It’s true. I wouldn’t. But I am not about to confess.
“Well, I guess we’re all capable of doing new things. It’s not exactly your sort of place either.”
There is silence on the other end. Then, “My life is very different now than it used to be.”
“If yours is, then so is mine.”
“I didn’t want it to be,” she says quietly.
“I didn’t either.”
“What’s wrong with my dating?” She is angry now. “I’m separated. And Harry’s fucking Claire. Why do I have to stay cooped up? Shouldn’t I be allowed to have some fun too?”
“Of course you should have fun. I just know you’ve been going out a lot. Isn’t that rather hard on Johnny? He’s going through a lot too. He needs you more than ever.”
So far there has been no mention of our night together. I’m not about to bring it up, and neither, it seems, is she. I just want things to go back to the way they had been.
She sighs. “I’m thinking of going away for a little while.”
“With Johnny?”
“No. He has school. He can stay with Harry. It’ll be good for both of them.”
“Are you sure that’s the best idea?”
“No, I’m not sure about anything. I just know if I stay in New York right now I’ll go out of my mind.”
“Would you be going away by yourself?”
“Very funny. Yes. I don’t want to be around anyone, see anyone. I just want to be alone. Go somewhere, sit on a beach, and think about what the hell I’m supposed to do next. Mexico, somewhere like that. I want green salt water. Green salt water so pure and clear it’s the only thing between sand and sky.”
I’m relieved. “That sounds like a good plan.”
“I’m not asking for your approval, dammit.”
“Can I help?”
“As a matter of fact, you can. Please check on Johnny from time to time. I know Harry will take good care of him. I just want Johnny to know that the other people in his life love him too.”
“Of course. It’d be a pleasure. How long will you be gone for?”
“I don’t know. A few weeks. I’d like to disappear for a year, but I know I can’t do that.”
“When are you thinking of leaving?”
“If I can, I was thinking next week. The sooner the better. When I come back, we can open up the house. I know how much Johnny loves being there. I can’t believe it’s almost the summer again. God, what a year,” she says with a laugh.
O
n the night before Maddy’s flight, Harry comes to the brownstone to pick up Johnny. Naturally I had asked if she wanted me to be there. To my surprise, she said it wasn’t necessary, but she tells me about it the next morning when she calls from the airport to say good-bye. I had already asked her to give me her contact information. I don’t like the idea of not knowing where she is.
“It was nice to see him. I was surprised,” she says.
I am equally surprised to hear her say so. It’s the first time she has talked civilly about Harry since the whole episode came to light. Until now, she hasn’t expressed anything other than contempt.
“What do you mean?”
“He was being so sweet. And he gave me his old Saint Christopher medal. The one he always wears when he flies. He told me he wanted me to have it.”
“Did you take it?”
“Of course. He knows how much I hate flying.”
“What else did you talk about?”
“Johnny. I told him I didn’t want Johnny to be around Claire.”
“How did he react?”
“He agreed. Said he understood. Then he tried to apologize again.”
“What did you say?”
“I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”
“Did you talk about anything else?”
“Not much. You know, chitchat. Mexico. You know, it’s one of the few places we’ve never been together. Maybe that’s why I wanted to go there. Anyway, we had a drink. Sat in the living room. It was strangely cozy, you know? He said his book was coming along. The funny thing is that he even made me laugh. You know how he is when he gets going. No one can tell a joke like Harry, and, even though I had promised myself I’d be immune to his charms, he had me roaring. I had been so angry with him that I couldn’t believe he could still do that, but he could. For a moment I almost forgot about what he did and how angry I am with him, and it was almost like none of this had ever happened. And Johnny looked so happy too. I could tell what he was thinking.”
I let this sink in. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“What?”
“Second thoughts. About the divorce.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Isn’t that normal? I was reading that happens a lot. Halfway through you get cold feet and wonder if it’s really the right thing to do. We’re so quick to chuck our whole lives overboard. I mean, my father tried to fuck anything in a skirt whether he was married or not. But that wasn’t why his wives left him. Life can be so lonely, you know?”
