by Joy Fielding
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"I thought I'd get undressed and take a bath, if that meets with your approval," he said, sarcastically.
"It doesn't," she said.
"Well, you'll have to pardon me then because I intend to do it anyway," he answered.
"I think we better talk," she said, slamming the door of the dishwasher and following him down the hall to the bedroom.
"What's there to say?" he asked.
"There's plenty to say," she told him, hearing her voice level rise. "You didn't have to tell Don that I already knew about Beth! You didn't have to place me in that position!"
"What were you going to do, Jill? Lie to the man?"
"Why shouldn't I? Are you the only one in this family who gets to tell lies?"
He looked appropriately disgusted. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about your little racquetball games with Nicole Clark! Are you forgetting that you told me you were playing racquetball with one of the male students—“
"Don't yell at me, Jill," David warned her. "I've taken enough crap from you today."
"You lied to me!"
He turned to her angrily. "What was I supposed to tell you? I know how paranoid you are about Nicki—"
"I am not paranoid! The woman is after my husband. She told me as much!"
"Oh, Jill, for God's sake. When are you going to stop using that? Didn't you hear her in that living room tonight? She was on your side, for Christ's sake! She actually defended you!"
"I don't need that little bitch to defend me!" Jill shouted, understanding now how Jason felt earlier. "I am perfectly capable of defending myself. I don't need some little undergraduate talking about me like I'm not even in the room, referring to me in the third person, pretending to sympathize with me in order to make herself look generous and fair! She will do anything, David, to make herself look good in your eyes, and if she can make me look bad at the same time, well, then, so much the better."
He pushed past her into the hallway. "I'm not going to listen to this," he said.
Jill was right behind him, shadowing him as he stormed first into the den and then through the dining area back into the living room. "David, for God's sake, do you think it was just a coincidence that she mentioned the racquetball game just as I got to the door? You don't think that was deliberately said so that I would hear?"
“No, I don't” he said with vehemence. "Nicki's mind doesn't work along the same lines as yours."
"Well, at least that much is true! David, can't you see how she's manipulating this whole situation? You and me! Can't you feel how you're being manipulated?" She paused, seeing the intractability of his cool green eyes. "Or is it that you just don't care?"
"You're being ridiculous," he said, his voice halfway between anger and sadness. "I'm going out for some fresh air."
"Oh, David, please don't," Jill begged as he opened the door.
"I'll be back later," he told her. And then he was gone.
Chapter 20
Jill looked at the clock for the fourth time in as many minutes. It was exactly eleven forty-five. David had been gone now for almost three hours.
She didn't know what to do. Whether to wait up or go to sleep. Sleep—that was a funny word. She could get into bed; she certainly wouldn't get any rest.
Where was he? Where could he have gone without his car keys or his wallet? An hour after he had left, she'd snuck down to the parking garage to make sure the car was, in fact, still there, and when she was satisfied that it hadn't moved, she returned to the apartment. His wallet and all his cash and credit cards still lay on the stereo where he had discarded them when he'd returned from driving Jason and Laurie home. That meant he had gone walking through the streets of Chicago at night alone. If he were mugged, the thieves would be furious to discover his lack of funds, would undoubtedly rough him up a bit, possibly even kill him. The thought made her panic. She debated whether or not to call the police, but knew they would tell her to wait twenty-four hours and then call them again. Instead she had called David's mother, thinking perhaps he had gone there, but after several minutes of talk about the weather it became obvious that David was not there, and Jill had been trapped into spending the next half hour listening while Mrs. Plumley complained about everything from inflation to the public housing which was threatening to impinge on her neighborhood. When she was finally able to say goodbye, she quickly dialed David's sister, on the off chance Renee and Norman might know where he was. They didn't, or at least his name was never mentioned other than in the casual how-is-your-husband-my-brother category. After that, she kept the phone free in case he was in trouble and had been trying to call. If he had been, he wasn't now.
The last hour had been filled with thoughts of Nicole Clark. Jill wasn't sure which would make her feel worse— the police calling to report they'd found her husband's mutilated body or Nicole calling to announce that David was spending the night with her. It was a discomforting thought. But then, Nicole Clark was a discomforting girl. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything, Jill thought. Maybe she should have just kept her mouth shut and not taken Nicole's bait. Ignored the fact that her husband was now playing racquetball with the girl, ignored the fact that he had lied to her. But she couldn't do that. Once you agreed to accept one lie, you agreed to accept them all, to lend the lies a certain credibility. What was the legal term? To aid and abet?
