The Housewife Blues (7 page)

"It was meeting those two fags that threw me off my
game," he said sourly, picking at his omelet.

"Oh," she exclaimed, not knowing what he was
discussing.

"Talked my ear off. Somehow the others managed to
avoid them by watching the ball game." Suddenly he pushed away the omelet
with disgust. "It's cold, Jenny."

She rose, took the plate, and put it in the microwave.

"Talk about being neighborly. They had me trapped. All
they could talk about was their damned cat. Peter this. Peter that. You know
how these damned fags are. Everything trivial becomes so damned
important."

"You mean the men who live downstairs?" Jenny
asked, somewhat surprised. It hadn't occurred to her that there was more to it
than their being roommates.

"Two fruits," Larry muttered. "I wouldn't
even shower there. They finished their game the same time we did."

"I had no idea," Jenny exclaimed.

"I guess you wouldn't." Larry sighed, shaking his
head as she put the warmed-up omelet in front of him and sat down beside him.

"We did have homosexuals in Bedford, Larry,"
Jenny responded. "I'm not that naive." But she apparently was and
knew it. She hadn't even suspected.

"Right below us, Jenny," Larry said, pointing to
the floor. "Performing unspeakable acts on each other. I admit to some
lack of tolerance, especially when I imagine what they do in bed together. I
hope AIDS isn't caused by proximity." He chuckled joylessly.

His remarks had triggered an odd, unwelcome sense of panic
in Jenny as she summoned up the image of Teddy letting himself into their
apartment with his own key.

"Maybe you're reading something into it that isn't
there," she said hopefully. "They could be simply roommates. Such
arrangements do exist."

"Trust me, Jenny. I can sniff them at fifty paces. We
have quite a contingent in our business. Take my word for it. O'Hara and
Schwartz are fags."

"One of them, I'm not sure which one, came up here a
couple of weeks ago," she told him cautiously. "He was quite handsome
and not obviously effeminate. All he wanted was to find his cat."

"Well, if the cat ever wanders up here, drown it.
That's all they talk about." He finished the omelet, but without relish.
"Micro-waving destroys the taste," he said.

"I only warmed it up in there," she said with
some irritation. She could not get Teddy out of her mind. Apparently it
affected her, because when she poured Larry another cup of coffee, her hand
shook and she spilled some on his robe.

"Shit, Jenny. It stains."

"Sorry."

She went through the ritual of pouring salt on the spot,
then soda water.

"Never mind. Bring it to the cleaners tomorrow."
He looked up at her. "What is it with you today, Jenny? You seem upset
about something."

He studied her face, and she turned away quickly, then
stood up to remove the omelet plates. She had always prided herself on being a
tolerant person, accepting all human beings at face value, whatever their race,
religion, ideology, sexual preference, or anything else that made them
"different."

In Bedford she had encountered prejudice of every stripe,
and although she didn't preach or become militant at every sign of bigotry, she
considered herself the kind of person who could "live and let live."
It therefore annoyed her to feel this sense of menace concerning Teddy Stern.

She hadn't given much thought to homosexuality. She had
heard rumors about some of her classmates in high school, but they had not been
part of her circle and, therefore, had been out of her frame of reference. Like
most people, she wasn't quite certain how people became homosexual, assuming
that they had either been born with the tendency or had been conditioned to it
by other homosexuals. This latter idea somehow became tied in her mind to Teddy
Stern.

Why did he go into the ground-floor apartment? Did his
parents know? Teenagers were impressionable, easily influenced. Had the two men
designs on the boy? To tolerate gay people was one thing. It wasn't her mission
to approve or disapprove of the life they had chosen or that had chosen them.
But she could not bring herself to accept such a way of living as
"normal." Which didn't mean they were bad people. She tried to beat
away such speculation.

It was too weighty a subject, too confusing. Above all, it
wasn't any of her business. Yet she could not rid herself of the troubling
memory of seeing this teenage boy enter the apartment of two gay men with a key
of his own. However she tried to dismiss the idea, it did have the connotation
of seduction, of innocence corrupted.

