by Cindy Bokma
“Claire.”
“Well look what the cat dragged in. If it isn’t Delia Kubias.”
We took a moment to size each other up. Her hair was heavily frosted and around her neck hung a diamond necklace. Her red painted nails curled over the tops of her fingers. I smelled her expensive perfume, noted her tailored clothes and the ever-present high heels on her feet.
“I knew it was only a matter of time before you came crawling back, especially when Leo got sick. I’m surprised it took you so long, to be honest.” She smirked, leaning herself against the steel expanse of the sub-zero refrigerator as she cocked her eyebrow and watched for my reaction, which was one of surprise.
“What are you doing here, Claire? Where is he?” I was tongue-tied and ill-equipped to handle a confrontation with Claire. My body was hot and cold at once and every bone in my body pulsed with fear.
She took a deep breath and cackled, “Oh Delia, you must think you’re so clever, kidnapping your own son and then magically resurfacing just as Leo is on his deathbed. Tell me something, is it the money? Is that why you’re back? To arrive here as he’s barely coherent, it’s brilliant. Coming back to claim what you think is yours, are you?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s not like that at all. I can explain, just listen—”
“Spare me the story. You left him, but I was here to console him after his son was taken from him. You should have seen him. What a mess. When he was diagnosed, who was there to hold his hand? Who has been living under this roof for the last nine months, caring for Leo? Not you. And if you think you can show up to claim his money then you are sorely mistaken.”
“I only wanted Will to see his father before it was too late, I—”
“How much will it take to make you go away?”
“What? I don’t understand, what are you talking about?”
“One million? Two? You can see how you coming back now messes it all up for me. So, what will it take to get you to leave quietly?”
“When did you . . . how . . . ?”
“Oh, please.” She paused to enhance the drama of the moment.
I wondered where Leo was. Somewhere in the house? Hospice care? Hospital?
Claire dropped her body into a chair. “I suppose you want to know what happened.”
“I want Will to see his father. That’s it. Then we can be on our way.” I fumbled with the strap of my purse. I couldn’t stand still.
“I'll tell you Delia, after you left, Leo called, knowing you and I were friends. Honestly, I didn’t know where you were, but I was only too happy to let him cry on my shoulder as we tried to find you. Well, that’s not entirely true.” She tapped her long nails together like a mad scientist.
“What do you mean?”
“Come on. He always knew where you were.” She pursed her lips. When I didn’t talk, she continued, “He had you followed every day. Do you think he’s stupid?”
My mouth dropped open and chills popped up along my arms. “What are you talking about?”
“There was always someone watching. He said he wanted to keep you safe, prevent a kidnapping. I’m not going to pretend I understand his reasoning. He knew you left. Someone was on your trail all day, all night.”
“I don’t believe you,” I murmured, my mind racing. So, I had been followed. I was never safe, never been out of Leo’s grasp. I was right to lock my doors and look over my shoulder. He was there every step of the way. I felt as though the wind had been knocked out of me, I could barely catch my breath. I refused to look at Claire as she spoke.
“He spared no expense looking for you and naturally, he found you. It didn't take long. You think you're so clever but he's much smarter." she chuckled. "After his diagnosis, I had to help him get through the days and weeks. I took over. I convinced him to let you go, to focus on his health. I moved in. We grew closer. I’ve been here every step of the way for him, through surgery, through chemo. It’s not been easy. But you do these things for the people you love.” She held out her emerald ring in front of her and admired it. The sunlight glinted off the large stone.
I opened my mouth to speak but couldn't find any words.
She glanced at me, “But don’t worry, he knew exactly where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing. Oh, sure. Those hotels in Mexico, yuck. You could’ve done better. Oh and guess what? He flew out to your quaint little town to see Will. Don’t be so shocked. Leo’s a man who gets what he wants and he wanted to see his son.” Her cosmetically enhanced face twisted into a wicked smile. “He might have been sick and weak, but once he makes up his mind . . .” She shrugged.
