Chapter III (3)

    "Listen to me," he said. "My name is Jordan Lennox, I'm thirty-five years old. Unmarried. My income is thirty-five thousand a year. I have no family left, but the Islip YMCA director will provide a character reference. My blood type is O. My eyes are twenty-twenty. My I.Q. is a hundred and nineteen. I understand people, but I don't understand you. I would like permission to get to know you better. If necessary, this oral request can be followed by a formal letter from my attorney and a bond will be posted."
    The cab stopped before a squat studio building with great duplex windows, Lennox had the fare ready. He thrust it over the driver's shoulder, then helped Gabby out of the cab and with a fierce secret gesture signalled the driver to get lost.
    "Well?" he asked.
    She shook her head. He would not give up. He took her arm, escorted her the five steps to the doorway, thrust open the door and handed her through.
    "Why not?" he asked.
    "Goodnight."
    "Why not?"
    "You wouldn't understand."
    "Make me understand."
    "Goodnight."
    His fingers gripped her arm. "Make me understand."
    "What can I say? I thought you were somebody else. I thought...."
    "What?"
    "Once," she said slowly, "I had to study chemistry. And in the stockroom there was a glass jar filled with the most beautiful candy I ever saw. Then someone told me it was poison. Crystals of poison.... That's what happened."
    "Poison!" he exclaimed. "I'm poison to you?"
    "No; but you aren't what I thought you were. It's my fault. I made the mistake and I—" Gabby broke off in astonishment. The color had drained out of Lennox's face. The fury drained out of his body. He took a step into the foyer and let go of the door which swung heavily and smashed his hand resting limp on the jamb. He wrenched his hand free and took another hypnotic step toward the row of brass letter-boxes on the foyer wall. Each had a white call button underneath the name plate. In clear block letters alongside VALENTINE was FOX.
    "What is it?" Gabby cried.
    "'Fair is my love, for April's in her face,'" Lennox mumbled. "Her lovely breasts September claims his part...." He turned a wild face to her. "What made me think of that? What's terrifying about it?"
    "What's the matter?"
    "I don't know," he answered, swallowing hard and lifting a trembling hand to his face. It left blood smears on his cheek. "I'm lost. Again. I.... Christ!" He shut his eyes and pressed his fists together. "Sam," he whispered. "Sam. Come and get me. Please."
    "You'd better come in," Gabby said in alarm. She took him upstairs to her apartment and through a barn-like studio to a tailored bedroom where she helped him off with his coat and sat him down on a chaise longue. He was shaking. He tried to joke. "We shouldn't be here," he said. "Very suggestive."
    "It's too cold in the studio. What's the matter? What happened to you?"
    "Downstairs. That name ... Fox. It cut me off from everything. I don't know why. I'm crying again," he groaned. "Crying. There's been nothing but dirt and tears all day. I don't know what happened."
    "I'll get you a drink."
    "No. Thank you. I'm not sick. It's just something trying to come back and hurting like sin."
    "What do you mean?"
    "I can't explain. Give me a minute.... It'll go away again, if I'm lucky. Then I'll go too."
    He sat in silence, trying to control himself, looking around the room with smarting eyes. Gabby took off her coat, left the bedroom and returned a moment later with a glass and a sealed bottle of whiskey. She tried to remove the cap and failed. She handed the bottle to Lennox who took it, opened it mechanically and then put it down.
    "I didn't know you lived like this," he said at last.
    "How do you mean?"
    "Like this. Not girly-girly. I thought ... Park Avenue and decorators. This could be a man's place. Do you play Boys' Rules?"
    "You didn't."
    "I know it. I've been trying to start all over again for the last two hours." He stood up, went to the bed and touched the pillow gently. "Hello, Gabby," he said. He went to the dressing table and touched it. He touched the window drapes, the lamps, the books, the pictures ... everything that was hers as though he were touching her heart.
    Without looking at her he said: "You're right. I'm poisonous ... but I love you. I'm the wrong man, but I love you. It's too quick ... only a few hours, but I love you. I hate too much, I hurt too much because I'm poisonous.... And I love you. I'd better go now. Goodnight."
    He searched blindly for his coat, ashamed to meet her eyes, and the real Lennox appeared, the Lennox she had seen by candle-light two hours ago.
    "Oh!" Gabby exclaimed in tears, "Oh darling ... darling! Why did you hide from me? Why?"
    He caught his breath. She came to him and he took her in his arms. After a moment he managed to speak.
    "Is this how it happens? Has it happened again?"
    She clung to him.
    "Now I'm frightened, Gabby."
    "Why did you hide from me? Why did you change like that? You were so cold and hateful...."
    "I didn't know I was hiding. I didn't know what I was doing. I've been half crazy all day." He raised her hand and pressed it against his eyes. "I dreamed about meeting you, but not like this. I was going to be at my best. You know? Brilliant and successful. Scattering money and charm in all directions. Winning you ... not whining my way into your heart."
    "No. No. You don't understand. No one wants to be won. We want to be wanted.... Needed."
    "God knows, I need you. God knows, I—"
    "Shhh." She seated him again, ran out of the room and returned with a warm moist cloth. She cleaned his hand and his cheek. Lennox seized her suddenly as she stood over him and buried his face in her body.
    "It's all right, darling," she whispered. "Don't be afraid. You're just used to taking, that's all. Nobody ever gave you anything."
    He looked up at her. "What happened to us after the dance? What did I do then? What's wrong with me? Was I mean dirty drunk? Did I—" He stopped. He stood up slowly. In a strange voice he said: "Mean dirty drunk. Clarence Fox from Philadelphia. The Quaker and the blonde. Yes. That's where the gimmick book is...."
    Gabby was alarmed again. She put her hands on his shoulders.
    "But why can't I remember the rest?" Lennox asked in terror. "The knot. What's so horrible about a knot? What is it? Why can't I remember what it is?"
    She tried to press him back on the chaise longue. He was too big to be forced but he responded instantly to her pressure.
    "You're in trouble," she said. "Let me help."
    He tried to smile. "Yes. It's bad. I want to hide things from you, but you empty me out. Let me keep a few secrets for a little while. I can't do it unless you let me."
    She nodded.
    He took a breath. "I'm afraid to break this moment. I'm remembering what happened two hours ago."
    She shook her head emphatically.
    "But I.... But something's got to be written down before I forget it again. Someone has to go somewhere and get something for me."
    "I'll go," Gabby offered.
    "No," Lennox said sharply.
    She picked up a sketch-pad and pencil from the bed table and looked at him. Lennox spoke as though each syllable were acid on his lips. "Aimee Driscoll. 900 East 33rd Street." Suddenly he burst out: "There's worse. There's going to be worse to remember!"
    She came to him and took his face in her hands. "This isn't a moment, is it?"
    "No," he said. "Please God, darling.... No." He pulled her down alongside him and kissed her until he plunged into a darkness which he did not fear.