Mrs. Foster had suffered all his life an almost pathological fear of losing trains, planes, boats, and even curtains, in theaters. Although in other respects she was not particularly nervous, the thought of arriving late sometimes listed as put it in an excited state such that it gave spasms. It was matter of great importance: a small muscle that is cramped in the corner of his left eye, like a secret wink. The annoying, however, was that the contraction was refusing to go away until something an hour after the train reached safely, or plane, or what would have to take.
is truly extraordinary that a fear generated by something as simple as losing a train can, in some people, become a serious obsession. Half an hour earlier, at least, that becomes necessary from the station, Mrs. Foster came out of the elevator ready to go, hat and coat on, and then every way incapable of sitting down, began to bustle and stir from room to room until her husband could not ignore the state it was, finally emerging their chambers and dry tone, impassioned, pointed out that it might be time to get going, right?
is possible that Mr. Foster was in his right to be irritated with the simplicity of his wife, what was inexcusable was that increase their anxiety without making her wait. Which, careful, not even been able to show, but measuring how well their time whenever they had to go somewhere, you get the point: only one or two minutes late, "and his attitude was so soft making it difficult to believe that they seek to inflict a small but abominable torture staff the poor lady. And if something was satisfied, that she would not have dared for the world to speak up and ask him to hurry: it was too well disciplined for that. Another thing that certainly had to know was that, being delayed even beyond the limits of reasonableness, I could put it on the brink of hysteria. Once or twice in the last years of their married life, was almost like he wanted to miss the train, with the sole purpose of intensifying the suffering of the unhappy.
alleged guilt of the husband (who also can not give true), which was doubly unreasonable attitude was fact that, with the exception that little weakness incorrigible, Mrs. Foster was and had been at all times a caring and loving wife who for over thirty years he had served with competence and loyalty. In this regard there was no doubt: even she, being a modest woman, and saw him. And, even with years of rejecting the idea that Mr. Foster would deliberately torment, sometimes, in recent times, he had caught herself on the threshold of suspicion.
Mr. Eugene Foster, who was nearing seventy, lived with his wife in New York, Street Sixty-Two East in a six-storey mansion attended by four servants. The place was dark and receiving few visitors. Nevertheless, the house had come alive on this particular January morning was very hectic. While one of the girls divided by rooms with piles of blankets to protect furniture against dust and other loans. The butler downstairs carrying suitcases left in the hallway. The cook was up again and again, its appurtenances, to consult with the steward. And Ms. Foster, meanwhile, dressed in an old fur coat and wearing a black hat, was flying from room to room pretending to monitor all operations, when all he really was in his thoughts was the idea that, as her husband did not come out soon and was preparing his study, he would miss the plane.
- What time is it, Walker? Asked the butler to come across him.
"The nine and ten, madam.
- Have you already reached the car?
"Yes, ma'am, is waiting. Right now I am ready to load the luggage.
"It takes an hour to get to Idlewild," she said. My plane leaves at eleven. And I must be there half an hour in advance to the proceedings. Be late. I know I'll be late.
"I think it has plenty of time, ma'am," said the steward politely. I have already stated that Mr. Foster had to leave at nine-fifteen. There are still five minutes.
"Yes, Walker, I know, I know. But fast loading luggage Do you want?
He started walking around the hall, and crossed many times with the butler, asked the time. He was said again and again, was the only aircraft that could not lose. It had taken months to persuade her husband to let her go. And if now lost the plane, it was difficult for him to decide that I must leave everything on hold. And the worst was his insistence on or her off to the airport.
"My God, he cried aloud," I will lose. I know I know, I know I'll lose it.
The small muscle located near the left eye and gave him some crazy flips, and the eye itself was on the verge of tears.
- What time is it, Walker?
-past nine and eighteen, ma'am.
- It is sure to lose! -Lamented. Oh, why will not appear at once?
