Other Words for Love

by Lorraine Zago Rosenthal

  It was so humiliating. My bra had been flung wantonly onto the carpet and Blake was cuddled up behind me, his arm draped over my bare shoulders. I nudged his ribs to wake him, and Mr. Ellis said that he wanted to see Blake downstairs.

  I got dressed in a flash after they were gone. I heard voices: a thick New York accent and a light Georgia twang. I couldn’t understand a word, so I tiptoed into the hallway to eavesdrop, but I still couldn’t hear anything except footsteps. I dashed into the bathroom, closed the door, and stayed inside until Blake knocked.

  “It’s okay,” he said. We were in the hallway now and he saw that my face was flushed. “I’ll take you home, all right?”

  “I’ll take her home,” Mr. Ellis interrupted from the bottom of the stairs. “I have some errands to do anyway. Is that okay with you, Blake?”

  I wanted him to say that it wasn’t okay. I stared at him, hoping he could read my mind, but he didn’t seem to have the strength. The next thing I knew, I was sitting next to Mr. Ellis in a Porsche like Del’s, struggling to act dignified, pretending that he hadn’t just caught me naked in bed with his son.

  The radio was on, 1010 WINS. You give us twenty-two minutes, we’ll give you the world. The leather seats were heated, and a medallion swung from the rearview mirror. FORDHAM LAW, it read. CLASS OF 1964. I absentmindedly touched the ruby on my neck with one hand and nervously twisted my hair with the other.

  Mr. Ellis saw my necklace. Our eyes met for a second but he didn’t say anything. I tucked it beneath my shirt, thinking that my gift belonged to his poor dead wife and he probably didn’t want me to have it.

  He didn’t act that way, though. He flipped the charm switch and engaged me in polite conversation about the weather. Next he started talking about how he’d spent years toiling at some sweatshop firm in Midtown to repay his student loans and to get enough experience to open his own place. It was all for his kids, he said. Too bad Blake was the only one who appreciated it.

  “My son told me about your college plans,” he said when we were close to Flatbush. “I can help you with that. I know quite a few people at Parsons.”

  I hoped he’d be able to tell them my last name. “Thank you, Mr. Ellis.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Is there anything else you want, Ari? I mean … is there anything I can do for you?”

  We were a block from my house and he parked next to that lot where Blake and I used to sit in the Corvette and kiss. It was still vacant; the latest rumors were that the owners had either squandered all their Lotto money or gone to jail for killing some Mafia kingpin.

  I was confused. Why had he stopped the car and what was he talking about? I shook my head and he asked if I was sure, because there were many things he could do, like finance my college education and buy me any kind of car I wanted.

  “I don’t need anything, Mr. Ellis,” I said.

  He turned in his seat and I got a clear view of his face. He was so handsome, better-looking than either of his sons, but I felt afraid of him suddenly, of what was behind that suave smile and those deep brown eyes. They were so dark that I couldn’t find the pupils.

  “You know something, Ari,” he began. “Blake’s been acting very strangely these days. His grades are dropping and he’s preoccupied … and last week I found an application for a firefighter exam in his room. You don’t know anything about that, do you?”

  I wanted to run home. Instead I shook my head and listened to him talk about how Blake had acted this way once before, when he was dating a girl in Georgia, and he had even considered quitting school and moving down there to marry her and work at some dead-end blue-collar job, and could I believe that?

  I could believe it. I felt sick. I remembered the night at the penthouse when Del and Blake had talked about Jessica. Del had said that Blake was with her for two years and she lived in a trailer and she’d dumped him without so much as a phone call. She probably didn’t have a cent and hadn’t been able to resist when Mr. Ellis asked if there was anything he could do. He’d probably done a lot to get rid of her so that she wouldn’t spoil the plans he had for his prize racehorse.

  But I wasn’t Jessica. I didn’t need anything except Blake. Mr. Ellis kept asking what I wanted, saying that he’d buy absolutely anything for me and my family.

  “My family and I have everything we need,” I said.

