Hazel gave her a wary, uneasy glance. “If that’s your idea of fun, go ahead.”
“I think about her, what is she like, and is she prettier than I am, and what do her and Gordon talk about and what does she give him for breakfast and do they sleep in the same room — all the things that Gordon never tells me, that’s what I think about. Gordon and I — Gordon—” She put her head down on the table and cradled it with her arms for comfort. Her voice came out, muffled by the press of flesh: “You wouldn’t understand. Nobody would, nobody.”
Slowly and stiffly Hazel crossed the room and sat down at the table opposite her. Her hands were shaking and her teeth were clenched together so tight that her jaws ached.
“So you’re the girl,” she said, sounding helpless and confused, as if the fact had struck her like a fire in the night, exposing her nakedness. “The one he talks to on the phone, that’s you.”
“We never talked more than a minute. We—”
“Why did you have to tell me? I’ve got troubles of my own. I didn’t want to know. Why did you have to tell me?”
“I — don’t know.”
“I’ve kept out of it. I knew something was going on but I managed to keep out of it. It’s none of my business what Gordon does, or you.” But she was aware as soon as the words were out that they were a lie. What Gordon did was her business because he was her employer, he paid her salary; and what Ruby did was her business because it affected not only Gordon, but George as well. “Why drag me into it, for God’s sake?”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“How many other people have you told?”
“No — no one.”
“Does anyone else know?”
“Just her — Elaine.”
“Just Elaine,” Hazel said with a brief, mirthless laugh. “That’s very funny, if you know Elaine. Just.” She paused a moment. Through the closed door she could hear George’s bass rumble and she thought, so that’s why she hates George so much, not for what he is or does, but because he isn’t Gordon. “How did Elaine find out?”
“I don’t know. Suddenly one night she phoned the café where I meet Gordon and asked for him. She told him the children were sick and he was to come right home. I said to Gordon, we’ll have to meet some place else, and he said it was no use, no matter where we went she would find out.” She raised her head. Her eyes were dry and glassy like marbles, and there was a round red indentation on her left cheek where it had pressed too long and tight against one of the buttons on her sleeve. “He’s scared of her. There’s no fight in him.”
“I’ve seen him fight.”
“Not her. Not against her. He means to, he says he will, and then when the time comes he can’t. It’s like she paralyzes him and he can’t even talk to her. How can anything be settled if he won’t talk to her? What will happen to us?”
“You already know. It’s already happened.”
“You mean bad things.”
“What else?”
“They show, here?” She reached up and touched her face, running her fingertips along her forehead and down her cheeks to the point of her jaw. “You can see them?”
“Not exactly. I didn’t—”
“I’ve always looked old for my age,” Ruby said stiffly. “It’s because I got such fine skin, it wrinkles easier than other people’s.”
“I didn’t mean you had wrinkles.”
“You were just trying to scare me, that’s what you meant.”
“I’m trying to warn you what you’re messing around in. The top’s been ready to blow off that house for years.”
“Let it blow.”
“You think you can pick up the pieces?”
“Yes.”
“Your own, maybe. Not Gordon’s. There’ll be nothing to pick up.”
Ruby leaned across the table. “You don’t want Gordon to go away with me and be happy, do you? You want things to stay like they are. You don’t care about Gordon, it’s your job you care about.”
“There are other jobs,” Hazel said grimly. “And probably other Gordons. But if there’s a sure thing on God’s green earth, there’s only one Elaine.”
“Trying to scare me — what can she do to me?”
“She can twist you out of shape like you were a pipe cleaner. I’ve seen what she does to him.”
“I can fight back. I’m stronger than I look. I’m tough.”
Hazel turned away. “Sure. Sure you are.”
“Wait and see. Someday, when everything’s settled and Gordon and I are married, I bet you’ll look back on tonight and have a big laugh about how you tried to scare me.”
“I like a big laugh,” Hazel said wearily. “Good luck to you anyway, Ruby.”
“Why do you say it like that, like I was going to die or something? I’ve got a future, me and Gordon. No matter what it is, it’ll be better than this. You can see that, can’t you?”
“I guess I can.”
“I’m strong and I’m tough.”
“Sure.”
The door from the hall swung open and George came in. His face was flushed and his eyes crinkled at the corners, and he was rubbing his hands together as if he’d just told a good joke and had led the laughing. George knew a million jokes.
“Time to break this up, isn’t it?”
Neither of the women answered.
“You girls been having a nice little chat?”
“Swell,” Hazel said. “Dandy.”
He approached Ruby’s chair, almost shyly. “I told you Hazel was a real tonic. You look better already, that’s a feet.”
She kept her eyes fixed on the table. “I look a mess.”
“No, you don’t.”
“My hair—”
“Your hair looks great.” He reached out to touch it, but she shrank away from his hand.
“I left,” she said, “I left my purse in the car.”
“I’ll get it for you.”
“No!”
“Is anything the matter?”
“No! I just want to get my purse so I can comb my hair.”
“All right,” he said. “All right.”
He stepped back and she darted toward the door, quick and frightened, like a bird. A moment later, through the open window, they could hear her frantic footsteps.
For a long time George didn’t move or speak. Then suddenly he reached down and picked up a whole slice of meat loaf and crammed it into his mouth. He began to chew, his cheeks distended like a squirrel’s. A moist blob of food dribbled out of the corner of his mouth and fell on his lapel. He didn’t wipe it off. He just stood there, chewing, out of rage and defiance and humiliation, chewing until his jaws ached and his throat contracted in revulsion and a lump formed in his chest like a knot of leather. And then, because he could not swallow, he opened the screen door and spat across the porch railing into the summer night. He came back into the kitchen, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, breathing noisily like a sprinter at the tape.
“You don’t,” Hazel said coldly, “have to act like a pig.”
“I am treated like a pig. I will be a pig.”
“Well, pick somebody else’s kitchen to—”
“Shut up.” Going to the sink he turned the cold water on full and splashed his face, sucking the water into his mouth. Then he dried himself carefully on a tea towel, folded the towel and replaced it on the rack,
“That’s a dish towel,” Hazel said.
He looked at her bitterly, his eyes bloodshot from the water. “Well, I’m a dish. That makes it all right. Ask Ruby what a fancy dish I am.”
“I didn’t have to ask her. She told me.”
“Give it to me straight.”
“I’d like a cigarette.”
“Here.”
He lit it for her and she took three quick puffs, as if she intended the smoke to blur George’s outlines and take the edge off reality.
She spoke slowly: “Ruby thinks you’re a fine man and all that, but she — well, you’re more of a father to her, see?”