She entered the room, putting the suitcase down. Verne closed the door behind her. “Well,” he murmured. “It certainly doesn’t take you long when you’ve made up your mind.”
“Come, darling, and help me unpack.” She held her coat out. “Where does this go?”
“In the closet.”
He showed her where the closet was. There was a cold, clammy feeling in his chest; a heavy weight seemed to drag him down. He followed her into the bedroom. She set the suitcase on the bed and snapped it open. From it she took an armload of dresses and laid them out on the bed. Slips, bras, underpants, nylons—
“Do you want to fix me a drawer to put some of the small things into?” Teddy said.
“Sure. I’ll go along with it.” He took his stuff out of the top dresser drawer, wadding everything into the bottom. “Is that enough?”
“I don’t need very much. I brought only the things I’ll need right away.”
She put some clothing and small packages and boxes into the drawer. Most of the dresses went into the closet. Presently she was through.
“Where shall I put the suitcase?”
“I’ll take it.” He lugged it into the closet and pushed it to the back. Then he turned to face her. “Now what?”
Teddy smiled back at him without speaking.
“I wonder what the manager will say.”
“Don’t worry. In these big buildings they don’t care, as long as you don’t bother the other people.”
“I see,” Verne murmured.
Teddy laughed. “I’m not telling you anything you don’t know. I’m hungry! Can we eat? Have you eaten?”
“I’ve eaten, but I’ll fix you something.” He moved toward the kitchen.
“Don’t be silly. I’ll fix it myself. We might as well get started right.”
Verne studied her. “I almost believe you’re serious about this.”
“Almost?” She trotted into the kitchen and began opening cupboards and drawers, looking to see what he had.
After she had eaten they sat around the living room. Verne was in a turmoil. He kept looking at the girl and wondering what was going on in her mind. Was this real? Was it actually happening? He took out his pipe, but there was no tobacco for it. He searched his pockets for a while and then gave up. He went to the kitchen and drank a little soda and water instead.
When he came back Teddy had an announcement.
“I told Don this afternoon. Are you glad?”
“You told him what?”
“Verne—” She came over to him, smiling, her eyes bright. Hard, able fingers closed over his arm. “He was very upset. I told him to go read a science-fiction story!” She rocked merrily back and forth on her heels.
Verne said nothing.
A little after eleven o’clock while he was looking through some old programs he noticed that she had left the room. She was no place in sight, in the living room or in the kitchen.
“Teddy?”
There was a noise from the bedroom. “I’m in here.” After a moment she said: “Verne, will you do me a favor?”
“What is it?”
“Will you pull down the shades?”
He went around the living room, pulling the shades down. He went back to looking over his old programs. All at once Teddy came running into the room. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her, standing in the middle of the rug behind him. He put down his pen and swung around.
His jaw dropped. She was naked. Bony and white, she stood smiling at him, her little breasts bobbing up and down, her hands on her hips, her feet a little apart.
“Darling, don’t you think we should go to bed? I have to get up early tomorrow. I have to go all the way across town to Manhattan.”
Verne got to his feet. He walked all around her, staring in amazement at her thin body. She turned to face him. In the bedroom the bedspread and sheets had been pulled back. “You’re really serious,” he murmured. He shook his head. “Well, this takes the cake.”
Her smile froze. She said nothing, but her lean loins tensed, muscles standing out like cords.
“It’s impossible. It really is.” Inside him the cold clammy weight grew. As if a net were around him, a great damp curtain, pulling him down. She had taken off all her clothes. He could see them piled up on a chair by the bed. Even her shoes. Everything. It was grotesque. He shut his eyes.
“Verne—”
“Let’s face it! For Christ’s sake.” He pushed his glasses up, rubbing his eyes. “I’ll be damned if—”
He stopped. Across her face an expression of wild terror had flitted, so crude and stark that it startled him into silence. For a moment she blinked, her eyes burning. Then abruptly it was gone. Her mouth set in a narrow line. Her eyes filmed over. She turned without a word and walked into the bedroom.
A moment later she came back with a heavy coat pulled around her. She pushed past him toward the front door. He caught her by the shoulder. She jumped away from him, and he stepped between her and the door. Her body was hard and tense. She stood a little way off, breathing shallowly and watching him.
“Teddy, for God’s sake, let’s—”
She rushed into the kitchen. He followed her, grabbing her arm. She snatched up a can opener from the drawer; he pulled it quickly away. Her fingers were like metal claws.
“Stop it.” He held onto her arm. “Look—you couldn’t possibly stay here. It isn’t possible. They’d throw us out in twenty-four hours. He could feel her thin arm through the coat sleeve. “Do you understand? It’s not my fault. I can’t do anything about it.”
Suddenly she relaxed. Everything seemed to run out of her. He let go of her arm slowly. “Of course,” she said. “That’s true. I guess we’ll have to think of something else.”
“That’s right.” He patted her shoulder. “Let’s go back in the living room and sit down. Okay? We can talk it over calmly.”
He led her back, over to the couch.
“I ought to put on something else.” She plucked at the coat.
“All right.” They went into the bedroom. Teddy unfastened her coat and hung it up in the closet. She dressed slowly, silently. He watched her, sitting on the bed. At last she was through.
“Finished?”
“All done.”
He got up and went over to her. “Let’s go out and have a drink. Then we can drive around for a while. You leave the rest of your stuff here tonight and we’ll work out something tomorrow morning. We’ll figure out something. Okay? Now—where do you want to go?”
“It doesn’t matter. Wherever you say.”
“We’ll go across the street. It’s a nice quiet little bar. We can talk there.”
She nodded.
But on the sidewalk she stopped.
“What’s the matter?”
“I think I’d rather go right home. I don’t feel too well.”
“Whatever you want.”
“Can we walk?”
“Walk? All that way?”
“It’s not far.”
“All right. We can always call a taxi when we get tired.”
They walked slowly along. The streets were silent and lonely. Above, the sky was overcast. Only a few stars were visible. One huge cloud, as large as a continent, hung across the horizon. It was moving, swelling larger and larger, spreading its opaque greyness over the whole world. One by one, the stars winked off and disappeared.
Verne looked away. Beside him, Teddy strode along, her hands in the pockets of her coat, saying nothing. Her head was up; she was breathing deeply, her mouth half open. Drawing the air into her lungs, the cold, damp air.
“It’s a nice night,” she said.
“Yes.”
“I’m glad we’re walking.” She slipped her arm through his. “Do you mind?”
“No.”
“Do you know what I’ve decided?”