The Misfortunes of Others (10 page)

“Cheerful, isn’t she?” was Weezy’s comment, later, sharing a comforting cup of coffee in the kitchen with Snooky.

“She’s been biting my head off several times a day.”

“Being pregnant doesn’t seem to have improved her personality.”

“I don’t care if she is pregnant, one of these days I’m going to lose my temper. Especially if it keeps on raining like this.”

“The weather’s been terrible. I suppose it must be hard, being hormonal and everything, and having it so gray day after day.”

“You’re too kind to her.”

“She needs a friend. You and Bernard look like you’re going to murder someone. She needs a friend to recount later, at the trial, how you fingered a steak knife and talked about losing your temper.”

Snooky guiltily put down the knife. “Everything’s getting on my nerves. I’m not myself.”

“It’s the weather. Low barometric pressure does that to everybody. There are more murders and robberies on rainy days.”

“Is that true?”

“I don’t know. I just made it up. Probably.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do if the weather doesn’t change soon. I can’t believe I left the Caribbean for this.”

“It is incredible.” Weezy drank her coffee. “Mmmm, you do make the best coffee. Just right. Heaven to my taste buds. Are you sure you won’t marry Sao and become my second-in-help?”

Snooky looked bitter. “Why should I do that when I have such an enviable position, slaving away here for nothing?”

“If they’re going to hire you, they could at least pay you.”

“Sometimes Bernard forgets, and I have to spend my own money to buy stuff for dinner.”

“Life is so terribly unfair.”

“In St. Martin I didn’t have to pay for anything. I didn’t even have to cook or clean.”

“You shouldn’t have left.”

“Apparently not.”

“The weather’s probably lovely there.”

Snooky did not reply. He was sunk in gloom.

“I have an idea,” said Weezy. “I have to go to New York
City the day after tomorrow. You know, about my show. The gallery owner and I have to talk over some details. Would you like to tag along? You could see friends, go to a museum, have a little time to yourself.”

“That would be wonderful. I accept with gratitude. Thank you.”

“Bernard and Maya might like to have some time to themselves also.”

“I don’t see why. All they do is snap at each other, and sometimes Maya cries.”

“Oh, you’re simply jealous, sweetie. Theirs is a great romance.”

“I don’t see what’s so great about it. They don’t seem to get along at all anymore.”

“Which is why they need a day off, too,” Weezy said wisely, patting him on the shoulder.

Maya was disturbed at the idea of Snooky going off for the day.

“Is it because you’re tired of us?” she asked, clutching the bedspread to her thin body. Instead of getting rounder, she looked more emaciated than ever. “Is it because I’ve been mean to you? Is that why Weezy asked you?”

“Mean to me?” said Snooky. “Mean to me? You think calling me a pinheaded weaselnosed dwarf is being mean to me? You think gagging on my food and calling it simply inedible is being mean to me? You think saying I make too much noise when I’m walking around in my room upstairs is being mean to me? No, no, Maya, far from it. I’m enjoying myself so much I can barely tear myself away.”

Maya lay back on the pillows. She looked very tired. “I’m in a bad mood these days.”

“Really?”

“I’m pregnant. I’m allowed to be bad.”

“Well, I’m not pregnant,” said Snooky. “I’m allowed to go away for a day.”

“I’m worried that you hate me,” said Maya fretfully. Her eyes filled with tears. She plucked nervously at the bedspread. “I feel like you hate me, Snooks.”

“I don’t hate you. Why do you say that?”

“Because I’ve been so mean.”

“You haven’t been mean.”

“I did call you a pinheaded weaselnosed dwarf. I remember that. I called you that the other day, didn’t I?”

“I didn’t take it personally, Missy.”

“I don’t know why I’m being so impossible,” she said with a half-sob. Tears ran down her cheeks. “I never was before. I was always a nice person.”

“Too nice,” said Snooky, patting her hand. “Too nice. Underneath was all this meanness. Now you’re letting it out, so it’ll be gone before the baby is born.”

