Appointment with a Smile (20 page)

I was quiet for a long moment. “How can anyone have such intense feelings for two women at once?”

“We all may be a little disheveled in the romance department, but you’ve signed on for a lifetime of service. I’m not sure how life formed on this earth. But prebiotic chemistry aside, I’m relatively certain some pissed off women aliens dropped you on earth. They flew over and shoved you out of the capsule. That’s it. These poor space alien women jaunted through interstellar space to ditch you. They brazened asteroids and space debris. And now we’re stuck with you. How can you be in love with two women at once you ask? I’ve never been in love with less than several
superb women on any given day.”

“Several?”

“Several. I want to express my sexuality before I’m a simple cell remnant of life.”

“At least all of our libidinal buttons are still in working order.” My best response wasn’t adequate. I grimaced, as Esther glared. “Do you think I should call Molly?”

“Danielle. What am I going to do with you? Carrie and Bethany have invited us to dinner tonight. Carrie claims Bethany is an excellent chef. Run yourself back to the hotel to paint while the light is still good. Then prepare for your date.”

“Lighting. Awe-inspiring natural light.” My mind raced with possibilities. “I was mentored by the Impressionists’ paintings. Maybe I should allow even more light onto my canvas.”

“So pull back the blinds to let the clouds above part and squeeze out sunshine. Do not call Molly. Don’t be late tonight, and don’t forget to do a trial run on how your buttons are operating.”

“You must have invented being bitchy. Okay, I won’t call Molly. I won’t be late. And go check your own damned buttons.” I took a final bite of the sandwich, finished the remaining tea, and stood. “I’m off to paint. Go bully someone else for a while.”

“Berk,” she uttered as I rushed through the doorway.

Back at my hotel suite, I doused the faces in my paintings with bright light, using every particle of sunlight.

The phone rang, interrupting my work. I picked up the receiver. Molly’s voice greeted me.

“Molly, I’m surprised you called after leaving me behind at lunch.”

“I couldn’t leave things the way we left them. The way I left them. I want to apologize for my outburst. It’s been an emotional time. Please forgive me.”

“Of course. But I didn’t understand why you left so quickly. Did I say anything wrong?”

“No. I did. I never should have told you what I did. It was wrong of me to have said what I said about my feelings for you. I apologize.”

“If you meant it, it wasn’t wrong.”

“Our relationship is long past. It’s too late. There are too many complications right now.”

“You not only fell in love with a brilliant, beautiful woman and left me for her, you saw flaws in our relationship. I get that now. But nothing can desecrate the feeling of love I have for you. Will forever have.”

“That’s what I’m saying. I truly experienced the issues that surfaced. But you weren’t at fault. Nothing was wrong with our love. I just believed there was. Your love for me was more than I deserved. You were being yourself. That’s the
you
I fell in love with. You were fiercely honest about who you were. You were passionate about art. And I regret that I hurt you. I regret it more than anything I’ve ever regretted in my life.”

“If we could care about one another as we did when we met thirty-eight years ago, do you think we could reunite?” I thought about what I wanted to say. “Molly, we might not have gotten it right before, but now we’ve had years to acquire wisdom. Our feelings are still there. Our love is there.”

“Danielle, under other circumstances, we might have been able to regenerate a relationship.”

“
Now
and
next
are what really matter in life.”

“But ‘now and next’ aren’t enough.” Molly’s words were soft, longing, and as tender as I recalled them before she would cry. “I really should go now.”

“Molly, are you all right?”

“Yes. I only want you to be well. I want you to know I do love you. And the breakup wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry for everything. For all the hurt.”

“Can we meet again? We should at least see one another once more. While we’re both in London. Catch a movie. Remember how we used to laugh, even at some of the badly acted, syrupy scenes? Please?”

“Danielle, keep those good memories near you. Let them be enough.”

“We could make more good memories. I love you, Molly.”

“I was blessed to have had your love once, twice would be more than I deserve. For now, I need to go on with my life. And I want you to go on with yours. I’m asking one thing of you. Please go on with your life without me and without thoughts of me being back in your life. Will you promise me?”

