“You’re a lawyer, Allan, I’m sure you have clients who get help for their problems … do your … well, do you know of marriages sometimes saved by outside help?”
“Sure … sometimes. But not, I’m afraid, too often. When a marriage is over, well, it tends to be over. Of course there are exceptions, I just wouldn’t bank on them. Sorry to sound like a lawyer but—”
She sighed. “Obviously that’s not the answer I’d have liked … my divorce will be final next March.” She swallowed hard. “Well, on to happier things … I had to do something with my life so I opened that crazy little shop. It really saved my sanity, and I find I love it.”
“I’m glad, Janet … and what about the things that haven’t worked?”
“Well, I discovered it’s not easy becoming a divorcée—in more ways than one.”
“You mean about men, obviously.”
“Yes.”
“I hear that complaint all the time. There’s a big difference being a divorced woman and a widow. A divorcée is fair game for every frustrated husband. But somehow a widow takes on an aura of virginity. Even now men still feel a widow is saintly, they have a certain respect—”
“I’m glad to hear that … I mean about divorced women. I was beginning to think it was just me.”
“You’d be surprised how many women deliberately go out and look to have affairs … they’ll sleep with anybody to prove they’re still desirable. Others reject men totally. Divorce, no question, is a destructive thing.”
“Do men go through that?”
“Sure, they go through the same symptoms, especially if the wife walks away.”
“Did you?”
“No … not quite. I mean I didn’t feel the urge to bed down every available lady. I went through all the usual emotions, anger, jealousy … you name it. But when it simmered down, I began to realize that it wouldn’t have been any good if Joyce had stayed. That might have been even more destructive. It’s important to have a sense of your own worth and I wasn’t going to let anyone wipe me out.”
“I was completely wiped out. I felt worthless, hated myself … in a way still do.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, because, of course, you shouldn’t feel that about yourself … quite the opposite. Just give it time, Janet … How is the divorce going? Sometimes people do everything they can to annihilate each other. Any special problems?”
“No … actually Bill’s been very decent. He’s setting up trust funds for the children and … God, I just realized this must be like being back in your office, listening to a tale of woe—”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I weren’t interested.”
“Thank you, it’s been … well, very nice to be able to let down to someone … I mean, parents and friends are well-meaning but overprotective … let’s change the subject, all right?”
Allan glanced at his wristwatch. “My God, the time has gone by so quickly … I have to catch that damn plane. I hope next time we can make it a longer evening.”
She smiled. “That would be nice … and Allan, forgive me for being so rude to you earlier today … it was just that I was so surprised, shocked, actually, when I saw you—”
“Don’t apologize. You’ve had a rough go of it. Like I said before, divorce has turned more than one woman against the male species. But bitterness is so destructive … please don’t let that happen to you, Janet. Men aren’t all out of the same mold …”
“Thank God for that. It could really destroy one’s faith in the race … You might just have made me a believer again.”
“That’s about the nicest thing you’ve said to me thus far,” he said. “Look, I don’t want to sound pushy, but if you’re not busy Saturday night, I’ll be back in New York and I have tickets for the ballet. How does that sound?”
“Wonderful.”
Driving home, she marveled about how good, how unthreatening it felt to be with Allan. With him there were no games, no innuendoes, no double-meanings. He was strong enough to be open, and Lord knew, just speaking to him had really helped her … Yes, Allan Blum was indeed a very considerable man.
Saturday night, as she dressed, Janet realized that for the first time in ages she looked forward to a night out on the town. Allan made her feel human again … he had the capacity to help restore her destroyed image, for herself … Applying the finishing touches on her make-up, she looked at herself in the mirror, and briefly recalled the first date she’d had with Bill … all those long years ago. Good God, what a baby she’d been. She shook her head, remembering how she’d debated whether to look sophisticated, or demure. Silly little Janet, trying so damned hard to make the right impression …
At six on the dot Allan picked her up at the shop. He told her she looked radiant, and she smiled appropriately, almost feeling as good as he said she looked.
Later, in the darkened theater watching the first act of “Giselle,” she felt Allan’s hand on hers, and although she pretended not to notice—he had no pretense, she was a woman and therefore entitled to be less than perfect—the feel of his strong hand greatly pleased her. It wasn’t until the end of the act that he released it. She didn’t complain.
During intermission they had champagne. Clicking her glass with his … “I hope this is the beginning of more of the same, Janet.”
“I do too, Allan.” And though the exchange was prosaic, the feeling when she spoke was distinctly not.
When the performance was over they browsed about Lincoln Center. Again, like the words they’d spoken, it was familiar, but the sharing of it with Allan was a lovely, relaxed moment …
“You feel up to Rumpelmayer’s?” he asked.
“That sounds deliciously wicked. You’re on, sir.”
As they sat among the after-theater crowd, Allan said, “You know what would make me very happy?”
“No,” she said, breaking off a piece of pound cake, acting more indifferent than she felt. Much more …
“I wish we could spend tomorrow together, here in New York …”
And once again her mind darted back to the past … a lonely Sunday afternoon that had led her to Orchard Street and Fayge … Sundays in Westchester, just as lonely now. “I think that would be very nice, Allan. In fact, I have an overnight case packed.”
