Appointment with a Smile (14 page)

“Are you saying we had problems that couldn’t be fixed?” I asked incredulously.

“You know we did.”

“No, I didn’t know. If there were difficulties, why wasn’t I aware of them?” I took a gulp of wine, a little too much as it burned my throat.

“I thought you knew. There was a list of shortcomings on both sides. I was a teacher. Although you didn’t have a radical gay agenda, you lived your own life honestly. Back then, and in Denver, Colorado, it was difficult for me.”

“I was never obvious, but I never denied who I am.”

“That was part of you. Being honest with who you are makes you a gifted artist because you’re also honest with your art. I could never compete with your art. Be honest about that. No one can. That’s also what makes you a great artist.”

“I’m not a great artist. At best, I’m borderline.”

“You are far better than borderline,” she said with a knowing nod. “And you’re coming into your own as a very important American artist.” She played with her napkin. “Danielle, I apologize for being contentious.”

“A little late for both your commentary on our relationship and for my becoming a world-famous artist.”

“No, it isn’t. Not at all. I’m so proud of you. I Googled you and looked at every single work you’ve done. Those paintings are brilliant. I’m sublimely pleased you’ve painted me. Perhaps I’m the only person who can see through the jubilation to the torment. I understand your anger because I left. But in your work, I see that you’re never going to get over it. Perhaps never really forgive me.”

“Molly, I’ve already forgiven you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“You have never stopped loving what we had, Danielle. I strongly suspect you stopped loving me years ago. If you’ll be honest right now, you’ll admit that I’ve caused you years of pain. And you can’t be expected to forget that.”

“Molly…”

“Admit that you don’t feel a deep rage when you allow memories of our breakup to resurface.”

As my sealed secrets, even well-kept from myself, began unveiling, I felt my heart clench. My eyes pinched shut to bat away tears that were beginning. When I saw her face, tears were also forming in the corners of her eyes, and I knew she was right.

“But I love you in spite of the past,” I told her.

“Loving in spite of is almost worse than not loving at all.”

As the waiter placed our orders in front of us, I knew I had to pretend to enjoy the lunch. But I had to force myself to eat. “Everything looks delicious,” I said without great enthusiasm. We had both ordered the Fav’s special of tournedos with mushrooms and Parmesan cheese on wild rice, accompanied by an endive salad. I took a bite. “Mushrooms and Parmesan are perfectly blended.”

“I come here often when I’m in London. I usually order the sour cream pound cake with a strawberry topping and it’s delicious. I restrict myself to half, so perhaps we can share an order for dessert.”

“That would be wonderful.”

“I see neither of us has changed when it comes to weight. I’m still monitoring and restricting. And you aren’t a bit worried about it, are you?”

“Sorry. Must be my nervous energy. I exercise when I’m home. Walking, biking, and hiking.”

“If I remember correctly, you used to jog in the mornings,” Molly said.

“It’s a walk now.”

“Samantha and I played tennis until about a year ago.”

“Why did you quit?”

She looked away. “Time marches away with us. My grandsons’ schedules are filled. Keeping up with them is like a three-ring circus.”

“Samantha showed me their photos. They’re adorable.”

“They are, aren’t they? They’re my life. Samantha and Jeff are also my joy. They’ve allowed me to be such a large part of the boys’ lives. From helping to name them, to being there with them since their birth, I’ve cherished my grandsons. I’m fortunate to have them all.” She hesitated. “Are your brother and his family well?”

“All wonderful. I’m blessed.” Small talk was dragging us away from what I wanted to tell her. I blurted out, “I’m also blessed you were in my life.”

“I also feel that way. For what it’s worth, I’ve never loved anyone as I loved you.”

“Your love may be past tense. Mine remains present.”

“Please don’t say that. It breaks my heart to hear you tell me that. There’s no longer anything between us. Can’t you see?” Her eyes were imploring me.

“You truly want my love for you to end?”

“It has to end. For both of us.”

“It ended for you thirty years ago.”

“That’s not true.” She wiped the side of her mouth with her napkin and tossed it on the table. “See, this is why it wasn’t a good idea to meet.”

The waiter placed the sour cream pound cake down with an extra plate. Molly divided the cake, handing me the larger share.

