Indiscretion. Charles Dubow

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СКАЧАТЬ through glimpses that meant nothing to me at the time, memories that flash back with new significance, old legal pads, sentences jotted down in notebooks and on the backs of aging photographs. Even Harry himself, though he didn’t know it. I had no choice other than to try to make sense of it. But making sense of anything is never easy, particularly this story.

      I walk over, plucking up one of the canapés and popping it into my mouth. Bacon and something. It is delicious. “Absolutely, darling. Whatever you say.”

      “Oh, shut up. Don’t be an ass.” Then to Claire, “Walter is my lawyer. He knows all about it. Sorry, Walter Gervais, this is Claire. Claire, Walter. Walter is also my oldest friend.”

      It’s true. We have known each other since we were children. I live next door.

      “Hello, Claire,” I say. “I see Maddy’s already dragooned you into service here at the Winslow bar and grill. I refuse to lift a finger unless it’s to join the other four wrapped around a glass tinkling with ice.”

      I fancy myself to be both witty and slightly indolent. I am not really either, though. It’s a persona, one I use to protect myself. In fact, I am quite boring and lonely.

      “I don’t mind. I don’t really know too many people here, so it’s nice for me to help,” Claire says.

      “You’re lucky,” I say. “I know far too many of the people here. That probably explains why I’m hiding out in the kitchen.”

      “Walter’s a big snob. I don’t think he’s made a new friend since he was in prep school,” Maddy says.

      “You know, I think you’re right. I already knew all the people worth knowing by then anyway.”

      “Claire came with Clive.”

      “Right, see? There you go. Just met him. Don’t like him.”

      “You don’t know me,” says Claire.

      “You’re right. I don’t. Should I?”

      Here’s the thing about Claire: she is actually quite beautiful, but there is something else about her that makes her stand out. In this world, beauty is as common as a credit card. I will try to put my finger on it.

      “That’s up to you. But we didn’t go to prep school together so it looks like I don’t have much of a shot.” She smiles.

      I smile back. I like her. I can’t help myself. I tell Maddy to stop working. Maddy is always working. She is a fiend for activity.

      “All right.” She puts down the knife. “That’s all the food we have in the house anyway. Just about the only thing left is the bluefish in the freezer.”

      “And those are only any good if you pickle them in gin. Just like me.”

      Why do I always play the bloody fool around her? It can’t be that I am showing off. No, it is Claire I am showing off for now.

      “Walter, stop standing around sounding like a moron and go get Claire and me something to drink.” Maddy turns to Claire while I’m still in earshot. “You wouldn’t know it, but he’s actually a hell of a good lawyer.”

      I could have left this out but I didn’t. It appeases my ego. My education was very expensive, and I am a good lawyer. I make a lot of money at it too. I don’t really like it, though. Other people’s problems at least keep me from thinking too much about my own.

      I come back carrying a wine bottle. “Let’s go outside and get away from this crowd,” I say to Claire. “You come too, Maddy.”

      The three of us go out the kitchen door. We stand on the damp grass. Claire has removed her shoes now too. Madeleine lights a cigarette. She is trying to quit. The party is roaring on the other side of the house. It is darker here. A large tree with a swing looms in shadow in front of us. The moon and millions of stars fill the night sky. In the distance we can see the lights of a much bigger house.

      “Your parents’ house?” asks Claire.

      Madeleine nods. “And to the left is Walter’s. We grew up next door to each other. But he still owns his.” It’s too dark to see my house through the thin brake of trees.

      “The law may not be as glamorous as writing books, but it is more consistently remunerative,” I say.

      “Don’t believe it,” says Madeleine. “Walter’s rich as sin. Even if he wasn’t a lawyer.”

      My great-grandfather was a founder of Texaco. Unlike many other families, though, we were able to hold on to our money.

      “Don’t give away all my secrets, Maddy. I want Claire to fall in love with me and not my money.”

      “Too bad your money’s the most lovable thing about you.”

      Claire says nothing. She is enjoying herself, I can tell. It is like standing next to a fire; she feels warmed by our friendship and grateful we are sharing it with her. She feels she could stay here all night listening to our intimate banter, not wanting to let it go and return to the world that exists outside this house.

      But what is she really thinking? It is always so easy to know what’s on Maddy’s mind. There isn’t a deceptive bone in her body. This one, though, is more difficult. She is more concealed.

      MIDNIGHT. THE CROWD HAS THINNED OUT. A SMALL GROUP has gathered on a cluster of old wicker furniture in the corner of the porch. Harry is in the center. Also, a couple named Ned and Cissy Truscott. Ned was Harry’s roommate at Yale. A big man, a football player. Now a banker. I have expensively represented his firm on several occasions. In spite of that, we get on quite well. I am fond of them both. Claire is with them, listening like an acolyte. Laughing loudly, showing pretty teeth. She has a lovely laugh. It reminds me of silver bells. Harry is talking. He is a very good storyteller, unsurprisingly.

      Clive approaches. He hovers before them, maybe a bit unsteadily, waiting for an opportunity. By this time everyone’s had plenty to drink.

      “Hello, Clive!” Harry roars. “Come sit down.” Harry is drunk now too, but he handles it well. Always has. Tomorrow he’ll be up at six, whistling in the kitchen.

      “No thanks,” says Clive. “Thanks for the party. Claire, we have to go. I promised this lot we’d go dancing, remember?”

      “Oh, can’t we stay? A few more minutes. I’m having such fun.”

      “C’mon, stay for one drink,” calls Harry. “What do you want to go dancing for? You can dance here.”

      “Thanks,” says Clive with a forced smile. “Houseguests. They want to see all the hot spots. Do the Hamptons properly.”

      “Suit yourself.”

      “Come along, Claire.”

      Reluctantly, she rises. “Thank you very much, Harry. Please tell Maddy how much I enjoyed meeting her.”

      Harry stands up too. “Of course. Glad you could come. Watch out for riptides.”

      They depart, and Harry begins to tell another funny story.

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