“Really?”
Ignoring the inference, she went on, “When the weather’s bad I stay in the city. Driving back to Westchester can be dangerous to health and welfare. My bag’s at the shop and I could pick it up. Incidentally, where are you staying?”
“At the Plaza.”
“Okay. In that event I’m sure they’ll put me up overnight at the Pierre.”
“A deal.”
Allan—unlike Bill—enthusiastically showed her a special Oriental collection at the Metropolitan Museum. Later they took a cab to the Frick Museum, then on to the Morgan Library, and last of all they sat quietly discussing wonderfully unimportant small things in the poolroom of The Four Seasons. Finally, unbidden and unwanted, the day came to an end, and Janet drove Allan to Kennedy Airport, where she waited for his plane to be airborne, then drove back to Westchester, full of the sensation of his brief kiss good-by. She had to smile … a good-by kiss and she was reacting, in her fourth decade, like a teen-ager. Good Lord … didn’t anything ever change … ? Well, she wasn’t complaining. Not now …
He called every few days “just to say hello … I’m thinking about…” Each call left her with a good feeling. And more and more lately, his business brought him to New York. Each time she saw him she felt even better about him … about them … ? It wasn’t love, she instructed herself, but whatever it was, it felt awfully good….
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
AT THE END OF August, Nicole and Mark returned from Europe, and Jason was home from summer school.
Janet let Renee run the shop with the help of a girl friend. For the first time since Bill had left she fussed over dinner, making a production out of it. Tonight Kit’s family and hers would all b
e together.
Flushed with excitement, she sat at her table watching the people she loved so much. Allan had been right. Time was a friend … it was healing. Bill’s absence was no longer an acutely felt thing … the heavy weight of it had been lifted. Life, contrary to her expectations, very much did go on….
After the Weisses went home, Nicole lay at the foot of Janet’s bed, showing her all the pictures they’d taken in Europe. She poured out her love for Mark.
“How important it is when two people share an experience like you’ve had. Still, I’m a little selfish. You’ll never know what it means having you home, darling.”
Nicole got off the bed and stood by the window, then turned around and looked at Janet. “Mother … I’ve decided to go to Columbia. Mark and I are taking an apartment …”
Why do we always think of our children as children? They grow up and make a life of their own. Hadn’t she done that? Nicole had told her before that they might live together. How stupid she’d been to hope she would come back from Europe and live at home … Strange, she’d never given a thought to what her mother must have felt the day she left home for New York. Raising your own children makes you understand your parents better … sometimes very late in the day.
“Will you stay ’til the semester starts, Nicole?”
“I don’t think so … Mark and I want a place of our own. I’m just happy Jay will be here.”
“Me too. But that’ll only be for a little while. This year he’ll be a junior. Well, no matter … welcome home, darling.”
When Nicole moved her things out Janet knew that was the end of a part of her life. This would never be home for her daughter again. Birthdays, holidays, visits, of course, but now home for Nicole was Mark, and rightly so. But there was no denying the emptiness Janet felt. She should be growing old with a husband. She needed Bill at this moment almost more than at any other time in her life. She needed someone …
Janet sat behind the steering wheel of her Mercedes, waiting for the garage door to open. She drove in quickly and immediately closed the door with the automatic genie. Somehow she still hadn’t conquered that small fear of coming home alone. Hurriedly she took the grocery bags and let herself into the kitchen. Now, in the familiarity of her large kitchen, she felt relatively safe. Putting the bags on the drainboard, she walked through the living room to the entrance hall, reached for a hanger and was about to unbutton her coat when the front doorbell rang. There was a moment of mild panic. Nobody came to her door at nine-thirty in the evening. Apprehensively she called out, “Who is it?”
“It’s me, mother.”
A sigh of relief as she let Nicole in. “What brought you to Westchester in the middle of the week?”
“Mark and I wanted to visit the family, which includes you … Where have you been all afternoon? I called the shop and Renée said you had left early.”
Janet smiled at Nicole’s reprimand. The roles seemed rather reversed. That was a question she must have asked her daughter a million times in the past while Nicole was climbing over the hill, growing up. “Well, darling, it was one of those days. I … I just decided to play hooky. That little hobby of mine is a great diversion, but I needed to get away and … Well anyway, I went marketing and then decided to stop off for an early dinner on the way home and take in a movie. It’s the maid’s day off, and I thought it was about time I had one too. Besides, I hate cooking for myself. So. That’s the sum total of all my wickedness.”
Nicole sat on the large sofa and looked at her mother’s face, wondering if the moment was right to tell her why she’d really driven to Westchester. But somehow she couldn’t seem to get up the courage … not just yet. Playing for time, she asked, “Do you have any vodka?”
Janet suddenly knew this was not going to be the casual visit she’d expected. Nicole seldom drank; it had to be serious. “How do you want it?”
“Over ice … why don’t you join me?”
“Okay, think I will.”
She handed Nicole her drink and sat down across from her. “How’s Mark?”