Trying to diffuse the sadness of the conversation, I thanked her. “I see you’re trying to fatten me up.”

“I’m trying to maintain my weight, actually. But a few pounds couldn’t hurt you.”

“Well, I might forever love you, but don’t think I haven’t tried to forget you.” I waved my fork at the cake. “And to gain weight.”

Her full laugh was as I remembered it. “I always lectured my students to be unremitting in their pursuits.”

“But your students weren’t as impossible as I am.”

When we finished eating, we hugged with the same brevity as when we began the luncheon. Although the ebb and flow of life was compelling, it produced mixed results. We were to say goodbye yet again. This encounter hadn’t set me free. My soul was more claustrophobic, yet searching, than ever. My love was more permanent.

The one request she asked of me I was unable to give her. I wasn’t able to forget her. We stared at each other as we parted. She was aware of my inability. Like some ancestral ceremony revisited, for me to stop loving Molly was preposterous.

Chapter 24

Once safely back at the hotel, I barricaded myself in my room. I left a message at the desk that I was not to be disturbed. I had closed the blinds, and when I finally decided to paint, I opened them again. Light bathed Bethany’s face in the portrait. It was a welcoming force. For the moment, I felt safe.

Exploring the expression on Bethany’s face, I realized I couldn’t allow myself to have feelings for her. I couldn’t relinquish my emotions. Look what happened with Molly. My pain had only increased by seeing her. Molly delivered the message I should have understood decades ago.

Those friends surrounding me must have thought my thirty-year absorption with love devoid of reciprocal emotion to be ludicrous. Had that made me a long-term, faraway stalker of another’s soul?

In Molly’s estimation, we were never right for one another. Years ago, I had tallied my shortcomings. An unknown artist had no prospects. It became clear she wanted more when she upped her ante by going back for her master’s degree. I hadn’t bettered myself or elevated my status. I hadn’t even expressed the desire to become wealthy or renowned.

And Molly’s other accusations were just as accurate. Admittedly, I was selfish about my time when it came to creating. Looking back, I could now see where I had ignored her when I was working, but at the time, I didn’t realize it.

She said she couldn’t compete with my art. My mind continued to rerun her statement. Now, in the solitude of my boxed-in loneliness, for the first time, I admitted I could never give up my art for anyone. I had always had a hunger, a compulsion, that made me strive to create art.

Back then, my plans were simply flimsy dreams. Part-time jobs paid my share of the expenses and provided enough money to buy canvases and paint. That couldn’t have been good enough as we entered middle age.

I uncapped a tube of paint and watched an intense cadmium red ooze onto the palette. I opened one tube after another until the palette’s surface was speckled with colors. As I lifted a small fan brush, a sharp aching gripped my arm. My fingers clutched so tightly that the brush broke. I held my face in my hands. I wept for at least half an hour, but it seemed like it had been the entire night.

A hard pounding at the door jolted me from my cavern of pain.

“Danielle, open the damned door,” Esther yelled.

I slowly walked to the door and reached for the knob. “All right,” I yelled back at her.

She blew into the room. “For god sakes, I’ve been trying to rouse you. You haven’t answered my phone calls. Are you okay?”

“Just a minor crying jag.”

“Nothing minor about it. I heard you from the hallway. Sit.” She pointed at the chair on her way to the liquor cabinet. She poured us each a shot of whiskey and handed me a tumbler. “Drink.”

I lifted it to my lips. “I never drink straight liquor.”

“Just drink it, Danielle. You look like crap. Bethany is supposed to be coming later, and Carrie wants to go out. My best plan is that I call them both and cancel. Then we can talk.”

“I’ll be fine.” I took another gulp and grimaced. “This stuff tastes ugly straight.”

“Just finish it. I’ll call our dates and reschedule for tomorrow.”

“No. I’m better now,” I said sharply.

“Better than what? Look at you!”

“It’ll be okay, Esther.” And I had thought that my childhood made me resilient to anything. I was woefully wrong.

“Bad time with Molly, huh? Come on, we can talk about it.” She sat down in the other chair across from me.

“Not much to talk about. It’s all over.”