I knew that better than most. “Do you still love him?”
“I don’t know. I spent the last twenty years of my life with him. It’s odd not having him around. I miss him sometimes. I really do. And of course Johnny does. He’s been so excited about spending time with Harry that I almost resent it. I asked him if he was going to miss me, and he said sure, but I could tell he almost couldn’t wait to leave with his father.” She laughs.
“So what are you going to do?”
“Nothing for the time being. Go to Mexico. I can think about things while I’m down there, and hopefully I’ll be able to get some perspective. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks. Then, if I change my mind, I can deal with it. Or not.”
“Okay, well, good luck and
vaya con Dios
.”
“Thanks, Walter. Thanks for everything. You’ve put up with so much from me. I really don’t think I could have made it without you. You know I love you. You’re the one man who’s never let me down.”
“I love you too,” I answer, but I don’t mean it the same way she does.
I
can imagine Claire’s face as she absorbs the news. He has taken her out to dinner to the little bistro near her apartment. They must have had a few martinis, and then the frisée salad sprinkled with lardons followed by a steak frites dripping butter. A bottle of red wine. She would be happy, enjoying an increasingly rare night out. She had even made him meet her at the restaurant so she could go home and change out of her work clothes.
“There’s something I have to tell you, and I hope you won’t mind,” he says. “Johnny needs to stay with me for the next three weeks. Maddy is going on a trip. She called me yesterday and told me. She’s not taking Johnny.”
“There’s nothing bad about that,” Claire says, not quite understanding. “I’d love to help take care of Johnny. He’s wonderful.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not so sure it’s a good idea for you to see Johnny right now. Maddy and I discussed it.”
“Oh, you did, did you? What did you say? Did you stick up for me at all?”
He is surprised by the suddenness of her anger, but maybe he shouldn’t be. “It wasn’t like that,” he says with a shrug, cutting into his steak.
“Oh really? So I’m meant just to disappear for three weeks until Maddy comes back?”
“It’s not such a long time.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Okay, so what is the point? Are you suggesting that I should place you ahead of my son? You know me well enough to know I could never do that. Anyway, what choice did I have? I need to do everything I can to ensure that a judge gives me equal time with Johnny if the divorce goes through.”
“If? Don’t you want it to go through?”
The question startles him. “Of course I don’t want it to go through.”
She stares at him. “What?”
He looks at her quizzically. “You heard me. I don’t want to get divorced. I don’t want to lose my family. I’m sorry if that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth.”
“So does that make everything else a lie?”
“No, not at all. There’s no need to twist my words like that. I care for you very much. I hope you know that. But I also thought you understood how I felt.”
She looks down, biting her lip. Finally she asks, “And what about me? I’m tired of it, Harry. I love you, but I need to know you love me too.”
“We’ve been over this. You know I love Maddy and Johnny. They’re my life. I screwed up, and Maddy hates me, but I’d do anything I could to get them back. I thought you knew that. I’m sorry if I made you think anything else.”
She looks away. “I’m such a fool,” she says. “God.”
“Why do you say that?”
“To have ever thought you would choose me over Maddy. When she asked for the divorce, I thought I might have a chance, but now, even when she doesn’t want you, you still want her more than me.”
He lets her words drop. “I do.”
Hatred flashes in her eyes. “You’re a taker, Harry. You never think about anything other than what you want. You never think about what other people want or how your actions affect other people. I know you didn’t think of me for one minute when you were talking with Maddy. And you know how that makes me feel? It makes me feel like shit.”
“I’m sorry.”
“ ‘Sorry’? Is that all you can say?”
“This is my family we are talking about. We were happy together until . . .” He pauses.
“Until what? Were you going to say until I came along and ruined everything?”
He opens his mouth to speak but knows it would be pointless.
“Forget it,” she says, standing up. “Since you want to spend the next three weeks with Johnny so much, why don’t you just start now?”
“Maybe that’s not a bad idea.”
“What?”