“As always, Molly, I want to do what makes you happy. I promise to try.” I could say no more around the lump in my throat. I heard the click on the other end. Once again, I felt Molly’s ineligibility. Although I was as perplexed as ever about her, I did know a final kiss-off when I got one.

If only we had the common sense to understand the bliss and the victory of love. And if only we could accept the residual elements of ruin and defeat.

Chapter 36

As I showered and got ready, I contemplated life. I found that no matter how one pleaded, begged, prodded, beseeched, hoped, or prayed for love, fortune in romance seemed to be an exclusive task of destiny.

Molly and I would not reconcile. Not because we didn’t want it. There were, she explained, extenuating circumstances. I was out of options. I couldn’t battle unknown limitations. I realized my hopelessness. In attempting to disseminate the fragile opulence and vileness life afforded us, I had only ended up more confused.

After I had showered and dressed, I rushed onto the sidewalk. Checking my watch, I saw I’d be late, even if I didn’t take time to stop off for wine and flowers. I’d only be much later if I stopped. So I didn’t, even though I knew Esther would scold me for being tardy and forgetting to bring a bottle of wine and sheaf of flowers.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said as I stepped into the elegant entryway.

“Not to worry, luv.” Bethany took my raincoat and hung it for me.

“Glad I brought plenty of wine,” Esther said with great sarcasm. “Empty hands, I see.”

“Oh, ignore her, Danielle,” Carrie said. “We’ve got enough excellent wine to open a boozer. Or a very large pub. And it isn’t plonk.”

“Plonk?” I asked.

“Cheap wine,” Bethany answered.

I kissed her cheek. “I didn’t even bring any plonk.”

“Esther is just being sarky to give you a little agro,” Carrie said.

“You’re correct.” Esther winked in Carrie’s direction. “Aggravating Danielle is my life’s work.”

I glared at Esther. “Let’s not do agro tonight.”

“Yes,” Carrie agreed. “Esther, give it a rest.”

Esther said, “I’m sorry you had such a lousy day, Danielle. Let’s leave our troubles behind and partake in the wonderful feast prepared by Carrie and Bethany. Primarily Bethany.”

A wondrous aroma drifted into the living room. “Smells delicious.”

Esther turned to me. “And will be, I’m sure. But when we discuss the day, let’s not purge our souls.” Her eyes narrowed. I’m sure she was warning me not to talk about Molly. “Right?”

As we made our way to the table, I whispered to Esther, “You’re becoming a cynic.”

“A cynic is a failed romantic, and I’m certainly not that.”

“How is Saturn tonight, by the way?”

“Close, high, bright, and with rings wide open. Just like the best women.”

“And how are things going with Carrie?”

“She is a gem in a gravel pit.”

When Carrie turned, I told her, “She complimented you.”

“I hope to hell she’s telling you that I’m in mint condition.” Carrie pointed to the chairs. “If she has any expectations about what might happen when we go to bed, it would be a good idea to compliment me.”

I could tell it would be a fun evening. There was the warmth of the women, their humor, and the pleasure of their company. The table was beautifully set, and a variety of appetizers lined the center. Bethany poured the wine, and we lifted our glasses.

“To sweet words and bed,” Carrie toasted. “In fact, maybe just a little poetry and bed would be fine.”

I nudged her. “You’re going to wear Esther out.”

Carrie waved off my comment. “She’s got stamina enough, but I may be anemic.”

Esther shook her head. “Generational warps are incredible.”

We lifted our glasses of Chablis to toast. We continued with our quips and chatting throughout a wonderfully prepared dinner. We discovered Bethany was a gourmet chef. Carrie admitted her job was peeling the potatoes and stirring the pots.

We dined on superbly baked chicken with fluffy dumplings and vegetables. Dinner ended with luscious chocolate cheesecake, coffee, and a perfectly aged cognac.

I took a sip of my drink. “What a fun evening. I didn’t know you were such a great cook, Bethany.”

“I love cooking and baking. It relaxes me.”

“Well, the meal was absolutely delectable. Excellent, like the chef.”

“Bethany is excellent at everything,” Esther said. “And it might be time for you to change horses, Danielle.”

“I’m not sure I like that allegorical comparison,” Bethany said.

