When Nathan arrived home, Nat was lying on the couch wearing just a pair of sweatpants. Watching the living room TV. An old I Love Lucy rerun. Lucy and Superman. One of Nat’s hands trailed down to where Feathers lay on the carpet.
“Where’s Carol?” Nathan asked, raising his voice to be heard over the canned laughter.
Nat only shrugged.
“Is she coming home for dinner?”
Nat shrugged again.
Nathan chose not to force the issue. But he couldn’t help being curious. Because she hadn’t been home for dinner last night, either. And he had missed her at breakfast.
He walked down the hall to his bedroom, loosening his tie as he went.
The door to Nat and Carol’s room stood partway open.
He stopped in front of it. Pushed it open a bit more.
The doors of the closet had been flung open and left that way. All of Carol’s clothes were gone, leaving only dozens of empty hangers to testify that she had ever lived in that room at all.
6 March 1981
Other People Do This So Easily
Before Nathan could even park his car in front of Carol’s grandparents’ house, he saw Carol step out on to the porch and lock the front door behind her. She strode down the steps and along the neatly-tended walkway, then turned and walked quickly toward the bus stop.
Nathan cruised along beside her, slowed, and reached over to crank down the passenger window. She spun nervously, defensively. Then she seemed to register who he was.
He stopped his car, and she walked up to the open window and leaned in, looking sad.
“Hello, Nathan,” she said.
“Would you like a ride to work?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
She climbed in and they sat a moment in silence. Nathan did not drive away.
After a time she looked over at him.
“As soon as you get your seat belt secured, we’ll be going.”
“Oh, right,” she said.
Nathan heard the reassuring click of the belt latch snapping into place. He put the car into gear and drove.
For the first half mile or so, silence.
Nathan felt it was his role to speak. After all, he had sought her out, not vice versa.
“The main reason I came by is to see if you’re OK.”
“Depends on what you mean by OK.”
“Physically. Psychologically. Financially.”
“I guess I will be,” she said. “Sounds like a tall order for right now.”
“I guess it is,” Nathan said.
“How did you know where I was? Did he tell you?”
“Eventually.” Nathan allowed a medium-length silence. “You don’t have to tell me this if you don’t want to. It’s none of my business. I just wondered why you left.”
“Why? Why? He didn’t tell you why?”
“No. He didn’t.”
“Because he told me to go. That’s why.”
“Nat told you to go? Are you sure you didn’t misunderstand him?”
“He wrote it out in a note, Nathan. There was no misunderstanding. He said this was not what I signed on for.”
“You signed on for better or for worse. In sickness and in health.”
“Don’t tell me. Tell him. He also said he wanted my admiration, not my pity. And I would never say this to him, Nathan, because he’d take it all wrong, but how can I admire him the way he is now? If I said that, he’d think I mean because he talks funny, and his arms and legs don’t work right. But that’s not why. It’s because he’s not fighting any more. And I don’t mean in the ring.”
“No, I know you don’t,” Nathan said. “I know what you mean.”
“Whatever used to get in his way in life, he always fought like hell. But he won’t fight this any more. It’s like he just gave up.”
“I know,” Nathan said.
“Any ideas on what to do for him?”
“Maybe. Give me time.”
He pulled up in front of the Frosty Freeze and shifted into park in a passenger-loading zone, sorry the conversation couldn’t have lasted longer.
Carol looked at the shabby white building and sighed. “I need a better job.”
Nathan said nothing.
“He’ll come around,” she said. “We’ll get back together. We were meant to be together. I just need a way to convince him that I love him for him. You know, the actual him.”
Nathan shook his head. “No. It’s not your job to convince him. It’s his job to believe it. This is his shortcoming, not yours. He needs to think well enough of himself to believe it. And that’s always been a problem for him.”
Carol sat a moment with her mouth open before answering. “But … I can’t do anything about that.”
“That’s right,” Nathan said. “You can’t.”
A long silence. Nathan glanced at his watch to see if he was making her late for her shift.
“Promise me something, Nathan?”
“I will if I honestly can.”
“Promise me that no matter what happens with Nat and me, you and I will always be friends.”
It took Nathan completely by surprise, and he found it hard to answer.
Carol raced on. “You’ve been such a steady thing in my life, ever since I met you. I don’t want to lose that. Whatever Nat does.”
Silence. Nathan wished he were better at emotional situations like this. He berated himself for making it to age seventy without mastering exchanges that everyone else found so simple. At least, he assumed they did.
“All right,” Nathan said. “I promise.”