Maya stared at him wildly. “Do you think so?”

“Yes, Missy. Yes. Now try to go back to sleep. You look tired.”

“I feel like there’s something terribly wrong with me, Snooks. I have no energy.”

“You’re just pregnant. People work in the fields while they’re pregnant. Try to be brave.”

“Bernard and I went for a walk the other day, and I had to come home and lie down. I used to be able to walk for miles and miles. Remember that, Snooks? I wouldn’t be able to work in the fields. They would throw me out of the village. I’m no good for anything. I can’t even get out of bed.”

“You’ll feel more like yourself again soon, Missy.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Yes, I do.”

She closed her eyes. “I hope so.”

He waited until her frantic grip on his hand relaxed, then slipped out of the room. He met Bernard on the way downstairs.

“I don’t know about you,” he said, “but I don’t think I’m going to make it through the first trimester.”

Bernard laid a heavy paw on his shoulder and gazed into his eyes. “That bad?”

“Worse than bad. Terrible.”

“Do you think she wants a cup of tea? I was bringing her one, just in case.”

“No. She’s asleep.”

“Oh.”

“I’m going to New York the day after tomorrow. You two are on your own. Good luck to you. Weezy says you need time alone, without me, for your great romance.”

“Weezy says
what?
” said Bernard in horror, but Snooky had already gone past him, down the stairs and out of sight.

WEEZY WAS nervous all the way into the city. She stared out the window of the train at the landscape of Connecticut and New York rolling by, she fiddled with her hat, which was a small thing with feathers that looked like a bird perched on top of her messy nest of hair, she refused to make conversation with Snooky, she looked anxiously inside her handbag. She applied lipstick several times and patted her hair in a futile attempt to cajole it into keeping its shape.

“Forget the hair,” said Snooky at last. “It’s hopeless.”

“Thank you.” She snapped open her handbag, took out a large pink plastic comb and began to drag it through her frizzy curls. “Thank you.”

“I don’t see what you’re so nervous about.”

“This is the first meeting I’ve had with this gallery owner in person, and you don’t see what I’m so nervous about?”

“He’s lucky to be able to represent you.”

Weezy responded to this with a cynical snort. She finished struggling with her hair and put the comb away.

“You look beautiful.”

“Please shut up.”

“You do.”

“I never have looked beautiful in my life, Snooky. The best I can hope for is neat and clean.”

Weezy was conservatively dressed in a tweed jacket and skirt whose muted green shades showed off her flaming hair to advantage. She wore no jewelry except for a heavy turquoise and gold ring on the little finger of her left hand.

“Is that a beetle?”

She slipped off the ring and waved it in front of his face. “It’s a scarab. You are so ignorant, it’s amazing. It’s Egyptian. It was my father’s. When he died I had it sized so I could wear it.”

“That’s interesting. Odd, but interesting.”

She turned to look out the window. “Are we there yet?”

“Weezy, we just passed the New York border. We’re nowhere near there yet.”

She sighed impatiently and swung one leg like a little girl.

Seeing that any further conversation was hopeless, Snooky opened up a magazine and buried himself in it until the train lurched to a halt in Grand Central Station. Weezy was already on her feet, prodding him with an impatient hand.

“Come on, come
on
, Snooky, we’re going to get caught in the line.”

She pushed him off the train and prodded him through the enormous vaulted lobby and out onto the street. It had finally stopped raining, and the sun spilled down onto the city, reflecting blindingly from glass office towers. An old man dressed in rags extended one filthy hand.

“Hey, mister … hey, mister …”

Snooky reached into his pocket and pulled out a five-dollar bill. The old man took it with a wintry smile. “Thanks.” He turned away. “Hey, mister … hey, mister …”

“The gallery is in the East Forties,” said Weezy, nervously checking a piece of paper. “It’s not far. I thought we could walk.”

“Still sure you want me to come?”

