Early Autumn Part 16

"Autonomous," I said.

"Well, what's that got to do with building houses and lifting weights? I mean, I know what you said, but..." He shrugged.

"Well, in part," I said, "it's what I can teach you. I can't teach you to write poetry or play the piano or paint or do differential equations."

I finished the beer and opened another one. Paul still sipped his. We were drinking Heinekens in dark green cans. I couldn't get Amstel, and Beck's was only available in bottles. For a cabin in the woods, cans seemed more appropriate. Paul finished his beer and went and got another one. He looked at me out of the corner of one eye while he opened the new can.

"What are we going to do tomorrow?" he said.

"Anything you'd like to do?" I said. "It's Sat.u.r.day."

He shrugged. If he did enough weight lifting maybe I could get him too muscle-bound to do that. "Like what?" he said.

"If you could do whatever you wanted to do, what would it be?"

"I don't know."

"When you are twenty-five, what do you imagine yourself doing?"

"I don't know."

"Is there anyplace you've always wanted to go? That no one would take you, or you were afraid to ask?"

He sipped at the beer. "I liked the movie The Red Shoes" he said.

"Want to go to the ballet?" I said.

He sipped at the beer again. "Okay," he said.

CHAPTER 19.

It was Sat.u.r.day morning.

I put on a blue suit and a white s.h.i.+rt from Brooks Brothers, all cotton, with a b.u.t.ton-down collar. I had a blue tie with red stripes on it, and I looked very stylish with my black shoes and my handsome Smith & Wesson in my right hip pocket. The blue steel of the barrel was nicely coordinated with my understated socks.

Paul broke out a tan corduroy jacket and brown pants and a powder blue polyester s.h.i.+rt with dark blue pocket flaps. He wore his decrepit Top-Siders and no tie. His socks were black.

"That is about the ugliest G.o.dd.a.m.ned getup I've seen since I came home from Korea," I said.

"I don't look okay?"

"You look like the runner-up in a Mortimer Snerd look-alike contest"

"I don't have any other stuff."

"Okay, that's what well do this afternoon," I said. "We'll get you some clothes."

"What will I do with these?"

"Wear them," I said. "When we get new ones you can throw those away."

"Who's Mortimer Snerd?"

"A famous ventriloquist's dummy from my youth," I said. "Edgar Bergen. He died."

"I saw him in an old movie on TV."

The ride to Boston took three and a half hours. Most of the way down Paul fiddled with the radio, switching from one contemporary music station to another as we went in and out of range of their signal. I let him. I figured I owed him for the near daily baseball games he'd listened to while we worked. We got to Boston around a quarter to twelve.

I parked Susan's Bronco on Boylston Street in front of Louis'.

"We'll go here," I said.

"Do you buy your clothes here?" he said.

"No. I don't have the build for it," I said. "They tend to the leaner pinched-waist types."

"You're not fat."

"No, but I'm sort of misshapen. My upper body is too big. I'm like a knockwurst on a canape tray in there. The lapels don't fall right. The sleeves are too tight. Guy that's lean like you, they'll look terrific"

"You mean skinny."

"No. You were skinny. You're beginning to tend toward lean. Come on."

We went into Louis'. A slim, elegant salesman picked us up at the door.

"Yes, sir?"

He was wearing a pale gray-beige double-breasted suit with the jacket unb.u.t.toned and the collar up, a round-collared s.h.i.+rt open at the neck with the blue paisley tie carefully loosened, Gucci loafers, and a lot of blue silk handkerchief showing at the breast pocket. He had a neat goatee. I decided not to kiss him.

"I'd like a suit for the kid," I said.

"Yes, sir," he said. "Come with me." If Louis' were a New York restaurant, it would be the Tavern-on-the-Green. If it were a munic.i.p.ality, it would be Beverly Hills. Lots of bra.s.s and oak and indirect lighting and stylish display, and thick carpet. As we got into the elevator I said softly to Paul, "I always have the impulse to whiz in the corner when I come in here. But I never do."

Paul looked startled.

"I got too much cla.s.s," I said.

We bought Paul a charcoal three-piece suit of European cut, black loafers with ta.s.sels, nearly as nice as mine, two white s.h.i.+rts, a red-and-gray striped tie, a gray-and-red-silk pocket handkerchief, two pairs of gray over-the-calf socks, and a black leather belt. We also bought some light gray slacks and a blue blazer with bra.s.s b.u.t.tons, a blue tie with white polka dots, and a blue-and-gray-silk pocket handkerchief. Under pressure they agreed to get the pants shortened for the evening. The jackets fit him decently off the rack. I offered the elegant salesman a check for seven hundred fifty dollars. He shook his head and took me to the front desk. A far less elegant young woman handled the money. The salesmen were too dignified.