“For shit sakes. It was all over thirty years ago,” Esther shouted as she enunciated each word. “As Carries says, it’s all bloody done.”

“All bloody done,” I repeated. “Well, the truth is I’m still trying to stop the pain.”

“Get over the pain. Even if you loved her then, she’s not the same person. People change in thirty minutes. In thirty years, the person not only changes but damned well converts to another human being. She’s no longer the Molly you loved, and you aren’t the Danielle she loved.”

“That’s exactly what she said. Nearly verbatim.” I stood and went to the bar. From another small bottle, I poured Esther half and the rest in my glass. I then took two big gulps. “You’re both right. So let’s party. When Carrie calls, ask her if she’d like to double. I’m sure Bethany would be fine with going out for dinner and dancing.”

Esther lifted her glass. “Ladybugs Rock!”

“Ladybugs Rock!” I lifted my glass and drained it. “Maybe I can make one woman in this flipping world happy. If only for a few nights.”

“Some people don’t even do that. Living metes out precious little complete love. Connection is rare. Seclusion is not rare. And art truly isolates you.”

“Although I live in this sanctuary of seclusion with my art, I’ve never sought to be cloistered. I’ve wanted to belong, Esther.”

“I can’t even belong to the damned immensity of outer space, and you’re concerned about a tiny planet.”

I felt a little lightheaded and was amused at her words. “I knew we’d get back to interplanetary allegory.”

“I’m always amazed intelligent life seems confounded by the heavens. Understanding human relations has always seemed far more perplexing. Give me starbursts and good old cosmogony anytime.” She became wistful. “I find more is sacred when I look up than when I look around. Space is less encumbering.”

I ran a hand over my forehead. “I’ve always wanted to believe in all the structures of love here on earth. I paint the faces and forms of human beings. It’s my own diary of being here. I desperately want to belong and to have another human soul be a part of belonging to me. I still want Molly.”

“I doubt if you could have helped yourself,” Esther said. “I don’t think I’d ever seen anyone more in love than you and Molly. It might even have influenced my own life. If the two of you seemed that in love, and your relationship dissolved, what chance did the rest of us have?” Her eyes were so mournful, I had to turn away.

“I always believed she’d return. It was my dream.”

“Dreams don’t end how we want them to end. It doesn’t mean things won’t end happily. Scratch the decades-old dream from your scorecard. I’ve been telling you to do that for a million years. Now that you’ve heard it from the horse’s mouth, get on with it.”

“Horse’s mouth?”

“Okay. I’ll rephrase it. Now that you’ve got the scoop from Molly, get on with your life.”

Suddenly overcome with sadness, I felt a tear winding its way down my cheek. I swallowed hard before speaking. “I can’t get over this feeling of desolation.”

“You’re not desolate as long as you’ve got your friends. Bethany is there for you, and she’s there as a lover or a friend.”

“Esther, I don’t want to hurt her, or get hurt by her.”

“We are earth’s bio-props. Even though we might try to be one another’s prop, it’s transitory at best.”

“Where are the most brilliant stars going to be seen in tonight’s sky?” I asked.

“No damned scientific measurements of the brightness of celestial bodies for me tonight. No.” She breathed deeply a moment. “Albedo is the amount of light reflected off a celestial object.”

“And what object will be sparkling the brightest albedo tonight?”

Esther didn’t answer. Maybe she knew the secret. Most of the night stars probably wouldn’t be coming out. Maybe my tears kept them at bay.

Chapter 25

Esther and I met Bethany and Carrie at a small Irish restaurant.

There was Limerick ham with baked parsnips, steak and Guinness pie, Irish roast pork, and steamed cod boxty. Breads included buttermilk scones, soda bread, and oatcakes. Clouds of steamy spices bloomed. We traded samples across the table, and each seemed more superb than the last.

They teased me about my Irish roots and Irish dialects, until I diverted the conversation to space aliens. Did extraterrestrial beings have different dialectal communications? We zeroed in on Esther. Naturally, she jumped right in.

“It isn’t a silly joke,” she said with a serious expression. “Proof is coming. There are small traces on Jupiter’s moon, Europa, which might very well be waste products of underground bacterial colonies.”

“What?” Carrie exclaimed.

“It’s true. It might be a sign of alien life.”