Was this an important trip for Mrs. Foster. Went to Paris, alone, to visit his daughter, his only daughter, married to a Frenchman. To Mrs. Foster did not care much French, but her daughter was very fond, and, above all, the consuming desire to see her three grandchildren, whom he knew only through the many pictures that they had received and not left to expose the whole house. These creatures were beautiful. Crazy for them, in came a new photo it took a long time where I could examine it looking for love in their faces with satisfactory evidence that air of family that meant so much to her. Finally, recently, more and more frequently assaulted her the feeling of not wanting to end her days where she could not be near their children, receive visits, take a walk, buy gifts and watch them grow. He knew, for sure, that somehow was not right, and even that was an encouraging disloyalty similar thoughts while her husband was still alive. Nor knew that, though no longer active in any of his many companies, he would never consent to leave New York for Paris. It was a miracle that he had now agreed to permit him to make one flight and spend six weeks' visit. But even so, ah, how he would have liked always able to live near their grandchildren!
-Walker, what time is it?
-and twenty-two, ma'am.
While that said, the door opened, and appeared in the hall Mr. Foster, who stopped to look intently at his wife. She also stared at the tiny old but still handsome and graceful, with its immense bearded face as he kept striking resemblance to old photographs of Andrew Carnegie.
"Well," he said, "I think it will be useful if you want to reach that plane, we leave launching.
"Yes, dear, yes. Everything is ready. And the car, waiting.
"Perfect," he said, tilting her head and watching carefully.
had a curious way of tilting the head, which looked then be subject to a series of shocks, short and fast. Because of this, and also because wringing their hands held high, almost at chest level, had planted there some aspect of squirrel ... a lively, agile and old squirrel escape from Central Park.
Walker "Here is your coat, honey. Put it on.
"Then I'll be with you," he replied. It's just wash my hands.
She was waiting, flanked by the high steward, carrying the hat and coat.
- Do you lose, Walker?
"No, ma'am," replied the butler. I think that will perfectly.
then reappeared Mr. Foster and Butler helped her with her coat. Mrs. Foster came hurrying from the house and got into the rented Cadillac. Her husband followed, but slowly down the steps leading to the street and stopping, even on the steps, to study the sky and sniff the cold morning air.
"It seems a little hazy," he observed as they settled into the car beside her. And there, on the side of the airport, always gets worse. Would not surprise me that it had suspended the flight.
"Do not say it, honey, please.
did not speak again until the car had crossed the river on the way to Long Island.
"I've agreed with the service," said Mr. Foster. March all today. I have paid six weeks at a rate of half pay, Walker and I told you when we need them I'll send a telegram.
"Yes," she said. And has told me.
"I will be moving to the club tonight. Staying there will be a pleasant novelty.
"Yes, honey. And I'll write.
-stop by occasionally to pick up the mail and make sure everything is in order.
- You really do not think Walker is better to stay there, to care for all, while we are away? She asked submissively.
"What nonsense. It is quite unnecessary. And besides, you have to pay full salary.
"Oh, yes," she said. Course.
"And, secondly, you never know what can happen to people when left alone in a house," proclaimed Mr. Foster, then took a cigarette whose tip pierced with a silver cigar cutter before switching to a lighter gold.
She was silent, his hands clenched together and under the rug.
- Will you write me? "Inquired.
"We'll see. Although I doubt it. You know I'm not writing letters, and not have something concrete to say.
"Yes, I know, honey. So do not bother to do so.
were still moving, now the Queen's Boulevard, until reaching the flat marshland that sits Idlewild Airport, the fog began to thicken and the car had to slow down.
- Oh, my God! Exclaimed Mrs. Foster. Now I miss it. I'm sure! What time is it?
-Enough of clutter, "protested the old man. Furthermore, it is in vain, and must have stopped. Never fly in such weather. I do not know why you bothered to get on track.
Although I was not sure of it, he felt that his voice suddenly took on a new tone, and turned his head to look at him. It was difficult with that fuzz, seen in her face expression changes. The mouth was the key to everything, and, as so often, would have given anything to distinguish it clearly, because unless he was angry, his eyes rarely shone through anything.
"Anyway," continued Mr. Foster, I give you the reason: if by chance is the flight across, I have lost. Why not, you surrender to the evidence?
look away from him and turned to the window. The fog seemed to thicken as advanced, and now only the edge of the road and the edge of the meadow beyond it began were visible. She knew her husband was still watching her. A new look said, with a sort of horror, he now had stares at the corner of his left eye in that little area where I felt the muscle pulls.
