Ordinary People by Judith Guest

—cleared you through the terrifying office of chance; that it is chance and not perfection that rules the world.
     
     
    “I saw Nancy Hanley today. Having lunch at the Deerpath.”
    “Oh?” He keeps one eye on the newspaper before his face: Welfare Fraud Investigated.
    “She said Ray’s been putting on weight.”
    “He has?”
    “He has?” she teases. “Darling, Ray Hanley. Your partner.”
    “Oh, yeah, him.” Grinning, he puts down the paper. “I hadn’t noticed. Yeah, I guess he has been.”
    “Twenty pounds. That’s a lot not to notice.”
    “That much? How did she happen to tell you that?”
    Beth shrugs. “Just conversation. She said she’s been trying to get him to see a doctor. It’s just since he quit smoking. She looks terrific, by the way. Have you seen her lately?”
    “No. That’s what Ray said about you.”
    “Well, she’s thin. As thin as I’ve ever seen her, and she’s done something to her hair. A rinse, I think—”
    ... officials in the downtown office say as much as
    $300,000 may have been misdirected by the
    fraudulent claims....
    “—asked her how she stays so thin. She said, ‘Worry, and a bad marriage—’ ”
    “What?”
    She smiles. “Just checking. To see if you were listening. Would you like a drink before dinner?”
    “No, thanks.” He glances at his watch. “Is Con home yet?”
    “Not yet.”
    “It’s six-thirty.”
    “He’s been later the past couple of weeks.”
    “I’ve got an idea,” he says. “Why don’t you come down tomorrow, and take a look at that car with me? We can have lunch.”
    “I can’t tomorrow.”
    “I ought to put the order in soon, to get delivery before Christmas.”
    “Then, do it,” she says. “Do what you like. I’m not good at picking out cars anyway.”
    “You don’t sound terrifically sold on the idea.”
    “I’m sold. I think it’s a nice idea.”
    “Well, it would give him some independence. He wouldn’t have to rely on us for rides.”
    “Fine. We can make it a combination Christmas and birthday present. You decide. I’ll leave it up to you.”
    If it was up to him, he would give him everything—sun and moon, eternal happiness, serene and uncomplicated, Here, will this fix it? But nothing needs fixing, does it? Things do seem better, more relaxed, just since Thanksgiving. No, even before that. Is that illusion or reality?
    Illusion or reality. Seven years ago, he had had a conversation on that very subject with Nancy Hanley. At the Law Club Christmas Dance, sitting on the upper deck of the Chicago Yacht Club. Nancy had leaned over and said to him, “Tell Beth for me how lucky she is, will you?”
    “Why?”
    “To have you. And never to have been disillusioned.”
    He had laughed, embarrassed, knowing where it was leading. He had emphatically not wanted to go into it, had never wanted to take sides in the thing, but Nancy was not about to let him off the hook.
    “People make mistakes, Nance.”
    A mirthless laugh. “Yes, they do.”
    Carefully, because he had no desire to disturb the truce that had been so recently effected between them, he had said, “Don’t you think people are entitled to a few mistakes in a lifetime?”
    “No,” she said. “What people are entitled to are their illusions, and frankly, I preferred my illusions about him. I would have preferred it if he had screwed her until he was sick of it and gotten rid of her without my ever having found out about it at all.”
    “I can’t believe that,” he told her. “Illusions are for fairy tales. Your marriage is stronger now—”
    “Don’t bet on it. And if you ever do a survey, you’ll find that people prefer illusion to reality, ten to one. Twenty, even. Any odds you want to give, I’ll cover.”
    Worry and a bad marriage. Beth was joking. She said she had been joking. It had been seven years since Ray’s affair with Lynn. Seven years since Nancy had packed up the girls and gone to her parents in Oklahoma, and Ray, wild