Shadows, page 18
She thought about calling her mother. It wasn’t too late. But what was there to tell her? Nothing new, really, but it might be good to hear her mother’s voice, to speak to someone who loved her. Yes, it would be, but she couldn’t do it. Once she began to talk, she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold back what had happened with Alex. She’d spill everything, and more tears would flow. Her mother would comfort her, and then what? She’d cried enough for one night.
She put the dishes in the sink, turned out the lights, and went back upstairs to try and get some sleep. She took the latest issue of The New Yorker with her. She settled herself in bed and tried reading. It was no surprise that she couldn’t concentrate. The words had no meaning. Her mind was elsewhere. Scattered thoughts racing like wind-driven clouds, going in all directions, but mostly backward into the past. A rag doll she’d called Molly that she slept with. Her mother taking her to see The Nutcracker.
She remembered the first time she’d made love with Alex. He’d been so tender, she’d begun to cry. He kissed her tears and told her they were salty and got her to laugh. That’s when she knew she loved him.
But where was he now? Why a hotel at this juncture? She felt it was quite likely he was seeing someone. A moment of rage flared up. How could he be with another woman with all that was going on?
Miriam eventually fell asleep, but her dreams woke her up several times during the night.
Chapter 37
Alex went to the office the next morning with Wanda.
“I’ll go in first,” she said. “We don’t want them seeing us come in together.”
She was taking charge, just as she had in bed. He’d liked it there, her domain, but not here, where it should have been his. Still, it wasn’t worthwhile to argue. So he walked around the block before going in.
He worked harder than usual, in the hope it would take his mind away from what had just happened with Wanda. He also did not want to think about everything else in his life—Miriam, his father, his mother, Clarice. He did not even want to think about his new unknown sister. All that was nothing but bullshit now. The most important thing in his life was his son. Everything would have to wait on Richard.
He explained the situation to Mr. Roth who grudgingly allowed him to work only half a day.
When he got to the hospital Miriam was already there. She looked tired. Probably hadn’t slept well. She made brief eye contact with him then looked away. An arctic chill emanated from her. This did not surprise him, only reinforced the proof of how much he had hurt her the night before. He was grateful that she didn’t ask him anything about how his night had been.
Richard slept, hardly moving. He mumbled in his sleep, the graph on the monitors moved in rhythm.
After more than an hour of doing nothing, Alex said, “How long is this going to go on?”
“However long it takes.”
“I know. I know,” he said.
Miriam had endless patience. He didn’t. Sitting in a hospital room for what seemed like an endless period of time, exhausting and intolerable. He tried to offset the boredom by reading some of the magazines he found in the waiting room. It didn’t help because he could only manage a few sentences. He switched to the television and watched game shows, news, sports. The TV was mounted on the wall in a place suited to the occupant of the bed, not to someone in a chair. The combination of boring content and uncomfortable watching, made him get up frequently and walk in the corridors. In fact, nothing helped.
Finally, after more than four hours had passed, he asked Miriam if she wanted to go to the cafeteria with him.
“I’m not hungry,” she said, still not looking at him. She hadn’t looked at him once all day.
He knew she was angry. He wished she would say something, yell at him, even curse him. Anything would be better than this frozen silence.
“All right then. I’ll go. I need to do something.”
The cafeteria was filled with hospital workers, some in green scrubs, some in white. There were guests, too. You could tell the difference. The workers were all young, animated, talking to each other. The visitors were wearing civilian clothes and looked as if they wished they were somewhere else.
Alex picked up a ready-made tuna fish sandwich, got coffee from an urn, waited in line to pay the cashier, then sat alone at a table. He ate half the sandwich but drank all the coffee. He went back to the room.
Nothing different happened for the next several hours until visiting time was over. They went down in the elevator together, neither of them speaking. Outside, Alex said, “Good night. See you tomorrow.”
As expected, Miriam didn’t reply.
