Alice had gone to his apartment again, but he was not there. When she inquired to the heavyset landlady as to where he was, the woman said that he had paid the month's rent, and left, with a suitcase.
"Did he say where he was going?" Alice queried hopefully.
"No, dear." the landlady replied regretfully. "I'm afraid not."
Alice was inconsolable for the next week, and took a week's leave of absence from work. Phone calls came every day, some from the library, some from Ernest, some from the electric company, but never any from Claude.
She had called at the C-6000 vacuum company office to inquire as to whether Claude had left behind any return address, but the man there had snorted derisively. Alice didn't take that as a good sign.
"If you could please check," Alice said tentatively. "I really need to get in touch with him."
"Yeah, well, good luck with that." the man said. "He up and quit, without notice."
"That's Claude," Alice said apologetically, knowing she sounded a little foolish defending Claude to a man she'd never met, but not caring. "he can be a little unreliable, but…"
"You're not kidding." said the man. "In all my years in sales, I never saw a worse vacuum cleaner salesman."
"Hey, that's not his fault." Alice said. "Claude is a great salesman. Your products are just…well, not that great quality."
Alice felt even more depressed, until she had a thought. His sister. Her name was Hallie, but what was her last name? Alice tried to remember it. It was something that reminded her of clever, not clever, but…
Sly? Scheming? No, it began with a "C'. What was it?
And then she remembered.
Cunningham. Hallie Cunningham. In Pennsylvania.
It had been moderately difficult, getting a hold of the number, since there had been more than one Hallie Cunningham in the state of Pennsylvania, but at last, she had managed to locate the name and number of Claude's sister.
A female voice answered the phone.
"Hello," said Alice. "Um…May I please speak with Hallie Cunningham?"
"I'm sorry," she said. "She isn't here now."
"Oh." said Alice. "Um…do you know when she'll be back, by any chance?"
"She's at the grocery store, so she'll probably be back in about thirty minutes. Is it important?"
"Yes." Alice said. "Yes, it's very important, so could you have her call me back as soon as she gets home? Let me give you my number."
So she did, and the girl wrote it down.
"Thank you." Alice said. She paused. She did not want to scare the girl, so hesitantly she asked her. "Are you…Louise?"
"Yes." the girl said. "I am."
"It's..." Alice said, but she could manage no more. "Let your mother know that there's a call for her, all right?"
"Um…all right." said Louise, sounding a trifle disconcerted. Alice didn't blame her. "I will."
"Thank you." Alice said, and hung up.
About an hour later, the phone rang. Alice picked it up. "Hello?" she said.
"Hello," the woman said questioningly. "I was told that someone called here earlier, asking for me."
"Yes." Alice said, trying to sound as put-together as possible, even though at the moment she didn't feel very. "My name is Alice McNamara, and…well, I'm a very good friend of your brother."
"Yes," Hallie said. "I believe that he's mentioned here in a postcard an Alice McNamara." Alice's heart leapt. She bit her lip, and comported herself with as much dignity as she could muster.
There was a rustling of papers. "Where is that darn thing…Matt, have you seen that postcard from Claude?"
There was a muffled response.
"Well," Hallie said a few minutes later, "It was in the coffee table drawer, would you believe that?"
"Oh. Well, um, Mrs. Cunningham," said Alice, not wanting to sound too familiar. "does he mention where he is?"
"Oh, no, but this postcard is marked Texas, if that helps."
"Texas?" Alice said. "Well, when did you get it, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Oh, about a month ago, I think."
Alice's heart plummeted. "A month?" she said. That meant that it was from before he left. He could be anywhere by now. The Baltic Sea, France, the African bush… Quickly Alice began to despair, but she pulled herself together.
"Well, Mrs. Cunningham," Alice started, but Hallie interrupted her.
"Hallie, dear." she said. "If you're a friend of Claude's, you're a friend of mine."
