Until the End of Time

by Schuster, Melanie

  From the time Dana was four years old there was nothing she could not get from a man if she so chose. She had been able to wrap her father around her little finger from the day of her birth. As an only child of wealthy parents, she was indulged to an extent that would have been criminal if they hadn’t had the means to provide for her. Luckily, she was intelligent and somewhat ambitious. She was clever enough to parlay her feline good looks into a career that would show them off admirably. Dana was made for television.

  She was small and possessed of the best figure that money could buy; Andrew hadn’t exaggerated about her debt to the plastic surgeon’s scalpel. Her pale little face was rather heart shaped, with the pointed little chin giving her the look of a Siamese cat. Only a few people knew that her gray eyes were courtesy of Bausch and Lomb because her contact lenses were worn as continuously as possible. She had an abundance of brown hair, skillfully augmented here and there with micro extensions; she would have died if she realized that Renee was experienced enough to have spotted them immediately. All in all, she was rather winsome if no one looked too close.

  What she was missing was the essential warmth and charm that makes a woman desirable. It was odd that she had so little of each at the same time that Renee was letting hers loose for the first time in a millennium, but that’s why it’s called irony. To Dana’s mind, however, there was but one thing missing in her life and that was a handsome, internationally known, wealthy surgeon for a husband. When she laid eyes on Andrew for the first time, she had gone into action. This one is mine, she had told herself, and she was moving heaven and earth to make it happen. It just wasn’t happening fast enough and for some unaccountable reason, that overgrown hairdresser was impeding her progress. Dana felt that it was time she took a stand with the woman.

  Dana decided to clue Renee in on the real situation between her and Andrew. Obviously, there was some kind of family tie there, but please! The woman was older that she was and way darker, not to mention the fact that she was surely lacking in the social skills that it would take to satisfy Andrew over the long haul. Dana was frankly tired of the traveling and the schlepping around of foreign reporting and was ready to do something else, like be a rich man’s wife. And the fact that his family owned Cochran Industries was an added bonus. Once this beautician person had stepped to the side, Dana could get going with her plan. Nothing had ever stood in her way before and nothing was going to impede her now.

  Dana arrived at Urban Oasis dressed to the nines; she felt sleek and courant in a little Miu-Miu summer frock. She had to admit that she was impressed by the general layout of the place—it looked like the kind of place that celebrities went to in Paris and New York. In an eerie twist, an extremely tall man who was the current Big Thing in movies came around the corner with his arm around Renee’s shoulder, thanking her for the great haircut and telling her when he would be back in town. He planted a big kiss on her cheek and left by a discreet side door. Dana hesitated for a moment—maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.

  Renee saw her standing there in her trendy sundress looking like a lost teenager. What fresh hell is this thought Renee before she walked over to greet the child. Renee was wearing some comfortable Prada flats and a chic DKNY shirt and trousers that made her look cool, comfortable and in charge, which, of course, she was.

  “Dana, how, umm, odd to see you. Is there something I can do for you?” Renee asked politely.

  Dana looked Rene up and down and decided that she was no competition. “Well, I was just in the neighborhood so I decided to stop by to say hello. You are still coming to the wedding, aren’t you?” she said breezily.

  Renee was equally breezy in her reply “Oh yes, I certainly am. How could I refuse such a gracious invitation, after all. I’m so looking forward to it.”

  “So are Andrew and I,” confided Dana. “It’s going to be such fun for us to be together that night. After what we shared in Haiti…well, you know that kind of passion just doesn’t disappear. We’re so looking forward to rekindling it. He’s been so busy this week, just getting back and all, but that will all be over this weekend,” she purred.

  She winked at Renee and turned to leave, but not before reminding Renee that it was a formal wedding.

  Renee stared at Dana’s retreating figure. I think the little wench just told me how to dress, she mused. Instead of getting angry, Renee got a huge smile on her face. This was going to be fun. Big fun.