Alex headed straight back to Wanda’s apartment.
Chapter 38
When he arrived at the hospital the next day, Richard’s eyes were open and he was sitting up in bed. Miriam was already there, holding Richard’s hand.
“Fantastic!” Alex said. “How are you feeling?” He wanted to touch him, kiss him, but Miriam’s presence held him back.
Richard tried to smile. “I’m feeling a bit woozy. Got a bit of a headache, but I think I’m okay.”
“I see the IV is still going. Is it bothering you?”
“Not really. They told me I need the nutrients they were giving me. But more important, the doctor told me the operation went great. I’m not going to lose the eye. That’s pretty good news.”
“Great news,” Alex said. He didn’t add that he was still more than worried.
Miriam said she was going out to call her mother and tell her the good news. Alex said he would do the same and call his mother.
Not long after, Miriam’s mother arrived at the hospital accompanied by Henry. He was dapper, as usual, wearing his blue blazer and silk turtleneck.
Alex’s mother came in almost at the same time, She was grave, and did not have much to say, but that was not surprising. She signaled for him to join her out in the corridor. “How are you managing?” she asked.
“Okay. How are you managing?”
She touched his arm. “I’m trying. But I know how difficult this is for you. Thank God Richard will be all right.”
“It’s difficult for everybody.” They walked to the visitor’s lounge. “Come in here for a minute,” he said. “I have something to tell you.”
After they were seated, he said, “I don’t know if you want to hear this, especially now, but before this all happened, I managed to get some information about my sister.”
She shook her head, sadly. “I thought you promised you weren’t going to do anything about that.”
“I know I promised, but I just couldn’t help it. I went to see Rudi Emmenthaler. Remember him?”
She nodded.
He told her all that he’d learned. “The woman my father had the affair with. She’s Rudi Emmenthaler’s wife now. How about that? She was the woman in the diary.”
“I really don’t want to hear about it.”
Alex went on anyway. “But she refused to tell me where her daughter was. Said it wouldn’t be fair to her.”
“She’s right.”
“That’s what Miriam said.”
“Of course. It could even be traumatic for her. I assume they never told her anything. To find out now, after all this time, that your father is not your father. That your mother had an affair with a married man and you’re the result. Think about it. How would you feel?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, I’m sure. It could be a terrible blow.”
“Maybe so, but I still intend to find her.”
“Son, don’t you realize this could have a very bad result? There’s no saying what could happen. The whole thing might explode like a bomb.”
“I don’t see it that way, Mom.”
“You’ve always been a stubborn child.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a child anymore.”
“Then act like an adult. And stop this foolishness.”
Chapter 39
Wanda lived in an old hi-rise, a one-bedroom, furnished partly with what came out of the house she had once shared with her ex-husband. Her place had a thrown-together look, but it was comfortable, and it was on the top floor, with an ocean view.
The routine continued. Sometimes she would open the door wearing a robe over a nightgown, the lacy bottom of which would swirl at her ankles. Sometimes she wore nothing. She always seemed to have that Sunday morning look, hair tousled, eyes sleepy.
When he put his arms around her, he would nuzzle his face into the soft hair at her neck. He’d take a deep breath anticipating her smell of fresh flowers, like gardenias, either from shampoo or perfume. Immediately, at the first touch of her, he would get hard. She did that to him as if he were still the same horny kid he had been at sixteen, getting stiff every time he passed Marian Shore’s house because she had jerked him off once and all he wanted was her hot hand on him again.
On Wanda’s bookshelves, he discovered books dealing with astrology and also books of poetry, among them, Emily Dickinson and William Blake, Clarice’s favorite poets.
“What’s your sign?” she had asked, the first time they were alone in the office.
“Taurus.” He had felt her calm stare and a stirring of interest. “What’s yours?”
“Aquarius.”
“Is that good?” he asked.
“It might be.”
He didn’t pursue it. He’d always thought astrology was a joke.
