Five Women (26 page)

Chapter Twenty-three

F
OR
R
USSELL'S FORTY-EIGHTH BIRTHDAY
Felicity cooked him a lavish dinner at home with all his favorite soul food and French wines, and invited his ten best friends. She knew he preferred it when she did everything herself instead of hiring a caterer, because it made him feel taken care of. She filled the apartment with delicately scented flowers, tiny pale roses and stephanotis, the kind of flowers that one often saw in a bridal bouquet. This was a hint, although he wouldn't get it, and if he did he would probably be annoyed. She was having a hard time balancing her long hours at work with the attention he liked, but she enjoyed playing wife. This was as close as she was ever going to be to having the actual role, she was becoming sure of that.

Her relationship with her mother, which had its ups and downs, was fairly good at the moment. As long as she stayed away from home her mother couldn't hit her. It was easier to hang up the phone than run away. Her mother wanted Felicity to marry Russell as much as she herself did. Carolee kept telling her never to give up, and for this birthday party she had mailed Felicity some special, secret recipes of her own for some of the food. At Carolee's suggestion, for his birthday present Felicity had bought Russell a new, expensive video camera, so he could take movies of their next trip together. If we
are
together, Felicity thought. . . .

In two years he would be fifty. Wasn't he afraid his life would pass him by? She would be thirty in two years, and she was afraid. She saw her dismal life ahead of her; waiting, waiting, waiting, no husband, no children, knowing Russell was still seeing other women because the two of them had no real commitment, putting up with it no matter how hurt and angry it made her, accepting his lies, too much in love to look for another man, and then finally dumped when she got too old. A man, she had discovered, could always find a younger woman to take care of him. A woman, no matter how intelligent and charming, still needed her looks and sex appeal. Her mother had taught her this, and even though she saw exceptions all the time, she knew it was the rule.

Russell's friends were his age. They were all married and they brought their wives. Everybody was black; Russell didn't really feel comfortable with white people although he dealt with them on various levels every day. Felicity looked around at the familiar faces. Some of the women were first wives, some were second, and one was the third. Some, she knew, were being cheated on. All of them were attractive, well dressed, trying. You couldn't win, she thought.

The birthday party was a success. After it was over and everyone had left, raving and complimenting her, Felicity initiated sex with him, using all her considerable skills, and was thrilled when he responded and then took over as a way of rewarding her for having made him feel special. She knew him so well now. He knew her. They were family. She would do anything to get him, but she didn't know what to do that she hadn't already done, except get pregnant, and she knew that would only make him furious.

“I love you, Baby,” Russell said afterward. “Thank you for my party. It was wonderful.”

“You're welcome,” she said. “I love you, too.”

“I know you do.” She sighed and put her head on his shoulder. “I'm going to Washington on business this weekend,” he said. “I'll be at the Hay Adams. Do you want me to get you some theater tickets for Saturday night and you can take a girlfriend?”

“You mean, in New York?” she asked stupidly.

“Yes. I can't take you with me. I have to meet some potential business partners. Investors.”

This time her sigh was not contentment but pure frustration. He gave and he took away. She gave and gave and gave. If she was his wife—or even his fiancée!—he would take her, she was sure of it. Then she would be an asset instead of just an ornament, a diversion. She would no longer be considered a trivial woman. But then she thought how generous he was to think of getting her theater tickets so she would have something fun to do, and she thought how hard it was that he never did anything to make her really angry. If she could get furious at him she might be able to get the courage to do something else with her life.

“That would be great,” she said. “I want to see a musical. I'd like to see
The Tap Dance Kid.”

“No, I want to see that with you,” Russell said.

“Then how about
La Cage Aux Folles?”

“Mmm,” he said doubtfully. “I wanted to see that, too.”

“Then what about
My One and Only
with Twiggy and Tommy Tune?” Felicity said, beginning to be annoyed. “You won't like that.”

“I won't?”

“No.”

“Okay. I'll call my scalper first thing tomorrow.”

He telephoned her on Saturday morning as he always did when he went away for the weekend. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“It's fine. How's the hotel?”

“Beautiful. Baby, do you know what I forgot? That blue suit I wore at my birthday party, it needs to go to the cleaner's. Would you take it?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you have a room overlooking the White House?” she asked.

“The what?” He sounded annoyed.

“One of the men in my office said the Hay Adams Hotel overlooks the White House. I thought maybe you'd see the President taking a walk or something.”

“Oh,” Russell said. “No, I don't. I don't care about my view, I'm just here to work.”

“Why are you mad at me?” Felicity asked, hurt.

“I'm not mad.”

“It seemed like it.”

“You go and have a nice day,” he said. “I'll see you tomorrow night.”

“Bye. . . .”

She found it hard to concentrate on the show, even though she enjoyed it and it didn't take much brain power. Then when she got home that night after the show Felicity did something she had never done before. She wasn't really sure why she did it, but an instinct pushed her, and she didn't even know where that instinct had come from except that she knew Russell so well by now. She called the Hay Adams Hotel and asked to speak to him; and the operator said he was not registered there.

“Did he leave?” she asked.

“Just a moment.” There was a pause while she looked it up. “No, he was never here.”

“Are you certain?” She felt abandoned and deceived and tried not to cry. She had suspected something like this all evening while not wanting to admit it.

“Yes, there was no one by that name here. Are you sure you have the right hotel?”

“Maybe not,” Felicity said. “Thank you.” She hung up and burst into tears.

He had done it again; he was cheating. For all she knew he was right here in New York at some woman's apartment, holed up for the weekend. Maybe he was in Boston with that white bimbo he'd said he had broken up with a few months ago. For a man who wasn't comfortable with white people, Russell managed to make an exception when that person was female and young and pretty and stupid.