“Yes,” she said, linking arms with him. “I need emotional support in this crisis. What if he hates me and decides to cancel the show?”

“That’s a good thought.”

“Or what if he comes on to me, but I hate him, so he decides to cancel the show?”

“Why don’t you sleep with him in order to get your show put on?”

“I think I might,” Weezy said, staring at the sidewalk and biting her lip. She seemed oblivious to the hordes of people surging around her. “I just might.”

“If I promised to put on a show of yours, would you sleep with me?”

“Only if you had a really well known gallery.”

“I’ve obviously chosen the wrong career,” said Snooky, maneuvering her past a scaffolding which said DANGER.

“Oh, really? Being the black sheep of your family doesn’t seem quite as attractive anymore?”

“I’m not really a black sheep. I’m just doing it to annoy William.”

“Well, whatever. Look at that poor man there, give him some money, will you? God, every time I go away I forget, and every time I come back I’m so glad I went away. New York isn’t what it used to be. Although I do love the way people dress. Look at that woman over there, in the purple outfit. I’ve only been away a year, and now when I come back I feel like a hick. I forgot how when rich people dress sloppy they can still look glamorous.”

“Nobody in Ridgewood is particularly glamorous.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think old Mrs. Castor is pretty glamorous. All that snowy-white hair and that little birdlike face and that red lipstick she wears. I hope I look that good when I’m her age. I won’t, of course.” She checked the slip of paper
worriedly. “I think this is it. Yes, this is it, all right. Oh, my God. Here we go. Try to act sophisticated. Don’t embarrass me.”

“Weezy, I haven’t embarrassed anyone since I was five years old.”

As she pushed open the door, a man rose from a desk in the back and came towards them, his arms out in welcome.

“Ms. Kaplan …?”

“Mr. Genuardi?”

“Call me Edward. This is a pleasure … a very great pleasure …”

“Oh, no, no, the pleasure is all mine. I was so thrilled when you called …”

The gallery owner was a short, slight man in his mid-thirties with large glasses and receding hair. He fixed Snooky with a pale, unanimated eye. “And this is …?”

“Oh, this is Snooky, my friend Arthur Randolph, everyone calls him Snooky. And please call me Weezy.”

“Weezy.” He laughed. “How delightful. I thought there were a few details we should go over before the show …”

“Of course …”

They both turned to Snooky. Weezy was smiling as though she had never seen him before in her life.

“I’ll look around a bit,” he said. “Take a look at your fine collection here.”

The gallery owner bustled away, Weezy in tow. Snooky strolled over to the paintings. The gallery was dark, with high ceilings and track lighting to offset the murky interior. There was a sculpture exhibit on at the moment, as well as a collection of large paintings. Snooky stopped to contemplate a brass object which appeared to be the stylized shape of a woman tied into some kind of knot. She was holding out a baby and her mouth was open in a soundless scream.

“Now there’s the perfect shower present for Maya,” he thought.

Next to it was another knotted metal shape that, after much reflection, he decided was probably an animal tied into a knot. He thought he could make out an antler and a hoof. After that were several free-form figures.

He was looking at one of the paintings when Weezy came out of the office fifteen minutes later. She was beaming.

“Thank you
so
much,” she said to the owner, who shook her hand. There was a descending spiral of good-byes as they neared the door.

“Thank you for coming in today … we look forward so much to …”

“Oh, yes … you’re very welcome … I look forward to seeing …”

“Yes, yes … talk to you soon …”

“Talk to you …”

“Good-bye, Edward.”

“Good-bye, Weezy.”

The gallery owner shut the door firmly behind them.

“Are you going to have to sleep with him?”

They were seated in a small diner on Lexington Avenue, near the gallery. Snooky was having a cup of coffee and Weezy was eating a tuna salad sandwich.

She brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. “I don’t think so. At least, he didn’t mention it.”

“But it went well?”

“Very well. He’s enthusiastic. A nice man. Horrible eyes, of course, that pale color, like a frozen fish, but that’s not his fault.”