"Couldn't be your period," Larry said, observing
her. Her expression must have revealed her disturbing feelings.

"I'm fine," she responded, forcing a smile.
"Besides, I'm not due for another two weeks."

"I know."

There was, she decided, a limit to his thoroughness, but
she didn't confront him with that. He got up from the table, wandered into the
living room, and began to read
The New York Times,
leaving her to her
own thoughts. There was no point in dwelling on Teddy Stern's dilemma, she
finally told herself. Good sense must prevail. She remembered what her father
once told her: Never worry about the things you can't do anything about.

To get Teddy out of her mind, she deliberately made certain
that she was not near the window at the approximate time she knew that Teddy
entered the ground-floor apartment. Then one afternoon, when she was in the
midst of sewing together a bedspread for their four-poster bed, she heard the
familiar buzz of the intercom. Although she had become wary of answering it in
the middle of the day, depending on her mood, she decided that perhaps she was
becoming too reclusive and that Larry's constant barrage of foreboding was
becoming too suffocating. She responded to the buzz.

"I'm Teddy Stern, apartment five upstairs. I lost my
keys. Could you let me in, please?" His voice was young and appealing, and
all sense of defensiveness disappeared.

"Of course."

She rang the buzzer and heard the door open. It seemed
appropriate for her to open her apartment door and greet the boy.

"I really appreciate this," Teddy said, nervously
pressing the elevator button. She could hear the grinding mechanism as the
elevator lumbered downward.

"Isn't that what neighbors are for?"

"Yes, Mrs. Burns," Teddy said politely.

Up close, he looked just this side of puberty, with a thin
fuzz of black mustache on his upper lip that barely set off his complexion. His
eyes were a limpid dark brown with long black lashes, which was his most
striking feature. A shock of curly hair fell over his forehead. A prominent Adam's
apple bobbed in his thin neck as he spoke. Slender and already taller than
Jenny, he carried a much abused carryall over one shoulder.

"It's not much fun losing your keys," she said.

"It was dumb."

She realized suddenly that she was staring at him. Worse,
she knew she was inspecting him for any signs of femininity or any telltale
characteristics that might be interpreted as homosexual. The idea of it was
appalling and embarrassing.

The elevator came and Teddy opened the metal gate and
peered at her from inside the cab.

"My dad thinks I'm absentminded," he said. He
closed the metal gate but still did not press the button.

"I guess you have the key to the apartment,"
Jenny said. It was a question in the form of a statement. He peered at her from
behind the metal latticework of the gate.

"Actually, no. I was going to sit on the stairs and do
my homework," Teddy said. He was, she realized, neither a boy nor a man,
but that hybrid that occurred just before a boy began to shave. An image of her
high school days intruded, and she remembered how swiftly the change took
place. One moment the boys were more interested in their own company, and the
next they were trying to play with the girls' breasts. The memory triggered a
more ominous image.

"That's silly. You'll be far more comfortable in my
apartment." She wanted to add that she would be happy to give him milk and
cookies, realizing instantly that he would probably resent the offer.

He seemed to be mulling over her invitation. Finally he
shrugged and reopened the elevator gate.

"You wouldn't disturb me. I'm just doing some
sewing."

He followed her into the apartment, inspecting it as he
entered.

"I was just making myself a cup of tea," Jenny
lied. "Can I get you a cup?"

"Great," he said.

"Sit anywhere you're comfortable," Jenny said,
flourishing her hand toward the living room. He sat stiffly on one of the
upholstered chairs, pulled out a book from his carryall, and began to read.

She went into the kitchen and put the kettle up to boil,
peeking into the living room occasionally. She noted that Teddy did more
staring into space than reading.

When the water was at a boil, she poured hot water over tea
bags, put the two cups on a tray along with brownies, and brought them into the
living room. She put the tray on the cocktail table in front of the couch.

"Mind if I take a break with you?" Jenny asked,
sitting on the couch opposite the chair on which Teddy sat. Not waiting for an
answer, she patted the pillow next to where she was seated, and the boy rose
and sat down beside her.

"I can't believe I lost them," Teddy said.