  Renee decided not to attend the wedding, she was only going to the reception to be with Andrew. It was tacky enough to be going to a wedding to settle a score; she wasn’t going to compound her sins by gawking at strangers taking vows. Regardless of what she felt about marriage in general, it was someone else’s special day and she was going to be as discreet as possible. Up to a point, that was. While she was getting dressed she reflected on her decision to attend. She had to admit that it had gone beyond her irritation at Dana Pierson Girl Reporter and had segued into some kind of validation of self. That little ochre witch actually thought that she could intimidate Renee ‘Miss Thing’ Kemp with her store bought boobs and expensively weaved hair. Maybe she could have, in Renee’s youth. No question, after the Pittsburgh debacle when Renee was lost, lonely and hiding out, she could have; but not now and certainly not tonight.

  Renee took an extra long time in the tub that evening. She adored her claw-footed bathtub because she could fill it up to her shoulders and luxuriate in bubbles as long as she liked. Finally, thoroughly scented with Annick Goutal bath gel, she came out of the tub lightly patted herself dry and creamed and lotioned her body with the same scent. Renee brushed her glossy black hair off her forehead to draw attention to her face. She applied a bare minimum of makeup with the exception of lots of mascara to bring out her fabulous eyes.

  She sprayed on a cloud of Annick Goutal, slipped on her dress and a pair of scandalous Dolce & Gabbana evening sandals that were little more than glittering wisps on four-inch heels. Renee surveyed herself in her three-way full-length mirror. Her one accessory was a theatrical pair of vintage earrings. They were constructed of crystal beads and a delicate fan of pink feathers and were outrageously feminine. They had belonged to Renee’s great-aunt who was once a burlesque dancer in New York. With a satisfied nod to her reflection, Renee picked up her tiny evening bag and turned off the lights before leaving. Fasten your seat belts, she thought. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.

  Andrew was bored out of his mind. The wedding was nice enough, and he actually knew the groom slightly. But that brief acquaintance was not enough to mitigate his desire to be somewhere else, preferably with Renee. Going to a wedding with someone who was in the wedding party was stupid. You had to hang around and hang around while the bridal party had pictures taken and all kinds of other junk and it was ridiculous. Plus, weddings in general were kind of silly, in Andrew’s estimation. Spending all that money to get married seemed crazy to him. Small wedding, big honeymoon, that was a better idea, he mused. He wondered where Renee would like to go on a honeymoon.

  Okay, that’s how people end up on Prozac, he thought. Where in the world did that come from? Was he just a glutton for punishment or what? Yes, things were taking a nice turn with Renee, but to start thinking about things like honeymoons was just nuts. Andrew almost laughed aloud when he thought of what Renee’s face would look like if she knew what he’d been thinking. He knew most of her expressions but that one would truly be award winning, he had no doubt. Andrew was sitting off by himself in the ballroom of the fancy hotel nursing a glass of wine while he brooded. How had he gotten stuck here and why couldn’t he just be off someplace having a good time with Renee? And where was she anyway, he thought, glancing at his Philippe Patek tank watch. The woman had no concept of time.

  Suddenly, his attention was drawn to the main doorway. Everyone’s eyes seemed to turn that way. Assuming it was the bridal party, Andrew was about to turn back to his glass of wine. Finally a man and his date moved to one side and Andrew had a
n unobstructed view of what was causing the minor commotion by the door. It was Renee, looking like Josephine Baker reincarnated in her heyday. She was wearing a pale pink glove of a dress that clung with shimmering ferocity to every single one of her curves. It was a fanciful notion, but Andrew could have sworn that he heard some sort of music with every step that she took. Renee moved slowly across the room just like she owned it, which at that moment she did. He had often seen her looking wonderful, but tonight she was just plain incredible.

