Chris (18 page)

She stopped in the middle of the street and sent a curse home to Dizz. A curse on Dizz for not being what she wanted her to be, for being her own damned self.

But why bother, she thought. It's me, it's me.

Chris decided she could use a drink.

Chris sat in the back room of Tony's, cupping a shot glass in her palm. She was on her fourth round. She wanted to get very very drunk, drunk enough to forget. But the liquor didn't touch her.

She leaned her fist on her chin and glared across the room at a bullfight poster on the opposite wall. Under the poster were two long-haired blondes in leotards and trench coats, hunched over a table and gazing deep into each other's eyes, sighing now and then and occasionally touching fingers. They had neither moved nor spoken for an hour. They thought they were in love.

The swinging doors banged open and then shut behind someone. Chris glanced up. It was the fat blonde with the beautiful green eyes. Jennie. She was wearing a tight black dress and no coat, despite the rain. Her hair hung in wet strings.

Jennie spotted Chris and sidled drunkenly across to her table. She looked as though she had never been completely sober in all her life. She pulled out a chair and sat down.

"Hi, big boy,'' she said. "Who the hell hit you?"

"A truck," Chris said.

"Oh?" Jennie said. "Blonde or brunette?"

"Redhead," Chris answered. She was in no mood for Jennie. She had too much on her mind to bother being charming to a female like this one.

"I've been looking for you, handsome," Jennie said. "Cruising all these crummy queer bars. Where you been hiding?” She moved close to Chris and pressed a thigh against her.

Chris picked up the shot glass and drained it. "I don't spend much time in the bars," she said.

"You married?" Jennie asked.

"Yeah, I'm married," Chris answered. Some hell of a marriage, but she had always thought of the arrangement with Dizz as that.

"Oh," Jennie said. She put her hand on Chris' leg and moved it slowly upward.

Chris grabbed the wrist and pushed the hand away. She wanted to slap the girl, but hesitated to start what would end up as a brawl.

"I live near here," Jennie said.

Chris sighed. "Look, Jennie," she said. "No dice."

"C'mon, handsome," Jennie said. "She’ll keep the bed warm."

Chris smiled to herself at the irony of it.

Chris stood up and pushed back the chair. "No good, kid," she said. "I've got things on my mind." She handed the waiter a ten and told him to keep the change.

She left the bar without looking back, stopped a cab at the corner and got in. She felt almost glad for the incident with Jennie. It was the first time in four years that she had turned down an offer, and that felt good.

When she left the cab, Chris went to stand in the rain and look down at the river. She pressed her face close to the wire of the fence. Somewhere out in the darkness was Carol. Somewhere behind her was Dizz. And somewhere in the middle she stood on an island, clinging to a fence. Too sober, too sad, and too lonely.

She walked back to the house and went in. She could hardly move now. Her body was hot with fever and wracked with pain. She felt sick and tired and very old. She hoped Dizz would be good to her tonight. Or, if she was in a foul mood, just ignore her altogether.

Dizz was squatting on the kitchen floor, waggling a scolding finger. In front of her on the linoleum was a very large puddle and a very small dog. She did not bother to look up when Chris opened the door.

Chris closed the door behind her and walked into the living room. She took off her trench coat and threw it into the sling chair. She kicked off her shoes, pulled off her socks, then took off her shirt and dropped it on top of the trench coat

When she could talk again, she walked back into the kitchen. Dizz and the pup were still glaring at each other defiantly. The puddle had been wiped up, but the pup had not apologized.

"Where did he come from?" Chris asked quietly.

"George left him," Dizz said. "He has to be out of town for about a week. I said we'd take care of Schnitzel' She made it sound like the most natural thing in the world.

"Did you, now?" Chris said. "I thought you weren't going to be seeing George."

Dizz picked up the puppy and stood up. "I'm not seeing him," she said. "But I didn't see anything wrong with baby sitting for a few days. Are you hungry?"

"No," Chris said. "Just nauseous."

Chris turned and limped into the bathroom. She closed the door behind her and turned on the hot water full blast in the tub. She sat down on the john and dragged herself out of the rest of her clothes. She dropped them on the floor, then ripped off the soaked bandage and flushed it down the toilet.

