Read Online Vacation by Deb Olin Unferth - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Deb Olin Unferth
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air. They clipped up the block, over fall leaves, to their brownstones. So what was he now, a stalker? He went home.
He trailed Gray when she didn’t. He called home and made excuses, called work and made excuses. Now the guy was being watched by both of them. And he was a wanderer, this Gray. He got around. But Myers discovered nothing. Only routines, broken or kept. Split roads, silence amid street noise. Grim.
What I do is my business, she said.
Apparently.
I am not your employee.
That’s some luck. I’d fire you.
I am not your dog.
You don’t seem like anything these days. You seem like a vacant stare.
Do you think I don’t know that? she said. Do you think I don’t see myself?
The tea fight, and then had come the walkouts. She yelled something and walked out the back door and stood outside on the landing. He walked out the front door and stood under the trees. Then he walked around the building and looked up at her looking up. And then she looked down and saw him and went back inside. He walked around the front and went back in too. He called to her, said something in a new voice, something about the tea, a thing he hoped would be conciliatory and that he hoped would make her say something conciliatory back. Instead she said her own new thing about the tea, or the dishes really, in general, how they were never clean unless she did them, and then she started crying and he got up and tried to comfort her. Leave me alone ! she said and moved her shoulder around, and he went into the bathroom and when she called to him he locked the door, which he knows she hates. Then she took his newspaper out of his briefcase, which she knows he hates, and she looked up apartments for rent because she was throwing him out and he knew she was doing this because she called it to him through the bathroom door. Then she looked at airfares in the travel section because she was sending him away and he knew this because she called it to him through the bathroom door too. Then she looked at the personals, which she knows he hates, read aloud who might be better for her than him and he knew she was doing it because she called this to him too through the bathroom door. Then she just sat there sniffling and taking apart the newspaper because she knows he hates that, and she called that to him too. I’m leaving you, she said, and I’m taking the paper with me. Blow a kiss goodbye. I’m going out the window, she said. Throwing myself out and I’m throwing your paper out first. I’m taking the window with me. I’m taking the door. Better come out, she said. Soon there’ll be nothing left but you.
Chapter Seven
CLAIRE
Last week the phone rang. This is how I wound up on the train.
We have a box here in Chicago, said the woman on the phone. We thought you might like to know.
It was early. I was half-asleep in my bathrobe, propped up in a chair.
Thank you for the update, I said. Maybe next time you could take out an announcement in the Times .
It’s a box with your mother’s papers in it—your mother, the TV star?
If this is blackmail, you go ahead and show those to anyone you want.
This is not blackmail.
Pawn shop? Mob?
Librarian. Your father sold these to us on condition that they stay sealed until now.
What’s so special about now? I said. I looked at the clock.
Your father’s been dead ten years today.
He wasn’t my father.
Whoever he was, the box is here and on top is a card with your name on it. As of today these papers are a matter of public record to anyone with a fine-free card. But you get first look, if you care to, which you might, considering.
Considering what?
Don’t ask me. It’s your family.
At first I wasn’t going to go. I had a lot to do myself. I don’t know why he had to sell them to a place way out west.
Ha. I was going. Of course I was going. My mother’s papers? You bet I was going. I never got to ask the woman a single question. And the man who raised me just made his broadcast
He trailed Gray when she didn’t. He called home and made excuses, called work and made excuses. Now the guy was being watched by both of them. And he was a wanderer, this Gray. He got around. But Myers discovered nothing. Only routines, broken or kept. Split roads, silence amid street noise. Grim.
What I do is my business, she said.
Apparently.
I am not your employee.
That’s some luck. I’d fire you.
I am not your dog.
You don’t seem like anything these days. You seem like a vacant stare.
Do you think I don’t know that? she said. Do you think I don’t see myself?
The tea fight, and then had come the walkouts. She yelled something and walked out the back door and stood outside on the landing. He walked out the front door and stood under the trees. Then he walked around the building and looked up at her looking up. And then she looked down and saw him and went back inside. He walked around the front and went back in too. He called to her, said something in a new voice, something about the tea, a thing he hoped would be conciliatory and that he hoped would make her say something conciliatory back. Instead she said her own new thing about the tea, or the dishes really, in general, how they were never clean unless she did them, and then she started crying and he got up and tried to comfort her. Leave me alone ! she said and moved her shoulder around, and he went into the bathroom and when she called to him he locked the door, which he knows she hates. Then she took his newspaper out of his briefcase, which she knows he hates, and she looked up apartments for rent because she was throwing him out and he knew she was doing this because she called it to him through the bathroom door. Then she looked at airfares in the travel section because she was sending him away and he knew this because she called it to him through the bathroom door too. Then she looked at the personals, which she knows he hates, read aloud who might be better for her than him and he knew she was doing it because she called this to him too through the bathroom door. Then she just sat there sniffling and taking apart the newspaper because she knows he hates that, and she called that to him too. I’m leaving you, she said, and I’m taking the paper with me. Blow a kiss goodbye. I’m going out the window, she said. Throwing myself out and I’m throwing your paper out first. I’m taking the window with me. I’m taking the door. Better come out, she said. Soon there’ll be nothing left but you.
Chapter Seven
CLAIRE
Last week the phone rang. This is how I wound up on the train.
We have a box here in Chicago, said the woman on the phone. We thought you might like to know.
It was early. I was half-asleep in my bathrobe, propped up in a chair.
Thank you for the update, I said. Maybe next time you could take out an announcement in the Times .
It’s a box with your mother’s papers in it—your mother, the TV star?
If this is blackmail, you go ahead and show those to anyone you want.
This is not blackmail.
Pawn shop? Mob?
Librarian. Your father sold these to us on condition that they stay sealed until now.
What’s so special about now? I said. I looked at the clock.
Your father’s been dead ten years today.
He wasn’t my father.
Whoever he was, the box is here and on top is a card with your name on it. As of today these papers are a matter of public record to anyone with a fine-free card. But you get first look, if you care to, which you might, considering.
Considering what?
Don’t ask me. It’s your family.
At first I wasn’t going to go. I had a lot to do myself. I don’t know why he had to sell them to a place way out west.
Ha. I was going. Of course I was going. My mother’s papers? You bet I was going. I never got to ask the woman a single question. And the man who raised me just made his broadcast
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