  He stared at me for a second, as if his eyes could melt my will. When that didn’t work, he turned away, started the car, and drove me home. He didn’t say another word until we were across the street from my house. Dad was on a ladder, twisting bulbs on a string of lights that lined the roof, trying to identify the one that had caused the rest of them to die.

  “Is that your father?” Mr. Ellis asked. “The detective?”

  I nodded and reached for the door, but he stopped me.

  “Ari,” he said. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want him to know what you’ve been up to. I mean … spending time alone in a young man’s bedroom doing things that could cause a lot of trouble. You wouldn’t want your parents to know about that, would you? I’m sure they have a high opinion of you—you wouldn’t want anything to spoil it.”

  He’d switched from bribery to blackmail, and my face flushed again because he was staring right through me like he could see everything that Blake and I had done in his bedroom. I sprang out of the car, raced past Dad, and ran upstairs, where it took me hours to fall asleep.

  Blake called the next morning as if nothing had happened. Of course, he didn’t know what had happened. Mr. Ellis wasn’t going to mention our conversation, and I didn’t rat him out. I couldn’t shatter Blake’s illusions by informing him of the cold hard truth that his father was a snake.

  Blake invited me back to the penthouse for Christmas Eve, and Rachel was standing in the foyer when I walked in. She looked as beautiful as ever, holding a glass of cider in her hand and saying goodnight to a man who was putting on his coat. She wore a black knit dress with a slit up the thigh, and I felt nervous when she glanced in my direction. I wondered if she thought I was as bad as Summer for hurting Leigh, and I worried that she’d tower over me in her high-heeled suede boots, pointing a skinny finger.

  I dashed by her. I had almost made it to the living room when I felt someone touch my arm.

  “Ari … aren’t you going to say hello to me, honey?” Rachel said in her faint Southern accent, and I turned around. I played it cool, pretending I hadn’t even seen her.

  “Hi,” I said, clenching my fists and waiting for something awful to happen.

  “Leigh is here,” Rachel said, nodding toward the living room.

  I thought she was about to say that I was a selfish, scheming user and that I didn’t deserve a friend like Leigh. But she just put an arm around me and bent her head toward mine.

  “I think you two should patch things up,” she whispered. “You didn’t know what you were doing. A girl can lose her head when she has feelings for a guy. I’ve been there, God knows. And like I’ve said before … all three of you can be friends. Isn’t that right?”

  I let out a relieved sigh, nodded, and veered around wine-drinking guests in the living room until I found Leigh. She was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, holding a red mug and staring at Manhattan. I tapped her shoulder and she turned around.

  “Ari,” she said with a serious face that looked prettier than I’d ever seen it. Her hair was pulled back, and Rachel must have done her makeup. It was all the right colors—apricot-hued lipstick, sparkly gold eye shadow. She wore a green velvet dress with a silver belt cinched around her waist.

  I was nervous. I tugged on one of my fingers, trying to crack the knuckle. “Merry Christmas,” I said, looking at the miniature marshmallows floating in her hot cocoa.

  She leaned against the window. “Merry Christmas,” she said coldly.

  That disappointed me, but I decided to give my apology a try. “Leigh,” I began. “You didn’t deserve what I did to you. I know that saying sorry doesn�
��t mean much, but it’s all I can do. I’d really like to be friends again.”

  The city lights blinked behind her as she sipped from her mug. I thought she was ignoring me, that Rachel was wrong, that it was hopeless. So I turned away, but then she grabbed my elbow.

  “Okay, Ari. I accept your apology. But don’t ever treat me like that again.”

  “Promise,” I said, sticking out my hand to seal the deal. She hugged me instead.

  I saw Mr. Ellis later on. What a phony. He was all smiles and charm and “Merry Christmas, Ari. So glad you could come.”

  I smiled back, deciding that I’d be just as fake as he was and that I wouldn’t let him or anyone else take Blake away. I wouldn’t accept bribes and I wouldn’t be blackmailed, even if he’d been clever enough to place hidden cameras all over the Hamptons house and the apartment. I wondered if he had X-rated evidence that he planned to show my parents if I didn’t disappear, like videotape of me topless in the pool or of Blake’s head between my thighs or of the two of us going at it on those scratchy blankets.

