Too Many Men (67 page)

She was almost breathless. She knocked one last time. She was about to turn and run down to the front desk for help, when she thought she heard T O O M A N Y M E N

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a noise in the room. She knocked again, with such force that her knuckles hurt. There was some more noise, and then the door opened. “Good morning, darling,” Zofia said to her. Ruth stared at Zofia. What was Zofia doing here? Had she knocked on the door of the wrong room?

All the lopsided, uneven, disconnected, and unrelated pieces of information started to settle. Suddenly, Ruth knew that she hadn’t knocked on the door of the wrong room. This was Edek’s room. Zofia was in Edek’s room. And had been there for quite a while by the look of things. Zofia was half-dressed. Ruth stood there and shook her head. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. A minute ago she’d imagined that her father was dead.

The prayer she had put in to God was completely unnecessary, she realized.

Her father was far from dead.

Zofia was in her bra. Her breasts looked flushed and large. Larger than the very large breasts they already appeared to be when they were fully clothed. Ruth felt anxious and insignificant. A pallid, flat-chested, blood-less spectator.

Zofia was struggling to button up a very tight, stretch skirt. “Darling,”

Zofia said to Ruth. “Your father is in the shower. We did go to sleep quite late.” Ruth just stared at her. She still hadn’t spoken. A clutch of words, reasonable words, appropriate words, pertinent words, civil words, digni-fied words, seemly words, were all stuck in her gullet. She opened her mouth to see if that would free some of the words. None came out.

What was happening? Ruth thought. The world seemed awry, askew, topsy-turvy, faulty. Nothing made sense. The unexpected and the improbable had been let loose. The questionable and the implausible had joined forces with the unfamiliar and undreamed of, and had gathered momen-tum and run amok.

“Your father is a wonderful man,” Zofia said.

“I think so, too,” Ruth finally said.

Zofia smiled. “A wonderful man,” she said again. Ruth saw, from Zofia’s smile, that she and Zofia were not talking about the same qualities in Edek.

Zofia was thinking about something Ruth would rather not hear any more about.

“Tell my father, I’ll go down to breakfast and meet him later,” she said to Zofia.

“Darling, we will have breakfast with you in a few minutes,” Zofia said.

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L I L Y B R E T T

We? They were already a “we,” Ruth thought. She felt giddy. Zofia looked at Ruth’s expression. “Maybe your father will talk to you first,” she said,

“and I will see you later.”

“Okay,” Ruth said.

“Your father is a very nice man,” Zofia said. “He is very good in that department,” she said conspiratorially, as she cast her eyes in the direction of the bed. Ruth was mortified. Why did Zofia have to tell her that? Zofia had looked so matter-of-fact about it. Ruth didn’t think it was a matter-of-fact matter to discuss someone’s father’s sex life with the person in question’s daughter. It horrified her. Was she just prim? Reserved? A prude? Zofia looked so comfortable with the subject matter. Ruth heard her father call out something from the shower. “I’ll be right there, my little boy,” Zofia shouted to him, in Polish. My little boy? Was that what she said? Ruth’s head was spinning.
Mój ma
l
y ch
l
opczyku
. My little boy. That’s what she called him.

“A man like that is very hard to find,” Zofia said to Ruth. “Too many men are not satisfying.” Ruth reeled. Too many men. Was it Zofia’s life that the gypsy woman was talking about? Too many men. That was what the gypsy woman had said. Ruth started to feel faint.

“I’m going downstairs,” she said to Zofia.

“Good-bye, darling,” Zofia said. She still hadn’t managed to do her skirt up.

Ruth tried to calm down. What was so terrible about any of this? Nothing. There was nothing wrong. Nothing out of the ordinary. And she had to stop imbuing normal things with abnormal meaning. “Too many men” was a common enough phrase. In regular usage. And so was sex. Sex was normal and common. Sex between friends. Sex between lovers. Sex between strangers. Her father was entitled to have sex with whomever he wanted.

There was nothing strange about this. Still, she felt sick. She went to her room and got some Mylanta.

Ruth sat at the breakfast table. She could still feel the coating that Mylanta left on your tongue. She thought she should have something to eat.

