Authors: Maya Wood
At the front desk, Alexis gave her name to a wiry, old nurse with ster
n black eyes and thin lips. The sharp lines of her angular face dissolved into a surprising smile, and she waved Alexis past, her bony hands embossed with thick blue veins. Alexis remembered the last time she had walked down the long hall to the last door on the left. Now her heart lashed frantically, teeming with guilt. She had all but abandoned her father in that room. He had faced his mortality, and she hadn’t been strong enough to stay by his side.
How will he even be able to look at me,
she thought.
The door was cracked, and she stood before it paralyzed with the image of disappointment in his sad eyes. Pressing her
fingertips to the door, she pushed with imperceptible force until she managed to duck her head in the door. The walls had been taped neatly with photos and journal articles, and the tiled floors stacked with pillars of familiar books. On the bedside table, Alexis noticed a pretty bouquet of fresh hydrangeas from their English garden. And beside the open window with its white sheer curtains billowing delicately in the breeze, sat Lawrence with his head bent.
Alexis cleared her throat and her father lifted his gaze from the newspaper unfolded messily in his lap. He craned his neck and his blue eyes lit up. Alexis was already crying as she flung herself at him, her arms clinging to his shoulders. “I’m so sorry,” she sobbed into his white hospital pajamas. Lawrence held her silently, tucking loose auburn ringlets behind her ears.
Pulling away, she wiped at her cheeks, which seemed perpetually wet with tears. She observed with relief that her father had improved remarkably since she saw him last. Color had returned to his cheeks and nose, life twinkling in his eyes. His body, which had wilted against the hospital bed just a week ago, now sat upright and alert. Sighing, he smiled at her and she knew then that she was forgiven.
“I understand you haven’t had an easy week, either,” he said, his voice laced with ironic humor.
Alexis sat at the foot of his bed, bound tightly by a coarse wool blanket. She groaned, as though the sound itself could communicate the entirety of her woes. “I don’t even know where to begin. Well,” she laughed wryly, “I suppose it began with you.”
Lawrence raised his eyebrows in agreement. “Don’t worry about me, dear,” he said confidently. “The doctor says I’m recovering beyond his expectations. I’m a tad stir crazy in this room, but that pretty nurse takes me for little walks every afternoon, and I shouldn’t be here for more than another week.” He motioned toward the wall with a loving smirk. “Marion has injected a little life into this barren cage as you can see. So, it hasn’t been too terrible.” Lawrence chuckled weakly, but his face qu
ickly sobered.
“Alexis…I’ve wanted to apologize for the other night.” Alexis lifted her head in surprise, and he continued. “Though the offer still stands, I should have realized it was too much to process given the circumstances. I should have waited.
Please understand that everything felt…er…last minute that particular day. Nonetheless, I should have waited.”
Her brow furrowed as she considered his words. “Yes,” she admitted
with a nod. “It was a lot to take in.” Suddenly feeling warm, Alexis wriggled from her coat and draped it on the bed. Neither of them rushed to speak. Finally Alexis said, “To be quite frank, it’s been an awful week for me. I can’t remember ever feeling so…insane. Like I was suddenly a stranger in my life, to myself.” She pressed the tips of her fingers together contemplatively. “I still feel a little disoriented.”
“Ah, both the Scotts together.” A nasal shrill pierced the solemn mood of the room, and father and daughter turned to eye the short fat man entering the room as casually as a king in his castle. Alexis felt her lip curl into an involuntary sneer.
“Bates,” she said flatly.
Lawrence straightened himself in the chai
r and removed his glasses. “Harry, good to see you.” Alexis knew her father well, and it was clear to both that he did not mean it. He was an unwelcome intruder, but her father was a true diplomat.
“Yes, well. Good to see you, too, Lawrence. You’re looking well since we last spoke.”
“What can I do for you?” Lawrence inquired, patting Alexis’ clenched fist.
“I wish it could wait, but you know we’ve been waiting to figure out the final details of the New Guinea trip. There’s a lot riding on it, if you know what I mean. A lot of publicity, a lot of money. A decision has to be made.” Bates removed his cap and hung it on the wall hook. “This is a difficult moment. I’m aware of that. So I’ve gone ahead and volunteered my services.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Alexis cried theatrically, as though Bates were foaming at the mouth and speaking total nonsense. He was the most incompetent human being she’d ever met. He couldn’t seriously mean that he intended to replace her father on the trip. She knew he’d been vying for a better position at the Museum, but he didn’t honestly think he was capable of managing the research, did he?
Lawrence’s mouth pulled into a subtle frown beneath h
is mustache. “Are you sure, Harry? You’re a man of many accomplishments, there’s no doubt about that. But you have no formal knowledge of New Guinea, nor any field experience. Perhaps we should discuss this with the board.”
