An Unfinished Season by Ward Just Read Free Book Online

speak to my mother. He returned to his pork chop, his eyes inward, his thoughts apparently far away.
    You’ve become a different person, my mother said after a moment. I feel I hardly know you. I can’t get your attention. You won’t talk. You’re so—inflexible. We never go anywhere. We never see our friends. They ask us to dinner and I tell them, No, Teddy’s out of town. Teddy’s working late. Teddy has a meeting. Teddy’s here, Teddy’s there. I never know when he’ll be home. Because of the strike at the plant. Because of the threats. We had the trip to Havana planned and then you called it off, because of the strike at the plant. Answer me this. What’s the use of being successful if you can’t enjoy the success? I’m
frightened,
Teddy.
    My father sighed and did not reply. But then he smiled, looked up, and said, New York. We should have gone to New York.
    Don’t start that, my mother said, suddenly very angry.
    Dad was making a joke, I said.
    She did not look at me or give any sign of having heard what I said. She continued to sit, staring straight ahead, her hands in her lap. I realized then that she was near tears, her face flushed and her lips trembling. She said at last, I’m frightened all the time. There was a strange car this morning, drove past the house once and again from the other direction, back and forth, two men in the front seat, I couldn’t see their faces. They drove so slowly. One of them wore a hat. And this afternoon, the telephone call...
    My father rose at once and went to her, his hands on her shoulders and his chin touching her hair. He said something I couldn’t hear, but whatever it was, she shook her head in response.
    Yes, he said. Believe me.
    How can I? she said. How can I when strange men drive by on an ordinary afternoon and I know they mean us harm? I don’t have a way of coping, Teddy. How am I supposed to behave? You tell me.
    He was looking up now, staring at the wallpaper, the Frenchmen in their plumed hats and flared jackets and the stag high-stepping through the tangled forest, dimly lit by the chandelier over the dining room table.
    Trust me, he said, and my mother smiled bleakly. He said, I guess this is the modern world and we’re going to have to live with it, insecurity. Everything was different before the war. My business, Quarterday. Different time, a prewar time, everyone pulling together. Teamwork meant something. She raised her eyes to look at my father, an expression of perfect bafflement on her face. I believe this, he said. You can only have one boss of an outfit.
    I suppose so, she said doubtfully, but—
    We have to stick together, he said as he moved his hands in slow circles over her shoulders. And then he brightened and playfully tapped her water glass with a spoon, as if he were about to make a toast. I want to tell you a story. Funny thing happened at the office this morning.
    â€”there were
two men,
Teddy.
    I know, my father began, and then started because the telephone rang.
    I’ll get it, I said.
    Let it ring, my father said.
    I don’t mind, I said.
    Let it ring,
he ordered, and so it rang, one ring after another, each seeming louder than the one before. My father gave my mother a final caress and returned to his chair and the pork chop cold on his plate. We three sat in silence and listened to the telephone ring.
    It might be them, my mother said.
    My father reclined in his chair, grinning. He said, Let me tell you the story. Salesman came in with samples of silk, beautiful stuff, beautiful weight and texture, like parchment except it was supple. Silk paper for wedding announcements, party invitations, debutante parties and the like. I listened to his pitch and said no thanks, not even when the strike is over. He was a charming character, born in Persia. He had a suitcase with him. The suitcase was on wheels; it must have been three feet across. He said he wanted to show