Carl did not understand. He shook his head, bewildered. “What do you mean?”
Barbara crushed her cigarette out. “You came and watched when you wanted. Now you’re going. Do you think you can do that? Do you think people will always let you do that?”
“I—”
“You’re growing up. You’re getting to be a man. Someday you will be a man. Do you think you can do that when you’re a man?”
“I don’t know.”
“You can’t. You can’t.” She put her hand up, rubbing her eyes quickly. Carl slunk down in his chair. She was crying. Tears were running between her fingers, down her cheeks, falling silently onto her shirt, staining her starched white shirt.
“Can—can I do anything for you?” Carl murmured.
She shook her head. After a long time she jumped up and crossed the room to the dresser. She pulled a handkerchief from the drawer and turned her back to Carl, blowing her nose. She moved over to the window and stood, her arms folded, the handkerchief pressed in a tight ball between her fingers.
“Carl,” she said.
“Yes?”
She turned around, smiling at him, her eyes dark and bright. “I’m sorry. Don’t worry about it.”
He nodded.
Barbara sat down on the bed, leaning back. She sighed, letting her breath out slowly. “It’s too nice a day. It is nice, isn’t it? The sun and everything.”
“Yes.”
“Why were you up so early today?”
“I wanted to get outside. I wanted to take a long walk and see how things were.”
“Where did you go?”
“Oh, I wandered around. I went up on the hill and sat thinking. I thought for a long time. About my childhood. Then I came down. That was—that was when I saw you. I crossed the park and I saw you in the water.”
“Yes. It was beautiful. The sun and the water. I know. Well, Carl?”
“Yes?”
She leaned toward him, looking intently into his face. They were very close together. Carl waited apprehensively, his hands on his knees. Barbara rocked back and forth, touching her hand to her cheek, her ear. He could see the rapid tension of her body, taut and nervous. Her eyes were dark and large.
“You go ahead and do whatever it is you have to get done,” she said suddenly. “Run along and get it all finished.”
Carl stood up quickly. “All right.”
Barbara crossed to the door, opening it for him. “When will it be done?”
Carl faltered. “Done?”
“When will you be finished?”
He considered. He felt strange. His scalp and ears prickled. He licked his lips nervously. “I guess in a couple of hours.”
Barbara examined her wristwatch, calculating to herself, her lips moving.
“Why?” Carl murmured.
“Why? Don’t you remember?”
“No.”
Barbara smiled. She swayed back and forth, her arms folded, her lips twisting. “You really don’t? You don’t remember? You left something unfinished. You have to finish. You started. And when you start something you have to go through with it. Didn’t your mother tell you that?”
“What—what is it?”
“Your treatise. You haven’t finished reading to me. Don’t you remember? I’m surprised at you. I thought it meant so much to you.”
Carl grinned doubtfully. “That’s right. I was going to read the rest.”
“Of course you were. I expect you to read the rest. I’ve been waiting.”
“Have you?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
Carl put his hands in his pockets. “There were several parts I wanted you to hear. That’s right I began to read, but I didn’t get a chance to finish.”
“When are you going to finish?”
Carl considered. “Well, I—”
“How about after dinner?”
“It’ll be dark.”
Barbara’s eyes flickered. “That’s so. It will be dark, won’t it? I hadn’t thought of that. It’s a problem. Well, I think perhaps we can read inside where there’s light.”
“That’s an idea.”
“Then I’ll expect you after dinner. About eight. All right? Don’t forget to bring the manuscript with you. You’ll be finished with your letters by then. That should give you plenty of time.”
“About eight?” Carl moved out into the hall. He felt a little confused. “I guess that’s all right.”
Barbara closed the door slowly behind him. “I’ll see you then. Okay?”
“Okay,” Carl said. “About eight.”
Eighteen
It was evening. Carl stood at the top of the stairs, watching Verne climb slowly, his hand on the rail.
“Where have you been all day?”
Verne grunted. “Talking.”
“Talking? To whom?”
Verne pushed past Carl, down the hall and into the room. He sat down on his bed with a sigh.
“We thought maybe something had happened to you when you didn’t show up for dinner.”
“I was thinking. I didn’t feel like eating.”
“Who were you talking to?”
“A man named Harry.”
“You mean they left somebody here besides us?”
“No.” Verne pushed up his glasses, rubbing his eyes. “Harry represents the Chinese People’s PCC. Or as we call them, the new owners.”
Carl’s mouth fell open. “Then they’ve come.”
“Yes. They’ve come. They’ll be here any time now. We had a very interesting talk. It gave me something to think about. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.”
“Is he still here?”
“No. He’s gone again.”
There was silence. Carl was at a loss for words. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. “Well, then we’ll have to get ready to leave.”
“That’s right.”
“What’s wrong? You sound depressed.”
Verne fitted his glasses in place. “I’m tired. Worn out. I guess I’ll turn in and get some sleep.”
“Gosh, we should do things. Take advantage of the time we have left.”
“What do you want to do? Get drunk and fall downstairs?”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that.” Carl picked up his brown package, gripping it tightly. “I’ve got everything all planned out. I’m going to finish reading my treatise.”
“By yourself?”
“No. To Barbara.” He peered at the clock. “At eight we’re going to start. Maybe I can get all the rest of it finished.”
Verne turned his head toward the window. The sun had set. The sky was dark violet. A few stars had already begun to come out. “Isn’t it a little too dark to go up in the hills? Of course, it depends on what you’re going to do.”
“We’re just going to read.”
“For that it’s too dark.”
“But we’re not going up in the hills.” Carl beamed happily. “We’re going to read in her room.”
“Oh?”
“She has her room all fixed up with prints and flowers. It looks wonderful. You should take a look at it. It’s quite attractive.”
“I’ve seen it.”
“Don’t you think it looks fine?”
“Yes. It looks fine.”
“What’s the matter? You look strange.”
“I told you I’m tired.”
“Sorry.” Carl laid down his package. He began to unbutton his shirt, humming under his breath. He put his shirt over the doorknob and took a clean blue sports-shirt from a hanger.
Verne watched him getting into the new shirt. He raised his eyebrows. “What the hell’s that for?”
“This? I’m just changing my shirt.” Carl finished buttoning it and went over to look in the mirror. “Maybe I should put on a tie. What do you think?”
“You don’t need a tie to read.”
“I want to look nice.”
“Why?”