The Girl With the Glass Heart: A Novel (21 page)

Jay watched Elly’s long brown legs as her skirt flared around her, his eyes not following the ball but moving with her. Elly played well and he knew Alec was good. The bantering had stopped and a kind of change had come over the game. They were no longer floating about at will, returning the ball easily. They had become intent and Jay couldn’t tell who had changed the quality, brought about this metamorphosis. The serving became more forceful, their movements more careful, purposive. Jay almost cried out, “Hey!” but thought better of it. It occurred to him that they would not have noticed his call. The
plop
had become a
slap
now, the light drenching them clearer and colder. Jay noticed the grass on which he lay was moist and he shifted his position to avoid a cramp.

The moon was behind a long stretch of clouds and from somewhere Jay heard the
scrush
of tires on pavement, far away. Alec was returning Elly’s short hard strokes with powerful little blocking swings. He was on the defensive, backing farther away from the net. A little frightened for no definite reason, Jay stood up and, brushing the grasslets from his clothes, moved a little closer. He saw that Alec’s face was dripping perspiration. “Isn’t that enough—?” he started to call out, when, both of them quite near the net, Elly sent the ball stinging hard, right at Alec’s throat. It glanced off the side of his neck and Elly dropped her racket instantly, vaulted the net and threw her arms around Alec who was massaging his neck furiously.

“Did I hurt you, Alec? I didn’t mean to, honest. How does it feel?”

“It’s okay, baby, it’s fine. Sobered me up, anyway. My head’s clear now.”

He dropped his racket, too, and hugged her to him. What is it with these two? Jay wondered, seeing them clasped together in the middle of the brilliantly lighted court, like the last scene of a movie. There was, he sensed, between Alec and his niece some bond which was more complex than either of them knew. It was possible, he thought, that each one’s conception of the relationship was something quite different. The sudden ferocity with which a dreamlike volleying, with a drunken vagueness, had been transformed into a contest, sharp, clear and with overtones of violence, hinted at an involvement neither one could be quite aware of.

They walked toward Jay, arms still around each other, Alec mopping his face with a handkerchief and breathing heavily.

“I’m not the man I used to be,” he panted.

“That’s true.” Jay laughed, a little nervously. “Of course you didn’t used to be much.”

“That’s true too,” Alec replied.

“Leave him alone,” Elly said. “He’s fine.”

Aside from a few pearls of moisture along her upper lip she appeared cool. She might have just returned from a stroll in the garden.

Alec winced and touched his neck gingerly. “I’d better rub that with oil of wintergreen,” he said.

They went inside and closed the door as a long, blue Cadillac rolled up the front driveway and into the garage. Max helped Rose out and stumbled over a watering can, catching his balance before he fell.

“Damn!” he said. “Justin shouldn’t leave things like that lying around.”

“This is where they belong. Where do you want he should put it?” Rose replied. “I’m tired. Let’s go right to sleep.”

“You go. I have a little work to do,” Max said as they approached the house.

“Work, shmirk. You mean you can’t sleep lately. That’s no way to live, Max. You work hard. You can’t live on four hours’ sleep a night.”

Max shrugged. “What can I do? The doctor says nothing is wrong. And sleeping pills I will
not
take. Once you start with those you’re a dead duck.”

“I don’t see why. Don’t I take bromides—triple, sometimes—for my head? And am I a dead duck?”

Max patted her on her heavily rouged cheek. “No, Rose darling,” he said as he opened the door for her. “You’re a regular live
kotchka
.”

“Well—” she laughed—“maybe not a
kotchka
. I’m forty-eight next year, but I’m nobody’s dead duck.”

“That’s it,” he said earnestly. “Those headaches’ll go, you’ll see. It’s just change of life. My mother had them for ten years and then—” he snapped his fingers—“they went away, just like that.”

“Your mother!” Rose said. “What are you comparing? Your mother was a neurosis. She had headaches from being a neurosis. Ask Elly.”

“A neurotic, Rose, not neurosis.”

“Who, Elly?”

“No, my mother, and she wasn’t. But never mind. Just wait. They’ll go away.”

“I’ve had them for four years. If I have to wait another six I’ll die before they go away.”

“Don’t be in such a hurry to die. Just go to sleep. Where’re Mimi and Justin?”

