Noah's Compass

6

Now he saw that Eunice had certain subtle attractions. In looks, for instance, there were qualities that might not be apparent at first glance: the creamy, cushiony softness of her skin, the pale matte silk of her unlipsticked mouth, her clear gray eyes framed by long brown lashes. The dimple in each of her cheeks resembled the precisely drilled dent that forms at the center of a whirlpool. Her nose, which was more round than pointed, added a note of whimsy.

And wasn’t her occasional lack of grace a sign of character? Like an absentminded professor, she concentrated on the intangibles. She was too busy with more important matters to notice the merely physical.

She showed a kind of trustfulness, too, that was seldom seen in grownups. The way she had rushed after him on the street, and flung herself into his problems, and thought nothing of coming alone to his apartment… In retrospect, Liam found that touching.

It had been years since he had had any sort of romantic life. He’d more or less given up on that side of things, it seemed. But now he remembered the significance that a love affair could lend to the most ordinary moments. The simplest activities could take on extra color and intensity. Days had a purpose to them-an element of suspense, even. He missed that.

He rose too early the following morning, after a restless night. Kitty was still asleep in the den. (That much he had insisted on: he wasn’t forfeiting his bedroom a second time.) At first he contented himself with making a great deal of noise over breakfast, but when she hadn’t appeared by seven thirty, he tapped lightly on her door. “Kitty?” he called. He opened the door a few inches and peered in. “Shouldn’t you be getting up?”

The blanket on the daybed stirred, and Kitty raised her head. “What for?” she asked him.

“For work, of course.”

“Work! It’s the Fourth of July.”

“It is?” he said.

He thought a moment. “Does that mean you have the day off?” he asked.

“Well, duh!”

“Oh.”

“The plan was, I’d get to sleep as long as I wanted,” she said.

“Sorry,” he said.

He closed the door.

The Fourth of July! So, well, what about Eunice? Would she call anyhow? And was Kitty going to hang around all morning?

He poured himself another cup of coffee, even though it would give him the jitters. In fact, maybe he had the jitters already, because when the telephone rang, he actually jumped. The coffee sloshed in his cup. He picked up the receiver and said, “Hello?”

“Liam?”

“Oh. Barbara.”

“Is Kitty with you?”

“Why, yes.”

“You might have thought to tell me,” she said. “I got up this morning and looked in her room: no Kitty. And her bed had not been slept in.”

“I’m sorry; I thought you knew,” he said. “I gathered you two had an argument.”

“We did have an argument, and she flounced off to her room and slammed the door. And then I had to go out, and it was past midnight when I got home so I just assumed she was in her bed.”

Another time, Liam might have asked what had kept Barbara out so late. (Not that she would necessarily have deigned to answer.) But he wanted to free the telephone line, so he said, “Well, she’s here, and she’s fine.”

“How long is she staying?” Barbara asked.

“She’s not staying at all, as far as I know, but why don’t you ask her about that? I’ll have her call when she gets up.”

“Liam, you are in no condition to take on a teenage girl,” Barbara said.

“God forbid; I wouldn’t think of taking-Condition?” he said. “What condition do I have?”

“You’re a man. And also you lack experience, since you have never been very involved in your daughters’ lives.”

“How can you say that?” Liam asked. “I raised one of my daughters, entirely by myself.”

“You didn’t even raise her through toddlerhood. And it was nowhere near by yourself.”

A rush of emotions swept through him-a combination of injured feelings and frustration and defeat all too familiar from their marriage. He said, “I have to get off the line. Goodbye.”

“Wait! Liam, don’t go. Wait a minute. Did she tell you what we argued about?”

“No,” he said. “What did you argue about?”

“I have no idea! That’s the thing of it. The two of us are just flying apart, and I don’t understand why. Oh, we used to get on so well together. Remember what a sweet little girl Kitty was?”

Liam had barely known Kitty as a little girl, to be honest. She’d been one of those last-ditch efforts-a save-the-marriage baby born late in their lives, only she hadn’t saved the marriage (surprise, surprise), and within the year he’d become a visitor to his own family. And not so frequent a visitor, at that-least frequent of all with Kitty, since she had been so young.

Well. No point dwelling on the past.

He told Barbara, “She’s going to be fine; don’t worry. This is only a stage they go through.”

“Oh, yes, I know,” Barbara said on a long sigh. “I know it is. Thanks, Liam. Do have her call me, please.”

“I will.”

He hung up and looked at his watch. It was almost eight o’clock. Why hadn’t he informed Eunice last night that he was an early riser? She could have phoned him an hour ago.

He cleared away his breakfast things and loaded the dishwasher, taking care to be quiet now because if Kitty wasn’t leaving for work, he would just as soon she went on sleeping. But while he was sponging the counter, the door to the den opened and she came shambling out, yawning and ruffling her hair. She wore striped pajama bottoms and what looked to him like a bra, although he hoped it was one of those jogging tops instead. It was so difficult to tell, these days. “Now what?” she asked him. “I’m wide awake and it’s not but eight in the morning.”

“Don’t you have any plans?”

“Nope.”

“Nothing going on with Damian?”

“Damian’s in Rhode Island,” she said. “His cousin’s getting married.”

“Well, your mother would like you to phone her. I hadn’t realized you didn’t tell her where you would be.”

“Wouldn’t you think she could figure it out?” Kitty asked. She opened the refrigerator and gazed into it for a long moment. Liam hated it when she did that. He could practically feel the dollars whooshing past her and disappearing. He held his tongue, though, because he wanted to fare better with her than Barbara had. Eventually Kitty reached for a carton of milk and then shut the door. “I really think Mom might be cracking up,” she told Liam. “Maybe it’s change of life.”

“Change of life! Wouldn’t she be done with that?”

Kitty shrugged and took a box of cereal from the cupboard.

“I believe menopause hits in the late forties. Or fifties, maybe,” Liam said.

“Oh, menopause; sure. I’m talking about change of life.”

“What?”

An uncertain look crossed Kitty’s face. “Do I mean midlife crisis?” she asked.

“Only if you’re expecting her to live to a hundred and twenty.”

“Well, I don’t know; I just feel like she’s acting crazy. Every little thing I do, it’s ‘Kitty, stop that,’ and ‘Kitty, you’re grounded,’ and ‘Kitty, how often must I tell you.’ Senile dementia; maybe that’s what I mean.”

“Do you suppose it has to do with her boyfriend?” Liam asked. “What’s-his-name?”

Kitty shrugged again and sat down at the table.

“How is that going, anyway?” Liam asked.

There was only the faintest chance that Kitty would answer, but it never hurt to try. Before she could draw in a breath, though, the doorbell rang. Liam said, “Now, who-?”

He went to the front door and opened it to find Eunice. She stood looking at him with a solemn, oddly dubious expression, holding her purse primly in front of her with both hands. “Why, Eunice!” he said. “Hello!” He was thrown off a bit by her glasses, which he had somehow forgotten-the huge size of them, the smudged lenses.