In fact, even now as I sat trying to see a way out of this dilemma, I sensed Charley around the house, in each part of it in proportion to the extent that he had inhabited that part while physically alive. Especially in the study, where he had worked at night. – .1 felt it there the most. And the kitchen, where he ate, the living room where he sat. Not so much in the children’s rooms or even their bedroom. And not at all in Fay’s work room, where she did her clay modeling. Her creative stuff.
What he hadn’t realized was that if he had killed her, nobody would ever have had a happy moment again. Think what the effect would have been on the children. Their lives would have been blighted. He himself would have nothing left ahead of him but death from his heart condition, unless he had planned to kill himself, too. Nat Anteil had already given up his wife, seen his brief marriage to her end, and, with Fay dead, what would there be in store for him? Who would have gained?
The nthilism of what Charley did is shown in his killing of the animals. That part affected me the most; I had the greatest difficulty understanding it.
Surely he hadn’t hated the animals as he hated Fay; he couldn’t possibly have thought that the animals had betrayed him — although of course the dog had learned to greet Anteil rather than to bark at him. To follow the logic of that, however, he would have had to kill his own daughters, since they both liked Anteil, and he would possibly even have had to kill me, since the girls liked me very much. Maybe he planned to. Anyhow, the sheep cared for nobody on earth, and the ducks, to the extent possible with their limited minds, kept a loyalty to him. After all, it had been he who built their pens.
After thinking it over steadily, I came to the conclusion that he had not known he was killing the animals, that he had only been conscious that when he got back to the house after being in the hospital, there would be some great change, which he himself would bring about, and that this change would affect all the living creatures there. He shot the animals to show that what he did mattered. He could do something that couldn’t be undone. And yet, even deciding this, I felt then –and still feel now– that the actual reasons for his actions are beyond my scope. I don’t understand his kind of illogical, semi-barbaric mind. It was not a question of scientific reason; it was brute instinct. Perhaps he identified the animals with himself. Possibly he was already beginning on the path of killing himself, that he knew in some part of his mind that he would never kill Fay; that it would be he who would end up getting shot, not she. Or possibly he hadn’t even wanted to kill her, that he had only gone through the motions. Possibly he had meant to kill himself all the time, from the moment he bought the gun.
In that case, she was not to blame. At least, not as much.
But a confusion like this always results when the unscientific individual is involved. Science is baffled by the unreason of the hoi polloi. The moods of the mass can’t be fathomed; that’s a fact.
While I was studying this entire situation deeply, and waiting for Fay and Nat, I heard their car drive up. So I got to my feet and went to the front door to turn on the driveway lights.
Only one person came from the car. It was Nat Anteil; my sister hadn’t come along.
“Where’s Fay?” I said.
Nat said, “Somebody had to stay with the girls.” He entered the house and shut the door after him.
His explanation, although reasonable, didn’t convince me. I had the intuition that she couldn’t bring herself to set foot inside the house as long as! was still there. And that made me feel just that much worse.
“Sometimes it’s easier for two men to discuss a business matter,” Nat said. “Without a woman.”
“True,” I said.
We sat down facing each other in the living room. Looking across, past the fireplace, at him, I got to wondering how old he was. Was he older or younger than I? About the same age, I decided. And look how little he had done with his life. A marriage that hadn’t lasted a bit. Involvement with a married woman that had ended in the death of an innocent man. And, from what I had heard, a fairly insecure economic position. The only thing he had over me was that, to be very honest, he was much better looking than I. He had that sweet, open face, roundish, and jet-black hair which he kept cut short. He was tall, too, without appearing scrawny or bony. In fact he looked to me like a tennis player, with very long arms and legs, but at the same time keeping himself in good physical condition.
Also, I had respect for his intelligence.
“Well,” I said, “this is a difficult situation.”
“No doubt of that,” Nat said.
We sat for a time in silence. Nat lit a cigarette.
“You don’t want to be a dog in the manger,” he said. “It’s indisputable that you can’t raise the capital to buy Fay out, and even if you did you couldn’t afford to live here; the cost of keeping this place going is enormous. It’s a completely impractical house. Personally, I’m not anxious to see Fay keep it. It’s too costly to heat. I’d rather see her sell it and move into a smaller place, possibly an older house.”
“But she has her heart set on living here,” I said.
“Yes,” he said. “She likes it. But if she had to, she could give it up. I think in the long run she’ll want to give it up. After she’s had to keep it running without Charley. In some respects, it’s more of a liability than an asset.” Getting to his feet, he wandered around the living room. “It’s nice. It’s really a marvelous house to live in. But it’d take a really well-off person to maintain it. It’s a constant drain. A person could wind up a slave to it, trying to keep it going. I don’t think I’d ever want to do that; I hope to hell I don’t get in that position.” He did not seem to be especially talking to me; I sensed that he was actually thinking out loud.
I said, “Are you and Fay going to get married?”
He nodded. “As soon as I get my divorce from Gwen. We’ll probably get a Mexican divorce and remarriage. There’s no waiting period.”
I said, “Since Charley didn’t leave her very much, won’t you have to go to work full time to support her and the children?”
“There’s the trust fund to support the kids,” he said. “And she’ll be getting enough from the factory and her property in Florida to maintain this place.”
“I really don’t want to give my share up,” I said. “I want to live here.”
“Why?” he said, turning to face me. “My god, it’s got three bathrooms and four bedrooms — you’d be living alone, one person in this huge house. This place was built for five or six people to live in. All you need is a rented room.”
I said nothing.
“You’ll go out of your mind, here,” Nat said. “All alone. When Charley first went to the hospital, Fay almost went crazy alone, and she had the girls to keep her company.”
“And you,” I said.
To that he had no comment.
“I feel I have to stay here,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because,” I said, “it’s my duty.”
“To what?”
“My duty to him,” I said, letting it slip out before I realized what I had done.
Without difficulty, he grasped whom I meant. “You mean because he left half the house to you, you feel you must live here?”
“Not exactly,” I said. I didn’t want to tell him that I knew that Charley was still in the house.
Nat said, “Since you can’t do it, it doesn’t matter whether it’s your duty or not. As I see it, your choice isn’t whether to give up your share. It’s whether you’ll sell it and get something for it, or simply lose it and get nothing. With a thousand dollars cash and thirty-eight dollars every month you could establish yourself very nicely in town. Rent a nice apartment, buy clothes, eat out in good restaurants. Go out in the evenings and have a big time. Right? And meanwhile you’d be using the money he left for psychiatric care. And if you had psychiatric care you’d be a lot better off. Let’s face it.”