Alice smiled, grateful. "Thank you, Hallie." she said. "But it's important I know, is that the last postcard you got from him?"
"I'm afraid so, Alice." said Hallie.
"And…do you get postcards, letters, anything, from him very often? Do you have any idea when the next one might arrive?"
"No, dear, I'm afraid I don't. We get postcards very…sporadically."
Something about the way she said sporadically made Alice want to smile, through her irritation, and she had the feeling that across the wires, hundreds of miles away, Hallie too was smiling through her irritation.
"Sporadically." Alice repeated, a lump in her throat. She sighed. "Well, can you tell me what it says? If you don't mind, of course."
"No, dear. I don't mind at all." said Hallie. "It says, 'Marcus the Newbold and Louisamanda,'." "Those are my children," she explained.
"I know." Alice said, smiling. "He…he mentions them a lot." She bit her lip to keep from crying.
"Well," Hallie continued. "it says; 'Still here in Texas. The vacuum business is going well, although they say that nature abhors a vacuum, ha ha.'" Alice smiled. She could almost see the misspelled words, and she felt a longing so deep, it was almost like something tangible.
"Alice McNamara, my very dear friend, is doing well." Alice felt her eyes fill with tears at that designation. "Maybe one day, we will show up in ten gallon hats. Hope all is well. P.S. Does Tom have a bonne amie yet? He is at that age, certainly." Hallie sighed.
"That's really nice," Alice said angrily. "but would you mind telling me how he expected an answer to that question, since he left no return address on the card?" She paused, realizing that she was voicing her irritation aloud. "Sorry," she added. "I'm angry with Claude, not you."
"It's all right," Hallie said, laughing. "I know the feeling. But I do wish that I could get in contact with him also, to tell him about Tom."
Alice frowned. "Tom?"
"Oh, he's all right now, so it doesn't matter. But two years ago, there was a terrible flood here, and my three eldest children were swept into the river. Marcus and Louise just had some cuts, and a sprained ankle, Marcus did, but Tom was swept in the bridge supports." There was a catch in her voice. "He was in a coma for three months."
Alice bit her lip. "I'm so sorry." she managed.
"Oh, it's all right. Tom awoke, you see, and he's all right now. Sometimes he still has trouble walking, but…" She trailed off. "He's all right now." she finished.
Alice was silent. She was thinking. "I can't believe it." she said gravely. "That whole time, that terrible thing happened to your children, and he wasn't there, Hallie."
"Well," said Hallie. "He didn't know about it, Alice. But he would have taken the first train down here, if he had known, Alice. I'm quite certain of that."
"I'm sure of it, too," Alice said. "but it just shows the end result of his rootless lifestyle."
They talked a bit more, and Hallie assured Alice that she would call her the next time a postcard arrived from Claude.
It was four weeks later that Hallie called Alice again.
"Well, Alice," said Hallie, after they said hello. "this postcard is marked Illinois. No address."
Alice was glad to hear that some new information had been procured, even if it was by no means specific. "What else does it say?" said Alice.
"Hmmm. This is strange, very strange." Hallie said, almost to herself.
"What is?" said Alice, forgetting her self-restraint.
Hallie sighed. "Well, nothing, it's just that…well, forgive me for saying it, but there don't seem to be as many spelling mistakes as usual."
Alice felt tears rise, which were for her, a frequent occurrence lately. "What…what does it say, Hallie?" There was an edge of quiet desperation in her voice.
"Well, it reads: 'Marcus and Louisamanda, I am here in Chicago, the Windy City. I am taking some classes currently, and am involved in the distribution of a product without which most humans could not function in their daily tasks.'" Hallie paused.
"He's selling appliances, I bet." Alice muttered. Then she brightened. Wait a minute…
Hallie laughed. "Probably. But it continues, 'I hope all is well with you two. I hope to come up there as soon as I am able. Every day, I feel a certain mal du pays for your unparalleled, or rather nonpareil, home. Even the Leboff's house could never approach its allure, am I not correct?'."
