“Everyone’s trying to blame it on her,” I said, getting to my feet and pacing up and down. “But you’re all wrong. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
He permitted himself a respectful smile. “I hope I have not offended you, Mr. Clive,” he said, taking out his handkerchief and mopping his forehead. I could see he was very earnest and embarrassed. “I do hope, sir, you will give this woman up. She can do you no good in the long run. There’s Miss Carol. She’s a fine young lady, if I may say so. Why don’t you see her? Why don’t you tell her what has happened and ask her to help you? She won’t desert you if she’s sure you really want her.”
I thought of my date with Eve. It was no good. I had to see Eve tonight. It was no good listening to Russell. Perhaps he was right, but even if he was, I could not draw back now that I was making some progress with Eve.
“I’ll think about it, Russell,” I said, getting to my feet. “Maybe it’ll come out all right. I don’t know. Maybe I will see Carol. Right now I feel it’s hopeless, but I may change my mind by tomorrow.” I began to wander round the room. “Be a good fellow and get me some supper, will you? I shan’t be going out until late.”
He got to his feet, giving me a quick, shrewd look. I saw his lips compress and his face clouded with gloom, but he went off without saying anything further.
I felt a sudden affection for him. I was sure that he meant well and was genuinely worried about me. In my present mood, it was comforting to think at least someone cared about me.
I was restless for the next hour and as the minute hand crept round the face of the clock, I became increasingly nervy.
I glanced at the clock again. It was nine thirty-seven. Of course, I told myself, I could not expect her to be punctual, but any moment now the bell would ring.
I could no longer concentrate on my book and I sat waiting, a cigarette between my fingers and a sick hollow emptiness in my stomach.
Russell looked in to see if I wanted anything. I waved him impatiently away.
“Shall they put your car away, sir?”
“No. I’m going out any minute now. Tell them to leave it.”
“Will that be all, sir?”
I restrained the temptation to shout at him. “Yes, thank you, Russell,” I said with studied calm. “Good night and don’t fuss if I’m late.”
When he had gone, I was about to glance at the clock, but stopped myself in time. You wait until she calls, I said to myself. It’s no use looking at the clock. That won’t get you anywhere. She’ll ring. She said she would and she will.
I closed my eyes and waited. I waited a long time, feeling doubt, disappointment and frustration gathering in my mind like a clot of blood. I even began to count and when I reached eight hundred I opened my eyes and looked at the clock. It was five minutes past ten.
I walked to the telephone, dialled her number and waited. I let the bell ring for a long time, but there was no answer. I hung up.
Damn her, I said, damn her to hell.
Then I poured myself a whisky and lit a cigarette. While I was doing this my mind crawled with cold, disappointed fury. I cursed her. All along she had been like this. Unreliable, selfish, indifferent. She had promised to call me. She had no thought that my evening would be spoilt She just didn’t care what happened to me.
At ten thirty I rang again, but there was still no reply.
I began to pace up and down, trembling with anger. She didn’t care a damn. Independent, was she? I’d show the slut! I’d teach her to make a sucker out of me! Then I threw my cigarette away in frustrated disgust. How was I going to teach her? I couldn’t even hurt her. There was not a damn thing I could do to her that’d make any difference. Not one single thing.
If I ever get you where I want you, Eve, I said to myself, I’ll make you suffer for this.
Even as I said it, I knew that I would not get her where I wanted her. If we were to continue to know each other, I would be the one to suffer. I would be the one always to give way, because she did not give a damn and never would give a damn for me.
I called her number every ten minutes after that. I was determined to speak to her even if I continued to call her all night. At eleven thirty, she answered.
“Hello?”
“Eve . . .” I stopped because I could not put my thoughts into words. Rage, relief and hysterical exhaustion left me speechless.
“Oh hello, Clive.”
The flat, indifferent note in her voice galvanized me to say, “I’ve been waiting. You said nine thirty. Look at the time. I’ve been waiting and waiting . . .”
“Have you?” There was a pause, then she said under her breath, “God! I’m tight.”
“You’re tight, are you?” I almost shouted at her. “Haven’t you any thought for me?”
“Oh Clive, stop it. I’m tired . . . I can’t talk now.”
“But we were going to meet Why did you do this?”
“Why not?” she snapped back. “You take too much for granted. I tell you I’m tired . . .”
She’ll hang up in a moment, I thought, in sudden panic. “Wait, Eve, don’t cut me off.” I was half crazy with rage, frustration and fear that I could not see her. “If you’re tired — well, I’m sorry, but couldn’t you have just telephoned me? I’ve been waiting. I mean, after the week-end, couldn’t you have treated me a little differently?”
“Oh do stop it!” she exclaimed. “Come now if you want to. But don’t keep on and on. It’s not too late, is it? Come now and stop talking.”
Before I could say anything, she hung up.
I did not hesitate. Picking up my hat, I ran to the elevator. A few minutes later I was in my car speeding towards Laurel Canyon Drive.
It was a bright moonlight night and the traffic was heavy, but I reached her house in thirteen minutes.
She opened the door when I knocked.
“You’re awful, Clive,” she said, leading the way into the bedroom. “What’s the matter with you? I only saw you a few days ago.”
I faced her, struggling to control my temper. She was wearing her blue dressing gown and a strong smell of whisky came from her. She peered at me, her eyes dazed, then she pulled a face.
“Oh, God!” she said, yawning. “I’m tired.”
She flopped across the bed, her head on the pillow and stared up at me. I could see she had difficulty in focusing.
I stood over her, feeling a sudden revulsion for her. “You’re drunk,” I said accusingly.
She put her hand to her head. “I must be,” she said, yawning again. “Anyway, I’ve had quite enough,” and she closed her eyes.
“How could you do this to me?” I burst out, wanting to shake her and go on shaking her. “I’ve been waiting and waiting. Haven’t you any feeling at all?”
She struggled up on her elbow, her face wooden and her eyes like wet stones. “Feeling?” she repeated. “For you? Why should I? Who do you think you are? I warned you, Clive. There’s only one man I’ve any feeling for — that’s Jack-.”
“Oh, shut up about your goddamn Jack!” I said violently.
She suddenly giggled. “If you could only see how silly you look,” she said and fell back onto the pillow again. “Do sit down and stop standing over me like the wrath of God.”
I suddenly hated her. “Where have you been all this time?”
“I couldn’t get away. I was working. What’s it to you anyway?”
“You mean you forgot all about me?”
“No, I didn’t,” she giggled again. “I remembered, but I thought it’d do your conceit good to wait. So I let you wait and now perhaps you won’t take me so much for granted.”