Glass Mountain by Cynthia Voigt

Author:Cynthia Voigt [Voigt, Cynthia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781682301609
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2015-11-09T16:00:00+00:00

20

Mr. Theo’s Tale

I spent the next Sunday afternoon alone at the Whitney, treated myself to a solitary dinner and a showing of Fellini’s 8 1/2, and arrived home a little after ten. Mr. Theo was in the kitchen, with a glass of beer and the envelopes for his taxes, one thick, one thin. He always mailed his taxes at the last minute. “Let the money work for me as long as it can,” was his argument. I had mailed mine that morning, on the same principal. Mr. Theo looked quite comfortable, his shirttail out, his feet shoeless.

“Welcome home, have a beer,” he greeted me. “You look magnificent, Gregor. What do you and your friends do, Sunday in New York?”

I didn’t answer. He didn’t notice. I got myself a beer and a glass, took off my coat, drank.

He was looking at me as if he’d never seen me before. “The next time you go shopping for ties,” he said, “get two of anything that appeals to you, would you? You do have friends, don’t you?” He answered his own question, “You must, you’re a personable guy.”

One, maybe, I might have answered, if I’d been going to answer. It was a good question, unsettling. I’d never expected Mr. Theo to unsettle me. “Miss Sarah called this morning,” I told him.

I wasn’t sure he was listening.

“They are safely married and safely back. I’ve noted the phone number and address.”

He nodded, inattentive.

“She has asked that she be the one to tell your parents her news, on their return.”

“They’re going to have a hell of a homecoming. I hope they’re rested up.” He waited. “Next Friday, isn’t it?” He waited.

“I believe so.”

“Could you put out a major dinner, Gregor? Saturday?”

“How formal a meal are you thinking of? For how many?”

“Aren’t you even going to ask me?” he demanded.

“Sir?”

“If I did it.”

Did what? I wondered. Then I remembered. Before I could ask, he told me. “The answer is yes, I did. There’s no need to drink standing up, Gregor. Have a seat.”

“Thank you, sir.” Now that I noticed, he did look pleased with himself.

“And the other answer is also yes. But it wasn’t the way I imagined, not at all. I was losing at Scrabble—so what else is new? Pruny was by the window. And I’d better get to work to stop calling her that, hadn’t I? She’d seemed restless all evening, not the way she usually is, not lumpish. The curtains were open: you never have to draw curtains out in Connecticut, there’s nobody near enough to see in. I don’t know what she was looking at. The light was on her hair and it looked…clean, incredibly clean. I don’t know why I noticed that. So I asked her.”

“Ah,” I said. He’d wanted to tell the story and I happened to be there; like the Ancient Mariner, he’d seized on me.

“I said,” Mr. Theo said, “‘We ought to get married.’” He paused. I didn’t say anything. “She said,” he said, “‘I think we’d better.’” He paused again.

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