"Claude," Alice muttered half angrily, her eyes filling with tears again. She sighed. "Well, if my hunch is right, he probably is selling appliances. Maybe, just maybe I have a thin hope of tracking him down."
"I certainly hope so, dear. It's about time someone tracked him down for once." said Hallie.
"Hallie," said Alice meaningfully. "I'm glad you called, and shared this information
with me. I really am."
It was a long, wrangling process, wrought with strife, frustration, tears of despair, bitter self-doubt, and wrenching self pity, as Claude would no doubt say, but Alice had managed to track him down, although with Claude's unreliable history of employment, it was very likely that it could change at any given moment.
After wracking up a phone bill of approximately a thousand dollars, Alice had finally managed to get a hold of a Maytag store in Chicago where a Claude Newbold worked. She had described him, just to make sure. Ordinary looking. Average height. Slender. Loquacious. Often speaks in flamboyant phraseology, especially in terms of knights and valor. May drop foreign phrases on occasion, especially Russian or French.
The woman there, Amy, had laughed, and said that yes, there was a man there by that name and description. Alice's stomach did a flip flop.
"But he isn't here right now," Amy continued. "You see, he doesn't work Saturdays."
"Ohhh." Alice groaned.
"Would you like me to leave him a message?"
"Yes," Alice said darkly. "Tell him that an old friend said that the past will catch up with him, no matter how far he runs."
"Oh, my," said Amy. "Well-"
"You know what? Don't tell him anything. I don't want the little weasel to run again."
Alice took the next available train to Chicago, carrying only a small valise with her. When she arrived, it was ten in the morning. She checked into a hotel immediately, deposited her valise in the room, and left with the address of the appliance store firmly in her wallet. She had memorized it the previous night, so as to prevent disaster resulting from unforeseen circumstances, such as the wind blowing it away, which with her luck was a likely occurrence.
Alice took a cab to the store. After paying the driver, she got out of the cab, and headed towards the store. She looked in the window. At first, she saw nothing but rows of washers, and refrigerators. But then she saw him.
He was standing by a chrome-plated refrigerator, talking to an elderly woman with a very large purse. He was gesturing expansively, and the woman nodded, listening intently.
He'll never change. Alice thought fondly, but then remembered all that he had put her through. Claude the Fraud.
Alice went in, and the door chimed. For a moment, Claude, still engrossed in his refrigerator soliloquy, didn't notice. But Alice stood there, looking at him, her eyebrows raised, and finally, he glanced her way.
Claude paused only a brief moment, but then returned to the woman.
When he was finished, Alice walked over to him. He looked at her, looking less than thrilled that she was there.
"Well," Alice said. "I see you're doing well here."
Claude looked at her. "I'm busy here." he said curtly.
Alice's moth fell open in mock surprise. "Well," she said. "Claude the Newbold. How discourteous of you. Aren't you going to do for me what you did for that distinguished older woman?" She looked at him, her head tilted.
"What are you trying to do here, Alice?" Claude said. "You wouldn't want me to get fired, would you?"
"Fired? Oh, I don't think you have to worry about that, Claude. Amy, your manager, certainly seems quite taken with you." Alice clasped her hands. "Been giving her the old Newbold charm, huh?" She looked at him suggestively. "I know that you certainly gave me quite a bit of it."
"You know, this is a family place. I think you should keep your voice low." Claude said, looking around.
"Well, if you don't want me to tell Amy and the whole store about some of our…intrepid adventures, I suggest you meet me as soon as you get off for lunch." She looked at him pointedly. "Or maybe instead I could just tell them about your grand exploits peddling phony weight loss supplements. Or that time you worked as a gigolo…"
"I most certainly did not work as a gi-" He looked at her. "If you're trying to blackmail me, you've crossed the wrong person, Alice. You could get yourself into a deep well of despair."
