kraatzsrz

He should have heeded his mistrust and contacted immediately the agents who had interviewed him and Dawn at the house the day after the bombingHe should have picked up the phone the moment he understood who Rita Cohen was, even while she was seated in his officeBut instead he had driven directly home from the office and, because he could never calculate a decision free of its emotional impact on those who claimed his love; because seeing them suffer was his greatest hardship; because ignoring their importuning and defying their expectations, even when they would not argue reasonably or to the point, seemed to him an illegitimate use of his superior strength; because he could not disillusion anyone about the kind of selfless son, husband, and father he was; because he had come so highly recommended to everyone, he sat across from Dawn at the kitchen table, watching her deliver a long, sob-wracked, half-demented speech, a plea to tell the FBI nothing
Dawn begged him to do whatever the girl wanted: it remained possible for Merry to go unapprehended if only they kept her out of sight until the destruction of the store–and the death of DrConlon–had been forgottenIf only they hid her hermes tas somewhere, provided for her, maybe even in another country, until this war-mad witch-hunt was over and a new time had begun; then she could be treated fairly for something she never, never could have done”She’s been tricked!” and he believed this himself–what else could a father believe?–until he heard it, day after day, a hundred times a day, from Dawn
So he’d turned over the Audrey Hepburn scrapbook, the leotard, the ballet slippers, the stuttering book; and now he was to meet Rita Cohen at a room in the New York Hilton, this time bearing five thousand dollars in unmarked twenties and tensAnd just as he’d known to call the FBI when she asked for the scrapbook, he now understood that if he acceded any further to her malicious daring there’d be no bottom to it, there would only be misery on a scale incomprehensible to all of themWith the scrapbook, the leotard, the ballet slippers, and the stuttering book he had been craftily set up; now for the disastrous payoff
But Dawn was convinced that if he traveled over to Manhattan, got himself lost in the crowds, then, at the appointed afternoon hour, certain he wasn’t being tailed, made his way to the hotel, Merry herself would be there waiting miu miu coffer for him–an absurd fairy-tale hope for which there wasn’t a shred of justification, but which he didn’t have the heart to oppose, not when he saw his wife shedding another layer of sanity whenever the telephone rang
For the first time she was got up in a skirt and blouse, gaudily floral bargain-basement stuff, and wearing high-heeled pumps; when she unsteadily crossed the carpet in them, she looked tinier even than she had in her work bootsThe hairdo was as aboriginal as before but her face, ordinarily a little pot, soulless and unadorned, had been emblazoned with lipstick and painted with eye shadow, her cheekbones highlighted with pink greaseShe looked like a third grader who had ransacked her mother’s room, except that the cosmetics caused her expressionlessness to seem even more fright-eningly psychopathic than when her face was just unhumanly empty of color
“I have the money,” he said, standing in the hotel room doorway towering above her and knowing that what he was doing was as wrong as it could be”I have the money,” he repeated, and prepared himself for the retort about the sweat and blood of the workers from whom he had stolen itDo come in,” the girl saidI’d like you to meet gucci clearance my parentsMom and Dad, this is SeymourAn act for the factory, an act for the hotelDo make yourself at home
He had the money packed into his briefcase, not just the five thousand in the tens and twenties she’d asked for but five thousand more in fiftiesA total of ten thousand dollars–and with no idea whyWhat good would any of it do Merry? Merry wouldn’t see a penny of itStill, he said yet again–summoning all his strength so as not to lose hold–”I’ve brought the money you requested He was trying hard to continue to exist as himself despite the unlikeliness of everything
She had moved onto the bedspread and, with her legs crossed at the ankle and two pillows propped up behind her head, began lightly to sing: “Oh Lydia, oh Lydia, my encyclo-pid-e-a, oh Lydia, the tattooed lady
It was one of the old, silly songs he’d taught his little daughter once they saw that singing, she could always be fluent
“Come to fuck Rita Cohen, have you?”
“I’ve come,” he said, “to deliver the money
“Let’s f-f-f-fuck, D-d-d-dad
“If you have any feeling for what everyone is going through–”
“Come off it, SwedeWhat do you know about ‘feeling’?”
“Why are you treating us like this?”
“Boo-hooYou came big black bag here to fuck meWhy does a middle-aged capitalist dog come to a hotel room to meet a young piece of ass? To fuck herSay it, just say, ‘I came to fuck you
“I don’t want to say any such thingStop all this, please
“I’m twenty-two years old
Could this lead to Merry, this onslaught of sneering and mockery? She could not insult him enoughWas she impersonating someone, acting from a script prepared beforehand? Or was he dealing with a person who could not be dealt with because she was mad? She was like a gang memberWas she the gang leader, this tiny white-faced thug? In a gang the authority is given to the one who is most ruthlessIs she the most ruthless or are there others who are worse, those others who are holding Merry captive right now? Maybe she is the most intelligentMaybe she is the most corruptMaybe this is all a game to them, middle-class kids out on a spree
“Don’t I suit you?” she asked”No crude desires in a big guy like you? Come on, I’m not such a frightening personYou can’t have met your match in little meA child in terror of being disgracedIsn’t there anything else in there except your famous purity? I bet there isI bet you’ve got yourself quite a pillar in there,” she fake birkin said