Mornings, they ate a breakfast of cold cereal with a cut-up banana or scrambled eggs with toast. They sat at the table in the small dining room and looked out at the ocean. From her window, it was like being on a cruise ship with nothing in sight except water and sky. They watched the surfers, slick black wet suits silhouetted on the glistening water, the bright sun bouncing haphazardly off the waves and the foam.
On the server in the dining room was a framed photo of Wanda’s daughter next to the one of her mother. In contrast to Wanda and her mother, the daughter appeared to be plump, with blond hair worn curly and short. She was smiling, standing in front of an ivy-covered wall that was probably her dormitory. The photo of Wanda’s mother had been taken when she was a young woman. She had Wanda’s oval-shaped face, and the same full lips, but unlike Wanda who radiated sex, her mother looked like a dark-haired Valkyrie, shoulders back, eyes cool and confident as she stared directly into the lens. There was something about the look in her mother’s eyes that bothered him. He had no idea why.
“How’s your daughter doing at school?” he once asked, to make conversation.
“Made the Dean’s List,” said the proud mother.”
In bed she initiated a course of action he had never before experienced. His body was constantly reminding him of this. After a few days, there were hurts all over him, nicks, cuts, bruises, a residual soreness from the dildo he had let her use.
At night, with Wanda feverishly investigating, charting unfamiliar seas like Vasco de Gama in search of the hidden and unknown, he let himself be taken the way a child gives her hand to an adult, the way a blind person is led by a sighted one. He abandoned himself to the excess, not allowing himself to judge, recognizing the escape it afforded him. He took to it eagerly. He felt he was lucky to have her, the grantor, who brought forth this bounty. He had no problem with the aching power she had over him.
He now existed in a world beyond reality. It was somewhat like being in the middle of a dream. You see things, you do things, but you have no control over your actions. Just as in a dream state everything unfolds before you while you watch and while you willingly, or sometimes unwillingly, participate. Lately, he’d been having dreams of standing in front of closed doors not knowing which one to open.
He’d gone back to the house when he knew Miriam would be out and packed a small suitcase with clothes and toiletries. He was with Wanda all night, went to work, visited Richard in the hospital, then back to Wanda. He did not want to think about what he knew was a bizarre situation. He did not want to think about Miriam but he could not help but think about her. How was she handling being alone? What was happening with her biopsy? Had she heard from the doctor yet? He must make contact with her, even though she’d made it clear she did not want to talk to him.
He had not even given a thought to his sister since this began. Although he tried not to think about what was happening, he couldn’t help but wonder why had he chosen this particular moment to allow lust to take over his life. He didn’t have any answers, only that it had seemed inevitable.
Wanda, too, had fallen into this strange routine. She went from their bed to the office, then back to their bed.
The achievement of orgasm consumed them. It was almost a reprise of his first year with Miriam, except that Wanda was more inventive, more interested in the experiment. He made no protest, in fact, he encouraged her. “I don’t care what you want to do. Do it.”
One time she went to the drawer where she kept the ropes and took out two zippered plastic bags.
“What do you do with those?” he asked.
“Put them on later. In the middle. You breathe your own air. It heightens everything.”
“Can’t you choke? Asphyxiate? Didn’t I read people die doing this kind of thing?”
“They didn’t know what they were doing. They went too far. They tried to get more than they needed. Don’t worry. Trust me.”
“If you say so.”
“I haven’t hurt you so far.”
“Yes, you have.”
“But you liked it.”
“Yes.” He was glad it hurt. He wanted it to hurt.
He closed his eyes and waited for her to begin.
When they weren’t fucking they talked. Wanda did most of it. In the middle of the night, under the covers, damp, naked, drowsy but awake, she told him for the first time what her life had been like.
“I married Stanislaus when I was seventeen. I don’t know what I was thinking. A way out of the house. Independence. My mother and I were fighting all the time. My father, he stayed out of it. He was a lot older, and let her run the show. Maybe the women in my family are all the same. I mean about men. Stanislaus was ten years older than me. You’re twelve years older—”
“Thirteen.”