“Mimi went to the movies. Justin’s here somewhere. The kitchen, maybe. Whose coats are these, Max? Oh, Max, maybe Alec came!”

“No, it’s too soon. Not for another three days I wouldn’t expect him.”

Jay stepped out of the room, his sleeves rolled up, carrying a bottle of oil of wintergreen and some soiled cotton swabs. When he saw the Kaufmans standing there staring at him he stopped short.

“Hello!” he said. “I’m Jay Gordon. I’m a friend of Alec’s.”

“You see!” Rose exclaimed. “I told you he came. I’m sorry. I’m Alec’s sister-in-law, Rose Kaufman. This is my husband.”

“I’m pleased to know you,” Jay said, and extended an arm, only then realizing that his hands were full.

“Are you a doctor?” Max asked worriedly. “Is Alec sick? Or Elly?”

“No, no—” the door to Elly’s room opened behind him and Elly emerged—“we were just rubbing Alec’s neck with this stuff. He—”

“He hit his neck coming out of the car,” Elly interpolated swiftly.

Jay turned, saw Elly and said nothing.

“Let me take all that,” Rose said, removing the bottle and cotton from Jay’s hands. “Come in. I’m so surprised I’m giving you such a welcome. Come inside and sit down.” She hurried off to the kitchen.

“Is Alec lying down?” Max asked. “Where is he? Of course, he’s in Elly’s room! Where else?” He turned to Jay and made a circular movement with one finger around Elly’s hair. “They’re so close, the two of them.” He opened the door.

Alec was taking a shower in Elly’s adjoining bathroom and Max could hear him whistling. He felt his throat relax and only then realized how tense he had been since hearing Alec was home. If he was whistling, how upset or angry at Max could he be? Blood is thicker than water, Max thought. Brothers are brothers. The Rabbi was right. It was good to forbid the girl to come. She would have felt out of place, anyway. No matter how nice a person might be, in a family Jews and
goyim
just didn’t mix. In business is something else yet. You deal with everybody. And he could think of a few business people too who weren’t too happy at having to deal with a man named Kaufman. But they made adjustments. Mainly it was Rose. She would never make that adjustment.

“Alec!” Max called. “How’s your neck? And how are you?”

Alec shouted over the din of the shower, “Be out in a minute!”

As he scrubbed, Alec tried to work out the manner in which he wanted to behave toward his brother. There was no doubt in his mind that in this case Max was not just giving in to Rose’s pressures, but that he really felt strongly about Annette. He was fighting a taboo as strong as any that ever existed in any culture anywhere. He had neglected to add, when he had told Elly years before, “Find your own kind,” that “kind” had nothing to do with religion. He was sure she liked Annette and would help as much as she could. What had come over them to play an insane tennis game at night, ten minutes after he had arrived dead drunk? His neck still felt sore. Well, being stuck at home, Elly hadn’t lost any of that wild quality he loved in her.

He decided to be a trifle aloof until Max declared himself. Paddling into the other room in bare feet he greeted his brother. “Hello, Max,” he said quietly. “It’s good to see you.” He sat down on the bed and proceeded to dry his feet.

“Is that all you’ve got to say?” Max grabbed him by the shoulders and hugged him. “I haven’t seen you for three years, Alec. You look fine. Just fine.”

“You should have seen me a half hour ago. I didn’t look so fine then.”

“What was the matter?”

“I was drunk.”

“Drunk? Why drunk? What kind of a business is that when you’re coming home—to get drunk.”

“Because I was stupid enough to come without Annette.”

“But I thought when your wire arrived saying you were coming, I thought—”

“That we were through? Huh-uh.”

“All right, Alec. We’ll talk about it. And I wouldn’t mention to Rose about your being drunk and all that.”

“There wasn’t any all that. I was just drunk, that’s all. So would anybody be if Annette had left them.”

“She left you, Alec?”

“She did.”

“Because of us?”

Alec nodded.

“Maybe it’s for the best.”

“That’s a lot of crap, Max, and I don’t want to talk about it now any more.”

Max stood up. “All right. Get dressed. Have you eaten?”

“No, and I’m starved. Oh, I almost forgot. I haven’t really seen it, but this is quite a house. Quite a house.”

“We’re happy here. Rose and I are, anyway.”

“And Elly isn’t.”