"That sounds real good, but it means nothing. What's to stop me from staying here, and having a chat with your girlfriend, Amy, about your…shall we say, questionable past?" She looked around. "Which one is she?"
Claude looked at her. "I do pity you, coming in here and making an absurd spectacle of yourself, so I will consent to play your warped game, whatever it may be, but don't think for a minute that I'm in fact afraid of you."
"Of course you're not." Alice said, walking out of the store. "Claude the Newbold fears nothing."
Alice was waiting for him, outside the store, when he came out.
"Well," Alice said, falling into step with him. "Where are you taking me, Claude the Newbold?"
"On an immediate and undeviating path to the sanitarium, my dear. Nowhere else." Claude said. "They have a private ward there that you can share with an exclusive and unique minded lot."
"Will King Claude the Newbold be joining us also?" said Alice. "Perhaps you can find a few new tree house recruits. I hear some infirmary inhabitants love speaking in obscure and fictitious languages."
"You have sharpened your sword to a serration unfit for light sparring, Alice the Supercilious." Claude stopped on the sidewalk. "I should let you step into the busy onslaught of traffic, but I'll caution you to look around you before you proceed further."
Alice did, and they crossed the street, turning into a tree-lined park with a pebbled trail. They walked down the trail a ways, until they stopped at a picnic table. Claude stood beside the table, his eyebrows raised. Alice stood there, looking at him. Finally, Claude said. "Well, my dear Alice, I do hate to inconvenience you, but since it is evident that your watch is broken, our time is rapidly waning. So I suggest that you sit down, if you want to make whatever point you have come up with."
"You sit first." Alice said.
"I appreciate your concern for my well-being, Alice but as you know, Claude the Newbold would sooner expire than to seat himself before members of the nobility. You know that." He gestured towards the picnic table seat. "Come, come. I implore you to sit while the hour is still young."
Alice shook her head, irritated beyond all rational thinking. "You're full of horseshit, Claude." She sat down.
"Not by any means the first time that sentiment has been applied to me, in various forms." Claude clasped his hands, and looked at her. "Now, tell me what esprit de l'escalier you wanted to share with me. That's French, by the way, for 'wit of the staircase', or rather, that which you wanted to say, that you did not think of until the time was not expedient. But then, you knew that, I'm quite sure. Your tutor must have taught it to you. Or perhaps you learned it at a fancy boarding school."
"I did take French, actually." said Alice. "But right now, I'm trying to remember the French phrase for 'shut the hell up'. And yes, I know you've heard it before, and no, I'm not interested in how many variations you've heard of it." She looked at him.
"Fine, then. I'll leave." Claude said.
"Oh, if you can't blab, you have no use for me, right?" Alice said.
"No, I already have no use for you." Claude said. "I don't want to be around you. I thought that I'd made that clear."
"No, you didn't. You never said that." Alice replied.
"Well, I am now. We have nothing more to say to each other."
"Don't you want to know why I came here? Or even how I found you?"
"As for the details of how you discovered my whereabouts, I have no interest. But as to why, I already know the reason."
"Oh no, I don't think that you do." said Alice shaking her head.
"I do. The French have a phrase for it." Claude clasped his hands, and looked at her. "Nostalgie de la boue. Homesickness for the mud, as it were. You see, every once in a while, a person of royal heritage wants to distract himself or herself from their privileged life, and crawl in the mud, to be around the common class as a sort of trifling amusement, but more than that, for deeper reasons, they actually want to reassure themselves of their high standing in this world."
Alice was shaking her head. "You know, it's a wonder someone doesn't hit you." she said. "I feel sorry for you, babbling like that. I don't think that you actually know how you sound."
"Well, this just sounds like more of the same. Staircase wit. Thank you, but I don't care to cosset your craving for dilapidation."