“That’s done. I’ve suggested it myself. There aren’t any objections…er…serious objections, as long as you give your stamp of approval.” Bates puffed his chest and moved toward the window. He turned his greasy face to Alexis. “And well, since Alexis ought to be here and take care of family matters, I felt it would be the honorable thing to do.”
Alexis gaped, her head wagging in unequivocal disbelief. She caught her father’s eye, and she knew right away. He was giving her what she wanted, what he wanted.
Alexis lifted her gaze to Bates, looking red and bloated with conceit. “That i
s awfully considerate of you Harry. But you see, father and I were just discussing the matter, and it’s been decided.”
“What’s been decided?” Bates asked, his voice considerably ruffled now.
“I’m going on the trip in my father’s place,” Alexis said, steadying her voice. The words were a contract, a signature. There was no going back and her vision pounded with white.
Lawrence nodded, his small mouth lifting slightly in amusement. Bates
’ face oozed red now. “Is this true?” he barked at Lawrence.
“Yes, it is. But thank you, Har
ry. The gesture is much appreciated.” Lawrence returned, disregarding the rising volume of his colleague’s voice.
Bates flapped his arms, tortured by etiquette and his desire to melt into a tantrum. He bolted for the door, and grabbing his hat, slammed it low over his face. “We’ll see about that,” he laughed. “Sending her instead of me. This isn’t the last word, I assure you,” he snarled at a high pitch, locking Alexis with his black, beady eyes. And then he was gone.
Alexis let out an intrepid sigh. “Oh brother,” she exclaimed.
Her father leaned forward, bracing his hands upon the arms of his reading chair. Slowly he raised himself, grimacing slightly with the effort. Alexis’ heart fluttered uneasily and she moved to help him, but he shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said breathily. “I’m just not as limber as I once was.” He shuffled to the window and tied the curtain aside, his movements slow but steady.
“Don’t worry about Bates,” he said. “He’s nothing but hot air, and the board’s behind me on this one. I don’t believe a word he says about anyone supporting his idea to go. What madness.” He stroked his mustache and shook his head. “I’m happy for you, Alexis. I think it’s a good decision,” he said finally.
The room was still, the silence neither easy nor tense. She knew the titanic changes over the last week were slow to process, making words cumbersome to find. But work was an easy subject, and so the two dove gratefully into chatter about the logistics of the expedition. She imagined they both shared the delirious excitement and dread of her departure.
“And Philip?” Lawrence asked quietly after a lull in the discussion.
Alexis stared hard at the floor, her head swaying softly with capitulation. “I don’t know, father,” she replied despondently. “I don’t know how that story goes anymore.”
Chapter
Eight
“I didn’t know I had so much stuff,” Alexis exclaimed as she scratched her head. It was the eve of her departure and the inside of her room now resembled the aftermath of a disaster area, the contents of open drawers and armoires bursting chaotically onto the floor. On her bed a heap of dresses and blouses expanded heavenward, and she rifled through them, holding each one up to the light for examination. Her father sat by the window, his leg crossed and bobbing, his face a little terrified.
“I know this trip is three months long, but I’m telling you from experience that you won’t want to lug around a bunch of suitcases. You don’t need half the stuff you’ve got there already. This is going to be a different kind of living, you know.” His voice was shaded by skepticism and Alexis looked at him sideways with light-hearted contempt.
“Yes, father. Believe it or not I have some idea of what to expect.” She felt an inward tug of doubt pull at her confidence.
It can’t be that bad,
she assured herself as she continued the frenzied process of selecting the ever-growing list of essentials. Stuffing the last of her undergarments into a side compartment, she pushed forcefully against the smallest of her matching blueberry-colored suitcases until she heard the snap of the clasps lock shut.
Humming as she whisked around the room with minimal focus, she felt exuberant, euphoric. She had learned by now that these highs were invariably followed by nauseating lows, but for now she allowed herself to ride the blind, careless gust of exhilaration. She was swept up in the romantic image of herself aboard a giant sea vessel, the salty wind blowing back her untamed locks as she boldly traversed the Pacific toward dark, mysterious lands abundant with exotic tongues.
Lawrence sat motionless, watching his daughter apprehensively. He had not lied when he told her that he wanted her to go, or when he told her that he was happy about her decision. But as the hands of the clock wound them closer to the hour of their farewell, he realized it cost him more and more to restrain the bittersweet sentiments collecting at his lips. He understood that his daughter was perhaps more naïve that she thought, but it was too late to reverse the course of her future. He only blamed himself for having feared this moment so deeply as to ignore the tactical education she lacked now as she forged into the unknown.
He cleared his throat, wishing to think of something else. “Alexis, are you going to see Philip before you go?”