To displace the taste of the Mylanta. But she didn’t feel hungry. She had lost her appetite. Her father clearly had no trouble with appetite, she thought. Appetite of any sort. Why was she so upset? she wondered. Her father hadn’t done anything wrong. There was no disloyalty involved. Why T O O M A N Y M E N

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was she thinking about loyalty and disloyalty? Did she want her father to hate all Poles? Was that what was making her feel betrayed? She didn’t know. She just knew she felt flat. Upset. Exhausted.

What a picture in contrasts they were. She and Edek. She was swallowing Mylanta day and night, and couldn’t even keep a meager breakfast down. And he was devouring everything in sight. She paused. Why did she have to use the word “devouring”? She didn’t want to think of her father devouring Zofia’s breasts or any other part of Zofia. She grimaced. She tried to shake that thought out of her head. She could have used other words. She didn’t have to choose “devouring.” She could have used savor-ing, consuming, ingesting. She could have used relishing or engulfing. No, she thought, they were no better. They led to the same series of images. She shook her head again, more violently. It gave her a headache.

Edek arrived. Ruth could see his beam from the other side of the room.

He looked refreshed and alive. He perused the breakfast buffet quickly as he ran toward Ruth.

“I am sorry I am late, darling,” he said to Ruth. “Zofia was talking and talking. And it did make me late.”

“I think she was doing more than talking,” Ruth said tersely. Edek laughed.

“Maybe,” he said. “She is a very nice girl.”

“She’s not a girl,” Ruth said. “She’s a woman. An old woman.”

Why did she have to say that? Ruth thought. It was completely unnecessary. And so bitchy. She hated not being supportive to women. Solidarity among women was a very important issue. An issue that decades of femi-nist tracts and organizations had not addressed effectively. Women needed to support one another if they were to get anywhere. That was the way men did it. And it was so effective. Women had reputations as nurturers and supporters. But this nurture and support was rarely directed at other women. And here she was, trying to demean Zofia on the worst grounds, her age. If she wasn’t careful, Ruth told herself, she’d be hoeing into Zofia’s looks next.

“She is not so old,” Edek said.

“You are right,” Ruth said. “She is not old and she is very attractive for her age.” She examined what she had just said. Was that another slur?

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L I L Y B R E T T

Attractive for her age. Was the antagonism in her so inherent that it sprang out even when she was trying to hold it in?

“She is not a bad-looking woman,” Edek said.

“She is a very attractive, vibrant, energetic woman,” Ruth said. Edek nodded. Why had she had to use “energetic” in that string of adjectives, Ruth wondered. She didn’t want to think of any of Zofia’s energetic activities. Particularly the most recent ones. She wanted to shake that thought away. She shook her head again.

“Why do you do this with your head?” Edek said.

“I am just annoyed with myself.”

“What for should you do like this with your head?” Edek said. “It is not good I am sure for your head. You been doing this for years.”

“Really?” she said.

“Since you was a child, you was shaking your head like this.”

“No wonder I’m all shook up,” she said. The reference to Elvis Presley escaped Edek.

“You are not so shooked up,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Zofia is really a very nice person,” Edek said.

“I’m sure she is,” Ruth said. ‘But do you mind if we don’t continue this conversation?”

“You do not want to talk about Zofia?” said Edek.

“No, I’d rather not,” Ruth said.

“It is nothing what should make you upset,” said Edek.

“I’m not upset,” Ruth said.

“I can see that you are upset,” said Edek.

“I’m not upset,” she said.

“You are upset,” Edek said.

“I am not upset,” she shouted.

Several people eating their breakfast looked at Ruth. She glared at them. “I am not upset,” she said to Edek. “Your insistence that I am upset, upset me.”

“You are upset about Zofia,” Edek said.

“No I’m not,” Ruth said.

“Yes you are,” said Edek. “I know my daughter.”

T O O M A N Y M E N

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“Maybe I am a bit upset,” Ruth said. “Doesn’t it bother you that she is a Pole?”

“Bother me?” Edek said. “Why should it bother me?”

“Because we don’t like Poles,” Ruth said.

“We do not like some Polish people,” Edek said. “But not all Polish people. Zofia is a very nice person.”

“Yes,” Ruth said. “Zofia is a very nice person. A very nice big-breasted person.”