“Where are you?” she screamed, although there was no one in the lonely apartment to hear. His money and his generosity and his lies mocked her. How could he do this to her so soon after the loving birthday celebration she had gone to so much trouble to prepare for him? He had been planning to cheat while she had been planning his party.

She pulled his blue suit out of his closet and then she threw it on the floor. Was the bimbo sitting right there while Russell called her to tell her to take his suit to the cleaner as if she were the maid? Or as if she were the wife! Maybe she didn't want to be his wife after all. Maybe she already was his wife. Felicity had left a man once for cheating and suddenly she knew she could do it again if she got pushed too far. She thought about Lincoln, her college boyfriend, and how all the warmth she had felt for him had gone cold when he hurt her. She
could
leave, she could. She had never loved Lincoln the way she loved Russell—she was older now, more mature, surer of what she wanted—but when Russell came back, if he didn't have a good excuse for lying to her she would go.

And he'd better lie well. Because when he came back he would have credit card receipts and she would be able to find out where he had really been.

She couldn't sleep that night, and when Russell came home on Sunday evening Felicity's eyes were swollen with sleeplessness and all the tears she had shed. She put ice on them and thought how unfair it was that she was looking her worst at the moment when she should be looking her best.

“Well, how was Washington?” she said. “Did you get the investors?”

“No,” he said. “The trip was a waste.”

“Then I guess that was why you didn't go at all,” she said.

His brows drew together. His face was angry but his eyes were scared. “What do you mean?”

“I called the hotel and you were never there. You lied to me.”

“Well, I . . .”

“Were you in Boston with that creepy little thing again? Or is there someone new?”

The silence hung in the air for a moment. “Okay,” Russell said. “I was cheating on you. But I told you right from the beginning that I could never be a one-woman man. It doesn't mean I don't love you, Baby.”

“I'm leaving,” Felicity said. The words just came out of her mouth on their own. She hadn't expected him to hit her with the truth like that, but now that he had she knew it had to end between them because there would never be any hope. She would have preferred to sound forceful, but her voice came out like a pathetic mew. Nevertheless, she meant it. She went into the bedroom, took down her suitcases, and began to pack. If she just concentrated on one thing at a time, on gathering her belongings, she wouldn't have to think about what would happen when she had gone and was all alone, missing him and their life together, nursing her broken heart.

He followed her into the bedroom. “Don't go,” he said.

She didn't answer. She went into the bathroom and scooped up all her makeup and toilet articles and dropped them into a duffel bag.

Then he followed her into the bathroom so she pushed past him and went back into the bedroom again. She would never be able to get all her clothes into the suitcases. “I'm going to have to leave some things here,” she said, “but I'll be back to get them when you're at work.”

“You don't have to go,” he said.

“Yes, I do.”

“She meant nothing to me.”

“So what?”

“I'll break it off,” he said.

She shook her head. “You'll find another one.” She was crying again. She headed for the door, dragging the suitcases and the duffel bag, and her purse and the heavy briefcase of her work from the office, with tears pouring down her cheeks and her nose running and no free hand to wipe it. Let his last sight of her be as this mess; it obviously didn't make any difference that she had tried so hard to be appealing to him.

“All right,” Russell said. “I'll marry you.”

Marry her! He would
marry
her! She put down the suitcases and gaped at him. He handed her some tissues and she blew her nose.

“We'll get engaged now, I'll get you a ring, and we'll be married in a year,” he said. “I need a year to get my act together. This is going to be a very big life change for me. I have to prepare for it.”

“How are you going to do that?” she asked mildly.

“For one thing, I'm not going to see any women but you.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.” He looked at her. “Well, do you want to marry me?”

To think that she had given up all hope that he would ever ask. Felicity rushed into his waiting arms and felt as if she had come home, but this was not the frightening home she had escaped from, it was the safe, warm and happy home she had always wanted. “Yes!” she said.

Russell took her to Tiffany's and bought her a big round diamond, set in platinum with two baguettes. Felicity couldn't stop looking at it, admiring the way it caught the light. Her mother was thrilled and her father was pleased that she was settled, and with such a good catch. To further convince her of his good intentions Russell put their engagement announcement in the
New York Times.
Felicity bought several copies and mailed them home to her parents, and sent one to her sister in Cambridge. Theodora had been blessed with twins and so she now had three of her planned four children, the easy way, but Felicity wasn't jealous. Now she was going to have what she had dreamed of, too.

There was only one problem, but it was a big one. From the time he said he would marry her and give up all his other women, Russell refused to have sex with her anymore. Felicity knew he was punishing her for making him change his carefree life. She was quite sure he wasn't still cheating, but she didn't know what he was doing about his sex drive, so she assumed he was secretly masturbating so that she would be the only one who suffered from deprivation. She had tried being seductive and he ignored her, she made advances and he shrugged her off. When she became more aggressive in bed and tried to do what he had always enjoyed, he pushed her away.

“Why don't you want me?” she asked him.

He was tired, he had a headache, he had work to think about. There was always an excuse.

“Let's go for couples counseling,” Felicity finally said.

“Don't be ridiculous. There's nothing wrong.”

At last, after three months, to keep her quiet, Russell had sex with her. She felt he was just going through the motions, that there was no passion there, and she didn't know what to do. She was wondering if he wanted to drive her away so she would break the engagement.

But I can never do that, Felicity thought. She couldn't imagine life without him, he was all she had ever wanted; she was madly in love with him, enslaved. She knew that if she didn't give up they would eventually get married, and then if Russell still kept her at bay she would get him to go for marital counseling because if they were trying to save their marriage he wouldn't be so embarrassed. Married couples had sexual problems all the time.