by gay walley
"I'll, I'll see you Thursday at the society meeting," she said, “to go over the concert.” She ran her hand through her hair. She had not yet had time to take a bath and she smelled of sex from last night with Oskar.
"Maurice, I'd love to chat with you but I need to work…" she stuttered.
“The thing is,” he objected, “I live for those rare moments when I get to see you.”
She smiled weakly. She did not.
That Saturday , she met Oskar at City Crab, as always, since he knew she liked it. For that matter, so did he.
He watched her face intently as she told him about Maurice having a crush on her and that made her whole relationship to the Mahler Society a bit odd and she told him she was also not interested in her job but she was trying to figure out where to go next, as if on a map. She told him, in effect, she was a little depressed lately.
It was rare for Duet to talk about her feelings. He was a bit surprised. In this way, he realized, she is a girl. And girls always want relationships.
Her depression was because she wanted to be part of a couple. What is so wonderful about being alone? That’s how girls think, he knew. They triangulate between work, love and friends, whereas men, he thought, have a much more linear relationship with their work. Well, what is wonderful about being alone, he could tell her, is you have fewer annoyances. And yet studies show people who live together live longer.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll give you a new twist for your road map.”
“What?” she smiled.
She is cute, he thought.
“Move in.”
“Move in?”
“Move in.”
That was a shock.
“You really want to live with someone?” she asked.
“It’s what goes on between boys and girls. Just keep your place in case we get on each other’s nerves. It’s always good,” he said, “to hedge your bets.”
She nodded.
“That way,” he said, “there is no risk.”
“What about Madonna?”
“She is my cook,” he said. “Anyway the artist Remedies Varo lived with two lovers at the same time. You know why? Because he said he could do it more cheaply.”
She looked at him quizzically. “Someone told me Varo was a woman.”
“I don’t *** know,” he said.
She laughed. She didn’t *** either. And then her mind got busy running around other subjects. Was that what she wanted? To not be alone anymore? But she isn’t alone.
“All three of us…?” she asked. “I come with ten feet.”
“You do. And two--”
“Yes I know,” she broke in. She didn’t like jokes about her anatomy. He’s a difficult man, she began thinking. But they’re all difficult. She should do it. She should make another move on the checkerboard. And Oskar for some reason was the man she felt tied to. She could fantasize about being with someone more loving, more committed but, in truth, when she was with Oskar, she could not imagine being with anyone else.
“Okay,” she said. As always, when it came to Oskar, it was a yes.
“Dad,” she said on the phone. “I’m going to move in with Oskar.”
“Well,” he said. He didn’t know what to think. Oskar struck him as an odd guy. Obviously successful but distant in a way. Yet he seemed to like his daughter or, conversely, his daughter seemed to like him. Michelle yelled, “Who’s that?” “Duet,” he yelled back. “Oh tell her Daisy is out of the hospital. And she’s here upstairs. Tell Duet to come home for a weekend.”
“You heard that?” her father said.
Duet, feeling full of promise, said, “Yes I’ll come home for a weekend in about 2 weeks. She’ll last that long right?”
“I would think so. Why else would they have let her out of the hospital?”
“So what do you think?”
“About Oskar?”
“Yes.”
“Does he want to marry you?”
“It doesn’t work that way anymore. People live together first. To try it out.”
“Oh,” he said, disappointedly. “Is that so?”
Now it was Paula’s time to be jealous. Lars had never asked her to move in and, now that he and his business were under constant scrutiny and pressure building their defense, Lars was broke with legal expenses and never available at all. His entire time was taken up with his case. Duet had probed Oskar about what was going on in Lars’ business since he could decode the news better than she could. “Lars is going to do time, Duet.”
“Maybe we should all go out,” she said, “And you can study the situation.”
“Okay,” he said.
Paula agreed but it never happened. What happened was that Lars and Paula talked only on the phone now. And she seemed sadder.
As one of their workdays ended, Duet said, “Come on, let’s go out for a drink.”
They settled into the new bar at the Pierre. With its French Louis XIV furniture and discreet waiters, they felt they had gone back centuries. It wasn’t even busy.”I can’t believe it,” Paula said, picking at the nuts on the table. “I can’t believe you and Oskar are going to live together. It’s so weird. Has he even told you he loves you?”
“No,” Duet laughed.
“Strange.”
“I don’t think he bothers with that stuff.”
“He must be defended,” Paula said.
“Who knows?” Duet said, “Who can explain it? I hardly talk to him but I love him. I guess I love what I see and I love that we don’t talk endlessly about what’s wrong with us or try to change each other. He is absolutely more fastidious than me but on the other hand we seem to have this powerful draw. ”
Duet put her hand on Paula’s arm. Paula cocked her head sadly. “Don’t worry,Paula. You’ll meet a good guy too.”
“Lars IS a good guy. I’m sticking with him. I don’t care about all this stupid numbers stuff.”
“But it is about ethics,” Duet said.