I paused to gather my thoughts and pulled out a chair then fell into it. I had been watched? Leo had been in town and I didn’t even know it? Where were my maternal instincts, why didn’t I inherently know that Leo was there? Had he been in my house? Did he watch Will on the playground at school? See us walking home? I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples.
“But he left and you can thank me.” Claire sniffed the air and raised her head so that she looked down at me.
“Thank you?”
“Yes. I insisted he leave you alone. Don’t be so dumb. You knew I was in love with Leo for a long time. If he sent the police after you or charged you with kidnapping, or brought you back here, that would destroy any opportunity I’d have with him. Why would I want to ruin my chance? Selfishly, I convinced him to let you be. Leave you alone. You were unhappy with the generous life Leo provided for you here.”
“You know . . .” I tried to find the words. What good would it do now? She had to have known what Leo did. She saw the bruises, the scars. Maybe she thought it was my fault, that I brought it on myself. I didn’t have the energy to discuss it with her. Not now, not ever.
“He wanted to be sure his son was all right. He kept tabs on him. On you.”
She paused to let the words sink in. I had never been free of Leo. He was always there, watching.
Claire cleared her throat. “Just think of what the media would do if they caught wind of you coming into town at this stage. Prodigal wife returns, hallelujah. What would your story be? Insanity? Vacation? A treatment center for a disease of your own? You and Will would be on all the papers and magazines, television shows would be bidding for your exclusive interview. Did you think of all that when you came here? Did you come back for a taste of the good life again? Tired of trying to scrape by in a small town?”
“I want Will to see his father. That’s it. This trip has nothing to do about money.” Suddenly drained of energy, I slumped over in my chair and closed my eyes. I didn’t want to fight with Claire. I had nothing to prove. The idea that Leo tracked me down filled my head. He saw us. He knew. He always knew where I was. I was never free.
“Leo divided his assets, you get nothing.” She glared at me with cold eyes, her face contorted in an unattractive expression.
“I don’t want a penny.” I leaned forward in the stiff chair, “You’ve been with him so long, Claire. Surely, you’ve seen another side to him, one that’s . . . frightening and angry? You can understand why I left? And why I’m back now? Has he told you about his family? Did he mention Aurora?”
She waved my concerns away with her heavily jeweled hand. “I’ve seen nothing but a gentleman who has had the misfortune of a deadly disease. I feel lucky to have spent so much time with him.” Claire shook her head, her diamond earrings swaying in her lobes. “We both know it should have been me that day.”
“What day?”
“It should have been me that he chose, you know. I don’t know why he ever wanted to go out with you. You’re a baby for crying out loud. But Leo and I, we get along like peaches and cream. Meant to be together, I’d say. At least I can be there for him now, and that’s what’s really important.” Her face was marked with mockery as she rose from her seat and wiped invisible dust off her pants.
“I can’t believe he knew everything.” My voice came out in a whisper.
“Oh, we knew all abou
t Ethan and Grace. Cute. Did you come up with those names yourself? Mrs. Jensen?” she asked matter-of-factly. My eyes grew wide. “Is that a family name?”
“Where’s Will right now?” I didn’t hear his footsteps running across the floor. It had been several minutes since I heard any noise coming from upstairs. Although being down here, it would have been almost impossible to hear anything in any of the other seven thousand square feet of marble, granite, and tile.
“Will?” I called. “Will?” I took a step forward and Claire cinched my wrist with her cold hand.
“Don’t,” she hissed. “I can assure you that he doesn’t want to see you.”
“I only want to find Will.”
Her face grew serious and suddenly the mocking, condescending tone was gone as she said sadly, “Come on, Delia. He’s visiting with Leo. I saw Will upstairs and told him to go in and see his father. He’s barely able to open his eyes. He’s on a morphine drip. The end is very near.”
I nodded.