“Who knows what will make her happy? I don’t. But I know she’s not. You know what she’s said to me a couple of times, Alec? Nothing will ever be enough. What does a young girl mean by that? Nothing will ever be enough. What kind of talk is that? She’s got a beautiful home and everything she could want. But nothing will ever be enough. Can you figure it out?”

“I don’t know, Max. Elly’s an unusual girl. There are some people who reach and reach and don’t know and don’t care what they’re reaching for.”

“Are you talking about Elly or about yourself, Alec?” Max smiled.

“Who knows?” Alec returned the smile for the first time since Max had entered the room.

“Get dressed,” Max said, “and come out. I’ll show you and your friend around the house. You didn’t tell us you were bringing anyone, but he’s welcome of course.”

I handled that pretty well, Alec was thinking as he dressed swiftly. Let him feel guilty for a while. It will be fine for him. Good for the stomach.

“And the terrace extends three-quarters of the way around the house,” Elly was telling Jay.

“You live in a wonderful house, Elizabeth.”

“If you tell me I’m a lucky girl I’ll cut your throat.”

“You seem to have a penchant for doing violence to throats tonight.”

Elly turned and stared squarely at him. Her eyes are enormous, Jay thought.

“That,” she said carefully, “was an accident.”

“Of course it was,” Jay replied. “Those lights are pretty blinding out there.”

“The court is new. That was the second or third game ever played on it.”

“Everything around here is pretty new, isn’t it? The house can’t be very old.”

“Two years. It’s not going to get old at all. Glass doesn’t grow old.”

The kitchen door slammed.

“Who’s that?” Jay asked.

“Probably Mimi, the maid, back from the movies. I don’t like her at all.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t really know. She … she doesn’t treat me the way I’d always thought maids treated one.”

What a mixture of sensitivities and stereotypes she is, Jay thought. First, glass never grows old, and then this.

“How
are
maids supposed to treat one?” He smiled.

“Oh, I don’t know. A little more respectful, I guess. That’s what we’re paying for. My mother still does most of the work.”

“Yes, I know what you mean. I can’t imagine my mother with a maid. Everybody’s mother is a natural-born maid.”

“Jewish mothers, anyway,” Elly said.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe.”

“You keep saying I don’t know and maybe. You’re not very definite, are you?”

“Not much, any more, I guess.”

“That’s another thing you keep saying—I guess.”

“I guess you’re right. I’m not very definite. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Now you’re making fun of me.”

“Definitely…. This is an awfully nice terrace.”

“Yes. It’s turning warm. Tomorrow’s going to be an Indian summer day.”

“How can you tell?”

“The flowers begin to smell differently. Mostly in the evening. I spend a lot of time out here, when it’s warm enough.”

“How old are you, Elly?” He was sorry instantly for asking.

“Eighteen, two months ago.” She had no desire to lie to him. She couldn’t remember the last time she had given her right age to a stranger. “How old are
you
?” she returned.

“Thirty-three. Is that definite enough?”

“Much too definite.”

“How do you mean?”

“If you were a little younger there would be less trouble. As it is, Mother will make a fuss about us—an older man and her daughter.”

“What do you mean—‘and her daughter’?”

“Questions, questions!” Elly laughed. “Don’t you know? Why did you come here? Don’t you, know?”

She kissed him. Standing as close as she was, there was almost no movement on her part, just a slight leaning forward and then the contact. Her lips parted for an instant and her tongue touched his lips swiftly like the answer to a question he had not yet formulated clearly enough to ask. Then she left the terrace before he could speak.

Jay stood there for a few minutes leaning against the railing, trying to remember (as if it had happened a long time ago) whether or not he had returned the kiss. The question took on, in his mind, the aspect of an important legal problem. He didn’t think he had, having been too startled. Why was it important? Loyalty to Alec? That was foolish. She was Alec’s niece, not his girl. It frightened him, for some reason—her question, Why did you come here? His dream of leaving behind the world for a while was gone now. This might not be the old empty world, but it had its own quality, a disturbing, involved one—the insane tennis game, that kiss. He realized suddenly that it didn’t matter at all with this girl whether or not he had returned the kiss. If she made up her mind he had, then he had and that was that. God, what a puritan I am! I’ve been laid in every city from New York to Los Angeles (well,
almost
every one) and here I am with the screaming meemies because Alec’s kid niece kissed me.