"I'm sure they'll turn up,"

"Typical, I suppose," Teddy said, a frown
creasing his smooth brow. "My dad thinks I'm a screw-up anyhow."

She hadn't expected such swift intimacy, and knowing what
she knew, it made her both uncomfortable and expectant. Strangers on a train,
she thought. Perhaps he wants to reach out.

"Sometimes fathers need a bit of growing up," she
said, biting into a brownie, feeling compelled to ally herself with the boy.
His brown eyes seemed to indicate a deep, troubling vulnerability, as if he
were carrying a heavy secret too weighty for his years.

"He's got his own problems these days." Teddy
sighed.

"Does he?"

The boy shrugged, and she could hear warning bells go off
in her mind. But before she could build up any defenses to deflect further
intimacy, he was blurting out family events that were better left unsaid.

"Mom's not well, and the recession has really hurt
Pop's real estate business."

"That's too bad," Jenny said.

"They really can't afford to send me to private school
anymore," the boy said. "And here I am getting rotten marks."
Teddy had been looking into his teacup. Suddenly he raised his eyes and his
gaze met hers. "We may even get evicted from this place."

"Evicted?"

"Thrown out," Teddy said, sighing.

"How awful," Jenny said.

"Pretty hairy."

"If that happens, what will you do?" Jenny asked.

"I'm not sure. I don't even like to think about it.
Mom pushes herself to go to work. Doctor says she got a bad heart and shouldn't
be working. But we need the bread. Dad's trying to hook up with another real
estate company, but business stinks everywhere. I feel guilty even going to
private school. Dad says that no matter what, beg, borrow, or steal, they won't
take me out of private school. Which I think is stupid. But what the hell do I
have to say?"

It was an entirely unexpected litany, and she regretted
having put herself into the awkward position of having to listen to it. At that
moment she sensed the correctness of Larry's warning. Worse, she felt so
terrible for the boy, for whom this burden was so unfair. This, along with the
other.

"Things have a way of getting better," she said
stupidly. When in doubt, try optimism, she assured herself. Besides, there was
absolutely nothing more than lip service that she could offer the boy.

"You got a nice place here," Teddy said, looking
around. "What do you do?"

"I guess you'd say I'm a housewife. I know it's kind
of an old-fashioned thing to do. But frankly I prefer it."

"I mean what kind of work do you do?"

"I just told you," she said. "I keep house
for my husband. I'm a homemaker."

"Mom says you stay home a lot. I thought maybe you
were sick or something."

"Before I got married I was an assistant in a doctor's
office." It annoyed her that she felt compelled to say
"assistant" rather than "nurse." She felt herself growing
impatient with the conversation, and as if to call it to a halt, she upended
her cup and swallowed the last bit of tea. But Teddy's curiosity seemed boundless.

"Is your husband a lawyer?"

"No." She hesitated for a moment, watching the
boy's face, hearing the echo of Larry's admonition. "He's a vice-president
of an advertising agency." She deliberately held back on offering him any
more specifics. But he was relentless.

"Bet he makes a lot of money," Teddy said.

"I have no complaints," she offered, standing up.
He still hadn't finished his tea and hadn't touched the brownies.

"If they move," Teddy said with an intonation as
if it were an announcement, "I may not go."

"Won't go?" She had been heading toward the
kitchen with her cup in hand. Now she stopped dead in her tracks and studied
the boy, who had averted his eyes, looking into his teacup. She was suddenly
frightened, as if she had crossed some forbidden boundary.

"I'd stay right here with Bob and Jerry," Teddy
said firmly.

"Bob and Jerry?"

The question was purely rhetorical. She knew whom he meant.
Far too much revelation for one day, she rebuked herself, a part of her wanting
to send the boy packing. But this other part was yearning with curiosity. She
braced herself for what might be coming next, yet she made no effort to flee to
the kitchen.

"Right below us," he said, looking toward the
floor. "And Peter. That's their cat." He paused and smiled thinly,
shaking his head. She did not offer a response, feeling increasingly
uncomfortable, still standing above him, caught on the what-happens-next aspect
of his revelation, expecting him to confess his—