“It is. But he made a mistake. We all make mistakes. He wanted to get rich fast, Jesus, the whole economy is built on people speculating they’re doing better than they are.”
Duet nodded.
“You don’t kick a man when he’s down,” Paula said.
And Duet felt she had to respect, even admire, her friend’s constancy.
“Anyway, “ Paula said, “there’s a lot weirder people out there.”
“What do you mean?”
“At least he’s not a furvert,” Paula said victoriously.
“A what?” Duet asked, sipping her drink.
“People who have to wear fur to have sex.”
Duet laughed. “I wouldn’t mind wearing mink,” she said.
“Me neither. How about sable?”
They laughed but Duet shuddered as she thought, if Lars goes to jail, he might meet some furverts in there. A lot of those men are hairy. She decided not to mention that thought to Paula. Instead, she put her hand on Paula’s hand and said, “It’ll all work out for the best.”
“What do you mean?” Paula asked.
“Life just does. Mostly,”Duet answered.
Duet spent the night at Oskar’s and, in the morning, grabbed a cab home, feeling as if Spring was all about her. Soon she would be leaving this solitude, this life of sole creativity, but maybe now her life would be richer. She had this chance at being normal. She took a bubble bath, answered her emails and then called her parents. She hurriedly told her mother and father more about moving into Oskar’s apartment, about feeling that finally her life was changing. She felt a bit badly about David but at least now he was free to find someone who liked golf as much as he did. She felt she was leaving a part of herself, since she had known him such a long time, but what could she do? Oskar was in her life now.
“How’s Daisy?” she finally asked her mother on the next phone call.
“Upstairs,” Michelle answered.
“Oh.”
“I still think you should com
e home.”
“Okay.”
Two weeks later, Duet was climbing the stairs of her parents’ house. She had chatted with them a bit before beginning the climb but she wanted to do what she came for. And she wanted to get back to pack and begin organizing the move. She entered her grandmother’s dark room. “Why don’t they open the blinds?” she asked Daisy.
She heard, “Maybe they’re ashamed of me.”
Duet began to open the blinds and Daisy said, “No, don’t do it. Come sit down.”
Daisy was thin, lying there, but awake, and almost seemed like her old self. She was wearing lipstick and she had her glasses on, reading. She was wearing one of her multi colored sweaters, orange, blue, red, as if the loudness of the colors was a provocation to the world itself.
“Hi. You’re better,” Duet said, kissing her short, dyed hair.
“You call this better? Bed ridden?”
“No, I guess not.”
Daisy said, “The question is it better than where I’m going.”
Duet answered her with a shy look. She also noticed that Daisy was wearing gold necklaces under her sweater and her rings on her fingers.
Then Daisy said, “Good trip…?”
“Yes.”
“I hear your music performance was a great success. You are following in the footsteps of your great grandmother. Isn’t that amazing? You’re like her.”
“What do you mean?” Ah, Duet thought, more clues for my map.
“Impractical. A bit stupid about men…”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Your boyfriend,” Daisy said…
“What’s stupid about him? I’m going to live with him,” Duet said, sitting down in an arm chair by the bed.
“Is he a nice guy?”
“Since when have you been interested in nice guys? I thought you said the smarter they were, the not nice they were. And anyway he’s not terrible – like believe me some of them have been – and anyway I’m going to give up being a solitaire, finally. I didn’t think I ever would.”
“A solitaire Duet,” Daisy said.
“Exactly.”
“Do you know anything about his family?”
“He doesn’t talk much about them,” Duet said. “They’re German and Austrian. Let me see, what else…”
“German and Austrian what?”
“What do you mean?”
“Doctors, lawyers, garbagemen?” Daisy asked.
“Doctors, I think.”
Daisy took a breath. “I thought so.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you want to know what I mean?”
“Stop playing … ”
“Alright, I will draw you a very clear diagram.” Daisy said that in the clipped authoritative voice that seemed to come with an Austrian accent. “Stay still and listen.”
Twenty four:
“I was a pretty little girl as you know. Everyone remarked on it,” Daisy said. “Get me something to drink.”
Duet went into the gleaming white bathroom and brought back a glass of water.
“No, get me a scotch. Neat.”
“Are you allowed?”
“Is this a time in my life to be “allowed”?” Daisy said imperiously. “Bring me the scotch. I don’t care if it’s ten in the morning.”
Duet ran downstairs. Michelle looked curiously as Duet put some scotch in a shot glass and then, on a whim, poured one for herself. She sprinted back up the stairs with the glasses.
“Thank you darling,” Daisy said, taking the glass. Duet sat down in the plain pink armchair by her bed. “As I was saying, when they came to get my family, a man, a rather handsome man, like your Oskar, said, Leave the girl with me. She can help in my hospital. He introduced himself politely to us all. My parents were dazed, exhausted, terrified. They didn’t know what to do.”
Duet looked confused. “What hospital?”
