It was almost noon when she heard him stir. She poured some tomato juice into a glass and brought it to him in the bedroom. He groped for it in the darkness. She watched him as he drained the glass. Then she drew the drapes. The sunlight flooded the room. He blinked several times and looked around the room.
“Good God. Maggie!” He looked at the bed, then back at her. “How did I get here?”
“You arrived on your own at four thirty in the morning.”
Like a somnambulist he handed back the empty glass. “Did we—yes, I guess we did.” He stared at the bed. Then he shook his head. “Sometimes when I get very drunk, I draw blanks. I’m sorry, Maggie.” Suddenly his eyes went dark with anger. “Why did you let me in?”
She fought the panic that was choking her.
“Oh God!” He ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t remember. I can’t remember.”
She felt the tears roll down her face, but her anger kept her from breaking down. “That’s the oldest line in the world, Robin. But you can use it, if it makes you feel better! The shower is in there.”
She stalked into the living room and poured herself some coffee. Some of her anger dissolved. The bewilderment in his eyes
had
been real. Suddenly she knew he was telling the truth. He didn’t remember.
He walked into the living room, knotting his tie. His coat was on his arm. He dropped it on the couch and took the cup of coffee she handed him.
“If you want eggs, or toast—” she said.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry as hell about all this, Maggie. Sorry for what I did to Andy. And most of all sorry because of you. Look—I’m leaving. You don’t have to tell Andy. I’ll make it up to him—I’ll find a way.”
“What about me?”
He looked at her. “You knew what you were doing. Andy didn’t. He’s your guy.”
“I’m not in love with Andy.”
He grinned. “And I suppose you’re madly in love with me.”
“Yes, I am.”
He laughed, almost as if it was a private joke. “I must be a whiz when I’m smashed.”
“You mean this has happened often.”
“Not often. But it
has
happened before, maybe two or three times. And each time, it scares the hell out of me. But this is the
first time I’ve ever been confronted with the evidence. Usually I wake up and know something has happened, something I can’t quite remember. It’s usually after I’ve really been on a bender. But last night I thought I was safe, that I could tie on a load—there was just you and Andy. What the hell happened to him?”
“He passed out.”
“Yes, I remember that. I think that’s the last thing I do remember.”
“You don’t remember any of the things you said to me?”
His blue eyes were candid. “Was I awful?”
Tears came to her eyes. “No, you were nicer than anyone I’ve ever known.”
He put down the coffee and stood up. “Maggie, I’m sorry. Really sorry.”
She looked at him. “Robin, do I mean anything to you?”
“I like you. So I’m going to give it to you straight. You’re a bright beautiful girl, but you’re not my type.”
“I’m not your—” She couldn’t get it out.
“Maggie, I don’t know what motivated me to come here. I don’t know what I said, or what I did… . And, oh Jesus, I’m sorry I’ve hurt you.” Then he came to her. He touched her hair softly but she pulled away. “Look, Maggie, you and Andy pretend this never happened.”
“Please go! I told you—it’s over with Andy. It was over before last night.”
“It will be rough on him. He cares about you.”
“I’m not right for him. I don’t want him. Please, get out.”
“I’m going to transfer him to New York,” he said suddenly. “There’s not enough news coming out of here anyway. What about you—do you want to work in New York?”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, stop playing God!”
He looked into her eyes. “Maggie, I wish I could buy back last night. This hasn’t happened to me in a long time. The last time was in Philadelphia.”
She stared at him. “You remember that?”
He shook his head. “She was gone when I woke up. I just remember she wore orange lipstick.”
“I wear orange lipstick.”
His eyes widened with disbelief.
She nodded mutely. “It’s insane. I was doing the news there.”
“Jesus—are you following me?”
She felt outraged with anger and humiliation. Before she realized it her hand lashed out across his face.
His smile was sad. “I guess I deserved that… . You must really hate me, Maggie—all these days we’ve been together and I never remembered.”
“I don’t hate you,” she said coldly. “I hate myself. I hate all women who act like sentimental idiots or lose control. I’m sorry I hit you. You’re not worth it.”
“Don’t try to be hard, it’s not your natural behavior.”
“How do you know what my natural behavior is? How can you know anything about me! You’ve made love to me twice and don’t remember. Who are you to tell anyone what I am? Who are
you? What
are you?”
“I don’t know, I really don’t know.” Then he turned and left the apartment.
TWENTY
W
HEN ROBIN LEFT
Maggie’s apartment he checked out of the hotel and went directly to the airport.
New York was clear and mild. The temperature was in the low forties. Idlewild Airport was crammed with good-humored holiday travelers. Robin hailed a cab and reached his apartment just before the heavy traffic jam began. He promised himself to go on the wagon until Christmas Eve in Los Angeles.
There was no important mail. The apartment was neat. He felt oddly depressed. He opened a can of tomato juice and placed a call to Ike Ryan. Amanda was probably out of the hospital by now.
“Where the hell have you been?
Now
you call!” Ike’s voice was flat and oddly indifferent.
“How are things?” Robin asked cheerfully.
“‘Just call me if you need me, Ike!’” Ike mimicked. “Oh, brother … did I call! I called you for two days!”
“I was on a boat. Why didn’t you leave a message?”
Ike sighed. “What good would it have done? You blew the funeral.”
Robin hoped he hadn’t heard correctly. “What funeral?”
“It was in all the papers. Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”
“Ike—for Christ’s sake. I just came back to New York. What happened?”
Ike’s voice was leaden. “Amanda was buried day before yesterday.”
“But just a week ago you said she was coming along fine.”
“That’s what we thought. The day she died … even that morning she looked great. I arrived at the hospital around eleven.
