She peered over the rim of the glass as she took a sip. There was something so gentle, so lonely, so poignantly sad in his face. Trying to keep the traces of what she felt within herself, casually she said, picking up the tray of hors d’oeuvres, “Dominic, have one of these while they’re still hot.”
“They are delicious … you’re even an excellent cook.”
Laughing, she said, “I’m afraid not … these are frozen … Why? Are you that fond of home cooking?”
“I suppose … remember, I have an Italian mother.”
“Well … I have a Jewish mother. I imagine that explains why I love chicken soup.”
They both laughed and the laughter seemed so good, especially for Dominic. “Here, let me refresh your drink,” Victoria said, taking the glass from Dominic. As she stood at the large brass bar cart, she asked suddenly, “Dominic, how would you like to have dinner here?”
“Are you sure … no, I wouldn’t hear of it. It’s too much trouble.”
“No, it isn’t, not really … remember my Jewish mother? I have a freezer full of goodies.”
Dominic smiled, “That would be nice. You’re sure now?”
“I’m sure … turn on the stereo and amuse yourself while I go back to the kitchen and start thawing out.”
After dinner they sat on the sofa drinking their black coffee. Dominic said, “This has been a great evening.”
“That makes me very happy.”
He looked at her.
“Dominic … it’s very strange, I’ve known you, how long?”
“Since you went into L.J.’s office. How long ago was that?”
“About ten years … that’s a long time, isn’t it?”
“I can’t believe it … you’ve hardly changed.”
“Of course, I’ve changed, we’ve all changed … but what I started to say was that people don’t really know each other, do they? I never really knew you, the image you project, especially in court, because I’ve seen you in action. You’re truly brilliant, decisive and articulate. We’ve seen each other at social gatherings and you’re so witty and gregarious, but tonight I find a man so humble, lonely … you are lonely.”
“Yes…”
“Why?”
He hesitated. “People can be very lonely together.” He was shocked at himself, revealing his private life to someone he’d known for years but only under the most impersonal and professional circumstances.
“How well I know. I went through that once, but then I suppose it’s different when one has children.”
“Very … one can love one’s children a great deal, but unless you’re happy you can feel so obligated that you no longer know where the man begins or ends.”
“You do love your children, though?”
“Of course … I was only making an observation.”
There was a long pause. “Dominic, let me fix you another drink.”
“No, thank you … please, just sit here, Vicky. I haven’t spoken this way to anyone … I don’t really believe I ever did … and you know something else?”
“What, Dominic?”
“I’ve never really known you. You’re a lovely woman. You’re more than just beautiful, you’re a whole person. I’ve always noticed you, but never the way I have the past two days … Victoria …” he hesitated, and almost painfully the words tumbled out, “… I love you … and I have no right, no right at all to say that.”
It was a night of discovery for both of them.
“Oh, Dominic, you have a right—”
“I should go while I still can, but I want to stay, not because my wife is away, but because I …”
“Oh, Dominic, you’re so dear, how easy it would be to love you.”
He took her in his arms and held her tight. The feeling was impossible to sustain. He kissed her passionately … hungrily … lingeringly, then carried her into the bedroom and there they made love as though it had never happened before, for either of them … ever.
Dominic’s life had taken on a new dimension, and although the fire that had ignited his desire for Victoria that first night remained as intense, in fact, it became more urgent with each passing day, he found in her more than just the need for release. It was her quiet serenity, her willingness to listen … no demands were made, no strings attached, no barters, and as a result he found himself falling more and more deeply in love with her. After the excitement and passion of the moment had spent itself, she would lie quietly in his arms. Words were unnecessary for either of them. It was as though they were one with one single thought. For Dominic, it was wonderful to be loved, loved in a way that brought a sanity into his life.