- Or not well? "He insisted.
- What?
-That I have missed the flight, if any. With this crap in the air, we can not run.
That said, she did not speak to him. The car continued its progress difficult, aided the driver by the yellow focus was directed onto the shoulder. Other sites, some white, some yellow, appeared frequently in the fog, away, and one, extremely bright, he kept walking follow distance.
Suddenly the driver stopped the car.
- There! Exclaimed Mr. Foster. Stuck. I already knew.
"No, sir," the driver while he turned his head. We got it. We are at the airport.
Mrs. Foster got out without a word and came hurrying into the building by their front door. The interior was packed with people, mostly passengers besieged, desolate, ticket offices. Mrs. Foster made his way as he could and went to the employee.
"Yes, ma'am," he said. Your flight is delayed, for now. But do not go, please. We clarify that the time at any moment.
Mrs. Foster came out to meet her husband, who remained in the car, and transmitted the information.
"But do not stay, dear," she said. It makes no sense.
"I will not do," he replied, if the driver can return to the city. Can you, driver?
"I think so," said the man.
- Have you dropped your luggage?
"Yes, sir.
"Goodbye, sweetheart," Mrs. Foster said goodbye, and he leaned body into the car and briefly kissed her husband on the rough gray fur of the cheek.
"Goodbye," he replied. Have a nice trip.
The car started and Mrs. Foster was left alone.
The rest of the day was a nightmare for her. Hour after hour sitting on the bench near the counter was the airline, every thirty minutes or so, rose to ask the employee if the situation had changed. The answer was always the same: he must continue to wait, because the fog would dissipate at any time. Until, finally, at six in the afternoon, the speaker announced that the flight was postponed until eleven o'clock the next morning.
Mrs. Foster did not know what to do at the news. He continued in his seat, at least for another half hour, wondering, as tired and confused, where he could spend the night. Leave airport and disliked in the extreme. I did not want to see her husband. She was terrified they got, with some subterfuge, prevent the trip to France. She had stayed there in that same bank, overnight. It seemed the safest. But I was exhausted and not cost him understand that in a lady of her age, this approach would be ridiculous. In view of this, finally find a phone and call home.
answered her husband in person, on the point of leaving for the club. After communicating the news, asked if the easement was still there.
"They all left," he said.
well-being, seek anywhere in a room overnight. But do not be alarmed by it, honey.
"It would be silly," he replied. You have an entire house at your disposal. Use it.
"But it is empty my life.
"Then I'll stay to join you.
"But there is no food there. Nothing.
"Well dinner before returning. Do not be so foolish woman. All you have to make a fuss.
"Yes," she said. Sorry. I'll take a sandwich here and I'll get on track.
Outside, the fog had cleared a little, but, even so, back in the taxi was long and slow, and it was quite late when he arrived at the house of Sixty-Two Street.
Her husband emerged from his studio to hear her enter.
"Well," said planted near the door, "what this has proved to Paris?
"We left at eleven o'clock. Is confirmed.
-be when the fog dissipated, right?
"I begin. Wind has risen.
"You look tired. You must have had such a tense.
"It was too nice. I think I'm going straight to bed.
-I ordered a car. For nine o'clock.
-Oh, 'thank you very much, dear. And I hope that you will never take the trouble to do that trip, to say goodbye.
"No, I do not do," he said slowly. But nothing prevents you from me, in passing, in the club.
I looked and at that moment he seemed very distant, as across the border, suddenly so small and distant that it could not determine what he was doing, or what he thought, or even who he was.
"The club is at the center," she observed, "there is no way to the airport.
"But you have plenty of time, my wife. Or do not you let me in the club?
"Oh, yes, yes.
-Magnificent. So until tomorrow at nine.
Mrs. Foster walked into her bedroom, located on the second floor, and 'was so exhausted after that day, he fell asleep just lying.
The next morning, having got up early, before eight-thirty, was already in the hall , ready to go. Her husband came minutes after nine.