“Before you left, didn’t you ever notice Leo complaining of back pain? Headaches?”
I tried to think back to him talking about headaches. I recalled his head throbbing from the pressures he faced on the movie sets dealing with insolent people. He was generally in a sensitive mood when he came in the door from work and often told me it was my fault that he was in pain. He religiously went to a chiropractor and had a masseuse on speed dial.
“He’s been through so much. The diagnosis was devastating. The MRI’s, biopsies, medication. Finally, the neuro-oncologist told him there was nothing they could do. The cancer was too far gone. He’s been having seizures and headaches. It’s pitiful to see that handsome and powerful man reduced to a shadow of himself. At least we have excellent nurses come in and take care of him, try to make him comfortable.” She pulled out a tissue from her pocket and dabbed her watery eyes.
“I had no idea,” I said softly. Would a cancer diagnosis have changed things? Would I have stuck around? I wanted to feel sympathy for him but I couldn’t muster even a bit of it.
“So, now what?” she asked, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin. “What are your intentions here?”
“We’ll go back home. Will needs to go back to school. We have a new life on the east coast.”
“And will you be Delia again? Or be Grace?”
“Does it even matter?”
Claire snorted. “Not to me, it doesn’t.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but at that moment Will entered into the kitchen. His demeanor was defeated and I longed to ask him what happened with his father.
“I’ll walk you out,” Claire offered.
“He asked to see you, Mom.” Will’s eyes met mine.
Why would Leo want to see me? Maybe he wanted to berate me one last time, from his deathbed. “Did he say why?”
Will shook his head.
“Is everything all right?” I bent down so I was eye level with my son. “You okay?”
He nodded but his gaze was out the window, toward the backyard as if he was daydreaming.
“Maybe I should go check on him, see if he needs more meds . . .” Claire made a move to get up and I gingerly put a hand on her arm.
“I’ll go see him.”
“That’s probably not a good—”
“It’s okay. Why don’t you get Will a snack while I see what he wants. Do you have crackers or chips? Can you get him a glass of water?”
She sighed heavily then went to find something for Will to eat.
I kissed my son on top of his head and slowly climbed the elaborate staircase winding up to the second floor. My heart jackhammered in my chest, my breath was ragged, and my hands shook as I held the banister. With each step, I dredged up the scenarios that caused my feet to move slowly up the stairs. Him throwing a plate at me when I overcooked dinner. Swearing at me on the set of his movie, “Never come here again. This is my work, I don’t want you here . . .” Constant comments about my weight, my hair, my clothes. Memories piled one on top of the other.
Leo, laughing at me when I took out my knitting and gardening tools. “Are you an old woman? You’re my wife, for crying out loud. Find a more suitable hobby. Take up hiking in the Hollywood Hills. Jesus, Delia. Look at you, you need to lose weight, biking wouldn’t hurt . . .”
I gently pushed open the door to the master suite and noticed right away that nothing had changed since I left. It was a large room with stark white walls and austere modern furniture, his cherished white Noguchi free-form sofa still occupied the far corner of the room. The blinds were drawn, but I could make out a vague figure in the king-sized platform bed. As I inched closer, I saw Leo’s once angular and sharp handsome face. His eyes were sunken, his cheeks hollowed. His hair looked thinner and his collarbone was visible in the thin cotton tee shirt he wore. The seven-hundred thread count sheets were pulled over him, but I could still make out his bony form under the fabric.
“Leo?”
His eyes fluttered open and he coughed. With his skeletal hand, he motioned for me to sit in his Mies van der Rohe Barcelona chair. He had always forbidden me from sitting on it before. A bodice-ripping romance novel sat on the night stand, obviously Claire’s.
I perched uneasily on the edge of the seat and stared at my hands. It was easier to look down at my lap than face him.
“Delia.”
“Yes.”
His low voice was hoarse and raspy. “I knew you would come sooner or later.”
