Infidelities Read online

  Anyhow, Marietta’s right headlight was out, by a different method, yet the same cause: trying to duck a deer.

  I asked, Were you driving back from a party? Were you drunk? Excuse me for asking.

  Oh, no, said the other woman, we wasn’t drunk. We had only four or five beers each.

  That would do it for me, I said. No party?

  No, we was looking for my aunt, said Marietta. I kinda remembered where she lived, but we got lost, and kept drivin’ along these backroads, and we couldn’t figure out how to get out of the maze.

  It took you till four in the morning to reach this point? When did you start? (If you get lost, how long can you stand to be lost? Suppose they were looking for the aunt at ten, sort of the last decent hour to start looking for aunts. Six hours of wandering? Doesn’t sound right, but what the hell. Let me buy the story, I thought.)

  We stopped by to get some cigarettes. Shelly, what else did we do?

  By now I had the coffee ready, and I proudly presented it to Shelly and Marietta.

  Jesus, what fine coffee. That tastes great! Shelly said all that, but I didn’t see her taste the coffee, and she laid the cup down next to the rocking chair on which she was sitting.

  Thank you, I said. Why don’t you try that number again?

  All right, said Marietta, and Shelly said, Do you mind if I go to the car to get some cigs and beer?

  I minded but said, No, I don’t mind.

  Who are you trying to call? I turned to Marietta.

  My ex?

  That’s a good ex if you can call him at four in the morning for help.

  Yeah, he’s good at some things. But he’s a real jerk. I don’t like him. I am glad that we’re gettin’ a divorce.

  You are still married? (I wondered at myself. Why should I need to know the details?)

  Just on paper. We’re separated. I hope never to see him again.

  But now you want to see him.

  Now, yes. I wish I knew more people I could call, but that shows you the problem; he didn’t want me to meet any people. Jerk!

  Shelly was back with her dangling six-pack, or rather, four-pack by now, Bud Lite. My stomach turned at imagining the pale insipid taste. Nothing bodied like Urquell or Trappist ale. But that was a snobbish attitude, and momentarily ashamed of being a snob, I didn’t mind when I heard the beer pop. Actually, I enjoyed the whiff of the cool and breezy yeast-foam.

  Shelly responded, Yes, he’s a real jerk. I mean, what can you expect, her husband’s a damned cop.

  So it’s a real husband?

  Real cop, said Shelly, real asshole.

  I can’t get through, Marietta said.

  What area code is his number? I asked.

  Seven-four-zero.

  We are in six-one-four.

  Shit, I thought it was a local. No wonder I couldn’t get through. I’ll call collect.

  Don’t bother. Just dial direct.

  I’d hate to get you stuck with a bill. You’re already doing so much for us.

  Soon she said, It’s me. Me.

  A voice was shouting in the phone on the other end of the line, Who?

  Me. Gee, don’t pretend you don’t know my voice.

  At four a.m., I don’t know nobody’s. Where are you? The guy’s voice carried even through the receiver so far.

  I don’t know.

  What do you mean you don’t know? You’ve been drinking.

  No, we slid off the road in a ditch and can’t get out. Can you come over and get us out?

  Calm down, Marietta—where are you now?

  I don’t know, I told you.

  I saw it was time to intercede, and I said, Give me the phone, and I’ll give him directions. And so I did. I listed all the turns, about three or four, and answered a couple of questions. Yes, their car is in a ditch somewhere around. They aren’t drinking.

  I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Can I speak to Marietta again?

  As much as you like.

  He shouted something.

  I love you too, lilted Marietta and hung up.

  That sounded odd to me. She had just said what a jerk he was and how she hated him, and now into the phone, he said he loved her and she said she loved him. Was that like saying, See you later? Good night? Just a greeting? Habit? Or truth? I didn’t ask her to explain. But something here was not truth. Maybe she did love him but liked complaining about him on the road. All that divorce and hate rap was valve talk.

