Intermezzo by Rooney Sally

Author:Rooney,Sally
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux

Next morning she’s out at her lectures and he’s sitting alone at the dining table, answering emails. Rain streaming in rivulets down the window, sound on the roof tiles overhead he can hear. Sorry about the delayed response. I see I’m late responding here, I’m sorry. Apologies, just seeing this now. Beside him his phone starts ringing and he glances: Christine again. Looks back at his laptop, hesitant, and then picks up. Hello, he says. I’m just in the middle of something, can I call you back?

Where have I heard that one before? his mother says.

What?

At the weekend you told me you would ring me back, and you never did.

Oh, he says. Right, I’m sorry. Is there something up?

In a kindly tone of voice she answers: Just checking in. If there’s a time that suits you better, you can say.

Abashed frustrated feeling. Pushes back his chair from the table. No, he says. Now is fine, I was just looking at emails.

How are you?

I’m well. Thank you.

Any news? she asks. How is work?

Glancing back unwillingly at the still-lighted laptop screen, half email unfinished. Good, he says. Busy.

Nice article in the paper today about that case of yours.

Relenting now he reaches to close the laptop lid. Oh yeah, he says into the phone. The hearing was in July, I’ve no idea why it took so long.

God forbid anyone should have to look smart at the office, she says. You’ll have us all in matching grey overalls next.

A lifelong ambition of mine, as you know.

Funny that your women friends are always so well turned out.

Feels himself reluctantly smiling. As a matter of their own free will, yes, he answers. But we won’t relitigate, Christine. I’m afraid you’ll find the courts are on my side.

She laughs into the receiver. Cheeky little devil, she says. How are your women friends these days?

What, all of them?

How many are there?

He pauses briefly. Of my friends, who happen to be women? he says. Plenty.

I see, she answers. Well, in that case, how is Sylvia?

Retracting now he answers in a cooler voice: She’s fine, thank you.

I saw Denise Lanigan the other day in town, she was asking me if you had a new girlfriend. After she saw the pair of you together at the funeral. I had to tell her, no, no, that’s just a good friend of his.

Quiet for a moment. Finally answering: Right.

I think it’s nice you’ve kept so close.

Massaging his brow with the tips of his fingers now he gives no reply, and she also is silent. Three seconds, four, five.

Are you there? Christine asks.

Clears his throat to answer: I’m here, I just didn’t have anything to add.

Have I said something wrong?

No.

The same ritual he thinks each time. She tries to extract from him some valuably hurtful information and he tries to conceal from her any aspect of his life in which he suspects she might gain a foothold. Her fake innocuous queries and his studied evasions. Screens her calls whenever Naomi is home. Why does his mother even want to know: why does he want her not to.

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