Alice bit her lip. "Claude-"
"At any rate, I wasn't, as you so insultingly put it, babbling. It's the truth, that's all your interest in me amounts to. You are what is known as a dilettante. A dabbler. You dabbled in a relationship with a vacuum cleaner salesman because it amused you to do so, and truly, when it came down to brass tacks, as they say…." Claude trailed off, looking at the picnic table, and bit his lip sadly. For a moment, he just looked down at the table, an expression of infinite sadness on his face, and, looking at him, Alice never felt more terrible than she did in that moment.
"Oh, Claude." Alice said, her voice filled with sorrow, and with sympathy. She put her hand on his.
"And that's why you work at the library." Claude continued, deftly extracting his hand from hers. "You do so because it amuses you, and you know that it's…not what a normal person of your means does. Because it makes you feel superior to all the frequenters. In A Clockwork Orange, there was a product available called 'Milk Plus', which was, presumably, alcoholic milk, but in your case, you are a librarian plus. At least that's how you like to think of yourself, but you aren't really, not at all. You're no better than any other librarian."
"Claude…" Alice said. "I can see that…you're hurt, and you're ready, with guns blazing, to hurt me. But…"
"Oh, I was indeed hurt," said Claude. "very, very, hurt, Alice, but not anymore. Oh, no. It doesn't matter anymore."
"Are you trying to convince yourself?" Alice asked.
"It doesn't matter anymore." Claude repeated.
"Why not? Because of your girlfriend?"
"What girlfriend?"
"Amy." Alice said.
"Leave us not be foolish, Alice. Amy is forty years old, and plain as a brown paper bag." said Claude.
"Old enough to be your mother, huh?" said Alice. "A full three years."
Claude shrugged. "Yes, she is. Claude the Newbold is in fact ageless."
"In all but the physical sense." said Alice.
"And you are in fact a vile personage, Alice the Vituperative, or Malice, for the purpose of ease on the esophageal muscles."
"Your esophageal muscles must be pretty worn out by now." said Alice. "How about giving them a rest?"
"Staircase wit, and I care not for it." said Claude.
"Actually, it's current wit, and I think that it was delivered quite skillfully."
"No," said Claude. "it's staircase wit, because our dealings are over, and it's also staircase wit because you're here to finish the job you did during the Great Battle of Houston in 1985. You can't stand to not have the last word, Alice the Insecure."
"Are you serious?" said Alice. "It's hard to tell. But I'll tell you this. It must take a practiced and gifted to liar to say what you just said with a straight face."
"Staircase malevolence." Claude said.
"No, seriously." said Alice. "Did I hear you saying that I can't stand not to have the last word?"
"I did. And you know what, it doesn't matter why you're here, I don't care. I don't care at all."
"I'm here for the purpose of nostalgie de "Le Bouche"." said Alice, raising an eyebrow.
Claude smiled, and shook his head, looking at the table, forlornly. "Don't."
"Grande. Bouchegrande." Alice said, gesturing widely with her hands. "Boucheénorme."
"No. Non." Claude looked at her, shaking his head. "Your knowledge of my international aliases notwithstanding, Alice, I know what you're doing, and it won't be tolerated."
"What's that?"
"You're here for no other purpose than to subjugate me, Alice. Truly, that is what you desire most of all."
Alice sighed. "Okay. You got me. That's what I want." She tapped her fingers on the table, thinking. "Truly, I really came here to tell you off. I never thought that I would find you." Alice took out and unfolded the note that he left her that day in the library. Claude glanced at it.
"So?" he said. "I told the truth. I did use your betrayal as an excuse to drink."
"I know. I know you did, and you don't see me denying that it was a betrayal, do you?" Alice said. "And you were right, Claude, I was a coward. And…" Alice sighed, looking at the table. "And you were right. I hated that you said it, but you were right. I do tend to defer to my brother more than I should."
"The English speaking world has a saying." said Claude. " 'Money talks, and bullshit walks.'." He looked enormously pleased with himself, and Alice wanted to respond with a scathing put-down, but said nothing.