Alexis stopped humming, and she felt her throat thicken. “I don’t think so.” She breathed meditatively as she placed a stack of blouses into the corner of the leather suitcase. She flung her hands upward, as though to grasp some concrete answer and examine it closely in her palm. “I just don’t know what to make of it. How could he pretend to love me, and why?”
“That he loves you can’t be the question, Alexis. As I see it, he loves you very much.”
Alexis watched him hopefully. Her father had never offered his insights on Philip, much less uttered a sentence pertaining to romantic love. Her spirits soared to hear the one person she respected so totally reaffirm what she wanted to believe, even after the incriminating evidence of Philip’s deception had surfaced. Lawrence perceived the burst of optimism in his daughter’s eyes and his expression drew together soberly. “What I’m saying,” he continued carefully, “is that love is there, but perhaps what he loves is an illusion, or a projection of who he wishes you to be.”
Alexis scowled at this severe thought, and she sat deflated atop her trunk. She had not spoken to Philip since their brutal exchange in the park. At first he had barraged the house with telephone calls and unannounced visits, frantic in his desire to restore peace. But gradually his attempts dwindled, and when Alexis finally wished to hear his voice, the telephone had ceased to ring. Her heart wildly urged her to find him before she left, but her mind triumphed with the realization that she would only invite him to perpetuate the fraud of their relationship.
“Rest assured, Alexis. You will understand this better with time and distance. If Philip loves you, and truly respects you as a partner in life, then he will be waiting for you when you return.” Lawrence stroked his mustache and wrapped his short fingers around the head of his new wooden cane.
Alexis’ mind ballooned with her deepest wishes. She would return from her travels, a new woman, walking down the ship’s plank. And there among the sea of smiling strangers shouting welcome would be Philip, his golden face beaming up at her, his arms open to her forever. She could almost hear the symphony of music to accompany such a moment.
The hallway boards creaked, and Marion stepped into the room, a frozen expression of bewilderment on her face. “Oh, my,” she breathed as she took in the catastrophe of the bedroom. Eyes wide, she looked gravely at Alexis. “Philip is downstairs, Alexis. What should I tell him?”
Her chest contracted tightly, and she could feel the thunder of her heart in every muscle. Attempting to control her breathing, she inhaled deeply through her nose, but her mind spun. “Um…I…I think I’ll go down. Thank you.” Unconsciously she patted at her hair and straightened her dress as she trekked through spaces of floor unclaimed by potential luggage. It was as if her heart had mounted a fatal blow to the power of her rational mind, and Alexis all but ran through the hallway and down the stairs.
Philip stood stiffly in the foyer, hands buried in the pockets of his trousers. His face was dark, deep crescents underlining his icy, green eyes. She couldn’t read him, and she had no idea whether to keep her distance or to fling herself at him. He swallowed hard, his voice was raspy. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
“Can you talk?”
Alexis
nodded, her body rigid and quaking. Her limbs went numb, and she reached clumsily for the gray cashmere shawl hanging on the coat stand. Neither had made an invitation to touch the other, and so they danced awkwardly to avoid contact, like two nervous strangers in a tiny elevator. Flinging the corner of the shawl over her shoulder, she opened the door and the pair descended the steps. They walked in silence through the trees, the bulbous bodies of fireflies popping aflame around them.
They stopped at the swinging bench suspended by old, rusted chains beneath an impressive oak tree. Neither of them moved to sit, and the bench swayed solitarily with the soft, cool current, the metal rings
groaning against the wood in the night. Philip looked ahead into the blue shadows, his back to her. As though feeling her way along the precipice of a building ledge, she inched tenuously toward the swing, feeling the sanded wood beneath her hands. The chains complained noisily under her.
“What time do you leave tomorrow?” Philip said finally, his voice dry and emotionless.
“At noon.”
In the moonlight, Alexis could make out the silhouette of Philip’s profile, the rigid angle of his chin jutting out stubbornly. He lowered his head, and turned to her, but he did not meet her gaze. “Alexis…I came here tonight, because I wanted to tell you one last time that I love you…I love you, but I absolutely do not want you to go on this trip.”
Alexis flinched as though he’d handed her his heart enveloped in shards of razor sharp glass. Fire ballooned wildly inside her, but her voice was calm.
“I’m going, Philip,” she said. He turned his seething gaze to her.
“So,” she spat defiantly, and against her better judgment, asked, “what now? Is this it?”
Philip cursed, and he kicked hard at the earth. “Damn it, Alexis. Be reasonable.”
