She rose and walked around restlessly for a while and then with some hesitation, called Adrienne’s husband for information, but although he saw his wife that very morning, he could not tell more than the spokesperson of the hospital. Adrienne’s ‘rest” was an artificially induced coma, and she did not respond. This was the explanation for the ‘resting well’ statement. Lena exchanged a few guarded words with him, murmured some words of sympathy, but the fact that Adrienne was shot in Lena’s house under very strange circumstances made conversation difficult; she could say very little to the devastated husband. No amount of polite talk could silence the unspoken accusation. She felt guilty, although she committed no sin.
Within the next few days the authorities invited Lena to a pleasant office, furnished with deep leather chairs, dismal paintings and many books. Clyde and his attorney were also present. They asked the same questions, which were asked and were answered before. As expected, they decided that Lena’s involvement was insignificant. The interrogation was polite, so was Lena, and the meeting ended on friendly terms. To the great relief of everyone this too lacked drama. She was assured that she would not be inconvenienced any more.
Clyde immediately completed the preparation for her trip, even though Lena pleaded repeatedly to delay it at least until Adrienne was out of the ICU. He would not hear of it. “That would be just what the reporters and paparazzi are waiting for! That would be the perfect scoop, showing you with your friend just as she is returning from death’s clutches. Can you see the dramatic headlines? We certainly have no need for that. No, you must leave now, long before the trial starts.” Roma locuta, causa finita, she recalled bitterly. Rome has spoken; the case is closed, finished. Who could argue with Rome, or with Clyde? It has been decided and nothing could change that.
On the day after the visit with the authorities they were just finishing an excellent supper, which she barely touched. Absentmindedly she pushed the food around on the plate and it was a relief that Clyde did not notice and did not comment on her lack of appetite. As evening closed in the temperatures dropped. She wanted the warmth of the fireplace in the sitting room and he wanted to be close to the phone and to his laptop in the study. In silent and dour marital disharmony they took their glasses of sherry and moved to their favorite places.
Before Clyde started his evening routine on the laptop, he stopped at the door of the study.
“I think the time has come for your departure; we should not wait any longer. As you noticed, the case is rather anemic, if I may be so crude to call a murder lackluster. Before long, the media will want to enliven it and will look around for something to turn the non-news into a sensation. Mark my words: you would be targeted any day soon. Tell the maid to start packing. Everything has been arranged for your departure.”
“I am very unhappy about your decision, but I am willing to go along with your unbelievable plan all the way to its illogical conclusion. I will do so against my better judgment. But please, grant me a few more days. I just want to see Adrienne before I leave.”
“Are you proposing a deal?” he asked and smiled benevolently as an adult would smile at a charming child when it is pretending to be an adult. She felt diminished.
“No, I am not bargaining, only asking. She is my best friend, my only friend. I cannot abandon her. If you let me stay just long enough until she is out of the ICU, I’ll leave meekly, even to the very end of the world. I promise.”
She looked at him beseechingly, but he could not, or would not understand her plea and ignored her emotional state.
“I told you that this meeting with her is exactly the event we want to avoid. Try to be reasonable and understand my situation and put your mind at ease. As soon as her doctors let her out of the ICUI shall send flowers, and shall visit her later. If she is indeed such a good friend she’ll accept my explanations and will understand.” He was very calm and business-like, smiling warmly while he spoke. To him the issue had about as much significance as a trip downtown to buy a pair of shoes. She called this smile of his the “hand-shaking- grin” and while it pleased the constituents, it left her drained and frustrated. He was charming, but did not even pretend that he understood her.
No, Adrienne would not understand your explanations, Lena argued silently, and you will never understand me or the importance of friendship. She will be hurt, because I abandoned her. She does not give a hoot about your career, your flowers, or your explanations. She is alone, frightened, and not in need of your visit, but in need of a friend.
She recalled with deep shame her story about the cat in Alberta. It was just about three months ago when she assured Adrienne of her loyalty. How sure she was at the time that nothing would keep her away from the friend, when trouble hit her! Now just a short time later she faltered under Clyde’s pressure and broke the promise which she announced with so much passion and confidence. Once again she let herself be sacrificed on the altar of Clyde’s career. She tried to argue with him one more time, although she knew that it was futile.
“I understand what you are saying, Lena, but it is out of the question. Let me make this important decision and please, keep in mind that your presence is not going to heal her gunshot wound.”
“You don’t quite get the point, do you?”
“Is there a point?”
Instead of answering, she looked silently at his well-known aristocratic features, and felt that it was the face of a stranger, although in a way still pleasing and oddly, still dear to her. This did not make much sense. Liking and disliking a person at the same time was an outrageous contradiction, but there it was. He radiated good will and a smile that would be reassuring under other circumstances. Such a well brought-up man, such exquisite manners, such smooth tongue and such charisma, and yet, he could be quite insufferable. He did not have the faintest idea what friendship was, and sadly, was just as clueless about the meaning of marital love.