  Renee walked towards Andrew with the air of a queen allowing homage to be paid her. She had a slightly amused expression on her face due to the ripple of activity that seemed to follow in her wake. Indeed, there was an odd moment when two waiters collided after discovering that her dress had no back in it whatsoever. Luckily, only a few glasses actually broke and most of them were not filled at the time. Renee was totally unrepentant, though. When she reached Andrew she merely smiled. “Let’s see; chaos, panic and disorder. I think my work here is done,” she said with amusement.

  Andrew was overcome by admiration. “Damn, you look beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous.” He kissed her on both cheeks and walked around her, giving a low wolf whistle when he saw the back of her dress. “Hot damn! Where did you get this dress from, Renee?”

  Renee gave him a mysterious smile. She wasn’t about to tell him that the dress had come from his sister’s closet. Bennie had the dress made to let Clay know that she meant business and it had worked admirably for her, so Renee decided to see if the charm would hold. It apparently had because Andrew was looking at her like she was the only woman in the known universe. The only thing that was better than the enraptured look on Andrew’s face was the look of dismay that riddled little Dana’s countenance.

  When the bridal party finally arrived and was situated at the enormous head table, Dana had craned her head frantically trying to locate Andrew. When she finally found him seated with Renee her stomach actually turned over. Andrew was wearing the unmistakable look of a man deeply smitten, and Dana was at least bright enough to realize that the look wasn’t for her. As soon as was humanly possible she hustled over to their table to break up their little clinch. Dana was also wearing pink, as was the rest of the bridal party. Unhappily, it wasn’t the subtle, sensuous pastel of Renee’s frock. Dana’s was the resounding, bilious hue most often seen in bottles of Pepto-Bismol, and it was presented in taffeta and ruffles, no less. Cousin Deirdre, it seemed, adhered to the thinking that the bridesmaid should never look as good as the bride. The frightening antebellum outfits she chose for her attendants made sure of that.

  Dana was not to be denied, however. She did everything short of throwing herself into Andrew’s lap to get his attention, all to no avail. For her part, Renee was sweetly gracious, which seemed to enrage Dana. Every time Renee would attempt to engage her in conversation, Dana would snap and snarl, giving her all the charm of a rabid Schnauzer. This amused Renee very much, which had the same effect on Dana as splashing kerosene on a barbecue. Every polite comment just set Dana off again. Much of this by-play was lost on Andrew, who was too busy drooling over Renee to pay Dana’s antics any attention. Finally, Dana resorted to international subterfuge, which was a huge mistake on her part.

  Leaning over to Renee, Dana hissed at her in French. “You are a great big cow with the face of a dog. You look like a slut in that dress and you’re way too black to be wearing pink, you tramp.” Dana was unaware that her face had taken on an ugly red hue that was really nasty looking with the Pink Shmatta from Hell.

  Renee’s face took on a look of total amusement. She didn’t even bother to raise her voice when she responded to Dana. “You are a very pathetic and strange young woman. You would do well to wipe the foam off your mouth and tuck in that bra strap because you are making a fool out of yourself. And the next time you want to go to battle, bring weapons other than your wit and charm because you are pitifully unarmed,” she said in perfect French.

  Dana’s mouth fell open with shock. Who knew that the black bitch spoke French, she thought.

  By now even Andrew knew that something was amiss and decided a discreet retreat was in order. He stood, bowed to the table, pulled out Renee’s chair and escorted her out, trying very hard not to laugh as he did so. They made it almost all the way to valet parking before he let loose.

  “Damn, that was fun. I would have paid to see that. Renee, you are better than guerilla theater,” he sighed as he wiped away tears of laughter. “My place or yours?” he added as they waited for their cars to be brought around.

  ***

  Renee looked over at Yolanda and was bashfully pleased at Yolanda’s look of total admiration. After a moment of silence Yolanda actually rose to her feet and gave Renee a bow before giving her a hand.

  “Brava, Renee, brava! What a lot of ground you’ve covered! I’m so very pleased. You’ve taken some tremendous steps lately. You’ve allowed a man of your age to befriend you, to show admiration and desire and you’ve been able to reciprocate that desire,” Yolanda said, counting off Renee’s triumphs on her fingertips.

