At last he was silent for a long time. Peter sensed he was finished, but many of his silences had been almost as long, and he did not want to interrupt. Ultimately Warren said, “Game’s over, lad. If I ever hear any of that gibberish repeated I’ll stop loving you forever.”
“Some of it sounded really great. Did it mean anything in particular?”
“Think of it as background music. Would you mind awfully if I went and looked in on Gretchen?”
“Now?”
“Yes. If for no other reason, to supply her with a useful explanation for your absence. I gather you don’t want to play the dutiful lover right at the moment.”
“Or ever.”
“That’s understandable, but it might shatter her if you stay out all night without a word.”
“Christ, I never even thought—”
“I’ll find a thing to tell her. And I want to look at her myself. I believe you, Peter. And I believe Anne. But I believe my own eyes more.”
“And you think you’ll be able to tell?”
“I know I will.”
He waited in Warren’s car. It took Warren less than ten minutes. He came back wearing an expression Peter had not seen before. His face was pale, with spots of color in his cheeks that looked like rouge hastily applied. And there was the trace of a smile on his lips.
“Well?”
“Yes, of course. I found just what I expected to find. Just what you and Anne described.”
“What happened?”
“Why, nothing at all.” He turned the ignition key, pulled away from the curb. “She played her part perfectly. I told her you’d had trouble at the theater. Tony Bart attacked you for no reason at all. She wasn’t surprised, it meshed perfectly with her paranoia. I explained I was organizing a committee to get you rehired, and failing that, I might be able to find you something better. She said not to worry about her and she’ll let you sleep late in the morning.”
“Where did she slip up?”
“She didn’t.” Warren ran his hand over his forehead. “She showed me the same face she’s shown you and the rest of the world. She was the old Gretchen, fully recovered, calm and collected and sensitive and aware. She met me head on with the mask perfectly in place.”
“Then how did you know it was a mask?”
“Because I’ve known her since you were in diapers, Peter. And there never was an old Gretchen. She was never like that in her life. She greeted me as if I were her dearest friend on earth. And she has hated me consistently for more years than I care to remember. That was really all I had to see.”
“Why does she hate you?”
“I’m taking you to my house,” Warren went on. “I told Gretchen we’d be there and I want you to be able to receive any phone calls she might think to make. And I have some calls of my own to make. I worked something out before. It’s shocking. It will surely be the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life and I doubt I’ll outdo myself in the years remaining to me. But I also think it will work, and I can’t think of anything else that has a shadow of a chance.”
“What is it?”
“In due time. You’ll have a part in it. You played some walk-ons before you inherited the light board, didn’t you? Were you any good?”
“I was never onstage long enough to tell.”
“Did you live those roles?”
“There was nothing to live.”
“Then you’ve answered my question. You’re not an actor.”
“I never said I was.”
“No, but you’re going to have to be one for... perhaps two days. Can you play a part, Peter?”
“I’ve been playing one for weeks.”
“But you weren’t absolutely sure it was a role. And now you are. Can you act the same as you did?”
“I think so.”
“And can you lie?”
“I guess so.”
“You won’t have lines to learn. Strictly improv. The curtain goes up tomorrow morning and the last act ends probably on Sunday.”
“I can try, Warren.”
“You may not want to. Even if you’re able, you may not be willing. We have to create an illusion, we have to write a script her part won’t play against. I had to see her face to face before I could talk myself into it.”
“Warren?”
“When we get there. Not now. I’m going to need a drink first.” “Something else. I asked you a question before.”
“I know you did.”
“You never answered it.”
“No, I didn’t. Why does she hate me? Oh, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t know. It’s common knowledge; you’d have heard it yourself except it happened — too long ago to be interesting. We were lovers once.”
“You and Gretch?”
“Is it all that hard to imagine? Yes, she and I.”
“When I was still in diapers.”
“When you weren’t long out of them. She was very beautiful then, and utterly damned. The madness was always there. It was less sharply defined but it was always there. I think I sensed it. Perhaps I did, perhaps that’s hindsight. I left her for... oh, for a man.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t say it so heavily. I had come out long before that. And I had gone through heterosexual phases before Gretchen. None after her, though. Not really.” A pause. “I had to leave her. It seemed less disloyal to leave her for a man than for another woman. I’m afraid she never saw it that way.”
“You and Gretchen.”
“She and I. The Odd Couple — we could each have played either part.”
“You still love her.”
“Yes, of course. I never stopped loving her and she never stopped hating me. There are two sorts of people in the world, those who go on loving and those who hate. It’s always seemed to me that the former half tend to be male and the latter half female, but perhaps that’s just my own special perspective coming to bear.”
“I never would have guessed any of this.”
“Probably not. And neither she nor I ever dreamed of telling you, which is something worth consideration when we have world enough and time. We have neither at the moment, thank God. We have arrived. You’ve never been here, have you? That’s Bert’s piano. It’s only a shame he can’t be here to play it for you.”
“When will he be home?”
“Tomorrow night, I think. Tonight, actually. It’s already Saturday morning. He went to New York some eighteen hours ago on a secret mission. I’m supposed to believe that an aunt of his is critically ill. I hope you can lie better than B. R. LeGrand, Peter, or our mission is doomed in advance. He’s as opaque as a broken window, and I’ll have the job of pretending shock and dismay when he comes home and announces he’s leaving me. Don’t be downcast. It falls miles short of tragedy. And don’t worry that this is all a scheme to put your fair white body next to mine.”
“Christ, Warren. I never thought that.”
“I know. Well, your virtue’s safe. All you can lose tonight is your immortal soul.”