  That was paranoia, I told myself. Or maybe it was a storyline from Days of Our Lives. But after last night, I wouldn’t have put anything past Stanford Ellis. He could call Mom and Dad to expose me as a liar and their second letdown of a daughter, and even though I prayed that wouldn’t happen, I told myself it didn’t matter—because it was okay if you loved somebody.

  “Want to see what I got for Christmas?” Blake asked.

  We were sitting on the couch with Del and Rachel and Leigh. Leigh had told me that the guy from her building was her boyfriend now, and her face lit up every time she mentioned him, which made me think the California move had been a good idea.

  “Blake got a stereo system from our father,” Del said. He’d been drinking and he was slumped on the couch with a cigarette in his hand. “And you know what I got, Ari? I got turned down on a loan for my club. Now I have to go to the bank and get raped on a fucking ten-percent interest rate.”

  “Watch your mouth,” Blake said. “And don’t expect Daddy to bail you out every time you get in trouble. It’s not his fault that your business isn’t doing well. He warned you not to open that place.”

  “He’d bail you out,” Del said. “He’d do anything for you.”

  Blake didn’t answer. He must have known it was true. Then he took my hand and led me upstairs, where he showed me an expensive stereo system and looked disappointed when I wasn’t enthusiastic.

  “What’s the matter?” he said.

  “Nothing,” I answered, stepping closer to kiss him. I asked if he would come to my house for Christmas tomorrow but he said he couldn’t, one of his father’s partners had invited them for dinner and he couldn’t get out of it. “Oh, come on,” I whined. “Can’t you blow it off for me?”

  And he did. He showed up at my house the next afternoon with gifts for the kids and a Lindy’s cheesecake for dessert. I had a gift for Blake. I gave him a bottle of his favorite aftershave. It wasn’t special and precious like what he’d given me, but he seemed to appreciate my Christmas present as much as I treasured his.

  “It’s huge,” Evelyn said after dinner when she and I were washing dishes, Mom was playing with the boys, and Dad and Patrick and Blake were watching TV in the living room. Evelyn was looking at the ruby that hung over my shirt and she whispered into my ear, “Is he huge too?”

  I nodded and held my finger to my lips when she let out a raunchy laugh. I had told her everything about me and Blake—about the Waldorf and the time we spent in his bedroom—and she’d promised to keep it a secret from Mom.

  An hour later, we ate Mom’s butter cookies around the dining room table and Blake blended in like he was a member of the family. It made me think that Blake would learn to stand up to Mr. Ellis the way I was learning to stand up for myself. If he’d turn down Christmas with his father to spend it with me and my family, then he was definitely making progress.

  “I love my gift,” I said, twirling the ruby between my fingers.

  Everyone had moved to the living room and Blake and I sat together on the couch, where he took off his NYU sweatshirt and gave it to me because I was cold. It smelled of him and it was going to keep me warm in bed tonight. I was glad I didn’t have to hide it under the scarves in my closet.

  twenty

  Mr. Ellis had his second heart attack at his partner’s Christmas dinner. Leigh called my house to tell Blake, and he and I rushed to St. Vincent’s Hospital in Manhattan.

  Leigh and Del and Rachel were waiting for us in the emergency room. Rachel’s cheeks were striped with tears, and when Blake saw her as we ran through the automatic doors, the frightened look on his face made me regret the moment in the car when I’d wished that this Christmas would be his father’s last.

  The hospital allowed two people at a time into Mr. Ellis’s room. Just family, a nurse said. The only reason I wanted to go in was to be with Blake, who I saw through a window in the door. He was sitting in a chair next to the bed and Rachel was sitting next to him, rubbing his back. I wished I could rub his back. He looked so sad. His eyes were on Mr. Ellis, who had a tube in his arm and another up his nose and a ghostly pallor covering his skin.

  I stood in the hallway as Rachel came out and Del went in and Del came out and Leigh went in. The only constant was Blake, who finally left the room when a doctor wanted to speak to everybody. Then I listened to the doctor tell us that Mr. Ellis had gotten to the hospital in time, that he had to stay at St. Vincent’s for a few days, but he’d be all right if he watched his diet and stopped working so hard and avoided stress.