He sighs. “Maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. You’re wonderful, but I still love my wife. I need to do everything I can to save my marriage and my family. And, besides, you’re so young. Did you really think this would become anything?”
She looks at him, stunned. Finally she says in a barely audible voice, “Bastard.”
“Claire . . .”
She puts one arm hurriedly through the sleeve of her jacket, and then the other, and gathers up her purse.
“I’m sorry,” he says again but does nothing to prevent her from leaving. They look at each other like strangers.
He watches her walk out the door, the remnants of their dinner before him. There is still wine in her glass. Her meal sits half-eaten, the knife and fork where she left them. The napkin thrown on the seat. He almost gets up and follows her but instead signals to the waiter for the check. Diners at tables nearby who had stopped talking once again resume their meals.
He finishes the wine, leaves his money. He is a generous tipper, counting out the precious bills.
Leaving the restaurant, he starts walking toward Claire’s apartment, partly from habit. She has not yet given him a key. He could, he supposes, ring her buzzer. Tell her over the intercom that he has changed his mind and hope for the click that releases the door, a sign that all is forgiven and that he may once more go to her. But when he reaches the front of her building, he is still unsure what to do. His legs feel leaden. His finger presses the button by her name, once, then again. He is relieved when there is no answer. He steps back out on the sidewalk and looks up to her window. No lights are on. She is not home.
He walks down the street to a bar on the corner. Narrow, dimly lit. He enters and orders a whisky from the bartender. He stares at himself in the mirror. Anger overcomes him. Anger at himself. What the hell has he done? What the hell had he been thinking? Why is he here at all? He had once had so much love and had squandered it. Maybe Claire was right. He had taken too much, and he would never be able to get it back. But he had to try.
He finishes his drink and leaves, turning once again toward Claire’s building. Looking up, he sees the light is still off. His apartment is blocks away, and the air is still cold, but he isn’t ready for bed yet. He turns and walks in the opposite direction, wondering if he will ever be here again.
W
hen my father died it was, to reverse the old line, sudden and then gradual. It was the day before Thanksgiving when my mother called me at the office. “Your father’s unwell,” she told me in her precise, elegant tones. “The ambulance just left. They are taking him to Southampton Hospital. I think you had better come out.”
I knew it must be serious. No one in those days went to the hospital in Southampton.
“What’s the matter? What’s wrong?”
“He had a seizure. He had been feeling off recently. I found him on the kitchen floor and called 911.”
“I’ll be right out.”
I had been planning on driving out the next morning anyway to have Thanksgiving dinner with them. It was a family tradition. A few friends of my parents would come for drinks around two in the afternoon, and then we would sit down to a bird prepared by Genevieve and served by Robert. Between the turkey and the dessert, which was usually an array of pies also prepared by Genevieve, we would wrap ourselves up and stroll down to the ocean and back to work up an appetite. Then, the next day, my parents would depart for Florida and shut down the house until April.
In the old days, Maddy; her brother, Johnny; her father; and whichever one of his wives happened to be in the picture sometimes joined us, but that was usually more at my insistence. My mother didn’t care much for Mister Wakefield, and I suppose she knew he drank, but she was too well-bred to say anything, in front of me at any rate. When they came, Mother always put out the smaller wineglasses and had only one bottle of wine brought up from the cellar. I am sure Maddy’s father knew what was going on. He was too smart not to. As for my father, he could find the good in anyone, and since the two men had been neighbors since childhood, even though my father was the elder by the better part of a decade, they had more than enough to talk about. And Mister Wakefield could be very entertaining as long as he hadn’t had too much to drink; then he would become mean as a snake. They stopped coming the year they sold the big house, which was the year after Maddy’s grandmother died, but by that time, Maddy and I were already at Yale.
After my mother’s call, I hung up the phone and went to find my boss, a prematurely aging striver who had recently been made partner and commuted every day from Manhasset. I was a young associate then and not my own master. We were working on an important contract and had been in the office well past midnight every day for the past several weeks. I explained what had happened, and he sighed and told me reluctantly I had better go. Death is still one of the only things that the legal profession respects more than the needs of the client.