- Did you coffee? He asked his wife.
"No, honey. I thought I'd take a good breakfast at the club. The car has arrived and has been waiting a while. I'm ready to go.
The conversation held in the hall, lately it seemed as if all the meetings took place there, "her with his coat and hat, and handbag on her arm, and he with a coat of curious and high cut lapels.
- And the luggage?
"I have it at the airport.
"Oh, yes. Course. Well, if you think me first in the club, you'd better put us on track as soon as possible, right?
- Yes! She cried. Oh, yes, please!
-only time to catch some cigarettes. Then I'm with you. Mounted on the car.
She turned and went to meet the driver, who opened the car door to see it close.
- What time is it? Asked Mrs. Foster.
"About nine-fifteen.
Mr. Foster left the house five minutes later. Watching him slowly descend the stairs, she warned that, encased in those tight pants, his legs seemed goat feet. As did the day before, stopped halfway, to sniff the air and study the sky. Although he had not entirely clear, a hint of sunshine pierced the fog.
"Maybe you're lucky this time," he said as his side was installed in the car.
"Hurry, please," she told the chauffeur. And do not worry about the rug. I stretch. Starting, I beg you. I'm late.
The driver sat behind the wheel and started the engine.
- a minute! Suddenly exclaimed Mr. Foster.
Wait a moment, driver, kindly.
- What is it, honey? "She inquired as she watched him sign his coat pockets.
"I had a small gift to give, to Ellen. Go, where the hell is he? I'm sure he was holding to fall.
"I've been wearing nothing. What gift was?
-A box, wrapped in white paper. Yesterday I forgot to give it and do not want the same thing happening today.
- A box! Exclaimed Mrs. Foster. I have not seen any box!
And he began to rummage desperately in the rear of the car.
Her husband, who was examining the pockets of his coat, undid it and started to feel his coat.
"Damn," he said, "I must having olvidado en el dormitorio. No tardo ni un minuto.
—¡Oh, déjalo, por favor! —clamó ella—. ¡No tenemos tiempo! Puedes enviárselo por correo. Después de todo, no será más que una de esas dichosas peinetas, que es lo que siempre le regalas.
—¿Y qué tienen de malo las peinetas, si puede saberse? —inquirió él, furioso de que, por una vez, su esposa hubiera perdido los estribos.
—Nada, cariño. ¿Qué van a tener de malo? Just ...
- Stay here! "He ordered. I get it.
"Hurry, please." Oh, hurry, please! She stood on the seat, expect to wait.
- What time is it, tell me? Asked the driver. The man looked at his watch.
"Almost half past nine, I think.
- Can we get to the airport in an hour?
"More or less.
There, suddenly, Ms. Foster found, lodged between the seat and back in the place he had taken her husband, the edge of a white object. He reached out and tugged. It was a box wrapped in paper and inserted there, found to his regret, deeply and firmly, as by the intervention of a hand.
- Here it is! He cried. The I found! Oh, my God, and is now up there looking for it last forever! Driver, please run tell you, will you?
Although everything we had enough without care, man - owner of an Irish face, small and rebellious, he jumped from the car and climbed the steps that gave access to the front door. But then he turned and broke the road.
-is closed "he said. Any key?
"Yes ... wait an instant.
Ms. Foster began to register the bag like crazy. A grimace of anguish contracted his little face, where the lips, clenched, stood out like a peak of coffee.
- I have it already! Tome. No, leave, go myself. Will be faster. I know where to find him.
hurriedly came out of the car and hurried up the steps, the key in one hand. Introduced it into the lock and turning point, he stopped. Raised his head and so stood, perfectly still, all of it suspended right in the middle of that abrupt act of open and enter, and waited. Waited five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten seconds. Seeing planted there, head up straight, body so tense, had said that stalked the repetition of a perceived noise before and from a distant place in the house.
Yes, it was clear that he was listening. His whole attitude was to listen. It seemed, even to get closer and closer to the ear gate. And it stuck to the wood, for a few seconds remained in that posture: head up, an attentive ear, hand on the key, about to open, but without it, trying instead, it seemed, to capture and analyze the sounds that came to him, vague, in that distant place in the house.
