Freddie wasn’t there, as usual, and didn’t come home that night at all. The next day he was contrite when he came home at noon, explaining that he had played bridge till 4 A.M. and then stayed where he was because he was afraid to come home and wake her.
“Is that all you do?” For the first time, she turned on him angrily after he had explained it, and he looked starded by the vehemence of her tone. She had always been very demure about his behavior before, but this time she was clearly very angry.
“What on earth do you mean?” He looked shocked at her question, his innocent blue eyes opened wide, his sandy-blond hair making him look like Tom Sawyer.
“I mean, what exactly do you do at night when you stay out until one or two o’clock in the morning?” There was real anger there, and pain, and disappointment.
He smiled boyishly, convinced he would always be able to delude her. “Sometimes I have a little too much to drink. That’s all. It just seems easier to stay where I am when that happens than come home when you’re asleep. I don’t want to upset you, Sarah.”
“Well, you are. You’re never home. You’re always out with your friends, and you come home drunk every night. That’s not how married people behave.” She was steaming.
“Isn’t it? Are you referring to your brother-in-law, or normal people with a little more spunk and joie de vivre? I’m sorry, darling, I’m not Peter.”
“I never asked you to be. But who are you? Who am I married to? I never see you, except at parties, and then you’re off with your friends, playing cards, and telling stories, and drinking, or you’re out, and God knows where you are then,” she said sadly.
“Would you rather I stayed home with you?” He looked amused, and for the first time she saw something wicked in his eyes, something mean, but she was challenging his very lifestyle. She was frightening him, and even threatening his drinking.
“Yes, I would rather you stay home with me. Is that such a shocking thing?”
“Not shocking, just stupid. You married me because I was fun to be with, didn’t you? If you’d wanted a bore like your brother-in-law, I imagine you could have found one, but you didn’t. You wanted me. And now you want to turn me into someone like him. Well, darling, I can promise you that won’t happen.”
“What will happen then? Will you go to work? You told Father last year you would, and you haven’t.”
“I don’t need to work, Sarah. You’re boring me to tears. You should be happy that I don’t have to scrabble like some fool, at some dreary job, trying to put food on the table.”
“Father thinks it would be good for you. And so do I.” It was the bravest thing she had ever said to him, but the night before she had lain awake for hours, thinking of what she would tell him. She wanted to make their life better, to have a real husband, before she had this baby.
“Your father is another generation”—his eyes glittered as he looked at her—“and you’re a fool.” But as he said the words, she realized what she should have known from the moment he walked in. He’d been drinking. It was only noon, but he was clearly drunk, and as she looked at him, she felt disgusted.
“Maybe we should discuss this some other time.”
“I think that’s a fine idea.”
He had gone out again then, but returned early that night, and the next morning made an effort to get up at a decent hour in the morning, and it was then that he realized how ill she was. He was startled as he questioned her about it over breakfast. They had a woman who came in every day to clean the house and do ironing and serve their meals when they were at home. Usually, Sarah liked to cook, but she had been unable to face the kitchen for the last month, although Freddie hadn’t been home often enough to see that.
“Is something wrong? Are you ill? Should you go to a doctor?” He looked concerned as he glanced at her over the morning paper. He had heard her retching horribly after they got up, and wondered if it had been something she had eaten.
“I’ve been to the doctor,” she said quietly, her eyes looking at him, but it was a long moment before he glanced her way again, almost having forgotten his earlier question.
“What was that? Oh … right … good. What did he say? Influenza? You ought to be careful, you know, there’s a lot of it about just now. Tom Parker’s mother almost died of it last week.”
“I don’t think I’ll die of this.” She smiled quietly and he went back to his paper. There was a long silence, and then finally he looked at her again, having totally forgotten their earlier conversation.
“There’s a hell of a stink in England over Edward VIII abdicating to be with that Simpson woman. She must be something else, to get him to do a thing like that.”
“I think it’s sad,” Sarah said seriously. “The poor man has been through so much, how could she destroy his life like that? What kind of life can they possibly have together?”
“Maybe a pretty racy one.” He smiled at her, much to her chagrin, looking handsomer than ever. She wasn’t sure anymore if she loved or hated him, her life with him had become such a nightmare. But maybe Jane was right, maybe everything would be better after they had the baby.
“I’m having a baby.” She almost whispered to him, and for a moment, he seemed not to hear her. And then he turned to her, as he stood up, and looked as though he hoped she were joking.
“Are you serious?” She nodded, unable to say more to him, as tears filled her eyes. In a way, it was a relief finally to tell him. She had known since just before Christmas, but hadn’t had the courage to tell him. She wanted him to care about her, wanted a quiet moment of happiness between them, and since their honeymoon on Cape Cod seven months before, that just hadn’t happened.
“Yes, I’m serious.” Her eyes said she was, as he watched her.
“That’s too bad. Don’t you think it’s a little too soon? I thought we were being careful.” He looked annoyed and not pleased, and she felt a sob catch in her throat, as she prayed not to make a fool of herself with her husband.
“I thought so too.” She raised her tear-filled eyes to him, and he took a step toward her and ruffled her hair, like a little sister.
“Don’t worry about it, it’ll be all right. When’s it for?”
“August.” She tried not to cry, but it was hard to control herself. At least he wasn’t furious, only annoyed. She hadn’t been thrilled when she heard the news either. There was so little between them at this point. So little time, so little warmth or communication. “Peter and Jane are having a baby then too.”
“Lucky for them,” he said sarcastically, wondering what he was going to do with her now. Marriage had turned out to be a lot more of a burden than he had expected. She seemed to sit around at home all the time, waiting to entrap him. And she looked even more woebegone now, as he glanced down at the little mother.
“Not lucky for us though, is it?” She couldn’t restrain die two tears that slid slowly down her cheeks as she asked him.
“The timing isn’t great. But I guess you don’t always get to call that, do you?” She shook her head, and he left the room, and he didn’t mention it to her again before he went out half an hour later. He was meeting friends for lunch, and he didn’t say when he’d be back. He never did. She cried herself to sleep that night, and he didn’t come home until eight o’clock the next morning. And when he did he was still so desperately drunk from the night before that he never made it past the couch in the living room, on the way to their bedroom. She heard him come in, but he was unconscious by the time she found him.