The weeks that followed brought with them a renewal of spirit that had been smothered, buried deep within his consciousness for so long. It awakened within him a kind of hope which up to now he had not only lost, but had accepted as part and parcel of his marriage. Now in Catherine’s absence, he tried to obliterate her from his mind and pretend that life with Victoria would go on forever, and for the three months she was away, he almost succeeded. The times he found difficult to live with himself were when his thoughts drifted to the children, and in those moments he felt enormous guilt that what he was doing was so absolutely wrong, but when Victoria lay in his arms, the feelings were dispelled, convincing himself that he was entitled to this small part of heaven, a thing he’d been deprived of in his life up until now. When Catherine called and said she was coming home, he felt desolate. This could mean the end of his life with Victoria. How could he possibly give her up now. It would have been different if this had only been an affaire d’amour, but he loved her so deeply that the thought of never seeing her, holding her in his arms, awaking in the small hours at dawn and looking at her, sleeping so contentedly … just the sight of her sent joy coursing through his heart and his body. The breakfasts, the dinners she prepared, the quiet evenings, the intimacies of living together these last few months had meant so much to him that they had become a part of his sustenance, his life.
That day, he found it impossible to work, to concentrate, to find a place within himself to hide from the torment that this evening he would be compelled to tell Victoria. But how … what could he say, and the answers to which there were none left in its wake a feeling of complete devastation. No longer able to function at the office, he left at four, going to Victoria’s apartment where he let himself in with the latchkey she had given him. He poured himself a large bourbon, dropped a few cubes of ice into the glass and listened to the sounds of their clinking. Turning on the stereo, he seated himself on the sofa and listened to the haunting strains of “Clair de Lune,” just as he listened to the sounds of his own thinking. The music only served to heighten the thoughts so poignantly running through his mind that this could be the last time he might be here … here, in this place that had brought him the only happiness, the only comfort … the only solace he’d known and now he would have to return to oblivion, living with a wife he no longer loved. My God … he took a long swallow and laid his head back against the soft velvet cushions and stared up at the ceiling. He did not hear Victoria enter. Soon she was standing before him. “Dominic?” she whispered. He looked at her without saying anything. “Dominic, you’re upset about something, darling. What is it?”
He just sat, looking at her, unable to rally enough courage. But somehow, instinctively, she knew, “It’s her, isn’t it?”
He didn’t answer, there was no need to.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He hesitated for one moment longer, then said, “She’s coming home.”
Victoria got up and poured some scotch into a glass, then came back and sat once again near Dominic. “Well, darling … without ever speaking of it, we knew this was inevitable, didn’t we?”
“Yes … although foolishly I didn’t know how painful it would be. How can I go back to living with her after what we’ve been to each other? After the things we’ve shared together, loving you as I do, can I pret
end you don’t exist? You must know how my life will be without you.”
“Yes … but is that how you want it to be?”
“How can you ask me that … How?”
“Because you said, without me.”
He took a swallow, stood up, paced the floor, turned and faced Victoria. “You’ve become my life, but what can I offer you … nothing but loneliness.”
“I have no world without you, Dominic. But if you have to walk away, I’ll understand.”
He sat down and drew her close to him, holding her tight. Stroking her hair, he said, “You’re the only woman I want … or ever will. But, darling, I’d be asking you to sacrifice yourself for me.”
“Sacrifice! What else do I want in my life? Darling, listen to me … I’m a big girl and I went into this with my eyes wide open. That’s the risk a woman accepts when she falls in love with a married man.” She took a sip of her drink. “Look, Dominic, if you can possibly live with yourself without feeling you’re doing something terribly wicked, then you don’t have to live without me. On the other hand, there are no strings attached. I have no claim on you and if you walk out that door, I’ll know it’s not because you love me less, but because you feel in your heart you had no other choice.”
He took her face between his hands. “What makes you what you are?”
“Oh, Dominic, all of us are what we are, I just happen to love you enough to want you to be happy.”
“But what about you?”
“Memories are wonderful things, too, Dominic … and what we had briefly together will be the sweetest thing that ever happened to me. Nothing is forever and sometimes people get caught up in circumstances and situations they have no control over. We didn’t plan to fall in love … It just happened. I have no regrets. I’d do it over again.”