She was sitting in bed—all made up—in a beautiful dressing gown, addressing Christmas cards. The drug was working. I expected to take her home in a few days. Suddenly she dropped the pen and her eyes went blank. I ran to the door and yelled for nurses, doctors. Within seconds the room was filled with people. The doctor gave her an injection, and then she fell back asleep. I sat there for three hours before she opened her eyes. She saw me and smiled faintly. I held her in my arms and told her everything was gonna be fine. Then she looked at me, clear-eyed again, and said, ‘Ike, I know, I know!’” Ike paused.
“Know what, Ike?” Robin asked.
“Oh Christ, who knows? I think she was telling me she knew that she was dying. I rang for the nurse. She came with the needle but Amanda pushed her away. She clung to me, like she knew there wasn’t much time. She looked at me and said, ‘Robin, take care of Slugger—please, Robin.’ Then she lost consciousness. The nurse said to me, ‘She didn’t know what she was saying, she was talking in the past.’
“She woke again about an hour later with that sweet smile on her face. She reached for my hand. God, Robin, those eyes were so scared and big. She said, ‘Ike, I love you. I love
you
’ Then she closed her eyes and never regained consciousness. She died an hour later.”
“Ike, her last words were for you. That should give you some comfort.”
“If she had said, ‘Ike, I love you,’ period, then it would have been fine. But she didn’t. She said, ‘I love you, I love
you
.’ As if she had to try and convince me it was me she loved and not you. That was part of the sweetness and gallantry of Amanda. She knew it was the end, and she wanted to leave me with something positive to cling to.”
“Ike—don’t brood on it. She didn’t know what she was saying.”
“Yeah. Say, is it all right with you if I keep the cat?”
“The cat?”
“Well, by right it’s yours. Because, conscious or not, she said for you to take care of Slugger. And I’d respect her wishes right down to the end. But I want the cat—it’s like having a part of her.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Robin said. “Of course the cat belongs to you.”
“I’ve been sleeping with it every night,” Ike said. “The cat senses something is wrong. We’re both lost souls.”
“Ike, give the cat a saucer of milk and sleep with a blonde.”
“With my luck, I’m doing a war picture. Not a broad in it. Just twenty guys who all look like John Wayne. But what the hell—I guess I’ll be okay. Merry Christmas, Robin.”
“Sure. Same to you, Ike.”
He hung up and sank back in the chair. Amanda was dead … it didn’t seem possible. She couldn’t have cared about him. Ike was just off balance with his misery. Poor guy, what a lousy Christmas he would have. The thought of Christmas wasn’t exactly a cheerful idea to him either. Suddenly he had an urgent desire to spend Christmas with someone he cared about. Who was there? His mother? His sister? Well, Kitty was in Rome, and Lisa—God, he hadn’t seen her in ages. He didn’t even know what her kids looked like. He put in a call to San Francisco.
Lisa sounded genuinely surprised. “Robin! I can’t believe it.
You
calling me. I know—you’re getting married.”
“Lisa dear, it’s a week before Christmas—and odd as it may seem, I do occasionally think of my family. Especially around this time of the year. How are the kids? And good old Crew Cut?”
“Still crew-cut and still the most wonderful man in the world. Robin, I should be angry at you—all the times you’ve been to Los Angeles and never called. We’re only an hour away by plane. Kate and Dickie would love to see you. You’ve just caught us. We leave in an hour for Palm Springs. We’ve become tennis nuts. Going to spend the holidays there with Dick’s family. When are we going to see you?”
“Next time I’m in L.A., I promise.” He paused. “How’s the glorious Kitty?”
She didn’t answer immediately. Then she said, “Robin, why do you always call her that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe after the old man died.”
“You mean my father.”
“Come on, Lisa: how’s Kitty?”
“Why
do
you call her Kitty?”
He laughed. “Okay, what is Mummy up to these days? Is that better?”
“She was a good mother to you, Robin.”
“She sure was, and I’m glad that she’s having a ball. How is she?”
“Not well. She has what they call walking coronaries—mild little heart attacks. She was hospitalized for a month. She’s all right but the doctor warned her not to overdo things. She carries nitroglycerin tablets. And she moved into a big house in Rome. Of course there’s someone else on the scene now—this one is twenty-two. I think he’s a fag. She says he cooks for her, waits on her hand and foot and adores her. She gives him an allowance. Can you stand it?”
“I think it’s great,” Robin said. “What do you want her to do, have an arthritic old man creaking around? I’m like Kitty, I also like them young and attractive.”
“Don’t you ever want children and a home of your own?”
“Hell, no—and I’ll tell you something. I don’t think the glorious Kitty did either. I think she had us because it was the thing to do.”
“Don’t say that!” she said hotly.
“Oh come off it, Lisa. We always had a nurse, at least you did. I can still remember how frightened Kitty was when she had to hold you. And I can’t remember her ever holding me when I was a baby. I think we were just part of the scheme—a boy and a girl to go with the house.”
“She loved kids,” Lisa snapped. “She wanted children so much, she had almost given up when I arrived.”
“Shows you how much I mattered,” he said lightly.
“No. It was different. After all, we are seven years apart. She wanted a house full of kids. She almost died having me, and she had three miscarriages after me.”
“How come I never knew any of this?”
“I never knew about it either. But a year after Dad died, she came to visit us for a short time. I was three months pregnant with Kate. And she said, ‘Don’t just have one, Lisa—or even two.
Have a house full of children. I have so much money to leave to you and Robin. You both can afford many children. And life means nothing without them.’ That’s when she told me a lot of things. I wanted her to live with us but she was dead set against it. She said I had my own husband and life—and it was up to her to make her own. She was determined to live in Europe.”