Chapter Eight: Two Meetings.
"No!"
Schroeder threw up his hands and walked away from Violet. She followed him, trailing his ill-tempered roving around the room.
"Out of the question, Violet! No!"
Violet reached out her hand, pleading with him.
"But Schroeder, if you'd only-"
"Are you mad?" he said, turning back to her, in disbelief. "Do you hate me that much?"
"Of course not, Schroeder. I-"
"No, Violet. I don't want any part of her." He shook his head adamantly.
"I understand your feelings, Schroeder," Violet said. "I really do, especially after talking to her myself. She's as arrogant and impatient as ever."
"You're not helping your case, Violet."
Schroeder resumed his angry pacing around the fashionable apartment, the fruits of a successful career.
"She's still Lucy," Violet said, "but Lucy isn't what she used to be."
"What do you mean?" he asked, irritated.
"She's broken, Schroeder."
The bluntness of Violet's words made Schroeder stop and turn to face her. His expression gave her an opening.
"Lucy's on her way to realizing all her dreams but one. She'll be a full-blown lawyer in no time-"
"Just what Meadow Brook needs."
"She'll have accomplished all of her goals," Violet resumed, scowling at Schroeder's bitter crack, "but she's still lonely, friendless and unhappy."
"Good," he snapped, turning to her. "After everything she's done, she deserves to be friendless. It renews my faith in justice."
"Schroeder, why are you being so stubborn?" Violet asked, irritated. She made a gesture of entreaty. "Why can't you talk to her, just once? It isn't much to ask."
"Violet, do you know what she told Linus about me?" he asked, bitterly.
Violet nodded, sympathetically.
"About getting her pregnant? Yes, I know. Charlie told me."
Schroeder shrugged, expecting that.
"What kind of person does that to someone she loves, Violet?" he asked, his expression incredulous. "Not to me, I'm not that egotistical. I mean to Linus. He was crushed!"
"A woman is likely to do anything when she feels helpless or threatened."
Schroeder stared at her, stunned and appalled.
"I don't believe you, Violet! How can you dismiss everything Lucy's done, everything she is, just like that? She's loud, mean, rude, overbearing-"
"-a bad singer, a lousy outfielder and a poor dresser," Violet finished. She spread her hands as if to say, "so what?"
"Schroeder, none of that matters if she's trying to change, if she wants to reach out to you."
He turned away and folded his arms, remaining obstinate. He was having none of it.
"Look, she doesn't expect you to leap into her arms, Schroeder," Violet said, warming to the role of advocate. She shook her head to dismiss the idea.
"Lucy doesn't have any fantasies about ending up with you. She's past that. I'd never have agreed to ask you for her if I thought that was her scheme. All she wants now is to be friends."
Violet turned his shoulders around and forced him to look at her.
"All she wants, Schroeder, is to talk to you once," she said softly. "Is that so much?"
He turned away again, sulking.
"And if I say, 'yes, it is too much?'"
"Then, I'll drop it," Violet said, touching the rigid back Schroeder offered her. "If I have to choose between you and Lucy, I'd choose you. You know that."
Violet's voice, warm and low, tried to break through Schroeder's objections. She couldn't tell if her reasonable arguments were getting through to him, so she kept trying to persuade him.
"I won't lie to you, Schroeder. I know how you feel, and mostly I agree with you. Lucy's hurt me too, and she's made me do things I still feel ashamed of. But when I saw her in the café, I felt sorry for her. I know she wasn't putting on. I know she feels lonely, that she's not worthy to be loved."
"She isn't," he said, turning abruptly back to face Violet.
"She only deserves to be shunned. You may pity her, Violet, and I admire you for it, especially after the way she treated you. But I don't." Schroeder resumed his aggravated pacing.
Violet sighed. She had learned much recently of the value of forgiveness.
"Schroeder, is there no part of you that can care about her, even on a purely human level?"
"I'm not convinced that she is human, Violet."
Her expression darkened with impatience.
"Stop it, Schroeder! You're not made that cold. You're not that cruel!"
"No, I'm not, Violet." His tone softened, but his face didn't.
He shrugged.
