Insignificant Others by Stephen McCauley

Author:Stephen McCauley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2010-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

Open Sky

This was more information than I had been prepared for, even if it was just by implication, and I was surprised at how much it wounded me. I suppose it showed on my face, because Doreen softened her tone and asked me if I’d like more wine. When I refused, she said, “Good. I don’t have more. And all I meant was that Clarke is one of those manic-depressive, bullying types who’s had a lot of success in business and is used to having his way. I suspect he’s on a variety of mood-altering pills. There’s no other way to explain his energy. At the moment, it’s all directed toward Conrad.”

I sat in silence for a moment and looked out the window. I could see the lights of the cars passing on either side of the river, and a pink glow of lights in the winter sky over Boston. The view was too open and windswept for my tastes. I prefer obstructed views and nearby rooftops, which make me feel enfolded and less lonely. One of the reasons I love living in Beacon Hill is the claustrophobic proximity of neighboring buildings.

I wasn’t sure how to assimilate this new information about Conrad. I’d come to expect and even enjoy the fact that there was a lot we didn’t know about each other. It made for the possibility of fresh discoveries at unexpected turns and kept at bay the asexual sibling dynamic that a lot of couples lapse into. It was one thing to learn that he was having sex with someone else—life is short; why not?—but quite another to be told that he was planning a change of career, location, and partner. Yes, I had Benjamin but at least the whole basis of that complicated friendship was to preserve both his and my primary relationships. At least he wasn’t setting me up in business. AT LEAST I WASN’T MOVING TO OHIO.

“Do you like all the white in here?” Doreen asked, sounding as if her voice came from a great distance.

“The furniture?”

“That and the walls and the rugs and the pillows.”

“It’s beautiful,” I said. “Maybe a little formal.”

“Does that mean you find it unwelcoming?”

“It’s welcoming up to a point.”

“Good. That’s exactly the message I hoped to send.” There was something about her composure, her rigid posture on the low little cube that was impressive but unnerving. I suppose there’s always something a little grotesque and inhuman about perfect posture, just as there is about perfect diction outside of the theater. “I’m about to be indiscreet,” she said. “I appreciate if you’d listen so I don’t have to repeat myself.”

“Yes. With pleasure.”

“Conrad is planning to go to Columbus again soon, probably for an extended time. He’s going without me, although he’s not planning to tell you that. I think you should make sure he doesn’t go.”

I told her I’d do my best, but we both knew that Conrad was stubborn.

She gave me a piercing look, one that suggested a good deal more curiosity about me than I would have guessed.

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