Chapter 7 Tedium
The anticipation of a liaison with Confusion caused Pride to little notice the arrival of his third guest. She settled in her room while he was out, and he met her one evening on the way to the dining room: a thin, blond waif walking with one arm raised as if to ward off a blow. Drawing closer, he saw she wore one of the latest wristband television sets, a tiny wire running from it to an ear plug speaker. Her facial muscles were slack. She not only appeared not to notice him, he felt certain she did not.
She had a conventional prettiness that reminded him of a simple line drawing. Her plump little mouth and china doll eyes were two dimensional; her head, viewed from the side, was somewhat flattened.
Smiling at her preoccupation, he followed her into the dining room where Doubt and Confusion awaited them.
Doubt slipped up to his side, gestured toward the blond, and whispered, “That’s Tedium. Don’t try to talk to her now. She’s watching one of her favorite programs.”
“At dinner?”
“It’s her way.” Doubt patted his arm and drew him toward his chair.
The dining room was a shadowy, drab affair with a high, vaulted ceiling and dark, decomposing wallpaper. The paint was cracking off the side pillars, causing Pride to recall with a twinge that these were hollow—”hollow as a promise.”
He wondered where Miss Worry was but did not care enough to ask.
As they ate, Doubt and Confusion chattered together, leaving Pride to Tedium’s company. She was seated across from him, eating mechanically, scarcely taking her eyes away from her wrist. At first Pride tried to ignore her, but her trance-like state had a curious fascination; his eyes kept straying back to her. Looking carefully, he could make out twin reflections of the tiny TV screen in her eyes. No expression, just those reflections.
Dinner seemed endless. Not uncomfortable, but endless. The food was good, as always. He had no nagging worries in his life. Pleasant days lay ahead of him. But he was trapped, paralyzed in front of this brain-dead puppet, and his plate was still full. He began to recall episodes of ‘The Twilight Zone’; wondering if some hidden camera would now turn from them to Rod Serling, stepping from behind a pillar to explain that they would never leave the table, that they were in some alternate existence.
What if he had died and did not know it? This consideration led him to one of his rare forays into religious thought. What if Hell is comfortable? Eternity in front of a TV set with a bowl of cheese popcorn. Oddly enough, that did not seem funny.
“Miss Tedium,” he said at last, “May I speak with you a moment?”
She looked up with blank eyes. “What?” Her voice was watery.
“Well—” He could think of nothing to say. Her eyes began to stray back to the screen. “Well, I wonder what interests you have other than television.”
“I don’t know.” She immediately reimmersed herself.
“Don’t disturb her,” Doubt said.
“Does she wear that thing all day?”
“Yes, and there’s no need for you to sound so superior. It’s her way.”
“It’s impolite.”
“Shhh! She’s not like us, but that’s no reason to be intolerant. If you can’t live with someone as quiet and unobtrusive as Tedium, then you won’t get along with Edgar, either.”
“Edgar? Who’s Edgar?”
“My brother, of course. Don’t you remember my mentioning him coming for a visit?”
“This house is getting too full.”
“Nonsense, there’s plenty of room.” She took another bite.
Pride took a deep breath. “So how soon is he coming?”
“He’s here. His room is on the same floor with us. Oh, don’t look that way. He simply doesn’t like company, that’s why he’s not at the table. But he’ll be no trouble to your dear, tidy household. He never bothers anyone, and he can’t burden you with conversation because he’s mute.”
“All right. Fine. He’s no trouble. Let’s let it drop. But I won’t have him putting the servants out by having meals at odd hours. Have they carried something up to him?”
Doubt paused briefly before answering. “I know what you’re leading up to, you sly one,” she said ingratiatingly. “You’re thinking about Worry, aren’t you? You never miss a trick.”
“Where is Worry?”
“Up in her room. She takes elaborate precautions with what she eats: only a certain line of health foods, and she prepares it with her own hands. Shall I give you the details? She wears plastic gloves, for one—”
“But this brother of yours—”
“Yes, yes. He’s the only other survivor in my family. And he so needs someone to take him in, being handicapped. It’s the least we could do. He needs a place to rest and pull himself together. The world has not been kind to Edgar.”
“But—you say this is to be just a visit?”
“Just until he gets on his feet again,” she agreed.
“Which will take how long?”
Pride was always suspicious when Doubt dropped her usual mocking manner and when, as now, she did not answer a question.
“Well, what are his prospects?” he pressed.
“If he stays too long,” she answered crisply, “I’m sure you may throw him out on the street.”
“Never mind that. You know I’m as hospitable and generous as the next fellow. But has he ever—has he ever held a job?”
“Mr. Pride,” Confusion broke in quietly, “may I speak to you privately? Perhaps in the sitting room off the entry hall?”
Pride felt like a hunting dog stymied just yards from its prey. But for lovely Miss Confusion’s sake he was willing to abandon the subject of Doubt’s mysterious brother.