Free Kramer vs. Kramer by Avery Corman

something not one of the others had bothered to ask.
    “What kind of boy is he?”
    Ted was not certain. He had the general outlines, but he had never been obliged to define Billy’s personality.
    “He’s very nice. Sometime’s he’s shy. He likes to play. He speaks well.” He did not know what else to say.
    “Could I look in?” she asked.
    They peered through the door at Billy asleep with his people.
    “He’s very beautiful,” she whispered.
    The light from the hall fell across his face and he woke suddenly.
    “It’s okay, honey. It’s me. This is Mrs. Willewska.”
    “Mrs. Willewska,” Billy said in a tired voice.
    “Go back to sleep.”
    When they went inside she said: “He’s very smart. He said my name without a mistake. Many people cannot.”
    Ted wondered about the burden of carrying a name many people cannot say without a mistake.
    “I don’t know if he is smart. At four it’s kind of hard to tell. I think he is.”
    “You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Kramer.”
    He had not considered himself so over these past few days.
    They talked in general terms about the duties of the job, which he said paid $110—he could at least match what he would have offered through Mrs. Colby. Could she come in for a few hours to get acquainted? Could she start on Monday? She said she would be happy to work for him and take care of William. On leaving she inquired as to the kind of meals Ted liked when he came home from work. He had not realized this was part of the bargain.
    So he had a lady with a cherubic face who would cook suppers and take care of Billy. Trust your feelings, Thelma had advised on the hiring of help—and he felt he had his person. He called Mrs. Colby and told her he had found someone. Adrift in her index cards, she said she hoped his wife was feeling better.
    Now he could make his other calls. He had tidied up. He could say to his parents—My wife left, wait, don’t go crazy, we have a wonderful housekeeper, it’s neat, I made it neat. He could say to his former in-laws—Do you know where Joanna is? She left, you know. We have a housekeeper, wonderful woman. He could say—I don’t need your help, any of you. I’m keeping him. We’ll do all right. It’s the way I want it.
    He went into Billy’s room and stood over him. What kind of boy was he? Could you know at four? What kind of boy was he going to be? What kind of life would they have?
    We’ll be okay, Billy. We’ve got Mrs. Willewska. We’ve got each other.
    The boy moved in his sleep, immersed in his child’s dreams. He moved his lips, muttering words that were unintelligible. It was fascinating, but Ted could not watch, eavesdropping on his private world this way. He felt like an intruder. Little boy, don’t worry. We’re going to be fine. He kissed him and backed away. The child was involved in his dream. He was saying something about “Snoopy.”

SEVEN
    N EARLY HYSTERICAL. SCREAMING. “What do you mean she just walked out on you and the baby? What do you mean?” his mother howled, repeating it as though the repetition were required to record it on her brain. “Just walked out? On you and the baby? Ahhh!” A howl from his childhood. “What do you mean you got caught sneaking in the RKO Fordham? What do you mean the manager has you in his office?” The theater manager knew the family. Ted’s father had a small luncheonette on Fordham Road then and the manager called the store instead of calling the police. He and Johnny Marin were going to sneak in the side door the moment Jimmy Perretti pushed it open from the inside, crouching into the shadows of the RKO Fordham like commandos in Commandos Strike At Dawn, only to get caught by the usher and about to be sent up like convicts in The Big House. “What do you mean my son is a criminal? Ahhh!” “I didn’t know you had it in you, kid,” his brother said after the manager released the hardened criminal in exchange for a hot turkey plate.
    In the time before Billy,