“Same difference. He wasn’t a bad guy. He loved me. Too bad I didn’t love him.
I got pregnant almost immediately. When Judy was born I felt I didn’t need any more in my life. Stan didn’t see it that way. I guess gave everything I had to Judy and nothing was left for him. He didn’t handle it well. He got sullen. He’d plop himself down in front of the TV after dinner and that was it. Sad on the outside, angry inside. He didn’t want to have anything to do with the baby, either. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ I’d say. ‘Don’t you want to hold her, she’s so beautiful?’ ‘You hold her’ he'd say. ‘That’s all you ever want to do, anyway. Never mind about holdin’ me.’ He’d act so miserable sometimes I would feel sorry for him and let him make love to me but there was nothing there. He knew it and I knew it.
“Then one night he threw a plate. Out of nowhere. Just like that, he throws it. It smashes against the wall and Judy starts screaming. ‘What the hell is that all about?’ ‘Nothing,’ he says. ‘I just felt like it.’ ‘Then you clean it up mister, and if you scare my baby one more time like that, I’m outta here.’ And he gives me this wicked little smirk, ‘And just where do you think you might go with no money and no job?’ I didn’t answer because I knew he had me. But that was the end of our marriage. I started putting money away almost the very next day. I took courses in typing and word processing. It took me more than a year before I was able to get a job. The day I got it, I walked out.”
They were lying on their backs, hips touching. Now she rolled on her side and put one leg across his. She put one hand on his chest and ran her fingers back and forth.
He put his hand on her leg and gently squeezed. “It must’ve been tough being a single mother.”
“Tough doesn’t begin to describe it. I can tell you this: I grew up very fast. Getting a decent job was hard enough, but that was only one small part of it. I had to see that Judy was all right. I left Stan when Judy was five, so she was in kindergarten when I went to work. That helped. It was a full-day kindergarten and they had a daycare afterward that kept her until I got home from work, which was great. But sexual harassment? Forget about it. Every time I began a job I got leaned over, brushed up against, propositioned, and when I complained, was looked upon as a spoilsport. Can’t you take a joke? All in fun. Yeah, you bet.”
Silence for a while. Then she said, “Do you want to know about the men in my life?”
“I don’t think so.”
She went on anyway. “There weren’t that many. Some of them were nice, most of them were slugs. I always had a hard time telling the difference until it was too late. But one guy…he made a powerful impression on me.”
“Who was that?”
“His name was Bill. Just Plain Bill. He was an amazing lover. I was so enthralled I would do anything he asked. So when he started giving me pills, I took them. He got me smoking weed, then I graduated to coke, LSD, heroin. He even found opium. The result was that I was as hooked as any doper you see on the street. All the same, it wasn’t all on him, it was on me. I can’t explain it. Because it wasn’t just the drugs I was addicted to, it was Bill. I was headed South and I knew it, but I couldn’t do anything about it.”
Alex touched her cheek. “Sounds pretty bad, but I know you did do something about it. Right?”
“Actually, it was Judy. My daughter. She was the one who saved me. She was eleven. Very serious. Very smart. Always got grades in the high nineties. Helped around the house. The kind of kid every mother dreams about having. One night after Bill left she made me sit down next to her on the couch. Like she was the mother and I was the child. She told me she knew I was doing drugs and that they would eventually kill me. She didn’t want to lose me, she said. I was crying my head off. I didn’t know what to do. I knew she was right but I was out of control. And then she said that Bill had tried to get her to use. That did it. Hook my baby! It wasn’t enough to have me a junkie? I told him never to come around again and I stuck to my guns. He didn’t give up easily but I’m a tough cookie when I want to be. So that was the end of Bill. I gave up the drugs. And let me tell you, going cold turkey was about the hardest thing I ever did in my life.”