She turned the water off and climbed in. She leaned back against the tub. The hot water felt good on her aching limbs, but it didn't help where she hurt the most.

Completely depressed now, Chris could see no way out. Maybe she was supposed to spend the rest of her life baking in hot tubs and hobbling around the house; maybe she had no right to expect anything good out of the future. She'd had a chance and she had muffed it. Maybe she would never get another one—maybe she wouldn't know one if she saw it.

Dizz opened the door and came in. She sat down on the john with Schnitzel on her lap.

“Christopher," Dizz said, "this has got to stop." She looked decidedly unhappy.

"What has?" Chris said.

"You," Dizz said. "Moping around in a rage. If there's anything wrong, let's get it over."

Chris looked at her sadly and shook her head. "You just don't understand, do you?" she said. And she knew as she said it that Dizz wouldn't even know what she was talking about.

"Understand what?"

Chris sighed. "Did it ever occur to you, my dear," she said, "that we're supposed to be leaving for Tongariva the day after tomorrow?"

"Oh, Chris, don't be an ass," Dizz said with impatience. "You know very well you can't go diving in the condition you're in now."

Chris flushed angrily. "But you didn't bother to ask about my plans," she said.

Schnitzel stood up on Dizz's lap and turned around. He sat down again and yawned. He propped his rump on Dizz's thigh and buried his nose under her wrist. He kept one eye open, staring at Chris.

"Honey," Dizz said, "if it's so damned important to you, I can get Mother to keep Schnitzel."

Chris sighed. She knew this was getting nowhere fast.

"That's not the point," Chris said.

"What's the point?"

"When did you agree to keep Schnitzel?" Chris said. She tried hard to keep her voice low. She wanted to shout at Dizz and make her understand.

Dizz thought for a minute. "I don't know," she said. "Sometime last week. Why?"

"In other words," Chris said, "you never did intend to go to Tongariva." She glared at Dizz accusingly and Dizz averted her eyes.

Dizz hesitated. She looked just slightly uncomfortable. "Well," she said, "I meant it when I said it. But I didn't think you'd take it so seriously."

"Oh, never mind," Chris said. She pulled herself up and climbed out of the tub. She grabbed a towel and began rubbing. "The point is, I need you now. Jonathan wants you to be along to keep me out of trouble. He’ll keep me at home if you don't go. And, Dizz, I want to make this trip."

"All right," Dizz said quietly. “Ill go." She stood up and held onto Schnitzel.

"Thanks," Chris said bitterly. She wrapped the towel around her and left the bathroom. She picked up the clothes in the living room and carried them to her room.

In pajamas and a bath robe Chris sprawled out on the bed and propped her bare feet against the wall. She looked out through the doorway and watched Dizz playing with Schnitzel on the floor. She caught herself smiling and knew she was lost. As usual.

There was no help for it, Chris decided. Even when she was hating Dizz, she was still in love with her. She looked adorable now with the little pup. Adorable and beautiful and...

Oh, God, what's to become of me, Chris thought. She's killing me. But I can't give her up. I can't.

Killing me? I'm killing myself. It's not Dizz. It's me. I can't blame her if I'm a failure. And I can't even blame her if my knees turn to water every time I look at her.

Dizz looked up at her from the living room and smiled that crazy delicious smile.

Chris felt herself slipping. She still wanted that smile. And she still wanted Dizz, for all the frustration of it. What the hell. She couldn't go back to a world full of Jennies.

Chris was really too stiff and sore to move, but she wanted to be near Dizz, to let her know things were all right—that they were right. So she heaved herself off the bed and went into the other room to lower herself painfully to the couch. She stuck out a toe for Schnitzel to chew on.

"Honey," Chris said, "how about some coffee? I'm not feeling very well. I think I've got a fever."

Dizz got up and put a palm on Chris' forehead. "You certainly have," she said. "I think I'd better call the doctor."

"No," Chris said. "Just get the coffee."

Chris picked up Schnitzel and sat playing with him until Dizz came back into the room. Then she put him down and took the cup from Dizz and swallowed a gulp of the hot coffee. She set the cup on the end table.

