Damnation of Adam Blessing (13 page)

Billy slammed the door of the bathroom cabinet, colliding with Adam in the entranceway. “Get the hell out of here, will you, Addie, or do I have to call the manager!”

Adam was stunned. He had felt that everything had been going all right, and now Billy had suddenly turned on him, without any explanation.

“Billy,” said Adam, “it’s a wonder you have any friends.”

Billy looked as though he were actually going to punch Adam in the nose then, but as he took a step forward, a key turned in the lock, and into the room came Charity.

“Chary!” Adam said. There was a small spray of babies’-breath pinned to her light gray suit, and her black hair was piled on top of her head, and held by silver combs; and at her ears, silver loop earrings, like gypsys’, but she was not smiling, merely looking at Adam as though he were a bellhop or some other casual intruder. And again, Adam exclaimed, “Chary!” and began walking toward her.

All at once, she began to giggle, and the giggle grew into laughter, and Adam stood before her bewildered as she tossed her head back the way a man might, and laughed that very hard, wild, uncontrollable way there is of laughing.

“Oh my, migod,” she managed, before another fit of the same type laughter, while Adam stood very embarrassed, yet distracted from his embarrassment slightly by the thought that something was different about Chary.

“You’ve changed,” he said.

“I have, oh, Addie, my, migod!” and there seemed to be no end to her laughter.

Billy, who had come around to stand beside her, was even smiling, and for the barest few seconds Adam thought that here it was as he had always planned it, the three of them together, joking, old friends, and Adam grinned broadly, stroked his beard, his eyes twinkling at his friends. Ah, this is the way it should always have been, and would have been too had I ever caught up with you last fall … he said to them, “You know I’ve looked forward to this moment for eons!” And it dawned on him then why Chary looked different. She too had taken on some weight.

“Your added weight becomes you,” said Adam.

She had turned to Billy and was telling him something about train times. Adam tried to hear, but she spoke too low.

“But wait a minute,” Adam said, “We’re not going to leave it at this, are we? Aren’t we at least all going to have dinner tonight?”

“Out!” Billy said suddenly. He was pointing at the door with his finger, watching Adam carefully, waiting for Adam to go, of all things.

It must be a joke, and Adam laughed. “Down, boy!” he said, making his own joke. He smiled at Chary. “You really look good with that added weight. You ought to stay that way.”

She put her hand to her mouth, palm in, as though she were going to catch something — a pit of some sort, or as though she might cough or sneeze, and Adam was slightly surprised to see she was simply laughing again — trying hard not to, but there you are — it was laughter, choked back. He wondered if she were herself.

“Why is Chary so silly? Is she doped up or something?”

Adam thought of the way Timmy used to giggle just as the sleeping pills took; the way Timmy would chuckle in his sleep.

“Come on, Addie!” and now Billy was actually pulling Adam along by the arm.

“Make him stop, Char!” Adam said.

“That’s right, Adam. Ask a pregnant woman for help!” said Billy.

Pregnant. Chary was pregnant — that was the difference.

“It’s still not too late, Chary,” Adam said. “If you’re not happy, it’s my fault, and I’ll still — ” but he could not finish. He felt dizzy suddenly, very strange, and tired too. Gin always made him tired. “Let go, let go,” his own voice sounded far away to him, but Billy took his hands off Adam. He said, “Go on now, Addie. We try to be nice, but it’s way out of hand now.”

“Yes,” Adam said. “It is.”

He remembered something Melnik had said to him. “You didn’t get yourself into this mess because of that girl. You hardly know that girl. You can’t fight an enemy by boxing with the shadow.”

Billy was facing him then, and Adam staggered a bit as he moved toward him. He caught hold of Billy’s shoulders, and it was in his mind to strike Billy, but instead, he began to try to tickle him.

“What the hell!” Billy shoved him away.

“I only wanted you to laugh,” said Adam. He could see Charity’s face over Billy’s shoulder. The expression was grave now, she was frowning, and her eyes squinting, as though she must look very hard to believe what she saw.

Adam said, “Yes, it’s me, Chary. It’s Adam.”

“Billy, let’s get some help,” she said.

They were both regarding him in a most peculiar way, as though there were actually something very wrong with him.

Adam held his forehead with his hand. “I — have to use your bathroom,” he said.

“The hell — ” Billy started to say, but it was too late already. Suddenly before he could reach anywhere, Adam was ill. Over the noise of his own vomiting, he could hear Billy cursing, violently, obscenely. Chary had run to the telephone. Adam began to cry and vomit at the same time. Billy only cared about his suitcases, and he was busy pulling them out of the way, but they were already soiled.