Esther saw my displeasure with where she was taking the conversation. “Okay. So for now, let’s just say it’s a truly lovely night.”

I awaited another quick jab or two. “And?”

“Let’s pull back the curtains and gaze at the stars. I’m an astrobiologist, and I’m aware of the heavenly attributes. Always remember this, lovely women. Stars are free diamonds. We must always remember that stars are out during the day, too. We don’t see them because of the sunlight.”

“All stars have a rough go of it in foggy London,” Carrie said. “Even the night stars have a long, hard slog here.”

“You’ll like this, Bethany,” Esther told her. “In Canada and the upper North American states there was a raining down of precious metals.” We looked at her in disbelief. “I swear it’s true. Diamonds. During the last Ice Age, a comet shattered mainly over Canada. Nice about the diamonds falling, but it did kill off the animal and human population.”

“Might this be theory or fact?” Carrie asked.

“Let’s call it a categorical fact,” Esther answered.

Bethany stated with complete seriousness, “I recall my family mentioning that time. They rushed off to England when a fragmented comet tossed all that bling at them.”

We laughed, and Esther was silent a moment. “Let’s have another spot of cognac,” she said. “I have absolutely no chance of convincing you three of anything while you’re sober.”

“Half a glass for me,” Bethany said. “I’d like to tuck in early.”

As Bethany refilled our glasses, I thought about how much pure enjoyment the evening had held. Two couples, chatting, laughing, sharing a meal. Perfection. I felt exactly as I had so many years ago when I was part of a couple, rather than single.

Bethany asked if I might be ready for an early evening. She wanted me to hear a CD. I quickly agreed. She told me Tricia’s second release had been cut only weeks before she died, and she wanted me to hear it.

We sat on the bed while she placed the CD carefully into the CD player’s tray. I took the plastic jewel case from where she’d rested it on the nightstand. I gazed at the happy face in the photograph. Tricia was serene, yet she emitted a bright happiness. I was sure who had been the source of her peace and joy.

“Esther’s right, Bethany. We’ve had unhappy endings. Each of us lingers in our past memories.”

“Perhaps that’s a first step toward realizing that lingering and living are two entirely different concepts. One is preferable.”

As the first song played, Bethany leaned her head against my shoulder. I heard her soft sobs. I kissed her forehead when her tears began to soak into my blouse. My own were seeping from my eyes. I tried to comfort her by holding her tenderly. Then I drew her closer to me, and we joined in a tight embrace. I wondered if we held one another so near to preserve that very precious moment.

Chapter 37

My compulsion to be in my own home sometimes made my life difficult. Generally, sleeping at hotels or in other people’s houses was gut-wrenching for me. Always, the first night away from my own home produced insomnia. But within the gentle embrace of Bethany’s arms, I slept with ease. I felt the tranquility of her apartment that was reflective of her soul.

As I awakened, I recalled hearing the songs with Tricia’s astounding voice. Her voice was gently controlled, and its passionate range resonated through my mind during the night.

I felt the similarity to my own quest through her magnificent voice. It seemed we rummaged through existence with our dreams intact. Painting, singing, acting, dancing, or writing became the sights and sounds, almost without human input. Could some spiritual emulsification occur from knowing the creativity of one another’s art?

All I really knew was I’d set out to paint pictures, to download what I saw and felt into my brain and portray it on a canvas. I added my own specific experience. Music, voices, drama, and dance became part of my canvas. Perhaps the power of creativity actualized us. How else might we register life?

I heard Bethany in the kitchen and followed the sound of her rustling as she made coffee. Her morning hugs were always inviting and affectionate.

“You seem deep in thought,” Bethany whispered in my ear as she embraced me. “I’ve made coffee. Hope it’s the strength you like.” She poured the brew and set the cup and pot down in front of me at the small breakfast nook.

I sipped. “Delicious. You’re a wonderful chef and coffeemaker as well.” I waited before continuing. “I was thinking about Tricia’s lovely voice. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

She took scones from the oven. “I enjoy sharing my past with you and finding out about yours. I’d love to sit for hours and excavate your history.” She placed clotted cream and jam on the table. “You know, find the inside you.”