  Shelly wanted to open another beer.

  No, I said. No way. I don’t want to be bossy, but it seems you have had enough beer. Drink coffee instead, especially if you are bringing in a cop.

  You are right, said Shelly. That’s okay with me. She took the beer and poured it in my sink.

  I love your coffee, said Marietta.

  Have more then. Now, that seemed a better use of the word love to my ears.

  I poured her more, with a bit of milk, and she sipped, tossing her hair over her shoulders. Nothing could stop her from having a good time, not even car accidents. That was impressive. She stood up to go to the bathroom, and I saw she had a graceful figure; she moved lightly, sinuously. A strange creature, untouched by poverty, bad circumstances, bad marriage, car accident. She was clearly wonderful. When she had gone to the bathroom, I was facing Shelly, who burped, and clearly was not wonderful, and she said, Sorry.

  What do you do, asked Shelly, and burped again.

  I am a college professor, European history. Renaissance crime is my specialty.

  Sorry.

  Sorry for what? Now and then I am sorry to teach European history.

  That we are bothering you.

  You aren’t bothering me. You are in need and I am glad to help.

  We thought, when we saw that big tobacco barn, a farmer lived here, so we didn’t feel shy about askin’ for help. If we’d known—

  Come on.

  If we’d known—Here you are, a gentleman, European, and you have to deal with us hicks.

  Don’t give me that. I opened the door in my underwear. That ought to have relaxed you.

  Well, no, a farmer would never open the door in his underwear, so we knew at once you was a gentleman.

  I laughed. She had a sense of humor. Or did she? She didn’t laugh, but seemed doleful. Did she mean that? Were we communicating? Maybe she was wonderful too, with hidden treasures of the mind.

  How can you live here and teach at a university? Is there a university around?

  No. I drive to Columbus during the week and stay there, and weekends I am here.

  I regretted I had told her. Suppose she had friends who were thieves, they would know how to get to my place and rob it. So I added, During the week, I have a house sitter. He likes it here.

  Oh, she said. You have another house?

  Yes, nothing spectacular. Not even as nice as this cabin. I come here to get my reading and writing done, and to stay away from students, bars, restaurants, and infernal temptations.

  Two houses! Her eyes filled with the alarm of envy, I could tell. She hated me at that moment. Hell, I thought, I better say nothing about myself. Maybe they should say nothing about themselves. Knowledge is harm.

  Where do you work? I contradicted my conclusion and asked her, from inertia of the conversation. I couldn’t say anything safely in the affirmative, so questions seemed the best way.

  Yes, I work, she said.

  Where?

  Marietta and I build dog houses. We nail them all day long. You want to feel my muscle?

  No, thank you.

  We have fun at work, said Marietta. She’s a hoot. Do you want to feel my muscle?

  She lifted her arm and tightened it, and her flannel shirt slid, and I could see gentle slopes of her small and shapely breasts. Did she wear a bra? Maybe not, couldn’t see it, and the slopes went on, shedding light into a precipitous darkness in her shirt. The breasts looked larger now than they had let on.

  No, thank you. I believe you that you have good mus
cles.

  I would have enjoyed feeling the proffered muscle, even the biceps, but I had already committed to not feeling muscles by saying No to Shelly. It wouldn’t be consistent now to say Yes to Marietta. It would hurt Shelly. Or maybe it wouldn’t. I had my hang-ups of being considerate, or more accurately, of wanting to appear considerate.

  Marietta smiled with a shine on her lips and looked at the stove. Nice how you can see the flames inside, she said.

  For a second, I thought that maybe the two worked as hookers, and this was a strange trick. But no, ditching your car would be a hard way to earn a living. On the other hand, how did I know they had ditched a car? I hadn’t gone out to see it. But then, why would they call a policeman? No, they can’t be hookers. Plus, Marietta seems too airy, untouched, for that. No, how could I think that. That was dirty and insulting of me. Good thing they can’t read thoughts. But then, why was I sure that they did call a policeman rather than a thief? Maybe they aren’t hookers but thieves, with complex schemes, which work, of course. They could speak in code. I love you too could mean, He doesn’t have a gun. Come here and clobber him. But she looks too nice for that, too innocent even.