Dizz came and curled up beside her on the couch. She put her head on Chris' shoulder and kissed her on the cheek.

Chris took Dizz's hand and held it in her lap. She wanted to put an arm around her. But her arms were too sore to lift.

"Darling," Dizz said.

"Hmm?"

"How much does this trip mean to you?" Dizz asked.

Chris had been expecting this. She knew Dizz did not want to go. And right at the moment she was far too ill to give a good damn. It did not seem important anymore. All that mattered was that they shouldn't argue anymore. That they should just be quiet for a while and then go to sleep.

"Well," Chris said slowly, "yesterday it was a matter of life and death. At the moment, I'm not so sure. Why?"

"It would make me a lot happier," Dizz said, "if you would call it off."

"Why?" Chris said.

"Because I really don't believe you're in any condition to go," she said. "You're bandaged and stiff and now you've got a fever. How about it?"

Chris sat very still. She couldn't argue with Dizz about her physical condition. She felt lousy. If she were dumped in the ocean now, she would sink like a stone.

But she had to consider something else, at least for a second.

What would happen if she backed out? Jonathan would scream, for one thing. He was counting on her to help finance the deal. And he wanted her to be there, whether he admitted it or not. He knew he could trust her to know a Glory-of-the-Seas when she saw one, even if he couldn't trust her to stay out of the water.

But what would happen to her? If she quit now, would she ever have what it would take to go diving again? Or would she spend the rest of her days regretting that she hadn't gone?

She would have to take that chance. She would have to take that chance because she was just too wretched to think about it anymore.

"Okay, honey," she said tiredly. "I'll tell Jonathan in the morning that I won't be going. I have to see him anyhow."

"Good," Dizz said pleasantly. "Now you'd better get yourself off to bed."

"Right," Chris said. She let go of Dizz's hand, put out her feet and tried to stand up. Her head was splitting and the room did a flip in front of her eyes.

She made it to the bedroom door before she passed out.

When Chris awoke, it was well past noon. She lay still in bed, listening to the rain. It was still pouring hard and dripping off the trees.

Gradually she became aware of other sounds and she knew that Dizz was in the kitchen doing something and that Schnitzel was on the floor beside the bed chewing a shoe. And she knew it was Wednesday afternoon and that she had to see Jonathan. And that she was cold and weak and hungry. The fever was gone.

Chris threw back the covers and quietly made a good effort to sit up. She got halfway, then she fell back on the bed. The second try was a little more effective. Her feet touched the floor.

Schnitzel abandoned the shoe and bounded onto Chris' foot. She felt his tiny tongue massaging her toes. She reached down and scratched the top of his head.

She got up from the bed and went to the closet and opened the door, careful not to make a sound. She dressed as quickly as she could in a warm suit and shirt, then sat down on the bed to put on her shoes.

She saw Schnitzel run to the door. She looked up and straight at Dizz who was standing in the doorway with a heavy tray.

"And just where do you think you're going, young lady?" Dizz said.

"I have to talk to Jonathan," Chris said.

"Oh, no," Dizz said. "If you have to talk to Jonathan, you can use the telephone." She set the tray down on the desk. "I'm under doctor's orders to keep you in bed."

“I feel fine," Chris said. She walked to the door, put a finger under Dizz's chin and tilted her face up. She kissed her on the nose. "And no arguments from you."

Dizz breathed a resigned sigh. "Well, at least eat something."

"Right," Chris said. She moved across to the desk and sat down.

She did not speak again until she had finished eating. Then she turned to Dizz and said, "I should be back in a couple of hours."

"Shall I come with you?" Dizz said.

"No," Chris answered. "You have to baby sit." She reached down and scratched Schnitzel behind the ears.

"Go," Dizz said. She kissed Chris on the cheek.

By the time she reached the museum, Chris had thought of fifty bad ways to break the news to Jonathan. He didn't give her time to use any of them

"Chris," he said, jumping up as she came into the office. "Thank heaven, you're here."

"What's wrong?" Chris said.

"Plenty," Jonathan said. "I've been trying for two days to get a good diver. All I've been able to come up with is Nevins."

"And what's wrong with Nevins?”