"I was only joking about that. And even though I can't feel sorry for her, I don't want to pity her." Schroeder stopped talking for a moment, his anger fading. He took a breath.
"I don't hate Lucy, Violet. I really don't. After all, she did love me once, and I think I loved her too. But I'm just tired of her, can you understand that? I don't want any more of her drama in my life." His hostile expression retained an element of regret.
He sighed reflectively, his shoulders sagging, and Violet touched his arm.
"Schroeder," she said, her pretty face shining, "do you realize that Lucy was the first one of any of us to express real love? The way she felt for you, even as a child-"
Schroeder looked stunned.
"Love? Has the word's meaning been changed? What she felt for me wasn't love, Violet."
He groped for a word harsh enough.
"It was possessive, bull-headed, and relentless-"
"-Love." Violet finished. She smiled, making Schroeder's eye-avoiding gaze look at her.
"As I said, she doesn't expect you to feel that way now, and she told me she doesn't feel it, either. If she's lying, you'll find out soon enough, and if she isn't, what are a few minutes? She just wants to be friends, Schroeder and trust me, she could use one."
"Speaking of friends Violet, you're a pretty good one," he said, smiling gratefully. "Not to me, of course, but to Lucy. I hope she appreciates you."
"Just talk to her this once and see how it goes, okay, smart guy?"
"All right, but I'm telling you right now, I'm not going to enjoy this!"
Schroeder called Lucy at the number Violet gave him and invited her to meet him at his apartment. During their brief but tense conversation he told her it would give them a chance to talk things over and keep out of the public eye. By themselves, they could be completely honest and frank.
Lucy entered Schroeder's apartment on time, and he studied her warily at the door before ushering her inside.
She wore a blue dress with a modest but attractive neckline, and short sleeves. To a disinterested observer she appeared primed for a "heavy date," but Schroeder knew that for Lucy, she was dressed casually.
"Well Schroeder, here I am." Her expression was cordial, but guarded.
"May I come in?"
"That depends; are you armed?"
Lucy burst out laughing, a hearty, appealing laugh that Schroeder enjoyed.
"It's nice to hear you laugh again," he said, with an unwilling smile. "I'd forgotten how much I liked it."
"Thanks. You look good." Lucy's careful attitude began to return.
"So do you," Schroeder said, "but you're prettier than I am."
Lucy smirked.
"Just barely. You'd look better, if only you'd shave." She reached her hand out to him to touch the stubble on his face, withdrawing it on second thought.
That trace of the old critical Lucy brought out a trace of the defiant in Schroeder. He resented her nit-picking, but with an effort he shook it off.
"When the season starts again, I will shave. Until then, I'll be wasting my time playing in a jazz club in the Village."
"A jazz club?" she said, brightening. "That sounds interesting. Maybe, some night…Oh, never mind."
Schroeder's curiosity perked up, in spite of himself.
"No, what were you going to say, Lucy?" he pressed. "Would you like to come and hear me play, sometime?"
"Yes, I would like that," Lucy said, with a reserve that seemed out of character for her. "I didn't want to intrude."
Schroeder began to tire of small talk. He longed to hash things out with her frankly, and to hell with the furniture.
"Lucy, you can go wherever you wish," he said, with a hint of impatience. "It's okay to ask me, it's not pushing. I wouldn't mind your coming at all." Schroeder smiled, reluctantly.
"I could even escort you some night, if you'd like," he added.
If the offer pleased Lucy, she didn't allow herself to show it.
"That would be nice, Schroeder. But I didn't come up here to chit-chat. I want to know where we stand."
Lucy's annoying, familiar assertiveness caused Schroeder to put his guard and his back up.
"Well, Violet had to twist my arm to get me to agree to this little get-together. I may never forgive her. Does that give you a clue?"
Lucy looked disappointed.
"I had hoped at least that you would grant me the decency of a fair hearing," she said, coldly offended.
"I would, Lucy. But I'm prevented because of a good memory." Willing to listen, Schroeder wasn't giving her an inch.
Lucy turned toward the door, and for a moment it appeared that she wanted to leave. Turning back, she faced him, her expression conciliatory. It was hard for her.