  “You were able to discuss a very meaningful and painful part of your past and you were able to confront a romantic rival with panache and wit. Two years ago, none of this would have happened, Renee. Even a year ago, these things would simply not have been possible. You’re making wonderful progress,” Yolanda said warmly. She stopped talking long enough to really look at Renee, who was looking slightly uncomfortable; she wasn't basking in the aura of approval that Yolanda was creating.

  “Okay, Renee, what’s going on in that clever little mind of yours? You don’t seem to be as thrilled as I am with all your progress.” Yolanda tilted her head into a listening pose to encourage Renee to speak.

  As was her habit, Renee stood and started fidgeting around the office before answering. Yolanda was dead on the money when she recognized that Renee was not entirely happy with what had been going on in her life. Yes, she was having a ball with Andrew. Yes, it was free and easy and sweet and fun, but it was just a little bit too free and easy. Things just didn’t happen like that of their own accord, at least not in Renee’s life. Things happened for her when she made them happen, when she was the one pulling the strings and writing the script. This was just too spontaneous and wonderful; something was bound to go wrong. And besides, where was it all going to end up? Renee finally turned to Yolanda with a face full of despair.

  “Yolanda, suppose I’m just kidding myself? Suppose I’m never going to get past…you know. I think things are just going too fast, is all. I don’t know if I’m ready for anything else,” Renee whispered. “I don’t know if I ever will be,” she added.

  She put down the carved African figurine she was clutching and finally wandered back over to the sofa where she sat down, scrunching herself in the corner and barricading herself with a large throw pillow. She looked at Yolanda with huge, wanting eyes, silently pleading for redemption. Yolanda leaned forward and took her hands.

  “Renee, rape is a terrible ordeal. The fact that you were raped by a colleague; someone that you trusted and admired is even more shattering. Whether it happened 10 days ago or 10 years ago like yours is immaterial. There is no statute of limitations on how long you suffer from something like that.” Yolanda gently tightened her grip on Renee’s hands and continued to speak in a soothing voice.

  “When you first came to me it was because you said you were tired of being a victim. Tired of suffering in silence, right? You had carried that burden alone for so many years that you were finally worn out from it. You were done with the pain and you wanted to learn how to live again. Well, that’s what you’re doing right now. It’s like learning how to ride a bicycle all over again. Right now it’s like you just took off the training wheels, but you still feel a little shaky. That’s normal, that’s understandable. But you will be able to ride that bike again--I truly believe that. Down the street, up the street and maybe around the block a time or two. And before you know it,
you’ll be training for a triathlon, girl. And I’ll be cheering you on!”

  Renee’s eyes filled with tears of gratitude for Yolanda’s comforting words. She always seemed to know what to say to keep her on the right path. She even laughed a little as she wiped away the tears. Bicycle riding, huh? Little did Yolanda know, Renee had once been the two-wheeled 10-speed champion of Chateau Avenue in Cleveland, Ohio. And if Yolanda believed in her, she could do it again, even with a slightly different context. She might even pop a wheelie or two before it was over.

  Chapter Eight

  Although Renee was poised on the brink of uncertainty, Andrew was having the time of his life. It seemed as though Renee had filled an empty hole that Andrew hadn’t known existed until now. In some ways he rued the years they’d wasted picking on each other like grade school children. In other ways he was profoundly grateful that they had spent so many years being acquainted. There were so many things they knew about each other, so many things they understood. He knew that Renee was a demon tennis player, that she was good with children, that she loved old black and white movies, theatre and the blues. He knew that she was allergic to lobster, she adored jellybeans and would run screaming at the sight of any many-legged creature. He even knew about her penchant for counting her fingers when she was concentrating. She would touch her fingers to her thumb one at a time, starting with her pinky and ending with her index finger. She would do this over and over again, as if to reassure herself that they were all still attached.