“Yes, she has such big breasts,” Edek said. “What is wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Ruth said.

She couldn’t believe that she had resorted to underhand, antiwomen tactics again. And she couldn’t believe she was discussing this subject with Edek. It wasn’t normal to be discussing the anatomy of your father’s lover with your father. Oh, God, she thought as she winced. Why did she have to put those words together? Father and lover. She wished she had never brought up the subject of Zofia’s breasts. She wished she had been kinder about Zofia.

“There is no need for you to worry about Zofia,” Edek said.

“I’m not worried,” Ruth said.

“Zofia would like to speak to you after breakfast, herself,” Edek said.

“She wants to tell you there is nothing to worry about.”

Ruth looked around the room. Neither Zofia nor Walentyna was at breakfast. Ruth wondered if Walentyna was giving Zofia hell. Probably not.

Zofia was probably taunting Walentyna with details of the evening’s encounter. Ruth knew “encounter” wasn’t the right word. But she didn’t want anything more detailed than “encounter,” she decided.

“Let’s get some breakfast,” Ruth said to Edek. Edek stood up. “As a matter of fact I am this morning a bit hungry,” he said. He walked over to the buffet.

“They got a very good sausage,” he called out to her from the other side of the buffet. The waiter came up to Ruth. “Would you like your poached eggs now, madam?” he said. Ruth was startled. She had forgotten that she had discussed having poached eggs with the waiter. “No, thank you,” she said. “I think I’ll have something from the buffet.”

Ruth watched Edek walk back to the table. Quite a lot, of whatever he

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L I L Y B R E T T

had chosen, was extending farther than the boundaries of his plate. Ruth spooned some compote into a bowl for herself and rejoined Edek. Edek was looking at his plate. He had chosen the blood sausage. What looked like a foot of thick blood sausage was lying across his plate.

Ruth stared at the blood sausage. Why did her father’s breakfast look like a phallic announcement to her? Why couldn’t she let a blood sausage be only a blood sausage? Only a roll of meat. “Roll of meat”? Why did she have to use that phrase? Ugh, she said to herself. She was choosing all the wrong words today.

She looked at Edek. How could he eat that blood sausage on an empty stomach anyway?

“Maybe you should start with cornflakes,” she said to him. Edek screwed up his face.

“I had enough with the cornflakes,” he said. “I can get cornflakes as much as I want in Melbourne,” he added.

“Okay,” Ruth said.

“This sausage is very tasty,” Edek said, and took a large mouthful. Ruth looked at her compote. It looked a bit puny.

Edek ate his blood sausage with relish. Mouthful after mouthful of sausage disappeared from the plate. Zofia had clearly been good for his appetite, Ruth thought. Although maybe that part of him didn’t really need improving. When Edek was almost finished, he looked up. “I did speak to the lawyer about the Swiss bank account,” he said, to Ruth.

“When?” Ruth said.

“Last night,” said Edek.

“You had time?” Ruth said. “You seem to have been pretty busy.”

“Do not be silly, Ruthie,” Edek said. “The lawyer did tell me that the Swiss banks did agree to a settlement of 1.25 billion dollars.”

“I know,” Ruth said. “I read about it in this morning’s
International
Daily Journal
.”

“The lawyer did say that the Swiss people are concerned about the damage what this dispute did do their image,” Edek said.

“It is sick, isn’t it?” Ruth said. “The Swiss people are not happy with the settlement. The Minister for the Economy, Pascal Couchepin, was quoted as saying, ‘Many people have the feeling that it was not the search for truth, but more a search for money.’ They drag out that old stereotype of the rich T O O M A N Y M E N

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greedy Jew only interested in money. And that conveniently covers up their own greed and their own theft. It always works.”

“Column down, Ruthie, column down,” Edek said.

“Doesn’t it make you feel like hitting your head against a wall?” she said, to Edek.

“No,” Edek said. “It does make me angry. But I am used to such things.” Ruth poured herself a glass of water. “The lawyer did tell me that the Swiss government’s Swiss National Bank what did make such big profits from dealing with the gold the Nazis did take from the Jews did not contribute to or endorse this settlement,” Edek said.

“I know,” said Ruth. “The private banks agreed because of the pressure of the financial sanctions that the U.S. Congress was putting on them.”