Carla

Chapter Fifteen

The days passed rapidly for Carla. Danny was everything to her and she found a new world in his arms, a world rich in gratification and contentment. It seemed to her that her life was as perfect as it could possibly be.

The only problem she had were minor ones. Danny was a bit touchy at times, a slight bit irritable for a few minutes every once in a while. It was nothing to worry about but she found herself increasingly annoyed at his outbursts.

One evening, for example, they went to dinner at an expensive restaurant a few miles outside of town near the airport. The food was delicious, the music danceably pleasant, and the prices rather steep. Carla let him pay the check, but on the way home she offered to pay him back.

“Don’t be silly,” he snapped.

“Why not? It was expensive and—”

“I pay my own way, Carla.”

“That’s silly,” she said. “I can afford it and you can’t, so why don’t you let me take care of it? You have to save up for the station, and—”

“Dammit,” he cut in, “can’t you understand that I don’t want to be a stinking gigolo? I know you can afford to keep me but I sure as hell don’t feel like being kept!”

After that she didn’t offer to pick up a tab again. Instead, she tried to keep him from taking her to the more expensive places. And he seemed to resent this, too, as if he wanted to prove that the fact that he was not rich didn’t make any difference. He brought her presents which she knew he couldn’t afford, yet refused to accept gifts from her. He seemed to brag how little money he had, and when she made the mistake of offering a loan, he blew up in her face.

“No!” he had shouted. His face was taut with anger and she saw the muscle in his left cheek throb. “Get this through your pretty little head, Carla: I don’t want your money.”

But the irritations were minor ones, and she decided that it was only a question of adjustment. Right now Danny felt guilty about his lack of money and thus inadequate to be her lover. But he would grow out of that stage in time. He would adjust to the situation and she would be more able to know how to avoid offending him, and all the wrinkles would smooth out before long.

Otherwise everything was as good as she could possibly have wished it to be. As she had suspected, the physical side of their relationship improved continually to unbelievable perfection. Danny made her feel like a combination of Greek goddess and alley-cat, and it was a pleasant feeling. His passion was equal to hers and their bodies were completely attuned to one another.

For awhile she worried that his landlady might bother them, but this didn’t prove to be the case. Mrs. Smithers, Danny told her, was an old hag who guzzled sherry every afternoon and didn’t care if the house burned down around her as long as there was a bottle of wine on the table. The other tenants minded their own business and the pair had as much privacy as they could want.

Strangely enough, her relationship with Ronald was much better than it had ever been before. Now that she did not feel that she was cheating him or pulling the wool over his eyes, she felt much closer to him. He was working hard every day on the case, and she could see in his eyes he came home tired and not wanting to talk; other times he would be brimming, over with news and anxious to share it with her.

She listened to him carefully, happy when he was happy and sad when his spirits lagged. The emotions were not forced on her part either. She wanted him to win the case, wanted him to have the pleasure that victory would bring him.

“It’s funny,” he said one evening. “You share my joys and sorrows even if you don’t share my bed.”

The words brought a lump to her throat and she walked quickly around the table. She kissed him gently on the forehead, thinking what a kind and wonderful man she had married.

Danny sat up on the bed and began dressing. “I hate this place,” he said. “I didn’t mind it so much before, but now every day I hate it a little bit more.”

Carla hadn’t moved. She was still lying face down on the bed, her eyes closed and all the muscles in her body pleasantly relaxed. “I don’t see why,” she said. “I’m beginning to get quite fond of it.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I like what goes on here.”

“So do I,” he said. “But that’s not what I mean. I hate this room.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s cheap. Because it’s cheap and crummy, and I don’t want to make love to you in a place like this. Before it was different. Hell, I don’t mind sleeping in a doorway if I have to — but you deserve more than this.”

“I don’t mind.”

He stooped over to tie his shoelaces. “It will be different,” he promised. “We’ll take a little place out in the suburbs, maybe near the station. I can swing a GI loan for the downpayment and—”

“A house?”