  Would you like a dog house for your dog? asked Shelly. We’ll get you a forty percent discount.

  So where does your husband live? I asked Marietta.

  She sat back in the armchair. On top of the hill, before you turn to 248, there’s a white trailer, with many pots of flowers in the windows. You are welcome to stop by.

  To see him?

  Well, no, there’s another trailer, a pink one, and that’s mine, way back in the yard.

  You think I could just drive in and talk to you all? Your trailer doesn’t have the flowers?

  No, I have cats. They’re always sunbathing in the windows. Why wouldn’t you stop by?

  If you usually don’t even talk to each other?

  Oh, we do, I just hope we won’t. We have a kid to take care of, so that keeps us pretty close, better than dropping kids off fifty miles away, as some people I know do. I’ll need a better car before I get a divorce.

  Who’s taking care of the kid now?

  The aunt. Not the one we was lookin’ for, another one, just two hundred feet past our place.

  Blessed are the aunts, I said.

  The phone rang. The cop wanted the directions to be repeated to him. I found the chains, he said. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Is she all right, sir? Not passing out?

  Far from passing out, Marietta was buzzed on coffee, and since she kept repeating how much she liked it, I made her a cappuccino. You better watch out, she said. I may get addicted to this stuff and I don’t know anybody else who makes it.

  Soon lights showed up in the yard, it seemed less than ten minutes. Why did he say twenty, I wondered. I walked out and welcomed the bony man with a crew cut and a mustache who jumped out of a red pickup.

  Where are they? he asked, out of breath.

  Inside.

  Are they all right? Are they hurt?

  Yes, they are all right, just silly.

  He walked in, with a big flashlight in one hand. Are you all right? he shouted.

  Yeah, we are fine, said Marietta.

  You didn’t bang the dashboard, or anything like that?

  No, we just knocked our heads together. Doesn’t hurt.

  He walked to Marietta, and said, Look at me.

  She did, and he shone the light straight into her eyes and peered.

  Man, you’ll make me go blind. Cut it out!

  I got to look again, he said.

  Do her first, I’ll take a break, she said.

  No, we got to finish this. This is serious.

  What did I tell you, said Shelly to me. I understood, she meant, What a pain in the ass this jerk is.

  As though he understood that too, he pounced and poured light into Shelly’s eyes. He held the flashlight in his clenched fist above his ear in a trained manner, which would allow the flashlight to become a billy club in a second if need be.

  I guess you are conscious, he said.

  That shouldn’t take that much guessing, said Shelly.

  You’ve been drinking. How much have you had?

  Oh, nothing, just two, three beers.

  That’s too much, Marietta. You should’ve let Shelly drive.

  But I don’t have a driver’s license, said Shelly.

  Don’t matter. If you drink, you shouldn’t drive, let Shelly do it.

  But I drank more, said Shelly. I think Marietta had only one beer.

  Oh, did you? For a second the cop lost his staccato pursuit stance. Never mind, Marietta, you still shouldn’t have drove. You’re an awful driver.

  I am not that bad.

  So tell me, what happened?

  We was laughin’ so hard tears came into my eyes, Marietta said. Jokes, we know some good new ones. Wanna hear them?

  No. Keep going with your story.

  Tears made it hard to see—this big deer jerk just leaped out of nowhere, and I swerved.

  That was stupid. Don’t you know, you must brake and keep your direction.

  But then I would have hit him.

  Probably not, if you’d started soon enough.

  I didn’t start soon enough. Plus, he just jumped out of the total darkness.

  You shouldn’t have drove for the ditch.

