Free Misfortune by Nancy Geary Page B

The words seemed to boil in Henry’s throat. He had gotten up from his seat on the couch opposite George and walked behind him, out of George’s sight. George wanted to turn around, but his shoulders froze. His torso wouldn’t move. “Tell me who it was.”
    George felt his nerves crumbling. He reminded himself that he had been angry. Anger still burned in him over how Henry and Louise had been treated. It wasn’t fair, wasn’t right. He felt ashamed. “Clio, Clio Pratt, Richard’s wife. She was going to blackball you. There was nothing for the rest of us to do.” There, the words were out.
    “What’s going on?” Louise Lewis appeared in the doorway. She looked frightened.
    “Please, leave us alone,” Henry instructed.
    As Louise moved toward her husband, George could hear the pad of her bare feet on the floor. She reached for Henry’s shoulder, but he twisted away, out of reach. He paced the room, seemingly oblivious of George’s presence, immobile and mute, on the couch.
    After several moments Louise turned her green eyes to George. “We didn’t get in,” she said.
    “I—I,” George stammered again. “I was just in the process of explaining to Henry that it often takes a couple of years, that you shouldn’t be discouraged. I’m sure your parents can tell you that. There’s still plenty of time.”
    Louise shook her head.
    “You and Henry need to meet people.”
    “Don’t patronize me with your strategy for next year.” Henry turned and glared at George.
    “Henry,” Louise interjected. “We knew this could happen.”
    “We’ll talk about it later,” Henry said.
    Louise looked at George, then back at her husband. “We were hopeful, especially given Mum and Dad’s history with the club.” Her eyes welled with tears. “Both of us really wanted it for the girls. You know, it’s a great place for kids. It was for me. Eliza loves tennis already. She’s quite good.”
    George smiled meekly.
    Louise turned away. When she spoke, her words seemed directed at some distant point beyond the room. “I wanted others to see us as we saw ourselves. That’s all. Just another family.” Her mouth quivered, and she raised her hand to cover her lips. “But we should have known. I should have realized.”
    “It’ll happen for you. Don’t give up,” George said.
    “Please, stop this. George, I want you to leave. Leave us alone,” Henry’s voice trembled slightly.
    Louise exchanged a bewildered look with George.
    “I mean it. Now.”
    A tear ran down Louise’s cheek, but she stayed silent.
    “I’m sorry, Henry. I truly am. You’ve got to know that. I did everything I could,” George almost whimpered.
    “I don’t care what you did, or what you claim to have done. How dare your committee sit in judgment of my life, of my family, of me?”
    “Stop, Henry,” Louise begged.
    “Let me help.”
    “I don’t need your help, George,” Henry continued, his voice lowering. “I can handle this myself.” With that he turned his back to George, walked over to the wall, and propelled his fist directly into the plaster. George heard the crack of his knuckles, but Henry didn’t flinch.
    George rose cautiously to his feet, wondering for a moment whether they would support him, and walked out. At the door he turned to face Louise. Behind her he could see Henry in the distance, a silhouette in front of the windows to the sea.
    Louise pressed her hand into George’s. He felt a slight tremble in her palm. “I thank you for trying. Henry does, too. He just can’t do it right now.”
    George wanted to hug her, to make some physical gesture that would indicate how sorry he was. He wanted her to understand that he wasn’t like the others, but he felt paralyzed. He walked slowly to his car, unwilling to contemplate what Henry might do under the circumstances.
    As he got into the driver’s seat, George felt sick to his stomach. Perspiration soaked his shirt, and he wiped his brow with the back of his