He laughed. “Of course a house. You don’t want to bring up kids in a flat, do you? And sure as hell not in this room!”

She realized abruptly that he still thought she was going to marry him. But what was the point of that? Their relationship was perfectly satisfactory as it stood, and marriage would mean the end of the house on Nottingham Terrace and the MG and everything else she had. And children — she had always wanted children, but in a vague and unreal sort of a way. The thought of walking around with her belly sticking out and getting up in the middle of the night to change diapers or give a baby his bottle was not at all attractive.

How could she tell him that she had no intention of marrying him? He would have to find out eventually, but she couldn’t just say “You jerk, I don’t want to marry you.”

“That’s right,” she said finally. “We’ll have to have a house, but not for awhile.”

“I guess not,” he said. “Christ, I wish that case of his would end already!”

“Those things take a long time.”

He nodded. Then he turned around, resting his weight on one arm, and looked down at her thoughtfully.

“Carla,” he said slowly, “don’t you want to marry me?”

She was so startled by his question that she almost blurted out the truth. Then she collected herself and said, “Of course I do, darling. What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “You don’t seem to care much one way or the other, that’s all. Whenever I talk about it or start making plans you act as though nothing could interest you less. You never talk about children or a house or what kind of wedding we’ll have or anything. I just don’t understand it.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He waited for her to go on.

“Danny,” she said, “it’s hard for me. You’re not married and you never have been married, so you don’t know exactly what it’s like. Being married to Ronald and talking about marrying you — well, it’s hard for me to do it. I want to marry you. You know that, Danny. But I don’t want to talk about it until we can do it, without worrying about the case or anything else. Do you see what I mean?”

She waited, hoping he would accept her explanation without question.

“Sure,” he said after a minute. “Sure, I get it, honey. I guess I’ve been pressing you too hard, huh? I’m so anxious to marry you that I can’t get it off my mind. But I’ll try not to bother you too much.”

She let out a breath, realizing that she had been holding it for a long time. “Okay,” she said, grinning. “Now why don’t you show me how much you love me.

“Show you?”

She nodded.

“Hell, I just finished showing you.”

“Show me again.”

“You sure want a lot of showing, honey.”

She giggled.

“We-ell,” he drawled, “I guess I can force myself.”

He kicked off his shoes without bothering to untie them and removed the rest of his clothing. He turned to her and took her in his arms, and she emptied her mind of all thoughts and concentrated solely on him, on his touch and his kisses and the small private things he whispered in her ear.

Afterward, the thoughts all came back. The trial would end, of course, and then she would have to tell him. Everything was set for now, but her words had only made more difficult the job of telling him later. It would be hard, very hard.

But there was no way out. She would wait until the time came.

The time came.

The trial was over suddenly, over too soon it seemed to her. Ronald had won, finishing up with a closing speech that was the finest act of his career. The jury was out less than an hour before they decided in his favor. It was the triumph of his career.

She should have been elated, and in fact she did share a good deal of his triumph. She stayed home with him that night and they cracked a bottle of premium champagne, and when she got to bed she felt a little bit high from the champagne. Maybe, she thought crazily, Danny wouldn’t find out. Maybe she could tell him for years that the trial was still in progress.

The trial made the front page the next morning.

Her heart fell as she read the item. She hurled the newspaper across the room and rushed upstairs, dressing hastily. She had to find Danny at once. She had to see him, and somehow she had to make him understand that they were not going to be married. She didn’t stop to figure out just how this would be accomplished, but hopped into the car and drove at once to the gas station. Her mind was turning around in circles. How could she tell him? What could she do?

She stopped for a traffic light and waited impatiently, her hands clenched tightly around the steering-wheel. When the light turned her foot pressed down on the accelerator and the car shot forward, responding at once to the pressure of her foot on the pedal. The mid-morning traffic was fairly heavy, but the little foreign car easily dodged in and out and swerved from lane to lane.

