Hard.”
“I’ll do that. But if I go on a night shift, what’s going to happen to us? That’ll spoil the fun.”
“Won’t it be worth waiting for, darling?” she said,sliding over against him, her breath hot on his throat, her hands on his body.
“I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all you have to do, darling. So far.”
And he stopped thinking of anything but Pete Drovek’s wife. But her mind was free to wander. Her responses were mechanical. She was only partially aware of Glenn. Up until this moment she had not believed that she could force Glenn or any man to do something he did not want to do. It gave her a curious and not distasteful sense of power. She wondered how Mark had known that Glenn was the one who would agree. Because she knew he would agree. And he would do it. Mark had been right. She felt terrible about Papa Drovek. But he would be all right. As Mark explained, he was a tough old man. This was just a little bump on the head. And it wasn’t as if you were taking his last dollar. What did such an old man need with so much cash?
She was a small lonely boat, adrift amid Glenn’s turbulence, shaping itself, without thought or interest, to the dimensions of the sea. She wished everything was the way it used to be back in another life. So vivid was the yearning for the damp dirty studios, the hot glare of floods and spots, the soiled chromium sky over Manhattan, that when Glenn collapsed gasping against her, his heart galloping, this time and place were less real than her memories. She could not understand how she had arrived at this untenable place, victimized by Mark, used by Glenn, tolerated by Pete. She was badly frightened of what was ahead. But fright was spiced by excitement. She knew she was being Bad. But she did not know how to find her way back to being Good, was not certain, in fact, that she would wholeheartedly take that path back if she could find it.
On Monday, a day of intermittent misty rain with a low gray silent sky, Chip drove into Walterburg with Papa Drovek, in one of the two Ford station wagons that belonged to the corporation. He parked in the bank lot beyond the drive-in windows and they walked quicklythrough the rain and into the bank through the side door. Papa wore his shiny dark-blue suit, his sturdy black thick-soled shoes, a white shirt, a bright blue tie pulled into a tiny knot, and an old-fashioned gray felt hat with a wide brim and a rather high crown set squarely on his head. As soon as he was inside the bank, as always, he took his hat off as though entering a church.
Chip looked at his watch. “Papa, I’ve got this meeting about the car agency. I don’t think it will last too long. Just signing papers and so on. When you get your business done, you can sit and wait over there if I’m not ready.”
“Hokay,” Papa said cheerfully. He took his check to Mr. Julius’ window. There was a short line.
“Good morning, Mr. Drovek. Gloomy day, isn’t it?”
“Is nice a little rain sometime.”
“How would you like this, sir?”
“I tink five tens and all the rest fifty this time.”
Mr. Julius had to go to another teller to get more fifties. He slapped the slim banded pack down, then counted out nine more fifties and five tens with deft briskness. Papa loved to watch Mr. Julius count out money.
“Tank you so much,” he said, smiling broadly.
“You’re welcome, Mr. Drovek.”
Papa carefully put the money, all but the tens, in the inside pocket of his blue jacket as he walked toward the safety deposit vault. He stopped at the counter, put the five tens in a bulky old wallet, and took his box key out of his pocket. The pleasant-faced, white-haired woman greeted him with a smile. “Good morning, Mr. Drovek.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Packer. Is nice a little rain like this.”
“Yes, it is.” He followed her into the vault. She took his key and her key and unlocked the box door, Papa pulled the long box out and walked out of the vault and
“I’ll do that. But if I go on a night shift, what’s going to happen to us? That’ll spoil the fun.”
“Won’t it be worth waiting for, darling?” she said,sliding over against him, her breath hot on his throat, her hands on his body.
“I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all you have to do, darling. So far.”
And he stopped thinking of anything but Pete Drovek’s wife. But her mind was free to wander. Her responses were mechanical. She was only partially aware of Glenn. Up until this moment she had not believed that she could force Glenn or any man to do something he did not want to do. It gave her a curious and not distasteful sense of power. She wondered how Mark had known that Glenn was the one who would agree. Because she knew he would agree. And he would do it. Mark had been right. She felt terrible about Papa Drovek. But he would be all right. As Mark explained, he was a tough old man. This was just a little bump on the head. And it wasn’t as if you were taking his last dollar. What did such an old man need with so much cash?
She was a small lonely boat, adrift amid Glenn’s turbulence, shaping itself, without thought or interest, to the dimensions of the sea. She wished everything was the way it used to be back in another life. So vivid was the yearning for the damp dirty studios, the hot glare of floods and spots, the soiled chromium sky over Manhattan, that when Glenn collapsed gasping against her, his heart galloping, this time and place were less real than her memories. She could not understand how she had arrived at this untenable place, victimized by Mark, used by Glenn, tolerated by Pete. She was badly frightened of what was ahead. But fright was spiced by excitement. She knew she was being Bad. But she did not know how to find her way back to being Good, was not certain, in fact, that she would wholeheartedly take that path back if she could find it.
On Monday, a day of intermittent misty rain with a low gray silent sky, Chip drove into Walterburg with Papa Drovek, in one of the two Ford station wagons that belonged to the corporation. He parked in the bank lot beyond the drive-in windows and they walked quicklythrough the rain and into the bank through the side door. Papa wore his shiny dark-blue suit, his sturdy black thick-soled shoes, a white shirt, a bright blue tie pulled into a tiny knot, and an old-fashioned gray felt hat with a wide brim and a rather high crown set squarely on his head. As soon as he was inside the bank, as always, he took his hat off as though entering a church.
Chip looked at his watch. “Papa, I’ve got this meeting about the car agency. I don’t think it will last too long. Just signing papers and so on. When you get your business done, you can sit and wait over there if I’m not ready.”
“Hokay,” Papa said cheerfully. He took his check to Mr. Julius’ window. There was a short line.
“Good morning, Mr. Drovek. Gloomy day, isn’t it?”
“Is nice a little rain sometime.”
“How would you like this, sir?”
“I tink five tens and all the rest fifty this time.”
Mr. Julius had to go to another teller to get more fifties. He slapped the slim banded pack down, then counted out nine more fifties and five tens with deft briskness. Papa loved to watch Mr. Julius count out money.
“Tank you so much,” he said, smiling broadly.
“You’re welcome, Mr. Drovek.”
Papa carefully put the money, all but the tens, in the inside pocket of his blue jacket as he walked toward the safety deposit vault. He stopped at the counter, put the five tens in a bulky old wallet, and took his box key out of his pocket. The pleasant-faced, white-haired woman greeted him with a smile. “Good morning, Mr. Drovek.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Packer. Is nice a little rain like this.”
“Yes, it is.” He followed her into the vault. She took his key and her key and unlocked the box door, Papa pulled the long box out and walked out of the vault and
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