Read Online The Time in Between by David Bergen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Bergen
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and Tomas, you said you wanted to come with me. We agreed to come here together to look for Dad. The problem is, you just don’t want to face the fact that Dad is missing and maybe dead.” She paused and then said, “I’m so tired.”
Jon did not answer. In the darkness, she said, “Do you think he wanted to disappear? People do sometimes. Maybe that’s what he wanted.”
Jon sat on the edge of the window. He was facing Ada now and he leaned forward. “He wasn’t happy in the last year. You know he wasn’t happy.”
Ada shook her head. “But coming here seemed to be something he wanted to do. I still remember his phone call. He announced that he was going to take a trip to Vietnam, as a tourist. He sounded so hopeful, which was odd for him.”
“He was always able to dupe you. Or himself, as if everything was fine when he was with you.”
“I’m not naïve,” Ada said.
“He liked you best,” Jon said.
Ada began to protest but Jon interrupted. “He adored you.”
“Adores,” Ada said. “He’s still out there somewhere, adoring me.”
“Of course he is.”
“Did he tell you something different? Before he left? Did he say, ‘Jon, I’m planning on going to Vietnam to disappear’?”
“He told me very little. He phoned right around the time Anthony had decided to leave, though I never mentioned it. Maybe I thought it would please him too much. Anyway, at the end of the phone call, he said he was going to Danang. Just for a while. He did call me several weeks later, when he was already here, but I’d been sleeping and the conversation was kind of slow. He seemed to be elsewhere, though he was affectionate. He said he loved me.” Jon stopped talking. Looked down at the street. Finally, he said, “And, here we are.”
He lit a cigarette and offered Ada one. A light flashed in the harbor. A ship’s horn sounded. Ada said, “Dad asked me one day if you didn’t ever like girls. I said that you liked girls, that wasn’t it, you just weren’t physically attracted to them.” She paused.
The darkness was a fine thing. She could not see Jon’s face, and this made intimacy more possible. She asked, with more cynicism in her voice than she intended, “So, is it fun? Is it fun with strangers?”
Jon gave a little laugh.
Ada said, “I knew a boy in college, several years ago, who wouldn’t let me close my eyes. He wanted to be a filmmaker and thought that everything should be observed. It was bizarre. Once, we modeled for each other, we weren’t wearing clothes, and we looked at each other through binoculars.” She laughed quietly, then stopped and said, “Oh, why did I tell you that!”
“That’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”
She stood and without turning on the light she found two glasses and the half-full bottle of whiskey and she brought it back to her chair and poured out equal amounts. They touched glasses and drank.
She spoke quietly. “What you said, about Dad liking me best, does that make you angry?”
“I’m not angry.” He paused and then said that he was lucky in a way. “His love for you is like a weight that you have to carry.”
Ada denied this. She said, “If Dad’s dead, I just want to know. I just want someone to climb those stairs and knock on the door and tell me that he’s dead.” She lifted her hands and let them fall.
Jon took her hand and held it. He said it was late, they should sleep. He said that in three hours the sun would come up and then, maybe, everything would seem clearer. He went to the washroom and came back with a small pill and a bottle of water. “Take it,” he said. “It’ll help you sleep.”
“I’ve been drinking,” she said.
“Take it.” He placed the pill on her tongue and made her drink. Then he guided her to her bed, helped her undress, and pulled the sheet up. She watched him move about the room. He folded her jeans and top and went to the washroom, and when he returned he sat by the window and finished his
Jon did not answer. In the darkness, she said, “Do you think he wanted to disappear? People do sometimes. Maybe that’s what he wanted.”
Jon sat on the edge of the window. He was facing Ada now and he leaned forward. “He wasn’t happy in the last year. You know he wasn’t happy.”
Ada shook her head. “But coming here seemed to be something he wanted to do. I still remember his phone call. He announced that he was going to take a trip to Vietnam, as a tourist. He sounded so hopeful, which was odd for him.”
“He was always able to dupe you. Or himself, as if everything was fine when he was with you.”
“I’m not naïve,” Ada said.
“He liked you best,” Jon said.
Ada began to protest but Jon interrupted. “He adored you.”
“Adores,” Ada said. “He’s still out there somewhere, adoring me.”
“Of course he is.”
“Did he tell you something different? Before he left? Did he say, ‘Jon, I’m planning on going to Vietnam to disappear’?”
“He told me very little. He phoned right around the time Anthony had decided to leave, though I never mentioned it. Maybe I thought it would please him too much. Anyway, at the end of the phone call, he said he was going to Danang. Just for a while. He did call me several weeks later, when he was already here, but I’d been sleeping and the conversation was kind of slow. He seemed to be elsewhere, though he was affectionate. He said he loved me.” Jon stopped talking. Looked down at the street. Finally, he said, “And, here we are.”
He lit a cigarette and offered Ada one. A light flashed in the harbor. A ship’s horn sounded. Ada said, “Dad asked me one day if you didn’t ever like girls. I said that you liked girls, that wasn’t it, you just weren’t physically attracted to them.” She paused.
The darkness was a fine thing. She could not see Jon’s face, and this made intimacy more possible. She asked, with more cynicism in her voice than she intended, “So, is it fun? Is it fun with strangers?”
Jon gave a little laugh.
Ada said, “I knew a boy in college, several years ago, who wouldn’t let me close my eyes. He wanted to be a filmmaker and thought that everything should be observed. It was bizarre. Once, we modeled for each other, we weren’t wearing clothes, and we looked at each other through binoculars.” She laughed quietly, then stopped and said, “Oh, why did I tell you that!”
“That’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”
She stood and without turning on the light she found two glasses and the half-full bottle of whiskey and she brought it back to her chair and poured out equal amounts. They touched glasses and drank.
She spoke quietly. “What you said, about Dad liking me best, does that make you angry?”
“I’m not angry.” He paused and then said that he was lucky in a way. “His love for you is like a weight that you have to carry.”
Ada denied this. She said, “If Dad’s dead, I just want to know. I just want someone to climb those stairs and knock on the door and tell me that he’s dead.” She lifted her hands and let them fall.
Jon took her hand and held it. He said it was late, they should sleep. He said that in three hours the sun would come up and then, maybe, everything would seem clearer. He went to the washroom and came back with a small pill and a bottle of water. “Take it,” he said. “It’ll help you sleep.”
“I’ve been drinking,” she said.
“Take it.” He placed the pill on her tongue and made her drink. Then he guided her to her bed, helped her undress, and pulled the sheet up. She watched him move about the room. He folded her jeans and top and went to the washroom, and when he returned he sat by the window and finished his
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