Adam glanced at his watch. She was already ten minutes late. Later and later getting off to her meetings every time Ernesto came by. It had been going on for a month. He had moved into Dorothy’s small apartment on the Via Po, the day after Billy and Chary left Rome. Since then he had not touched liquor, not even so much as a glass of wine with his meals; and as he had promised Dorothy, he had not tried to communicate with Billy and Chary, though he knew the address of their apartment in Venice. Occasionally they sent Dorothy a card, and Adam thought how like Billy that was, to pretend a friendship with her, while he ignored Adam. Billy only did it to spite Adam, of that Adam was convinced, but he let Dorothy think what she wanted to.

“You should be glad they called me instead of the police,” Dorothy had said to him once.

“But I have no reason to fear the police,” Adam told her.

“You just don’t get the point, Adam” — her answer.

It was Dorothy Schackleford who did not get the point. She believed everything Billy said, all about Adam making Chary afraid that night he had gone to their room at the Mediterraneo, all about Adam acting “strangely,” every lie Billy told. Now she wanted to help Adam. Adam, she said, was an alcoholic. She had even tried to drag him to one of her “meetings.” “You can’t just wander around all day with nothing to do,” she said; “once you admit you’re an alcoholic, you’re free, Adam. You can look for work, do something with your life” … Adam smiled to himself. He had plans. He let her go on thinking that he had inherited the
Stammbuch
from Mrs. Auerbach, that he was living off
that
money. He even tolerated her harangues about his lack of feeling. Adam did not feel anything, she said, not for anyone. What was the matter with Adam anyway? … He supposed she had still never gotten over being stood up by Adam on the evening of Mrs. Auerbach’s service. Sometimes when she accused Adam of not even being grateful to Mrs. Auerbach for leaving him the
Stammbuch,
he felt like shouting out the truth. Instead, he sat listening to her with a small grin tipping his lips. He could take it. He knew the score. He could see that before very long, Dorothy Schackleford would turn against him too. Women had always let Adam down in a way that made him look as though he had done the wrong. More and more lately, he thought of the faceless woman plopped down on the straight-back wooden chair in the kitchen of years-ago: “And a lot
you
care!” she had said…. “And a lot
you
care!”

• • •

Dorothy Schackleford finally left for her meeting, not without admonishing Adam for the hundredth time, “Not even a beer now, Adam. Nothing!”

“She really has love for you, Adam,” said Ernesto.

“She wants to save me,” Adam said. They chuckled and Ernesto said, “Still — it is nice someone cares, ah?”

“If
someone does,” said Adam. “People have been known to marry people without caring for them, even have babies with them.”

“That again!” Ernesto grunted. “Hey, let’s go to the park! I have new things to work out with you, Adam.”

“I wish we would do more than talk,” Adam told him. “Isn’t our place built yet?”

“Adam, it is not America. You wait until you see poor little Civitavecchia. Labor is cheap, but not plentiful.”

“I want to see it,” said Adam. “Why can’t we go there and see it?”

Ernesto said, “In time. It will be a big surprise all at once. Then we’ll tell Dorothy all about it, too.”

Sometimes when Adam was alone during the daytime, when he took long walks through the Borghese Gardens, he fantasized that one day far-off, Luther Schneider would visit Civitavecchia, even bring Timmy with him. Adam would see that they got the best of everything. He would stop by their table and chat with them. In some of Adam’s fantasies, he would hand Schneider an envelope which contained every single cent he owed him, with interest besides. In others, he would hand Schneider a card which said:
ADAMO’S
, Civitavecchia, Italy — Manager: Adam Blessing. Owner: Luther Schneider.

Schneider would say: “You know, son, originally I expressed faith in you simply because I feared for Timmy’s safety. But now … Adam, I think of you the same way I think of Timmy.”

They would become devoted to one another, Schneider and Adam.

Schneider would say: “I love Timmy, but he’s never been a real son to me, poor little devil.
You
though, Adam — ”

Strolling by the ilex trees in the Villa Borghese that evening, Ernesto seemed worried.

“Is something going wrong, Ernesto?”

“You are perceptive, Adam, one of the most perceptive people I have ever known. It was not my intention to burden you with more troubles.”

“But, I haven’t had to do any of the worrying, Ernesto. You’ve done everything!”