“Fine.” Then there was a long period of silence.
“It seems you’re having a little difficulty telling me why you’re really here. It doesn’t have anything to do with you and Mark, does it?”
“God, no, mother.”
“What then?”
Nicole took a slow sip. “Mother, as you know, dad’s been living in that furnished apartment, but he isn’t happy …”
Janet frowned. What did that have to do with her? “Then why doesn’t he get a place he likes?”
“That’s what he wants to do.”
“Well, what’s holding him back?”
Swallowing hard, Nicole said, “The furniture.”
Again a frown from Janet. “The furniture? I don’t understand what this is all about. Why doesn’t he call in a decorator and furnish? He did it before we were married.”
“That’s just the point, mother—”
“Nicole, just say it.”
“Well … daddy feels as though he has no anchor. He wants to surround himself with some familiar things, things that have memories. What I’m trying to say is, if you don’t mind, could he have the den furniture? It would mean so much to him … as though he had roots of some kind …”
It was too unbelievable for words. Bill missed his furniture! Things from his bachelorhood days. He even needed that to round out his present life. Having that furniture would definitely, of course, bring back his youth. She forced herself to sound calm. “Of course, if the furniture means so much to him, why not? It was his.”
Nicole smiled. “Oh, mother, you’re the most understanding woman in the world. And daddy will be so grateful—”
“I’m sure. You tell him I’ll arrange to have the things sent as soon as possible so he can get settled … In fact, tell him I want him to have his bedroom set too. I think that will be very comforting for him … like old times.”
Nicole didn’t hear the sarcasm under Janet’s light tone. Wasn’t tuned to it. “Oh, mother, you’re marvelous. I only hope I’m like you—”
“Thank you, but forget my virtues. After all, I ended up with this lovely house.”
After Nicole left, Janet stood in the center of the living room and listened to the silence. Her eyes wandered around from one furnishing to the next. Everything had been selected together, with love. Tonight Bill’s presence was overwhelming. She looked at the sofa and in her mind’s eye saw him stretched out on it. The echo of his words rang in her ears … “You did a hell of a job” … “By God, I’m the luckiest man in the world to have a wife like you” … “Sure as hell love you.” That was eighteen years ago when they’d moved in. Only eighteen years. When … at what point had he realized the love was gone? My God, how fragile the string was. It could be severed so quickly. And the lie, that dreadful lie … ’til death do us part. But then, my love for Bill changed too, didn’t it? … it certainly did after I’d been discarded like an old shoe. She was unaware that tears were streaming down her face. She poured herself a full tumbler of vodka, then slid slowly to the floor, bracing herself against the sofa. Having taken the first drink, she poured another. “I hope you suffer every moment of your life as I’m suffering now,” she said into the silent house. Her hand shook as she picked up the bottle to refill the glass, but the vodka was gone. She threw it against the fireplace and watched the glass shatter into pieces … like my life …
Unsteadily she got up, stumbled to her bedroom, fell across the bed.
It was two in the morning when she lay spent. All the tears were dry on her cheeks.
Slowly she got up and went to the bathroom, washed her face and got ready for bed. She wished she had a sleeping pill. She’d taken them until the doctor warned her, “Janet, I’m not going to renew the prescription. It’s going to be tough for a few nights but you can’t go on using them the rest of your life.” Why not, doctor, what difference does it make?
Usually she folded
the quilted bedspread carefully, but in the early hours of this morning she yanked back the corner and slid into bed under the electric blanket. Her body was chilled. She lay in the dark staring up at the ceiling, the thoughts of the past months running through her head like a broken record. Enough, Janet. Chew it up and spit it out… he’s out of your life, can’t you get that through your stupid head? You’ve gone through this a million times … the same old thing about what you should have done, what you didn’t do. Well, Bill, you’ve taken plenty, now you want the roots? You want your furniture back so you can relive your wonderful past? I’m only sorry I hadn’t thought about it in the beginning. I don’t want one thing, not any part of it. You’re going to get your furniture and your paintings. Now I’ll do something for myself. You’re still in every nook and cranny, but no more… Everything will be sent to auction and I’m going to buy what I want … this is going to be my house once and for all … I will not longer allow you to be a lingering—haunting—part of the future. Each time he sat in a chair, or lay on that couch … well, let his conscience take care of it … she’d waste no more time on such draining emotions as resentment, anger, bitterness….
Looking at his things, Bill felt they didn’t represent his bachelorhood days at all, but rather a part of the past that he still shared with her. He’d even, for God’s sake, taken to sleeping on her side of the bed….
With the hanging of the last of the new draperies, Janet felt Bill was finally exorcised … a ghost of her own making, finally gone from her existence.
She walked from room to room of the newly furnished house. It looked just the way she wanted it to … whites and beiges … tubs of green plants, the walls covered with pastel prints and contemporary paintings, the wood pieces antique. At long last she, too, belonged to herself.
That night when she slept in her new bed, past memories were, finally, put to rest.
Jason ran off the football field, sweating from practice, but he paused when he looked up at the bleachers and saw a lone man sitting there. Jason watched as the man got up and approached him.
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