“My parents thought he took pity on me. I was, even then, a survivor and so I went with him, somehow knowing I had escaped something bad with my parents. And of course we know what happened to them. I went in this man’s big car, and he was very nice to me. Offered me chocolate. Believe me it had been some time since I had chocolate.”
Duet nodded. “What hospital?” she asked again.
“We went through the city, I didn’t know where we were really, I was a child, and we ended up in the country. A big manor house next to a river. And yes, when we went in, it was a hospital. “
So finally Daisy is opening up. It must be dying. She wants someone to know.
“Well, “ Daisy said. “I am not going to do terrible things to your imagination because that is not fair. And I am not saying that Oskar is identical to his grandfather but I am saying that at this hospital, they tampered with chromosomes and so on. And believe me they tampered with mine. Was it painful? I don’t know. Shots. Tests. More shots. They did not torture me. I was sick a lot of the time. They made studies. I suppose I knew they didn’t care if I died. It was of no moment to them.”
Duet felt nauseous. “Grandfather?”
Daisy ignored her and continued.”It was endless. No remorse from our friendly German doctors. Just more fodder. My tests, my tests were for the long term. Changing how one is built. The doctor was studying doubles. My tests were about creating doubles. Duplications.”
They were silent for a minute.
“Are you saying…?” Duet asked.
“I am. “Daisy said. “I am saying that I know what you have. I have ears even though my own daughter thinks I am an idiot. I am saying your boyfriend’s grandfather, Dr Gerhardt Tremba, is somewhat responsible for your being, shall we say, a duet. That is a resemblance I obviously do not forget.”
Twenty five:
For some reason, Duet chose not to tell her parents. After all, Daisy herself had chosen silence. And it was Daisy who was her real connection. It was Daisy who had suffered for her, so to speak. She didn’t want to ask Daisy what tests they did. And she didn’t want to know if this mutation in her dna would be carried onto her own children. Who was she kidding? She should not have children. What would happen to them? That was out.
And she didn’t want to tell Oskar. This she thought about. It’s not exactly dinner conversation. “By the way, Oskar, your family is to blame for why I am not normal.“ He seemed to not want any connection with his family anyway. So why should she start cross examining him?
Her father said, “What’s wrong with you? You seem a little stunned. “
“Yes,” she agreed.
“Are you that upset about Daisy? I know pancreatic cancer is terminal but in its way it’s quick.”
“I know. As long as she doesn’t have too much pain. She’s probably sick of life,” Duet said. “She’s withstood a lot.”
“Yes.” Her father narrowed his eyes at her. “Did you have a fight with Oskar?”
She shook her head but her father knew something was up. Well, they tell you in the end, he thought. That is one thing about women. They can’t hold anything back.
Oskar texted her and noticed nothing different.
When she slept, she didn’t dream that night.
She told her parents she would be back to see Daisy since they all estimated she had less than three months to live.
Duet returned to New York quietly and went back to work. Once again, she lost herself in her tasks, responsibilities. She continued to meet Maurice for dinner and continued to talk on the phone with David. Maurice said he had rented an apartment and he wanted to show it to her.
“Why do you need an apartment?”she asked on the phone.
“I have so many collections,” he responded.
“Yes.” She asked nothing else on that subject. It frightened her. She saw Oskar on different nights and said that the movers had postponed. He didn’t believe her but he was grateful for a little more solitude himself.
Still, they saw each other. She found, to her amazement, that when she was with him, she c
ontinued to be enthralled with him. This is the present, she told herself. That is what I am living. Not his grandfather’s life. She loved the strength and energy of his physical presence. She sat next to him at a film or concert and he filled the room for her. She found she didn’t want to be with another man. And yet, when she was not with him, she did not know what to make of their impossible connection.
Did she owe her dead relatives and Daisy the respect of staying away? Punishing Oskar for the sins of his family? And yet the Jewish religion teaches forgiveness. Not in the turning the other cheek like the Christians, but in facing it.
She needed to talk to someone, someone eminently practical and eminently wise. She decided to go to a shrink to ask for some advice. She wasn’t sure how eminent that was but she might as well try. Annette downstairs gave her the name of a doctor who Annette said was brilliant. Dr Dazin. “He’s amazing.”
Duet dialed his number and set up a time for that Friday. 2 pm.
His office was in an elegant old building on Fifth Avenue near the Village. The lobby had immaculate velvet couches, oriental rugs, handsome mirrors, and the whole effect was New York old majestic. The doorman motioned her to the back of the lobby where Dr Dazin kept his office.
She walked in and as she looked around, for a startled moment, she thought she had walked into the annex of the New York Museum of Natural History. Behind the dark leather couch was a mahogany set of shelves replete with tribal art objects ranging from Zaire phalluses to Samoan stone earth mothers with drooping enormous breasts. A Mayan rubbing from Colombia depicted a mysterious fertility rite. Next to where the psychoanalyst sat she saw, unbelievably, a Max Ernst painting, and that was the work of art that made her trust him.
‘My God,” she said, “How did you get that?”