Into the Night

Madeline refolded the letter and closed her eyes.

That rings true, she reflected. That can’t be faked, that can’t be made up. The very ink it was written with still glows this long after. They were desperately in love, madly in love, truly in love.

It was the last of the letters. There were no more after that.

“But the first wife didn’t take it lying down. She was a singer. Worked in clubs. A roughneck, know what I mean? She did something to them that completely destroyed the marriage. Completely destroyed it.”

“What?”

“I never knew what. Starr wouldn’t say what.”

“Did Starr ever meet her? Did she know her at all?”

“I asked her that myself. She said, ‘I never set eyes on her in my life.’ Those were her words. ‘I never set eyes on her in my life.’ Then she said, ‘She called up just once. Just once, one o’clock one morning. Just one little phone call, but it wrecked my life, ruined my happiness, opened wide the gates of hell and pushed me through.’”

Madeline stared at her, intently, fearfully, wonderingly.

“As I stared at her,” Charlotte said, reading the look.

“Did she say anything else?”

“Only this. ‘I’d like to get even with her.’ She rounded her small fist, held it clenched like this — and brought it back against her own face, between her eyes. ‘I’d like to get even with her,’ she said. ‘But what could I ever do to her that could equal what she did to me? There can be only one of such a thing in this world, only one, never two.’”

Charlotte came to the door and her face lighted up when she saw Madeline. She was beginning to be fond of her, Madeline guessed. They kissed one another lightly on the cheeks.

“Come in,” Charlotte said. “I’ll fix you up a little lunch. It’s so nice to have someone to eat with, and not be alone.”

“No,” Madeline protested. “I came to take you out. It’s such a lovely day. Have you seen it yet?”

Charlotte nodded. “It really is. I could tell from the windows.”

“Let’s take a walk in that restful little park you have not far away from here—”

“Lakeside?”

“—and sit in the sun awhile and chat. Then I’ll buy you whatever you feel like having, in a restaurant or tearoom. You’ll see what an enjoyable way it will be to pass part of the day.”

“You’re spoiling me,” Charlotte said wistfully.

Madeline shook her head slightly to herself while she stood waiting, partly in and partly out of the doorway. She couldn’t help feeling a little disloyal, a little secretive. And yet, she told herself, there was nothing in this to harm Charlotte or be to her detriment. On the contrary, she was only trying to carry out her own daughter’s wishes, trying to fulfill them. That should make her approve, that should make her feel content, if she were to know.

Charlotte came back with simply a hat and a handbag added to her basic dress.

“Make sure it’s locked tight,” Madeline reminded her protectively as she pulled the door shut after her.

They walked down the sun-glowing street together, the girl and the older woman, like mother and daughter. Like Starr herself might have, in a day that was gone now.

Madeline sighed a little. Starr. Always Starr. Why was I born with such an oversensitized conscience, she thought. Those that aren’t, how much easier they have it.

They entered the park and, slackening still further their already leisurely pace, strolled down one of the long, winding, paved walks. The greenery was absolutely incredible, its hues heightened almost above nature by the clearness of the air and the brilliance of the sun. The grass was like emeralds, and even had a sparkle to it (from being recently wetted down, she supposed). The leaves on the trees were like little slivers and disks of wafer-thin dark green jade, and under each tree lay a pool of sapphire shadow. It looked like an artificially colored picture postcard of a park, and not a real one, on such a jeweled day as this.

“Cities, and their parks, still can be beautiful at times, even nowadays,” Madeline remarked.

“I used to come here and play when I was a child myself, many times. My mother would bring me.”

They came past a small lake with ducks swimming on it. The water flashed and dazzled like highly polished silver. Even the plumage of the ungainly little fowl glinted like burnished bronze and green-gold.

Madeline had seen her opening in the last remark.

“I suppose Starr did too, afterward.”

“Yes, I brought her as often as I could. And the cycle repeated itself. Strange thing, life.”

But now she’s dead, so she herself will never be able to bring a little girl of her own here to play, in her turn.

Charlotte turned toward her quite unexpectedly and said, “I know what you were thinking just then.”

Madeline didn’t try to deny it. She simply nodded and said, “Yes, I was.”

They came to a bench and Madeline said, “How about sitting here? Will this do?”

They both sat down.

Madeline took out cigarettes and offered one to her companion.

“It’s been years since I’ve tried one,” Charlotte said. “But I think I will have one for a change, as long as it’s all right with you.”