"We'll have those trousers ready at five o'clock, sir."

I said thank you, and the salesman left me the clerical ministrations of the young woman.

"I'll need two pieces of identification," she said. She was chewing gum. Juicy Fruit, from the scent. I gave her my driver's license and my gumshoe permit. She read the gumshoe permit twice. We got out of the store at three ten.

"Ever been to the Museum of Fine Arts?" I said.

"No."

"We'll take a look," I said.

At the museum I offended a group being taken through by a guide. I was telling Paul something about a painting of the Hudson River School when one of the ladies in the group told us to shush.

"You're disturbing us," she said.

"Actually you're disturbing me," I said. "But I'm too well-bred to complain."

The guide looked uncomfortable. I said to Paul, "It's like a Cooper novel. The wilderness is lovely and clean. It's romantic, you know?"

The whole party glared at me in concert. Paul whispered, "I never read any novels by that guy."

"You will," I said. "And when you do, you'll think of some of these paintings."

He looked at the painting again.

"Come on," I said. "I can't hear myself think in here."

At five o'clock we picked up Paul's clothes at Louis'. The elegant salesman glided by as we did so and nodded at us democratically. We drove over to my apartment so he could change.

"Change in my bedroom," I said. "And when you get through, bring that c.r.a.p out here."

"My old clothes?"

"Yes."

"Which outfit should I wear?"

"Your choice."

"I don't know what goes with what."

"The h.e.l.l you don't," I said. "We picked it all out at Louis'."

"But I forgot"

"Get in there and get dressed," I said. "This is a decision you can make. I won't do it for you."

He went in and took twenty minutes to change. When he came out he was wearing the gray suit and a white s.h.i.+rt He carried the red-and-gray tie. "I can't tie it," he said.

"Turn around," I said. "I have to do it backwards on you."

We stood in front of the mirror in my bathroom and I tied his tie.

"All right," I said when I ran the tie up and helped him b.u.t.ton the collar. "You are looking good. Maybe a haircut, but for the ballet it's probably the right length."

He looked at himself in the mirror. His face was sun- and windburned, and looked even more colorful against the white s.h.i.+rt.

"Come on," I said. "We gotta meet Susan at Casa Romero at six."

"She's coming?"

"Yeah."

"Why does she have to come?"

"Because I love her and I haven't seen her in a couple of weeks."

He nodded.

Susan was standing on the corner of Gloucester and Newbury when we walked up. She had on a pale gray skirt and a blue blazer with bra.s.s b.u.t.tons and a white oxford s.h.i.+rt open at the throat and black boots with very high heels. I saw her before she saw me. Her hair looked glossy in the afternoon sun. She was wearing huge sungla.s.ses. I stopped and looked at her. She was looking for us up Newbury and we were on Gloucester.

Paul said, "What are we stopping for?"

"I like to look at her." I said. "I like to see her sometimes as if we were strangers and watch her before she sees me."

"Why?"

"My ancestors are Irish," I said.

Paul shook his head. I whistled through my teeth at Susan. "Hey, cutie," I yelled. "Looking for a good time?"

She turned toward us. "I prefer sailors," she said.

As we walked down the little alley to the entrance I gave Susan a quick pat on the backside. She smiled, but rather briefly.

It was early. There was plenty of room in the restaurant. I held Susan's chair and she sat down opposite Paul and me. The room was attractive and Aztecky with a lot of tile and, as far as I could see, absolutely no Mexicans.

We ate beans and rice and chicken mole and cabrito and flour tortillas. Paul ate a surprising amount, although he was careful to poke at each item with his fork tines first, as if to see that it was dead, and he sampled very tiny bits to make sure it wasn't poisonous. Susan had a margarita and I had several Carta Blanca beers. There wasn't much conversation. Paul ate staring into his plate. Susan responded to me mostly in short answers and while there was no anger in her voice I sensed no pleasure either.

"Suze," I said over coffee, "since I'm spending the rest of the evening at ballet I was hoping this would be the high point."

"Did you really," she said. "Am I to gather you're disappointed?"

Paul was eating pineapple ice cream for dessert. He stared down into it as he ate. I looked at him then at Susan.

"Well, you seemed a little quiet."

"Oh?"

"I think I will pursue this, if at all, another time," I said.