I remember that Robbe-Grillet, at work on Le Voyeur, traveled briefly to the Brittany coast to refresh his memory of its setting and found that he had no interest in actual gulls, that he cared now only for the gulls of his fiction.
This much is true: Alouette was gone. And I was left thinking, in that self-engaged manner we all have when suddenly alone, that it all had been for nothing.
But maybe (I thought then) something would come of it after all. Maybe we do good things, things that matter, without ever realizing it. Maybe those are the best things we do.
Or maybe, just as Alouette tried so hard to believe her departure might be virtuous, that is just something I want to believe. We betray ourselves into going on; but it’s also given us to choose the form of that betrayal.
Alouette was gone. Gone into the darkness that took my son, the darkness that took her mother, the darkness that is so much in us all.
I sat looking for a long time out into that darkness. It was almost midnight, with a chance of rain. The phone’s ringing brought me around. I answered.
“Lew,” and when she took time getting the next word out, I knew it was Clare. “How are you? I just heard, a few minutes ago. About Alouette.”
“It’s not like it’s wholly unexpected.”
“That does nothing to diminish the pain.”
“No,” I said. “It doesn’t. Except maybe in movies about boys learning to be men.”
“Pain can be good, Lew. The same as other strong feelings. Love, fear, devotion. It can give us reasons to go on when there aren’t any others. It can become a new center for a new self.”
Or an excuse for all sorts of evasions.
But I said: “You’re proof of that, Clare.”
“Of course, it can also give us a reason to make a perfect fool of ourself at eleven o’clock at night.”
“Is that what you’re doing?”
“God. I hope not.” She was silent for a few moments. “I guess what I’m doing, really, is using the situation as an excuse to call and say how much I miss you. Yeah. I’m pretty sure that’s it.”
“I miss you too. More than you can know.”
“You could have called.”
“No, Clare. I couldn’t.”
“Okay. So I never was much good at these coy, girlish ploys. Give me credit for trying. I was supposed to call you. And now I’m doing that.”
“It’s good to hear your voice,” I said after a moment.
“I’d like to see you, Lew.”
A moth fluttered into my window’s light again and again.
“Okay.”
“If that’s all right with you.”
“It is.”
“You understand …”
“I think so. I’d like to see you, whatever I do or don’t understand.”
“Maybe we could have a drink.”
“That would be great. Where?”
“I don’t know. Tip’s, maybe?”
“Ca va.”
“Want me to pick you up?”
“I’ve had enough car for a while. I’ll walk. See you there. Give me fifteen, twenty minutes.”
“Oh, Lew, I almost forgot: Bat came home. I went out Tuesday morning and there he was, sitting on the car, like nothing ever happened.”
“Nearest thing he could find to his fridge, I guess.”
“I guess. God, I’m looking forward to seeing you.”
“Then go saddle up your car, scrape off any stray nesting cats and drive if you’ll excuse the expression like a-”
“Don’t say it!”
“-good friend.”
“I hope so, Lew. I do so want to be.”
“See you soon. Calm seas, Clare.”
And I walked out into the darkness toward her.
Four streets up, hearing voices close by as I came to a corner, I turned my head. Further down the block, a mugging was taking place. It had begun that way, at least; now it seemed to be progressing. One of the men had the woman’s purse over his own shoulder. He knelt at her head, holding her down with hands flat against her shoulders and licking upside down at her face while the other one’s hands burrowed roughly under her skirt. As I watched, that one reached up and slapped her hard on the cheek, then took her neck in his hand.
I shouted and started toward them, instinctively turning to keep the injured arm out of sight. Both jumped to their feet. The one who had been at her head ran. The other stood his ground till I came closer and slipped my hand into my coat pocket. Then he also bolted.
“Are you all right?” I asked. A plain woman in her early thirties, inexpensively dressed.
“I think so.”
“Don’t be afraid,” I told her.
Then I, too, was running.