“I wanted Will to see you before you . . .” I let the words hang in the air. “I didn’t know whether or not I should come. I’m still not certain if we should be here. Maybe it’s not a good idea . . .”
He turned to face me head-on. “I wanted to see my son.”
I looked up, meeting his ice blue eyes that now bore a sad gaze, reminding me of a hound dog.
“Claire told me you found us. You were there and didn’t contact me. You could have taken Will. You left us alone.” I bit my nail out of nervous energy. My heart pounded, refusing to resume its normal rhythm. My chest was tight.
His lips were thin and chapped and he licked them before he answered. “I wanted to talk to him. But I didn’t want him to see me like this.” He motioned to his body. “I always knew where you were. I wanted to take him back, punish you for what you did . . . but then I was diagnosed with cancer and suddenly...” He paused to take a breath. “The best I could do for Will was let him live with you.”
His communication came slowly and it took a while for him to think of the words and get them out. “I saw him, looking so happy, I saw you too. I spent a couple of days in town. I debated whether I should see you, but I didn’t want to . . . frighten him. Despite what you think, I love Will.”
“You came to the east coast so you could look at us?”
“I’m a terminally sick man. I’ve been hanging on.” He paused, taking a large breath. “What could I have done? Taken Will and pressed charges against you?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “You could have had me arrested.”
“Why? So I could drag you to court when there was a chance I wouldn’t last through the trial?” He coughed and took a moment to catch his breath. I listened helplessly as he wheezed and sputtered. “Will would have ended up living with Claire with me dead, you in jail.” He wheezed.
I hugged my arms around my torso and shivered. I didn’t know what to say so I remained quiet.
We chatted quietly for a few minutes about Will, tip-toeing around more serious topics. It was odd sitting in the chair, next to his bed, in this house. I didn’t want him to ask me why I left. I didn’t want to relive the moments that forced me to leave town, taking his son with me.
“Delia . . . will you stay?” he gasped. I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t see him in perfect control, standing tall and well-groomed in his expensive clothes and manicured appearance. I had a fleeting thought that the man in the bed before me was an imposter, and the real Leo would stroll in a
t any moment and push me up against the wall, his hand around my neck. I put up a confident front, but my heart raced. I was frightened.
“I’m here for a day or two.” I bit the nails of my left hand.
I noted the numerous prescription bottles cluttering his nightstand, a halfempty water glass, and a box of tissues.
“I want . . . you and Will to stay for a few days. You can sleep here. Stay in one of the guest rooms. I want to spend time with my son. Just for a little while. Please, Delia. I don’t have long to live. There’s nothing the doctors can do. All they can do is make me comfortable.”
I looked up into his pleading eyes; my own swept over his hunched shoulders and his folded hands on top of the white blanket. Why should I grant him anything? Would he apologize for how he treated me? Did he realize how he had broken me down?
“What about Claire?” I asked. I knew Claire would be furious if I were to stay. With Will and me here, a wrench would be thrown into her plans.
“Send her up here, would you please? I’ll talk to her; explain that I need my son.”
I nodded, licking my lips. My heart thumped with full force. As I started walking toward the door, I stopped mid-stride and turned to glance back. His head was back on the pillow, turned toward the wall. He looked helpless and fragile, like a small, sick child. It was hard for me to believe this was the man who threatened my life only one year ago. Harder still, was the fact I was standing in his bedroom, agreeing to stay with him. I am doing it for Will, I swore silently to myself.
I was struck with a realization as I stood on the snowy white carpe:, this was the first time I was able to have closure with someone; my parents died, I lost touch with Rita, I walked out on Aunt Priscilla and Taffy, and Randall left never giving me the chance to see him again.
Now I could properly say goodbye, albeit on a sad note, but I would be able to have finality. With this new awareness, I took a deep breath and, closing the door softly behind me, went to find Claire.
“Tell me about Aurora Pazzo,” I whispered.