Then, suddenly, as if moved by a spring back to life. Removing the key to lock down the steps into the race.
- It's too late! Shouted the driver. I can not wait. Impossible. Miss the plane. Hurry, hurry, driver!
The airport!
is possible that, having observed closely, the driver had warned that all-white face, his whole expression had suddenly changed. Now exempt from that air a bit soft and silly, his features had become a singular strength. Her little mouth, usually so loose, brown and looked sharp, his eyes shone, and his voice when he spoke, had a new tone of authority.
- Hurry up, give you quick!
- Do not place her husband with you? The man asked, astonished.
- Of course not! I was just going to leave the club. But no matter. He will understand. Take a taxi. But I can not stand there, talking, man of God. Off! I have to catch the flight to Paris!
Spurred by Ms. Foster from the back seat, the man quickly drove all the way and she managed to take the plane with a few minutes to spare. Soon, flying over the Atlantic high, comfortably leaning back in his chair, listening to the drone of the engines, and way, finally, Paris. Still imbued with a new spirit, he felt curiously strong, and in some strange way, beautifully. All that's had a little breathless, but that was due, above all, the awe he felt for what he had done, and, as the aircraft was away more and more New York and Sixty-Two Street East, a large serenity began to invade. For his arrival in Paris, he was so calm and complete as could be desired.
met his grandchildren, who were even more adorable person in the photographs. Beautiful cigar, he said, seemed to angels. Diariamente los llevó a pasear, les ofreció pasteles, les compró regalos y relató cuentos maravillosos.
Una vez por semana, los jueves, escribía a su marido una carta simpática, parlanchina, repleta de noticias y chismes, que invariablemente terminaba con el recordatorio de: «Y no olvides comer a tus horas, cariño, aunque me temo que, no estando yo presente, es fácil que dejes de hacerlo.»
Expiradas las seis semanas, todos veían con tristeza que hubiese de volver a América, y a su esposo. Todos, es decir, excepto ella misma, que no parecía, amazing as it was, so upset as might be expected. And, as he said goodbye to each other with kisses, both in attitude and in his words, seemed to point the possibility of a return is not far away.
, however, and celebrating its status as a faithful wife, did not exceed his absence. In just six weeks of his arrival, and after having cabled her husband, he flew to New York.
On arrival at Idlewild, Ms. Foster noted with interest that there was no car waiting for her. That may even amuse a little. However, extremely quiet, did not exceed the tip to the waiter that he had gotten a taxi after take luggage.
In New York it was colder than Paris and the mouths of the sewers showed clumps of dirty snow. When the taxi stopped at the house of Sixty-Two Street, Mrs. Foster got the driver to go up two maletones to the top of the stairs. After paying, rang the bell. He waited, but no answer. Just for sure, he called again. He heard the sharp clatter that sounded in the pantry, on the back of the house. No one, however, came to the door.
In view of this, Ms. Foster took his key and opened.
first thing he saw upon entering was mail piled on the floor where it had fallen to be thrown into the mailbox. The house was cold and dark. The clock appeared on the cover is still wrapped protecting it from dust. The atmosphere, despite the cold, had a peculiar heaviness, and the air was a strange smell sweet as never before perceived.
briskly crossed the hall and disappeared again the bottom corner to the left. There was something in that action at once deliberate and determined, Ms. Foster had the air of one who is ready to investigate a rumor or confirm a suspicion. And when he returned after a few seconds, his face was a small glimmer of satisfaction.
He stopped in the middle of the hallway, and thinking what to do next, and then suddenly turned around and went to study with her husband. Above the desk found his address book, and after a while of digging through it, picked up the phone and dialed a number.
- Hello? "He said. I am calling from the number nine Sixty-Two Street East ... Yes, that is. Can you send an operator as soon as possible? Yes, seems to have stopped between the second and third floors. Or so says the indicator ... What next? Oh, you're very kind. Because, you see, I have no legs to climb many stairs. Thank you. You have a good time.
And, after hanging up, sat at the desk of her husband, and wait patiently for the arrival of the man who soon would turn to repair the elevator.
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