"Claude the Sophomoric, I don't think that applies. It's just that it's easier, sometimes, to give into pressure. But there's something you don't know." She sighed. "My brother has always been very progressive, and besides, he has no sons, so eventually he wanted me to take over. Suzanne is…not interested in business, to say the least. Anyway, I was going to do it. As he said. I majored in business in college for three years, until I…decided to go the other way. I changed majors, and I got a degree in library science."
"Speaking as someone with no diploma at all, I bow to you." said Claude.
"Anyway," said Alice, nimbly ignoring him. "I stood up to Ernest, that time. Of course, he was less than happy, but as I'm sure you probably noticed, Ernest is never happy anyhow."
"But you're paying for it in spades. So there are other things you're willing to give up. And I was the sacrificial lamb you offered up to appease your brother's wrath."
"Oh, please." said Alice, but she was in reality considering his words. She looked down at a fly on the picnic table. "I don't know."
"And you were embarrassed, as well. You'd feel ridiculous walking into to a high-society wedding with…a vacuum cleaner salesman. And what's more, you were afraid I'd open my mouth, with some arcane epigram, and scare some poo bah at said wedding." Claude looked away from her, and looking off in the distance, he said, "I'm not sure which hurts more. Claude the Pragmatic I am not, which is why all those years I've talked about making a fortune, I've never followed through. So, I just can't condone such behavior."
"I know. I don't want you to be. But Claude-"
"But Alice. It's all water under the bridge at this point. I was speaking in the past tense."
"Claude," Alice said, recalling Hallie's news. "There's something I need to-"
"There's simply nothing more to be said." said Claude.
Alice looked at the slats in the picnic table, her mouth trembling. She grappled with herself, thinking what to say, how she would say it. Alice did not want to hurt Claude anymore than she already had before, and she did, most of all, not want to alarm him unnecessarily, Tom was two years recovered, after all, but not knowing would be even worse, Alice thought.
"Claude," Alice said. "If you loved someone very much, and there was a large elephant behind them, and you wanted them to know, but at the same time, it wasn't a terribly dangerous elephant…" She noticed that Claude was looking at her as though she was crazy. "For heaven's sake, it's a metaphor."
"What exactly are you talking about, Alice?" Claude said.
"I want to do the honorable thing. In every situation. But I'm not exactly certain of what that is in this situation. But I feel it only right to let you know firstly, that you are the biggest weasel, and coward I've ever seen, Claude. You skipped town on me."
"You hurt me, Alice."
"You hurt me, too. You said you'd never leave me, and you did. Clearly our relationship means nothing to you. And you've hurt so many people, Claude."
"And here I had hoped my career as a roadside strangler wouldn't come to light."
"Funny. Really funny. I'm talking about a little closer to home." Alice said.
"How?" Claude said. "How did I hurt you? Tell me that, Alice?"
"Are you deaf? Didn't I just tell you?" Alice said.
Claude looked at the table. "I…you were…not the person I thought you were. And you still aren't."
"I have flaws, Claude, and you have to accept them. I made terrible mistakes. But you…." Alice looked at her hands. "I'm asking you to forgive me. Don't be so hard-hearted, Claude."
"I…we have different lives. To utilize a cliché, we come from two different worlds, kid."
"You're right. That's a terrible cliché. Claude, I'm not going to let you slip away from me again. I really…I really missed you." She looked down at the table. "And if you don't…if you're not swayed by what I'm going to say, then, you really have a heart of stone. But I think that you want to forgive me in the worst way, but you're just too darn stubborn to do it."
"I…can't trust you." said Claude.
"Yes, you can, Claude, because that's what love is all about. Trust. And stability."
"I'm afraid you've got me there." Claude said, his voice laced with sad irony. "Stability."
"You can change, Claude." said Alice. "Heaven knows, I hope you can change, because…" She looked at him. "Claude, I'm …pregnant."
