Good Evening Mr. and Mrs. America, and All the Ships at Sea by Richard Bausch

Author:Richard Bausch
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

Chapter 10

His dreams were all of the many faces, and the one face. The staring, small face, gliding in and out of scenes. And then he was laboring through some thickness of air, trying to reach his mother. In the morning, he found her asleep in her chair, wearing her robe and slippers, but with her stockings still on. She had spent at least part of the night cleaning; the dust mop was leaning against the wall by her chair. There was no sign of Atwater. As he moved through the room, into the kitchen to get himself some cereal, she woke and yawned, as if satisfied with her night’s sleep. She came creakily into the kitchen and put coffee on. He watched her without speaking.

After a time, it seemed clear that she was avoiding the prospect of speech. She went into the other room while the coffee perked, and put the mop away. He heard her puttering around in her room. He ate the cereal, washed the bowl and spoon and put them away, then went to his own room and got into his dark blue blazer, black slacks, white shirt, and dark blue tie. When he was dressed, he stood for a minute in front of the mirror, assuming the poses of Kennedy at a news conference, pointing, choosing another questioner. He had the hair just about right now. He stood close and tried the smile. His teeth weren’t quite straight enough, or big enough. He stepped back and pointed again, looking serious, presidential. It would be a picture the news services would circulate, perhaps, after he was assassinated. The thought brought him back to himself. It was embarrassing, like waking from an erotic dream. He went back into the kitchen and sat at the table again, restless, worried about this daydream side of him that could take him so far away. His mother came back in, having changed into her dark green dress, the back of which wasn’t zipped. She stood at the counter and poured the coffee.

“Clark and I are going out today,” she said without turning. “You look like you must have plans, too.”

He decided against telling her what Alice and her friends were planning. He said, “Nothing special.”

“You’re all dressed up. You want to look nice for your lady love.”

He said nothing.

“Does that embarrass you, son?”

“No.”

“You seem—well, embarrassed about it all. I thought you looked that way last night at the party, too. Why should a young man be embarrassed about his engagement. It’s not as if this is some game among children at school. Alice is a grown woman.”

If there was anything to say in reply to these observations of hers, he didn’t know what it might be.

A moment later, she said, “Zip me up?”

He stood, and did so, then sat down again at the table.

She turned and leaned on the counter, holding the saucer with her cup of coffee on it. “I had too much tea last night.” She lifted the cup to her lips.

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