This charming and successful man was parading in front of her the same as he paraded for the public’s approval. He used the tactics with which he charmed his constituents and did not realize that his approach made no impression on Lena. Not anymore. Yet, when the public Clyde receded, and a very private and kind man took his place, he did have his star-dusted moments. At such rare moments, she forgot the bleakness of her days and all doubts left her. She hoped that one day the human and vulnerable Clyde would stay and the beautiful, charming public man would move to another planet. At such moments she remembered the first years of their marriage, the magic, the love she felt for him. Where did it go? What happened to the great promises for their future? The magnificence with all the magic was gone and she stared into endless emptiness. Their polite relation to each other was not what she expected. She felt empty and emotionally drained.
She too played a game, no less deceptive than his. During the years of their marriage she kept pretending to be happy and devoted, when she was not, and always delivered what he expected from her, even if she disliked doing it. When he wanted glamour, she provided it; when he wanted meekness, she was meek; and when he wanted passion, well, she could provide that too. Slowly she gave up her own goals, ideas and her own identity, and became the woman she was not, but who happened to be his ideal. He was slowly turning her into a brainless doll, which could be operated by pushing buttons. Ultimately, she was ashamed, because it was no longer a secret. Adrienne also saw this change; she spoke about it quiet openly during the powder room renovation visit.
During this silent confrontation he once again resisted her and stepped resolutely into his study, gently closing the door behind him. As so often before, her plea was left suspended in the air; the closed door between them prevented understanding, let alone a solution. She felt cheated and abandoned. Her insecurities and her notions about friendship were left on the threshold of the study.
On the other side of the door he felt satisfied for having handled the situation with diplomacy. After all that occurred lately she was volatile enough; it was best
not to provoke her further. An emotional scene was the last thing he wanted. Confrontations in his public life were one thing and he thrived on that, but he needed and demanded absolute serenity on the home front.
He went to his desk, removed the documents and her airline ticket from the drawer, examined them carefully and congratulated himself on the splendid idea of sending her away. Despite her carefully voiced but unmistakable insinuations he was not ready to admit that he was paranoid about the issue. He was just not going to take any chances regarding his career; it was as simple as that. If she chose not understand the importance of his decision, there was nothing he could or would do about it. Anyhow, what can one do, he reflected. Her presence could endanger his carefully constructed chances. Her emotional turmoil and that ridiculous childish notion about her ties and responsibilities to a friend would pass as soon as she was immersed in new experiences and excitements. “She must leave and it is not only the best, but it is the only solution,” he told the wood paneled walls and locked away the documents. The walls did not offer a counterargument.
He lit a cigar and sank into a favorite leather chair to consider the next steps to be taken. He knew that she was serious about writing the book and read her outline. In truth, he was not interested in novels and was not even marginally knowledgeable about literary fiction, but imagined that her book might have some value. The idea of going away to write it sounded like a plausible explanation for her sudden departure. As far as he knew this is what authors generally did. He found it fortunate that she planned to place the story, or at least part of it, in Hungary. It is a civilized place, she would not lack comforts, but it is so far from the mainstream that it would be the last place where the curious might search for her. Keeping this in mind he made careful arrangements for her in Hungary. Because he was very discerning, even pedantic, it pleased him that the trip would familiarize her with the country and this would prevent errors to appear in her book He believed that a thing worth doing deserved to be done as perfectly as possible and because he planned to support her during the publication process it would have mortified him if she included some ridiculous misinformation in her book. Her errors might mar his reputation.
He was extremely cautious about how he would explain her departure for the media and rehearsed several times what he would say, to make sure he would sound convincing. When the time came to talk to the newsmen he said in his charming way that Lena was working on a novel, part of which took place in Europe, and to get the authentic feel of the location she planned to spend an unspecified length of time overseas. Talking rapidly and suggestively, he carefully avoided giving details. The reporters scribbled hasty notes and clicked cameras.
…No, she will not be around for the trial…Right now all her attention is on the book she is writing… No, she is not a witness in the case...Yes indeed, I would miss her, but my emotional dependence on her cannot be in the way of her personal success and self-actualization… No, I would not talk about the topic of her book at this early stage, but being familiar with her considerable talent, I am sure it will be an important book... Yes, she is extremely unhappy about her friend’s injuries, and was in shock after the tragedy…she is slowly regaining her balance and her peace of mind. Writing will certainly help in the healing process… No, her departure date and the location in Europe were not chosen yet, these questions are still under deliberation. And thank you ladies and gentlemen for your interest and understanding and I shall deliver your good wishes to her. Good afternoon to all of you…
And with a graceful wave of his hand and a reassuring public smile, he stepped into the waiting limousine and left the reporters to fabricate their stories as best as they could.
He was so scrupulously well-mannered, so honest, so obviously concerned about his wife’s wishes and radiated so much restrained friendliness while giving the noncommittal information that no one guessed his real plans. The reporters also failed to notice in time that despite his generous and friendly statements, in truth, he gave no information.
