think in spite of myself of how she had wished that he would die, and how she had said that he was afraid of the water and could not swim, and how right afterward in time that seemed far too short he had in fact died, as she had wished, of drowning, as she had mentioned. I closed my eyes, and at once behind my lids I saw her bend forward in the boat and say something to him and motion him to come to her, and he stood up precariously and moved toward her in the boat, and when he came very near she rose suddenly and pushed him, and he went over into the dark water. I opened my eyes to erase the sight, but the figures only moved out into the darkness of the room above me, and they seemed somehow to be illuminated so that the darkness did not obscure them, and he was in the water reaching for the boat, and she took one of the oars and struck at him, and he disappeared and was gone.

It was impossible to lie there and see these things and to think of what she had said and what had happened, and so I got up after a while and decided that it would be helpful to listen to some music. I had always listened a great deal to music, though I had no musical talent myself, but lately I had got out of the habit because of various things that interfered, and now I went over to the automatic phonograph in the dark and got out the albums of Beethoven from memory. The symphonies were in numerical order, and I selected by touch the odd numbered ones, the third and the seventh and the ninth, excluding the fifth, and I played these softly in ascending order, and this took quite a long while, especially because of the ninth, which is a very long symphony even as symphonies go. I was right in thinking that they might be helpful, and by the time the ninth had finished playing I had decided that there was something that I would do. I thought at first that I might do it right then, that night, but then I decided that I would do it instead in the morning, and what I thought I would do was to go to Jolly and ask her directly how it had happened, and whatever she told me was what I would always believe afterward. After deciding this, I felt relaxed and much better, and I lay down on the bed again and was able after a while to go to sleep.

When I awoke in the morning, which was the morning of Sunday, it was just beginning to get light, even though the days were still long, and so I knew it was very early. I dressed and made some coffee and drank it and thought about going to Jolly’s. Since it was so early, I decided that I would walk in order to give time a chance to pass, and I went downstairs and started. It was quite a long way and took quite a long while, but when I got there it was still very early to be getting anywhere on a Sunday morning. I rang the bell and waited, but no one came. There was usually a maid around, but she only came in during the day, and chances were she didn’t come in at all Sundays, and at any rate she certainly wasn’t there at this time. Trying the door and finding it unlocked in keeping with Jolly’s fine attitude of indifference toward such things, I opened it and went into the hall and upstairs to the hall there and down the hall to Jolly’s room.

To that time, I had never been in the room, though I had received a couple of invitations, and I stopped inside the door and looked at things. There were some sleek, low pieces of furniture nestled in the deep pile of a white carpet, and across the room between two windows, as incongruous as an old-fashioned spittoon in a modern lounge, was a high brass bed with a high polish, and in the bed, an orchid growing in the spittoon, was Jolly asleep.

I went over and sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at her, and she looked like a small girl, a child, and very lovely. I wanted to kiss her, but I didn’t, and she must have felt me there, a feeling that penetrated sleep and drew her slowly to awareness, because after a while her eyes opened and widened as she looked up at me, and she smiled slowly and lifted her arms.

“Darling,” she said.

“I was just sitting here wanting to kiss you,” I said.

“Did you do it?”

“No.”

“Why not? You know very well that I am always more than willing. Would you like to kiss me now?”

“Yes.”

“Then I suggest that you do it at once.”

I did. I leaned over and kissed her and sat up again.

“I’m very happy that you’ve come,” she said.

“Are you?”

“Yes, I am. Very happy. Would you like to come to bed with me?”

“I would like to, but I won’t.”

“Why are you here, then? It must be very early.”

“It’s pretty early, all right. I came because I wanted to see you and couldn’t wait any longer.”

“That’s nice. It gives me pleasure to know that you want to see me. Have you been here before? I can’t quite remember.”

“No. This is the first time.”

“Well, it is good that you are getting used to it immediately now that things have changed for the better. Do you like my room?”

“I like it fine, but there is something about it that I can’t understand.”

“What is it?”

“This bed. It’s old-fashioned and ugly and doesn’t fit.”

“It is not ugly. As I see it, it is beautiful.”

“Really? How do you see it?”

“What I mean is, it has significance and stands for something.”

“I’m afraid I still don’t understand.”

“Do you want to? Are you sure you actually do? I’ll explain it if you do, because I love you and will tell you anything, but perhaps it is something you should simply quit wondering about.”