It was true. Ernesto had handled everything. From the very beginning, when Adam had proposed the club in Civitavecchia, it was Ernesto who had gotten an architect to draw up the plans, hassled with builders for a moderate price, gone back and forth to Civitavecchia to pick the land, and oversee the installation of the groundwork; and it was Ernesto who had handled the whole emergency with the equipment, when the workers were drilling for water. Had it not been for his friend, that emergency would have cost Adam ten times the amount. Ernesto’s fiery ways, and his familiarity with the region and its people, had been a priceless asset. Ernesto had refused Adam’s offer of a regular salary. He had been hurt by it. Since his father had recovered so rapidly from his illness, there was no more emergency, Ernesto pointed out, and he would live on his savings until the club was operating. Adam was accustomed to Ernesto’s proud ways by now. As eager as he was to go to Civitavecchia with Ernesto and see the progress that had been made already, he understood Ernesto’s reluctance to have Adam see anything before it was perfect. In the past two weeks, he had snapped a few pictures of the place under construction, but even these he was apologetic about. “You really can’t tell how it will be,” he would say. “I hate to even show you them, but I know your eagerness.” Adam felt a thrill of accomplishment when he viewed the photographs. At last he was on his way to what Melnik had prescribed: a business of his own, and it would be a busy one at that.

“Adam, I worry. We are spending too much of your money.”

“But that isn’t so!”

“I feel bad about letting that rotten whore bribe you!”

“Forget that, Ernesto. A thousand dollars — that was cheap! Listen, I could have been taken for much more. Why won’t you let me tell you about it?”

Ernesto shook his head. “No. I don’t want to hear. I never should have taken you there in the first place. I feel bad about it.”

“We have so much to look forward to,” said Adam.

“I’ve forgotten all about that whore. Besides, I may not even have told her anything!”

“All the worse. I paid her your money for nothing then.”

Adam said, “Ernesto, I don’t care! I’ve forgotten it!” “Now in Civitavecchia, more bad news.” “Your father?”

Ernesto sighed and shook his head. “No, Adam. It’s the installation of the air-conditioning. The way it is now, the lines can’t hold that much power. If we are going to have air-conditioning throughout Adamo’s, we have to make arrangements for extra lines, to connect farther down. Otherwise we knock out everyone’s electricity in the area.”

“Is that all?” Adam laughed, and clapped his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “I thought your father was taking a turn for the worse.”

“I am a thrifty man, Adam.”

“I know, but we have to put more money into it, that’s all.”

“I worry that we will run out.”

“Dorothy’s been talking to you,” said Adam. “Isn’t that true?”

He knew that whenever Dorothy could, behind his back, she discussed Adam with Ernesto. It had been Ernesto’s idea to tell her that he was in Rome buying equipment for a new place on the coast — his folks’ place. Dorothy was always comparing Adam with Ernesto; look how busy
he
is, Adam; and aren’t you ashamed sometimes when Ernesto comes to visit and you see how hard
he’s
worked all week? … Again, Adam would sit listening with the grin tipping his lips … he would hear Dorothy off in the other room of her apartment, whispering to Ernesto about Adam’s need to be busy, about Adam’s money becoming depleted day by day…. Several times it had become nearly unbearable, and he had begged Ernesto to let him tell Dorothy, but always Ernesto wanted things to be perfect.

“She tells me you imagine things, Adam. Oh, I know women, but I don’t want you to pretend with me that you have more than you do.”

“I can prove it,” said Adam, “Let me prove it.”

“No, no, I don’t want any proof! I trust you. We’re partners.”

“Then what are you worried about?”

“I’m afraid you will be shocked by the amount we need next, Adam. I wonder if you realize how expensive these things are. Me, I’m experienced, even with a place as small as my family’s — but you, Adam.”

“Well?” said Adam. “How much?”

“Another $25,000,” Ernesto answered.

Adam laughed. “So! I’ll make a trip to New York! That amount I don’t have with me, but I can fly to New York and back in less than a week. To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t mind a trip. I think — ”

“I could probably get the figure down,” Ernesto said. “Say, $15,000.”

“Oh yes, I have that left. Yes.”

Ernesto slapped Adam’s knee. “Good! Then you don’t have to leave. I’ll get him down, Adam. I can. I can make different arrangements.”

“I don’t mind a trip. Really, Ernesto!” The more Adam thought about a quick trip to New York, the more the idea appealed to him.

“No!” Ernesto said flatly.

“Why?”

“Because I need your advice, my friend. This is a crucial time. We are nearing completion.” “But it would only take me — ”

“No, Adam!”

Adam was surprised at the sharp tone. He turned and looked at his friend’s face…. But Ernesto smiled then, the large white smile which always reassured Adam: “Adam,” said Ernesto, “I have a fear of planes and of friends on them. Now you will not have to fly in an airplane, and I am glad!”

• • •

The next day at breakfast, Adam read in a guidebook of a shop named Sirotta on Via Sistina. Among the various items the shop specialized in, the words “babies’ bibs” had caught Adam’s eye.