The Misfortunes of Others Read Free Page A

fall”), three receiving blankets in pale blue, green and yellow, and a jack-in-the-box.
    “Very nice,” said Maya, when Snooky was finished. “Thank you very much. How in the world did you manage to buy all this stuff today?”
    “I rented a car at JFK Airport and stopped off in a baby store on the way up here. I told them I was expecting to become an uncle soon and I wanted the best of everything.”
    “We don’t even have a nursery yet to put this stuff in,” Maya said fretfully. She picked up the tiny pair of socks and gazed at it. A cold fear gripped her heart. “I don’t think I can handle this, Snooks. All this responsibility. Look at these socks. They frighten me. They frighten me, Snooky.”
    “Don’t worry, Maya, I’m here now. I’ll take care of everything. I’m wonderful with babies.”
    “Since when are you wonderful with babies?”
    “Since you decided to have one. Hello, Bernard.”
    Bernard had wandered into the room, sweating slightly from the heat in the kitchen. It was the middle of March, an unseasonably warm day. He was followed by a small red mop whose tail beat furiously when it spied Snooky.
    “Misty!” cried Snooky, picking up the dog and dangling it in front of his face. “It’s little Misty! How are you? Ready for a little brother or sister? Give me a kiss, Misty.”
    The dog licked his face luxuriously.
    “I don’t see how you can let her do that,” said Bernard. He went to the picture window and cranked open one of the glass panels.
    “Misty loves me,” said Snooky. “I have a way with women. They come under my spell, and all is lost for them.”
    “Sweetheart,” said Maya, “look at what Snooky brought for the baby. It’s really too much.”
    Bernard looked over the pile of pastel animals, clothing and blankets scattered over the floor. “You’re right. It really is too much.”
    “It frightens me, Bernard. It makes the whole thing seem so … so
real
.”
    “It is real,” said Bernard, in his pragmatic way. He stood next to the window, hoping for a breeze. “You can take over in the kitchen now, Snooky. I’m done in there. What’s this?”
    “It’s a jack-in-the-box, Bernard. Didn’t you ever have one?”
    “Of course I had one,” Bernard said irritably. He sat down on the floor and tentatively wound it up. The box played a manic “Here we go round the mulberry bush” several times in succession, then the top sprang open and out popped a little clown in Scaramouche attire, all gaudy tatters and purple velvet scraps. It bobbled there in front of Bernard’s face, giving him a poignant lopsided grin.
    Bernard, for the first time that day, smiled. It was a slow smile that seeped over his face like sewer water.
    “I like this,” he said. “It’s the first thing you’ve ever brought us that I’ve liked, Snooky.”
    “There’s no telling what it is you’ll like, Bernard. There’s simply no telling. I try my best.”
    Bernard put his hand on top of the little clown’s head, pushed it gently back into the box, and cranked the handle again. Once again the tune played, the top sprang open, the Scaramouche popped out.
    Bernard smiled. He pushed the clown back in, closed the top, and happily cranked the handle.
    On the fifteenth repetition, Maya motioned to Snooky and the two of them left the room. Behind them they could hear “Here we go round the mulberry bush” played in an uneven, clanging tone, then a clatter as the doll sprang out. Maya could imagine Bernard’s smile.
    “No waste,” said Snooky, clearing the table in the kitchen and getting down to work.
    “No waste?”
    “Yes. Whatever the baby doesn’t like, Bernard will play with.”
    Dinner, when Snooky finally served it an hour later, consisted of a Creole shrimp and rice dish (“I had this in a tiny little restaurant up in a tree house in the middle of a palm tree grove—good, isn’t it?”), a French bread which he had dug out of the freezer and drizzled with garlic, and a