“You know what it will mean if we go on like this?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure, absolutely sure … because I won’t be as free as I’ve been. There will be times, no matter how much I want to be with you, I won’t be able to, and what will happen to you, what kind of a life will that be, waiting for a man to telephone? Having an hour or two whenever, it’s possible … is that enough?”
They sat silently. “I don’t know, Victoria, I just don’t know.”
“Then until you do, we’ll pretend just for tonight … tomorrow will be time enough for decisions. Now, darling, change the record to something more gay. ‘Clair de Lune’ is only lovely when you’re happy … then fix a drink while I fix dinner, and later I’ll love you as though there were going to be no tomorrow.”
Dominic and his oldest son watched from the windows of the airport as Catherine and the children descended the landing steps, then walked excitedly toward the building. Gina Maria saw her father and she waved furiously, calling out to the others, “There’s Papa and Dom.” She began to run so that she was the first in Dominic’s arms. “Papa … Papa, I’m so glad to see you. I missed you.”
Dominic held and kissed the little girl so tenderly, so lovingly. How good she felt in his arms. God, how much he had missed her. One by one, the older boys held Papa by the shoulders and Vincente’s arms were around Dominic’s waist. The excitement at seeing him was overwhelming, as Catherine stood to one side and observed. The thought entered her mind at this moment, how much they loved him, almost more than her, it seemed. A peculiar kind of resentment mingled with jealousy rankled within her that for all her devotion, her being there when they came home from school, plus the millions of other attentions she gave them, they prized Dominic as though he were some kind of a god. The thing she found so difficult to understand was him being away so much of the time, when did they have the opportunity to develop such fatherly affection? The whole thing was simply a puzzle to her. But she stood by, smiling as though she were enjoying the fatherly demonstration. Finally, Dominic said, “Let me look at all of you,” as they clustered around him. “I can’t believe it, you’ve all changed so this summer … Gina Maria, you’re a young lady.” He laughed at the sight of them. By God, they were handsome kids, so lean and tanned and healthy looking.
If nothing else, that was something to be damned proud of. Then the laughter ended as he looked at Catherine smiling at him.
“Dominic, darlin’, you look simply wonderful … seems a little celibacy hasn’t done you too much harm. You’re just as handsome as ever … I’m happy to be home, Dominic.” He thought, well, here we go again, it’s starting all over, with the little southern subtleties. She reached up, wanting to kiss him on the lips, but he turned his cheek. She disregarded the rebuff and continued as though she had not noticed. No matter … she’d be bigger than him. He was still licking his wounds, but he’d get over it just as soon as they got back to the business of being a family again. She turned her attention to Dom and kissed him. “Let me look at you … I swear you’re lookin’ more like my Daddy every day. How was school, sugar?”
For Christ’s sake, why did she have to call him by that ridiculous name. “It was okay, Mama … fine.”
“I’m glad to hear that… my goodness, Dom, I did miss you, but thanks for sending the cards … not as often as I would’a liked, but considerin’ how busy you must have been, I was grateful for the few. Now, let’s all get started. I think it’s time we went home.”
And home for Catherine had never seemed quite so sweet. She walked from room to room savoring the joys and beauty of all her past efforts. It had been a long and tedious job, furnishing this place, but it paid off. It was her … the way she wanted it, not some decorator. The few she had tried threw up their hands in despair, leaving her with her drapes down. She fought with them, saying in no uncertain terms, “This is my house and it’s gonna reflect my personality” … And it did! The colors were vibrant. The gold damask silk paper ran rampant on the walls. The marquetry, heavy with bronze ormolu, was in abundance. The Sevres, the urns, the Capo-di-Monte, the candelabras, the Dresdens, the paintings, the statues sitting regally on their pedestals and the crystal fixtures. Catherine’s house had enough to stock an antique store. It was a never-ending project that went on … and on … and on. As her eyes wandered about, she knew the dining room chairs could stand recovering although they had been done last year, but what with the wear they received … oh, well, it would be fun, why have to have reasons for everything. She hurried into the kitchen to see Stella. In Italian, Catherine said, “Stella, we’ll have something very special tonight. Remember, this is our homecoming and I want everything just perfect. Perfetto.”