  It wasn’t a highway, I could change my direction, what’s so bad about a ditch?

  You wrecked the car.

  She did fine, I said. Hitting a buck head-on would cause more damage.

  Don’t defend her, sir. She should learn once and for all. You see a deer, you brake, and keep going straight.

  That struck me as insane. She indeed did fine, better than I did or than he would. He probably would have ended up in a hospital if he stuck to his idiotic rules. Where did he pick them up? Do cop manuals print nonsense like that?

  If you wasn’t my wife, I’d revoke your license. Still might, he said.

  Have they been drinking here, sir? he asked.

  Hardly. I gave them coffee. You’d like some?

  He walked to the sink and grabbed two cans of Lite. You drink this, sir?

  No.

  I didn’t think so.

  They brought in the cans already empty, I said.

  I didn’t know why I lied. He frowned and cringed as though he understood I was lying.

  Would you like a cup of coffee? (A cup for a cop.)

  No, thank you. I’m going to pull out the car. I’ll be back. Please, sir, don’t let them drink.

  He walked out.

  I see what you mean, I said to Marietta. But he is helping you.

  I know, it just don’t feel like it.

  I had to agree with her, and we sat in silence like three convicts.

  Pretty soon, the cop was back, with the red car in tow. He shone his light over the damaged area. We all came out.

  That’s at least two hundred fifty bucks’ worth of damage right there, he said. Maybe three hundred.

  I was impressed, he was right with his estimate.

  Where are you gonna get that? he asked her.

  Insurance? Marietta said cheerfully.

  No, not with drunken driving. Plus, the rate would jump up. You got to come up with the money.

  How?

  You figure it out. That’s your problem.

  Maybe this is the pimp moment, I thought. Now she’ll be forced to moonlight, and they’ll offer the services to me. Maybe he’s the one who designed the whole thing. I chuckled at the thought.

  The cop looked at me strangely. Not the right moment to chuckle.

  Where’s the assembly part? he asked. It fell out somewheres.

  Oh, that black thing? I saw it fall out. I’ll find it, said Shelly.

  They looked in the ditch, shining to and fro, and found nothing, and they came back and sat in the car.

  Marietta sat with her hands together, clasped between her knees, as though she was chilled.

  S
helly, you drive my pickup, he commanded.

  You sure? she said, but climbed in it anyhow.

  The cop sat with Marietta, and said before closing the door, Thank you, sir, for your help.

  Oh, nothing to thank.

  Marietta lifted one of her hands and waved to me briefly and looked away, at the barn. That seemed an indifferent greeting after our conversation. She had seemed much friendlier before, but now, she just waved me off like a fly. She doesn’t need me. I am just a middle-aged guy with a tobacco barn, in which there’s no tobacco, but only firewood and mountain bikes.

  It was five in the morning now. Should I go to bed? No, it wouldn’t work, after all that coffee. I made more, and thought, They were sweet, except the cop, of course, but he must be a good guy despite being such a bore. Will I ever see Marietta again? They told me where they worked. Should I stop by and see them at work? No, I thought, that would be silly. Should I stop by at their trailers? No, even if they are separated, somehow that wouldn’t be decent, to come by to visit her, and to visit him, that would not make any sense at all. Maybe I’ll run into her at the Kroger’s and if she’s divorced—oh, forget it, I told myself in my thoughts and gave myself sound advice: Don’t be an ass.

  I was glad I had helped them, despite the policy not to open doors to strangers at night deep in the forest.

  The following morning, I saw a cop’s car, and the same cop walk up and down the road, looking into the ditch.

  I drove past, rolled down the window, and said, Missing something?

  Yes, the assembly part.

  Good luck, I said.

  Thank you, he said, politely, and continued walking back and forth by my barn.

  It would have been more pleasant if Marietta had come by to do it, or at least, if she had come with him. Now I had a cop snooping around.

  Well, that’s all right. It could be worse, I thought.