Ordinary People Read Online Free PDF

middle of December and book a flight back after the first week in January.”
    “We can’t go in the middle of December. He’d have to miss a week of school. And another week in January would be two weeks—”
    “He could meet us there when school got out. He could fly back by himself. Mother and Dad would—”
    “No!”
    They sit in silence for a moment.
    “I think you’re wrong, Cal,” she says. “I think it would be good for us all to go.”
    “No. Just—no.”
    The waiter appears with the menus.
    “Never mind,” she says, “I know what I want. The fish chowder and a green salad, Italian dressing. And some of your special bread. Coffee, too, please.”
    Cal orders a roast-beef sandwich and coffee. Leaning back in the chair, he tries to make out the dimensions of the room; he imagines it in the harsh, full light of day. Square and ugly. Better to keep it dark.
    “Why don’t you ask him if he wants to go? I think he will. Why wouldn’t he?”
    “I think,” he says, “that was our mistake. Going to Florida last Christmas. If we hadn’t done that—”
    “It wouldn’t have made any difference, you know that. Dr. Brandt told us—”
    “Dr. Brandt told us he was depressed. Dr. Brandt is a G.P. What the hell did he know?” He sets his glass down, rapping it smartly against the table. He hasn’t meant to. The sound is, loud and it makes her jump.
    “Are you blaming him, now? He gave him the physical, just as you asked. What more was he supposed to do?”
    “I’m not blaming Brandt. I’m not blaming anyone. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, I know that.”
    “You don’t believe that,” she says. “You say it, but you don’t believe it.”
    “I believe it,” he says. “I’m not even talking about blame, I’m talking about being available. We were busy down there. Every goddamned minute. There wasn’t time to talk.”
    “What was there to say? What do you think would have been said? Do you even think he knew at that point? And, if he did know, do you think he would have told us?”
    “I don’t know.”
    She shakes her head. “I don’t think he would have told us.”
    The waiter brings their lunches, and they sit, silently, watching him serve. When he leaves the table, she looks down at her lap.
    “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to blame ourselves for what happened, Cal.”
    “Fine,” he says curtly. “Don’t, then. If that means a damn thing.”
    Her head sinks lower. She busies herself, buttering the piece of bread in her hand.
    “Beth,” he says, “I’m sorry, honey. I’m sorry.”
    She looks up. “What’s the matter?” she whispers. “Is something the matter?”
    “No! Nothing’s the matter.”
    “Then, why can’t we go?” She leans toward him. “You know how good it feels to get away. All the wonderful places we’ve been, Spain, Portugal, Hawaii—I know it’s a lot to ask, Cal, I know we have expenses—”
    “It’s not the money.”
    “—but I need it! I need to go! I need you to go with me.
    “I want to go with you,” he says. “We can go in the spring, maybe, any place you want.”
    She sits back, then, hands in her lap. “No.” Her voice is flat. “If we don’t go now, we won’t go in the spring, either.”
    “That’s silly,” he says. “We will. I just think that now we should—this time we might try handling things differently.”
    “This time?”
    He is upsetting her; upsetting himself, too. And he shouldn’t drink at lunch, shouldn’t have had two mar tinis, he is keyed up, now; nervous. This afternoon he will sit at his desk in a half-stupor, surrounded by a confusion of papers.
    “Then, are we going to live like this? With it always hanging over our heads?”
    There is a determined set to her chin that moves him, even when she uses it against him, even when it seems irrational and dangerous, accompanied by ideas he does not agree with. Thus, as she argued stubbornly with Ray over dinner that night that the Michigan Daily