"It wasn't all my fault, Schroeder." She walked across the room, regrouping from his relentless disdain.
"I never said it was," he said softly, trying to control his sarcasm. He took a step toward her, and stopped.
Too close.
"We were just wrong for each other." His voice softened a little. "We were too young Lucy, and it wasn't all bad, anyway. There were some good times."
"Were there?" Lucy asked, coolly. She fiddled with a glove, and remained distant.
"We had our problems, sure," he said, "but it wasn't all misery and woe. There were times when I actually enjoyed your company. When we went to the fair together, and school dances. Don't you remember? Knowing we were going to meet like this reminded me of them."
"I thought the same thing, Schroeder, but I didn't think you would." Her answer, cautious but mollifying, softened him.
"I didn't at first," he said frankly truthful, "until the reality of seeing you again hit me. I've been trying to absolve myself of the wreck that was our relationship by blaming it all on you. It's very comforting, Lucy. You should try it."
"I have. I've often blamed myself," she said, cleverly misinterpreting his advice.
"It won't work for long, though," Schroeder said, going along with her jest.
Lucy remained rooted to where she was, and Schroeder approached her again.
"I could talk myself into blaming you when I was sixteen, but with age comes maturity, or at least distance. Even as late as a few days ago, I cursed you to Violet." He sighed. "But I don't really feel that way, now."
"I'm glad of that," Lucy said, lightly, "we couldn't possibly be friends if we can't even be civil to one another."
"Is that really all you want, Lucy?" He asked, suspiciously. "To be friends?"
"I really just wanted to see you again, Schroeder. Being friends would be nice, though."
Lucy made a tactical retreat, talking over her shoulder as she walked.
"What else could I want, anyway? If I told you that I wanted you back, you'd leave this apartment screaming!"
"I couldn't do that, Lucy," he said. "I have a lease."
Lucy shrugged.
"Even so."
The cordial pace of the conversation frustrated Schroeder. He wanted to goad Lucy into candor. He frowned, suddenly.
"You're so deceitful! Tell me the truth, Lucy, if you even know what it is! What do you want from me? Why are you here?"
She crossed the room to stand before him. Lucy had lost none of her spirit or her nerve, qualities that had once endeared her to him.
"Schroeder, the truth is that I missed your company. I missed you, and I wanted to see you again. That's the whole truth," she said, emphatically.
The skeptical look on Schroeder's face compelled Lucy to continue.
"I'd be lying if I said I didn't care for you at all," she conceded. "I do. But that doesn't mean I think you'd take me back. I'm more realistic than that, now. The most I hoped for was to be able to see you once in a while as a friend, someone you once knew well and cared for."
"I still care for you, Lucy," he said gently, "but I'm wary of you. I don't want what happened before to reoccur."
Lucy shook her head.
"Don't worry; it won't. That ship has sailed, I know that. Or rather, it was torpedoed."
"Even so."
Schroeder grinned, sending Lucy's sardonic ad-lib back to her.
She smiled sadly. So much left unsaid.
Silence prevailed as each waited for the other to speak.
"So," Lucy asked abruptly, preparing to leave, "how do you think this went?"
Schroeder looked perplexed.
"How do I-? You're leaving?"
"Yes, I have things to do. Will you see me again? Just friends?"
Schroeder watched her, fascinated by her flowing confidence.
"All right, Lucy, we'll play it your way," he said, patiently cautious.
"I'll be performing tomorrow night at the Loaf of Rye. Would you like to come? It's a dingy little dive in the Village; right up your alley. We can talk again there."
"That would be all right."
When would you like me to pick you up?"
She shook her head, composed.
"No, I'll meet you there. That way you won't feel any obligation, and I can leave when I like."
Schroeder frowned, surprised at his own disappointment.
"It's no obligation to care for you, Lucy."
"Really?" she said, with a trace of conceit. "Most of the men I've known consider me high maintenance."
Her confidence, and his admiration, returned.
He had to ask.
"And what do you consider yourself?"
As she made her dramatic exit, Lucy's answer was pure Lucy.
"Worth it."