Because of his excellent sense of business, he also had a hidden agenda; he chose this piece of news about the upcoming book as a useful pre-publication advertisement. He had no doubts that the book would be written and published, and did not feel that he was taking chances by talking about it even before it was written. He was aware that Lena had some talent, an excellent education, and had a good start in the art of writing. Clyde did not expect from her the Great Novel of the Century, but knew that she would produce a fair piece of work. It was also a fact that the name Cambray was prominent enough to make agents eager to represent her book, and publishers, who know their business, would not hesitate to accept it. A prominent person writing a book is a sure moneymaker, even if in the literary sense the content and style are negligible. If talent and prominence would fail, he had enough connections to make the book happen. He was in many ways generous and wished her success, but at the same time, realist as he was, hoped that the success of the book would make her forget about the uncomfortable issue of wanting children.
The day of her so-called exile was set two days after her meeting with the officials. Clyde arranged it perfectly, as she knew he would. After her suitcases were packed, she even felt a moderate degree of excitement about going to a strange place and discovering new aspects of the world. Clyde, out of consideration for her psychological well-being, or perhaps driven by a habitual sense of precaution and his need for control, made all the decisions and arrangements for her departure and for her stay overseas without consulting her even once. Behind the touching concern also lurked the constant apprehension that if she knew the details, the information about her destination could be teased from her.
Without any fanfare or public notice, they drove to Washington, ostensibly to spend the weekend there, but the next evening he put her quietly on a plane to Vienna. There a chauffeur would be waiting to drive her to a rented house in a Hungarian village, far from the path of tourists and reporters. All was perfectly discreet and carefully worked out to the last detail. The princess might not approve of her exile, but he saw to it that she had no reason to complain about the accommodations.
As they said their farewells at Dulles International she was actually grateful to him for the care he put into the arrangements and for a moment even wondered whether this marriage was truly dead. He was really a very decent man and had so much to offer. Perhaps he could eventually understand her wish for children and would seriously consider her need for a life with more content than just being a minion to him, while he was shining bright in his success. A well turned out dinner party is a poor compensation for the lonely hours and no designer outfit could ever compete with the magic of a maternity dress. One day he might understand this.
After she passed the security check, shoes in hand, she turned back one more time. Again, as so many times before, his elegant, distinguished figure touched her. And something else. There was a light in his eyes, a gentle sweetness in his smile, which reminded her why she married him in the first place. Perhaps, all was not lost. He raised his hand in farewell and for a heartbreaking moment appeared lost and lonely in the crowd. It was so unlike him to appear vulnerable and fragile that for a second she thought she would turn back to hug him, to protect him, but the abyss of the security installation between them was deep and wide. Once on the other side, there was no turning back.
She slipped her feet into her shoes and for a brief moment was infuriated at the thought that all passengers were treated as potential terrorists, but then decided that the humiliation was a small price to pay for the relative safety once they were airborne. The temporary anger effectively swept away the compassionate mood she felt for her husband. She took a deep breath, sent one more smile his way, hefted her carryon on her shoulder and left him there gazing after her disappearing figure. As she moved down the gangway a strange sorrow descended upon her. She could not put her finger on what caused it, but there it was. Just like in her dreams she was moving awa
y from the safe shores. She felt disturbed, unhappy and as lost as he appeared to be.
The trip was long and as uncomfortable as airline trips are fated to be. She spent the time alternating between meals she did not want, a film she did not enjoy, a book that proved to be a poor choice. The comforts of first class, which after a few hours were no comforts at all, tired her and the destination was still hundreds of kilometers and many dreary hours away. Stewardesses in their smart uniforms and uniform smiles moved around efficiently and silently preparing the cabin for the long night. Lena switched on her reading light, but could not keep her mind on what she was reading and finally put down her book. While dozing fitfully, an unpleasant sensation kept intruding into her semi-consciousness. It was nameless, frightening and insistently whispering that something had gone wrong, something very unpleasant was traveling along with her. When she woke her tongue felt as if hair grew on it, her eyes burned, her stomach objected to motion and to smells. She drank some water and dozed off again.
At one point she again awoke to some unwelcome commotion. A group of people was moving in the aisle, led by the chief stewardess. Behind her two men were supporting a third one, but their progress was awkward and slow on account of the narrowness of the aisle. Behind them a fourth man closed the strange procession.
“Not the bulkhead,” whispered the stewardess. “Easy, take it slowly… there to your left, the window seat…” The group passed Lena’s seat and moved forward in subdued struggle, but the high back of the seats blocked the view and she could not see what they were doing. After a short while the two men, who supported the third, obviously completed their task and returned to wherever their seat was located. The stewardess and the fourth man spent some more time with the incapacitated passenger, but then they too left him. He couldn’t be drunk, she thought, for he certainly would make more noise in that condition. Was he dissatisfied for some reason with his assigned seat? But then why did he need physical support to move? Was he ill? Then why did they leave him alone to face his fate? Suddenly she was wide awake and the realization was clear and stark: he died. That is it. There is no other explanation for the strange occurrence. She closed her eyes and tried to get used to the idea. Here we are cruising at an altitude of 36.000 feet in the night, carrying a dead man with us. It was too strange to think of that. Who was he? Was he on his way to enjoy a fabulous vacation, or was he on a business trip? Would somebody be waiting for him and only receive the body? How will the officials deal with him? She shuddered and unheard by others whispered, ‘it is a bad omen.’
The Reluctant Trophy Wife Page 10