  Rachel breathed a sigh of relief. She put her arm around Leigh and they went back to the room, and then I was alone with Blake and Del. Del looked at his watch.

  “This poor girl has been standing here for hours,” he said to Blake. “I’ll take her home.”

  I thought that was very considerate but Blake didn’t. His face turned stormy and his voice was peevish when he told Del that nobody had asked him to take me home. Ten minutes later, Blake and I were back in the Corvette. I didn’t say a word as we drove from Manhattan to Brooklyn because Blake didn’t seem interested in talking.

  “I should’ve been there” was the first thing he said.

  We were parked in front of my house and he didn’t look at me. His eyes were fixed on the windshield, through which I saw piles of snow on the sidewalk and intoxicated people leaving Christmas parties.

  “Your father will be fine, Blake. The doctor said so. You couldn’t have done anything if you’d been there.”

  “But I would’ve been there, Ari.”

  He never said he blamed me. He didn’t have to. I didn’t get a goodnight kiss, and that said it all.

  Blake didn’t want to welcome 1987 together. He called a few days after Christmas and said his father was home from the hospital and it wouldn’t be right to leave him alone on New Year’s Eve. He also said that Rachel was helping out, but she and Leigh were itching to go to Times Square and Del was working at his club, so the only one left to play nurse was him.

  “You understand, don’t you?” he asked, and I pretended I did. I told myself that it didn’t matter, that Mr. Ellis would recover soon and Blake and I could pick up where we had left off on those scratchy blankets.

  Then I went with Mom and Dad to spend New Year’s Eve in Queens, where my positive thinking evaporated. I sat on the couch in a funk while Kieran raced his Matchbox cars in the basement with Evelyn, and Dad and Patrick played poker in the dining room. Mom plopped down next to me. She tore open a pack of Pall Malls, turned on the television, and watched It’s a Wonderful Life as I stared into space and caressed my necklace.

  “This isn’t a cheap gift,” I said.

  Mom grabbed the remote control and lowered the volume. “What was that?”

  “I said this isn’t a cheap gift. You accused Blake of giving me cheap gifts and this is an expensive gift.”

  “Of course it is,” Mom said. She put
her arm around me, pried my hand from the necklace, and squeezed my fingers in hers. “It’s a lovely gift. And I’m sure that Blake would’ve spent tonight with you if his father wasn’t sick. But he has his life to lead and you have yours. Believe me, this time next year you’ll be in college and you’ll look back on tonight and laugh.”

  For a minute there I had thought she understood. I’d thought she was going to tell me that everything would be fine with Blake and that I had nothing to worry about … but instead she dismissed him as somebody I’d barely remember in twelve months.

  And why did she have to bring up college? I was sure that I hadn’t exactly aced the SAT, and I hadn’t applied anywhere other than Parsons. If Mr. Ellis could get me in, he could probably keep me out. Our conversation in his car had made it crystal clear that he wouldn’t give me something for nothing. Now I understood why Mom was so anti-connections.

  Leigh called on New Year’s Day and invited me to the penthouse, which was strange. It wasn’t her penthouse, and Blake should have done the inviting. I asked where he was and what he was doing, and there was a pause before she answered.

  “He went to some deli on the other side of town to buy chicken noodle soup,” she said. “Uncle Stan is very picky about his chicken noodle soup.”

  Her tone was sarcastic, and I imagined Blake shivering in the cold outside Katz’s or the Carnegie Deli and trying not to spill a container of scalding hot soup as he rushed home. This made me even angrier at Mr. Ellis than I already was, but my mood wasn’t too terrible, because I assumed that Blake had told Leigh to call and everything was fine.

  So I fixed my hair and makeup and rode to Manhattan in a car that Leigh sent to Brooklyn. It left me at Blake’s building, where I took an elevator to the top floor. My heart sank when I reached the penthouse and he wasn’t there.

  “He’ll be back soon,” Leigh said. “He had to pick up some deposition transcripts … Uncle Stan won’t stop working no matter what the doctors say.”