When she reached the gas station, she made a quick left turn narrowly missing another car and pulled over to the side near Danny’s office. He was busy with another car at first and didn’t see her. Then, when the other driver had paid him and driven from the lot, Danny turned and saw her. He raced over at once, a huge smile on his face and his arms swinging at his sides. He shoved his face through the open window and she leaned forward to meet his kiss. The kiss was long and warm; under more pleasant circumstances Carla would have enjoyed it immensely, but now her mind was too confused and tormented by the situation at hand. A customer had driven into the lot and pulled up near one of the pumps, but Danny didn’t let the presence of a customer interrupt the kiss. Finally he broke off and grinned.

“I saw the news,” he said. “Christ, what a welcome headline! I’ve been looking for that little item every time I pick up a paper, and this morning it was there. I called you but you didn’t answer. I guess you were on your way here already.”

She nodded. “I got here as fast as I could.”

The customer honked impatiently. Danny started to stand up and attend to the man, then changed his mind and put his face to the window again.

“Now we can get married,” he said.

She nodded soundlessly.

“It’ll take a while,” he said. “Divorce proceedings and all — I guess they can eat up plenty of time. But we’re on our way now, Carla. There’s nothing standing between us and we don’t have to worry about anyone finding out. Isn’t it great?”

“It certainly is.” She tried to match his enthusiasm but he noticed that something was wrong and regarded her quizzically.

“What’s the matter, Carla?”

“Nothing’s the matter.”

His eyebrows went up a fraction of an inch. “You don’t seem excited. Isn’t this as exciting to you as it is to me?”

“Of course it is.” When he didn’t say anything more she said, “I knew about it last night, honey. That’s why I couldn’t come to see you. Ronald wanted me to stay home with him for a celebration. Since I’ve known for over twelve hours, the excitement has worn off a little bit.”

His features relaxed into a smile. “That explains it, honey. I should have known you’d be as keyed up as I am otherwise. But why didn’t you call me?”

“I did,” she said, hunting for another lie to reinforce the one she had just told. “Some woman answered and said you weren’t home.”

“But I was home all night.”

Carla shrugged. “That’s what she told me.”

“That’s funny.” He thought for a moment. “Oh,” he said suddenly, “I know what must have happened. That old bitch Smithers pulled that once before. When she gets good and tanked up she wouldn’t move an inch to call somebody to the phone and she just gives whoever calls the “He’s not home” line and that’s all.”

She nodded gratefully. “That’s what must have happened.”

There was a squeal of rubber on pavement and Danny turned to see the car pull out of the station in a rush. “Looks like you just cost me a customer,” he said. “I better get back to work. Look, tonight we got to celebrate. You and your husband had last night together, and now it’ll be our turn. Okay?”

“Okay.” She swallowed.

“Our celebration might be a lot livelier, too. I’ll pick you up in front of your house around six and we’ll go out for dinner. There’s one place that’s been a favorite of mine and I’ve been saving it for something special. I think you’ll like it.”

“Okay,” she said lamely. “I’ll be ready.” Then, driving back to her house, she felt more confused and frightened than ever.

Most of the time when she sat alone the minutes seemed to crawl. But today was different. Today she didn’t want the time to pass, and the morning and afternoon flew by far too quickly. Indeed, Carla had the feeling that everything was happening too fast for her to keep up with it. In each conversation with Danny she felt lost and inadequate. She didn’t want to lie to him but there never was a chance to tell him the truth. He was so caught up in his own train of thought that she couldn’t possibly interrupt him, especially with something as jarring as her news would be.

She was ready at six. She said good-night to Ronald and Lizzie, telling them that she was having supper with a girl-friend. She knew that Ronald knew what she meant but it didn’t matter, and she couldn’t care less what Lizzie thought. She certainly had enough other things to worry about for the time being.

She felt strange riding beside Danny in the old Ford. It was not the first time she had driven in his car, but it was the first time she saw so thoroughly the contrast between it and her MG. It reinforced her conviction that she could never marry Danny Rand.

Never.