“No. I would rather understand about it.”

“All right, then. It is necessary to tell you that I was very poor as a child. Do you know what poor means? Sometimes it means not having anything but what is necessary, but other times it means not even having the necessary things, and that is what it meant in my case. I didn’t have any father that I can remember, you understand, and my mother worked around at things but was unable to earn much money. This was her bed. I bought it for her when I was quite young. All her life she had wanted a bright brass bed, because it was to her a symbol of luxury and amounting to something, and it’s rather pathetic to think that such a thing could be such a symbol, and maybe that will make you understand how bad it was with her. She got sick and was dying, and it didn’t look like she was ever going to have the brass bed, so I went out and got it for her. Fortunately, I was very pretty, and once I had got the idea of how to do it, it was not difficult. I went out and met this man who had quite a lot of money, and he gave me some of it when he was finished with me. He was not a bad sort of man, quite generous and considerate, and I remember him kindly. With the money he gave me, I was able to buy the brass bed, and my mother slept in it for almost a year and died in it, and it made her happy.”

She stopped telling me about it, and her eyes were deep and quiet and did not seem to mirror pain or regret or any particular pride, and I felt sick, and I loved her, but it was an afflicted love.

“All right,” I said. “You don’t have to tell any more.”

“Well, there really isn’t anything more to tell. Do you mind a great deal that I got the bed the way I did?”

“I think I can understand it.”

“Honestly? Do you also understand why I have kept it and why it is significant?”

“Yes. It is a symbol of having plenty instead of nothing or very little. As things developed, it became the symbol of Kirby’s money. I told you two days ago that you would not divorce him because of the money, just as you will not give up this bed as the symbol of it, and that is now more apparent to me than ever.”

“I concede that it’s true, and the part about the religion was only something I tried to believe. Fortunately, however, it is now not necessary either to divorce Kirby or to give up the money. Everything has suddenly become quite simple.”

“Has it?”

“Yes, of course it has. Surely you can see that.”

“I was wondering if everything hasn’t become hopelessly complicated.”

“Oh, nonsense, Felix. Why do you want to talk like that? It is apparent that we can now get married comfortably, and that’s all there is to it.”

“Don’t you think we had at least better wait until after Kirby’s body has been found?”

She took a deep breath and held it for a moment, and a little color came out in spots above the bones of her cheeks, and I thought at first that she was angry, but then I saw that she was only puzzled and perhaps a little hurt.

“Why did you say that?” she said. “Do you think that I should be sorry that Kirby is dead?”

“It’s not a small thing for a man to die. Maybe we should all be sorry.”

“I can’t follow that, Felix. I really can’t. It is quite obvious that he was an impediment and that everything is much better now that he is dead. Why on earth should we be sorry?”

“I know. I’m befuddled again. I don’t think clearly.”

“That’s true. You don’t. I love you very much and all that, but I am bound to say that you permit yourself to become confused by the most transparent things.”

“Not you, though. You not only think very clearly, but it seems that you have some kind of power to influence events by it.”

“It is simply impossible for me to know what you are talking about, Felix.”

“You wished he would die, and he did.”

“Lots of people wish other people would die, and eventually they do.”

“You said he was afraid of water and could not swim, and almost at once he died of drowning.”

Again she took a deep breath and held it and after a moment said a little sadly, “Do you think I did it deliberately? Do you think I drowned him?”

“Did you?”

“Would it change things between us if I did?”

“It would change things a great deal.”

“Do you mean that you would not love me any longer?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t think I could quit loving you for any reason whatever, but I would probably never look at you or touch you or have anything to do with you again.”

“In that case, I had better tell you nothing at all.”

“Don’t you even deny it?”

“I do not wish to deny it. I have told you that I love you, and whatever has happened has been for our good, and now it seems that you have no faith in me and only wish to persecute me without reason.”

“I do not wish to persecute you. If you say you didn’t do it, I will believe you and never mention it again.”

“No. Truly, Felix, I am quite angry with you now, and I will not say anything one way or the other. You must make up your own mind about it, and if that is impossible for you to do, I guess it is something you will always have to wonder about.”

“It would not be pleasant to wonder always about something like that.”

“Then you had better come to a decision and quit wondering. Why is it that you must simply try your hardest to spoil everything just when it should be so fine for us? I confess that I am finding you rather depressing.”