Part 17 (1/2)
”Is it possible to catch a disease that causes everyone to try to ignore you?”
”Why?”
”Because if there is, I've got it,” he said, and laughed.
There was a thick collection of mail, and Hall looked through it as he walked to the apartment. He shook his head unhappily as he walked through the door.
”Have I been especially bad lately?” he asked Elaine, who was seated on the couch watching television.
”What do you mean?”
”I'm beginning to feel like a victim.”
”Of what?” she asked, tilting her head quizzically.
”Of a new crimea”you take an guy and ignore him, pretend he's not there, until he cracks up. I feel like Jimmy Stewart in It's a Wonderful Life, only there's no guardian angel.”
”What's making you feel that way?”
”Here here's the perfect example. There's ten pieces of junk mail here, all with your name. Two even have your maiden name.”
”My lucky day,: she said, smiling and taking them from him. ”When they're in your name, you throw them out before I can see them. What else, besides the mail?”
”No check for me this morning. I had to spend my whole lunch hour fighting with payroll, and I still don't have one.
I wasn't in the computer, that's how bad they screwed up, and they couldn't process a check by hand until Monday.”
”That's enough to ruin your day,” she agreed.
”I can't wait to get out of there. Say, I didn't get to see yesterday's mail. Was there anything from the state on my birth certificate?”
Elaine hesitated, but only briefly. ”No. Nothing came.”
”It figures. Where's tonight's newspaper?”
”I left it in the kitchen.”
”Okay,” When he had disappeared through the swinging saloon-style doors, Elaine moved quickly to the buffet and gathered up several folded sheets of paper that were lying there in a neat pile. She buried them in the back of the end table drawer nearest her chair, closing it just as Richard reappeared.
”What do you have there?”
”Oh, just some trash,” Elaine said, fl.u.s.tered.
”Well, don't put it in there. Give it to me and I'll put it in the compactor.”
”I don'ta””
”Come on, give it to me while I'm still standing up.”
”It's not really trash, not yet.”
”Are you trying to hide something from me?”
”Noa”Ia””
”You are! Get them out. I want to see them.”
”No!” she said angrily. ”They're private.”
”Come on, Elaine, it took you too long to think of that.
What could they be that they're so terrible I can't see them?”
Slowly she retrieved the papers from the drawer and held them out. ”I would have shown them to you. I just didn't want you to see them tonight, feeling the way you do. Some of the things you saida””
Hall took the papers gently, and reversed them so that he could read them. The first was from the university he had graduated from and which Elaine had attended for a year.
Elaine stood up and crossed the room, standing with her back to him as he read.
”Can't find my record to issue a transcript,” he said.
”You're right. I could have done without seeing that tonight.”
He unfolded the second sheet, which bore the seal of the State of Pennsylvaniaa”Bureau of Vital Statistics.
”Oh, no,” was all he said, very quietly. He moved it to the bottom of the pile and looked at the final paper. It was smaller, of stiffer paper, and very official.
He looked up from it at his wife. ”Why did you change the t.i.tle to the car?” he asked, and his voice had acquired a hard edge.
”I didn't,” she said, shaking her head. ”I don't know why it came that way.”
”The car used to be in both our names,” he said more loudly. ”Now it's only in yours! You're the only one who could do that!”
”They must have made a mistake printing the registrationa”” she started.
But she did not get to finish the sentence.
”You! It's been you doing these things!” He stepped for ward, trembling from the force of will needed to restrain him self. ”Why, Elaine? Why?”
She stepped back. ”You're scaring me, Richard. Please don't come near me,” she said in the calmest voice she could muster.
”I don't deserve this,: he said, tossing the papers on the floor behind him. He had lowered his voice, but that made it even more threatening.
”Please, Richard . . .”
He stepped toward her, and she turned to run to the bed room with its locking door. She was too slow; he caught her by the shoulder of her loose-fitting blouse and yanked her back, the thin fabric tearing to the seam as he did. ”Why are you doing this?” he shouted, his breath hot on her face. ”What did I do to you?”
”Richard, I didn'ta””
”You want me out? You don't have to make me think I'm crazy to get it.” He was shaking her, holding her by the upper arms in a powerful and painful grip. In the face of his anger, her strength had fled; without his hands, she would have collapsed. ”You've got it, if that's what you want! I won't stay and let you mess with my mind!” He flung her into a chair and, pausing only to scoop up his keys, stalked from the apartment.