“Si, Signora. You had a good time with your Mama, huh?”
“Oh, yes, Stella … but there’s nothing like home.”
“Si, Signora.”
“Stella, how was Mr. Rossi while I was away?”
“He was fine, Signora.”
“That makes me happy … Stella, did he have dinner home every night?”
“No, Signora …”
“I don’t mean every night, but was he home often?”
Stella hesitated. She, too, was Sicilian and it took one to know one and she knew Signora was pumping her, but with her allegiance a little more toward the Signore, she answered, “Si, Signora, he was here often except when he was away for business.”
“Was he away often … on business, I mean?”
“Ah … mezzo … mezzo, Signora.”
“Ah … I see, half and half. You think he had dinner with his madre?”
She shrugged her shoulders and turned the palms of her hands up, “I don’t know, Signora.”
“I see … well, Stella, make a grocery list of what we need. Prosciutto … do we have everything in the house for the antipasto?”
“Si, Signora.”
“That’s good … now, melons with the prosciutto. I think maybe three large honeydews will be enough … and we need sweet butter, cream and parmesan cheese for the fettuccine … and Stella, we’ll have scaloppine di vitello al Marsala with pine nuts … Signore Rossi loves that… so I’ll order ve
al, olive oil we have, but we need fresh mushrooms, lemons… the Marsala wine we have … parsley and zucchini … you’ll stuff them. Now, let’s see. I think six butter lettuces will be enough for the salad, with olive oil and wine vinegar. Fresh fruit for the centerpiece … and … oh … Stella, do we have cheeses for the dessert?”
“Si, Signora.”
“That’s good … and for the zabaglione … eggs, sugar, the wines we have … so, I think that’s about all.” Catherine took her pencil and pad and went through the pantry shelf by shelf and jotted down things she would order in addition to this evening’s meal.
When she left, Stella began to make the pasta with the little machine Catherine had ordered from Italy and as she turned the handle and listened to the gears mesh, she thought Mama mia, if the Signora knew that the Signore had spent his evenings … more important, his nights in the bed of another woman, oh! Madonna mia! Stella cringed, it would be like an explosion … worse than the bomba atomica. But her lips were sealed … never would she breathe a word that when she sent his suits to the cleaner, there was the sweet fragrance of perfume completely unfamiliar and different than that of her Signora’s. And how much of a detective did she have to be when a man stayed out all night, returning at eight in the morning to change his clothes … and how sophisticated, when she found the bed unused every day.
4
DOMINIC SAT IN HIS swivel chair and stared out of the windows to the view beyond. But today it was lost from his sight. Seeing the children this morning had disturbed him more than he would ever have imagined. In Catherine’s and their absence, he had been able to handle the guilt he felt about his affair with Victoria. Two thousand miles away made the feelings more subdued. However, after seeing them, holding them close to him, and the way they responded to his embraces, he was sick with turpitude, feeling what he had done was reprehensible. His mind was filled with so many regrets and mixed emotions he found it impossible to work. As the day wore on, he became more and more confused, his feelings overlapping. What about Victoria. He still loved her … what about that? There were no simple answers. How could he say he would never see her again? The prospect was too painful and yet if he continued, how would he be able to live with himself and face his children knowing he was committing adultery. And Catherine would expect him to sleep with her and what excuse could he make. O.K., once … twice … three times, he could say he was tired, but not forever. It was the first day in almost three months he hadn’t spoken to Victoria or heard that lovely lilting voice. More than once he’d found his hand on the phone, but just as quickly, he’d said no. He could think of nothing else except the kind of hell she must be going through. Oh, God, what should I do?
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