Seed on the Wind

If Lewis refused to pay Pete and if Pete carried out his threat she would be conspicuous enough. And the children. They would have to leave Maidstone. Roy and Panther would see the papers and learn all about it. Well — about what? She was their mother, wasn’t that enough? It was enough for her. But Maid-stone was a nice place, and that house was in her name...

In bed with Pete she could say to him, listen, you gave me a wristwatch once, give me something else. Lewis doesn’t matter, but I do, don’t I? Only she would have to be careful when and how she said it or it might merely make him contrary. Before would be a mistake. Just after would be better, when he was smoking a cigarette and felt like talking.

The train had left One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street behind and was gliding through the long tunnel between the rows of steel pillars which supported the mansions of Park Avenue towering above. About here Lora often amused herself by trying to guess when they were passing Sixty-ninth Street, where Lewis lived in a duplex apartment with his wife who had furnished him with two children of alien baritone parentage. She did so now. Poor dear Lewis, who wanted an extension of his privileges! A week ago she had accepted that; now it appeared an absurdity.

The trainmen called out Grand Central, and the train slowed down and stopped with a jerk. What if he isn’t here, Lora thought as she moved with the crowd of passengers down the long platform and up the runway into the station itself. He had said he might forget; and, looking at the clock above the information desk and seeing that the train had arrived precisely on time, she found herself thinking, if he isn’t here and doesn’t come in ten minutes I’ll be able to catch the three-fifteen home. At that she stopped dead in her tracks, amazed at the feeling of that thought, for it was a feeling of relief! She stopped and stood still, incredulous and bewildered, demanding of herself what she meant by that. Then with a shake of the head she went on, to the waiting room.

She walked clear around it, up one side and down the other. Pete wasn’t there, but that wasn’t surprising, since he had never made a point of punctuality. She stood a few moments in the main aisle, and was about to look for a seat on one of the benches when she saw him entering at the Forty-second Street door. Hatless, in a dark suit that showed some signs of wear and none of ever having been pressed, he caught sight of her at once and strode towards her with a suggestion of a jerk, not enough to be called a limp, in his right leg.

“I’m late.”

“Just a minute or two.”

She saw that people were looking at them, and put her hand on his arm and moved towards the door. No wonder, she thought, he absolutely looked like a wild man, out like this, among other people. On the sidewalk, Pete motioned for a taxi.

“My room’s on Eighteenth Street,” he said. He gave the address to the driver.

She made no reply until after they had got in and the taxi had started. Drugstore, hotel — here I am, my god, here I am, was buzzing in her head.

“Let’s not go straight to the room,” she said.

“Got some errands?”

“Yes. Well... not errands. Would you mind if we drove in the park a while?”

“With that meter staring at me, and me out of a job, and your boyfriend telling me to go to hell?”

“I’ll tend to the meter.”

“Ah! Just like old times.” He leaned forward and slid the window open to speak to the driver, and, coming to Fifth Avenue, the cab swung north. Pete sprawled in his corner and looked at Lora.

“What’s the idea of the park?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

He peered at her for a long time in silence, while the cab crept forward with the solid lines of traffic on the avenue.

“Look at me,” he said finally.

She shook her head.

“Something’s happened to you,” he declared. “What’s up?”

Now was the time, she thought, to suggest the hotel, and ask him to decide which one; being a newspaper man he would know all about it. But first the drugstore. Perhaps on that point he could be trusted after all; it would be a nuisance to go clear to Eleventh Street and back. Of course there were hotels down there...

“Nothing,” she said.

“Don’t tell me.” He was still peering at her. “You look like Antigone ascending out of hell.”

“Nothing is up. I’ve come, haven’t I?”

“Sure you’ve come. What for? What has happened since last night?”

“Nothing.”

As she said it she knew it was false; and yet it was true. Nothing had happened; but something totally unexpected and disconcerting was happening now. She was angry with herself, and frightened, and would not believe it. She forced herself to look at Pete and smile.

“I was thinking it might be better to go to a hotel,” she said. “Your room... you said...”

“Yes, go on.”

“You know what you said.”

“No, I forget, what did I say?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She was floundering. “Let’s go to a hotel.”