Alexis leapt to her feet, her heart lashing combatively. “If you came here to fight with me, I’m going back inside. You’ve made it clear what you think of me. I no longer have any doubts about that. So let me be clear about where I stand. I’m going to New Guinea. For three months. And when I come back, I’m going to keep working. I may go on other trips. This is the life I want for myself. I’d hoped you would be a part of it, at the very least, supportive of me. Otherwise, what’s the point?” Alexis turned and moved to leave him, but she heard the swift movement of his body come for her and felt his hand grope her arm.
He spun her around,
and held her firmly. Philip shook, and she felt a tremor of fear quake through her. She had never seen him so antagonized and she understood that there was more to him than she could have known.
“God damn it, Alexis,” he panted, his voice high and broken. “I want to marry you.” The words were sharp, and desperate, almost involuntary.
Alexis reeled back, but he held her firmly in his grasp. “What?” she coughed in disbelief.
He let out a breath as though he’d been socked in the gut, and when the light caught his eyes, she saw nothing short of agony. “I need you, Alexis,” he said.
Alexis squirmed against him. She wanted to believe him, but she could not shake the evidence of the past weeks. “But you said…” She shook her head. “
Why
do you want to marry me, Philip? Because I’m so ‘good-looking’ and you won’t take anything less? Because you think I’m a trophy?” She was reclaiming her hands from his grip, her anger winding up with every memory. “I heard you say those things!”
Philip sagged backward, his face falling into the palm of his hand. “It
was
that.” His voice was flat and ruined. “You were a trophy. God, I remember. I saw you, and you were so beautiful. And so untouchable. It was the ultimate conquest. It was like I wanted to collect you.”
Alexis’ jaw snapped open, and her chest rose instinctively. It came straight from his mouth and it was more than she needed to turn and leave him for good.
“But,” he continued.
“But what?” Alexis jabbed, her voice hard. She couldn’t believe she was still standing there.
“I had no idea what would happen to me. What you would
do
to me.”
Alexis swallowed hard.
“Alexis, I fell so hard for you, even though I didn’t expect to, or even want to. You’re so much more than I could have imagined.” His voice petered out, and his hands dove deep into his pockets. He laughed and wagged his head. “I guess it became obvious to my family and friends that I was…falling for you. There were so many objections coming from every direction, even from myself. I had no idea how to handle it, and I didn’t know any better than to try to fit you into my life. I guess I felt I couldn’t lose you, so I ought to try to mold you.” His head fell back and he closed his eyes. “But I don’t want that now. You wouldn’t be the woman I’m absolutely crazy about. I’m powerless against you.”
He neared her now, almost tremblin
g. She felt his mouth breathe against the crown of her head. His body labored with anguish against her, and he gathered her in his arms like a blanket. “Please forgive me, Alexis. I can’t let you leave without you knowing how I love you. I need you. Please,” he begged against her ear. “Please be mine.”
For a moment, her mind was black. The past weeks of relentless inner doubt and struggle quieted into nothingness. And then she heard herself laughing, and her body shook with joy. She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and cried against his chest. He had loved her after all, truly, almost to the point of madness.
How absurdly wonderful
, she exclaimed inwardly.
Philip reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring. “I’ll be here when you get back, Alexis. If you’ll have me.” He took her hand, and she watched as he slipped the band over her finger. The large flat diamond caught in the moonlight. “Please don’t leave me without telling me you’ll be mine.”
He kissed her finger and brushed her cheek with his lips. His mouth opened over hers. He was warm and strong, almost furious. He had never kissed her like this, and she returned all that she had to him. For the first time in her life, Alexis felt that everything was absolutely perfect.
“Ye
s,” she whispered in the night.
***
The small apple-shaped wind-up clock jangled frenetically, and Alexis’ hand surfaced through the cocoon of her bed blankets to silence its piercing shrill. Roused from just a few hours of fitful sleep, Alexis’ eyes shot open and she remembered the day of reckoning had finally arrived. An iron knot twisted in her stomach and she instantly forgot the giddy excitement that had swirled about her head the previous evening. Her body was now stiff with dread, and she didn’t budge from her spot nestled in the safety of her own bed.
She was no longer brave or bold, and a band of nervous perspiration bloomed along her hairline. She felt small and vulnerable, and she wanted nothing more than to march downstairs and tell her father to forget the whole thing. She was happy at home. She was happy with her work at the museum. She was going to marry Philip. She didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. These were the tempting sirens of her subconscious fear.
Yet she climbed from her bed and performed the functions of her everyday routine, a ghastly expression of loss on her face from the realization that everything had now changed. There was no longer any sense of familiarity in combing her hair at the vanity set, or adjusting the shower faucets to get the right temperature. It was as though she were acting out the ghost of a past life, and the bud of nostalgia burst viciously inside her heart. She pulled apart her bedroom curtains as she did every morning, and as she watched the sepia morning light filter softly through the trees she’d climbed as a little girl, she saw only a still-shot memory of a life that no longer belonged to her.