The place was as perfect as Danny had said it would be. It was a steak house in the Old English fashion, with clay pipes on the walls and suits of armor standing in the corners for decoration. They sat in a corner booth secluded from the rest of the diners, and the intimacy of the booth combined with the atmosphere of the restaurant to make it an ideal setting. And the food was delicious — as good a steak as she had ever eaten.

The dinner-table was no place for the words she had to say. Despite the food and the surroundings, Carla found it impossible to enjoy her dinner. Every minute was filled with apprehension at the thought of the impending scene between them. Every minute she wanted to blurt out the horrible but necessary words, and every minute they stuck in her throat, almost choking her emotionally.

Dinner, in its own quiet way, was hell.

The ride back was no picnic either. She rode with her head nestled comfortably on Danny’s shoulder, but she was by no means comfortable. Her nerves were strung tight and her muscles were rigid — all the more rigid in view of the appearance of relaxation she struggled to maintain.

While the ride and the dinner preceding it were not comfortable, she wanted them to go on forever, so that she could prolong the terrible moment of truth. But things followed the pattern of the day and went on happening too quickly for her, and almost before she knew it the car was parked on Sagerties Avenue and Danny was holding the door open for her.

He opened the door of the house as well and followed her up the stairs. The stairs were unusually steep that evening — at least they seemed that way to her. As usual he had left his door unlocked, and when she stepped into the room he walked in after her and reached to take her in his arms.

She drew back involuntarily.

“Hey!” He grinned and reached out for her again, and once again she stepped back and avoided his embrace. His features contorted into a puzzled expression.

“Danny,” she said thinly, “sit down. These’s something I have to tell you.”

He started to protest, then shrugged and sat down on the edge of the cot. Carla remained standing. She pulled a cigarette from her purse and lit it herself, extinguishing the match with a nervous flick of her wrist and letting it fall to the floor. Then she walked back and forth in the little room while he waited patiently. Finally she couldn’t prolong the moment any further. She turned to him, trying to avoid his eyes, and spoke softly and quickly.

“Danny,” she said, “I am not going to marry you.”

She darted a glance at his face and then looked away, unable to gaze at the expression she saw there. It was composed of equal parts of disbelief and horror.

“If... if this is your idea of a joke—”

“It’s not a joke.”

He stood up and took a hesitant step in her direction. “I think you’d better explain,” he said. “I think you better let me know just what in hell you’re trying to pull.”

“Then sit down.”

“The hell I’ll sit down!”

“Well, I can’t talk with you breathing in my face, damn it.” He sat down, and she closed her eyes for a long moment. She wished that she could die, that she could just keep her eyes shut tight and quietly cease to exist.

She opened her eyes.

He was still sitting on the bed, waiting for her to speak. The vein in his left temple stood out in bold relief. His breath came very slowly.

For a second she wished that she hated him. If he were someone she hated, it would be pleasant to torture him, pleasant to twist the knife in between his ribs and watch him writhe in agony. But he was a man she loved, the man she loved, and she shared his agony.

Then, slowly and laboriously, she told him. She let him have both barrels from beginning to end and he heard her without interruption. She told him that that the expensive house did matter and the MG mattered and the clothes in her closet mattered. She told him that everything was fine as it was, that Ronald was agreeable and nobody would ever bother them, that she loved him but couldn’t he see that marriage didn’t make any sense?

She told him everything, but as she spoke she heard her words from his point of view and realized how hollow and ugly they must have been sounding to him. After she finished neither of them said a word for several minutes and the silence of the room was unbearable. At last he raised his eyes to hers and she saw that they were dead and dull, empty and vacuous.

“Get out,” he said.

“Danny—”

“Get out.”

Her temper flared. “Damn you, can’t you understand anything? Do you think I want a passel of brats in my hair all day long? Do you think all I want to do is switch one filthy slum for another?”

“Get out,’ he said when she had finished. “I made a big mistake, Carla. I fell in love with the most complete bitch that ever walked the earth.

“Get out before I throw you out.”