And yet what had she accomplished by bringing the issue out in the open, forcing it to a head? She had simply succeeded in alienating her husband even further, driving him, tired and disgusted, out of his own apartment. Right into Nicole Clark's waiting arms?
Was that where he was?
“Stop it!” she told herself. It was ridiculous to torture herself this way. If he had gone to Nicole, there was nothing she could do about it now.
The whole day had been one drawn-out disaster, most of it her own making. If only she'd never confided to him about Beth's admission of guilt. She should have known how he would react to such news. She knew how much David had loved and admired Al Weatherby. He had cried over the man's death, whereas he had never cried when his own father had died. Why did she have to be so insistent about her doubts? Couldn't she simply have agreed that Al was incapable of such monstrous behavior, and then waited until another time to hear what Beth had to say? Of course David was going to take her doubts personally. What else could he be expected to do?
Jill found herself pacing the narrow hallway. She was throwing too much at David at once, bombarding him with disharmony when what he needed was a little peace and quiet. And a lot of support. He had enough problems—his ex-wife, his children, his daily grind at the office, their constant lack of funds. In the last few months, he'd had to contend with Al's death, her unhappiness with her job, and her newly organized jealousy. And now, this. Coming home had to be less than a treat.
She had to do something about it. She had to stop being so suspicious, or at the very least learn to keep her suspicions to herself, to not openly flinch whenever she heard him mention Nicole's name; she had to back away as far as Al and Beth were concerned, learn to keep conflicting opinions to herself, at least for a while. She would refrain from making disparaging comments about Elaine and would continue her efforts to befriend his children. There must be some way to win them over. She could do nothing about what went on at his office all day. She could only concentrate on making home as appealing a prospect as Nicole Clark.
She sighed. That left only the problem about her job, and she'd just have to get used to that too. She was stuck, and there was no point in further complaints. David had to be as tired of hearing about how bored she was as she was of feeling it. But that's the way things were. David was not responsible; there was nothing he could do. The new term had begun and she was going to learn to love it.
If only he would come home—
The phone rang.
She teetered with indecision, knowing she was exactly halfway betw
een either phones, finally racing toward the bedroom. It couldn't be the police, she assured herself, leaping across the bed, because David had left all his I.D. at home. Even if he were lying dead somewhere, the police wouldn't have been able to identify him and call her so quickly. Unless, of course, someone at the police department had recognized him— "Hello?"
"Jill, I'm sorry."
"David, where are you?"
"At the office. Did I wake you?"
"Wake me? Are you kidding? I've been worried half to death."
"I'm sorry."
"What are you doing at the office?"
She could hear him shrug. "I don't really know. I went walking. Just kept walking. Suddenly, I looked up and here I was. The night watchman let me in. I didn't have a key, of course."
"I know. I was so worried where you could have gone."
"I left the house without a goddamn dime, if you can believe it. That's the trouble with acting like a prima donna, I guess."
"Are you all right?"
"Sure. Just very tired. Actually, I got a lot accomplished tonight. There was no one else around. It was quiet. I managed to take care of all my dockets. You know what a pain they are." There was a quiet pause. "I don't suppose you'd feel like coming down here and picking me up?" he asked sheepishly. "I know it's a hell of a nerve but my legs are killing me and I don't have any money and—"
"And?"
"And I really want to see you."
"I'll be there in five minutes."
Jill hung up the phone, grabbed the car keys and raced to the doorway. Everything was going to be okay from now on. No matter what stunts Nicole tried to pull, Jill would not trip on her own feet. She'd make sure that everything would work out, and that she and David would live happily ever after.
Things started to fall apart the next morning.
For the first time that she could remember, David overslept and consequently was in a big rush to get out, which meant that she would be late because of the time he had to spend in the bathroom. At ten minutes to nine, she called the university and told the office she would be late for the morning's round of meetings because she hadn't been feeling well. She hated using her health as an excuse. Her mother had once told her it was bad luck.
"Can I make you some breakfast?" she asked him when he finally came out of the bathroom.
"Are you kidding? I'm already late."
"That's precisely the point."
He paused. "Sure, why not? Scrambled eggs too much trouble?"
"No trouble at all," she said, grateful to be given the opportunity to do something for him.
She went to the fridge as he reached for the phone.
"Diane Buck," he said briskly into the receiver, then waited while the office receptionist connected him to his secretary. "Diane, I'm going to be another half hour; I'm at a breakfast meeting and it's running a little later than I'd anticipated. Tell Doug Horton I'll be there as soon as I can. Okay? Thanks."
Jill cracked the eggs into the bowl and added some milk, briskly stirring in some salt and pepper. She felt uncomfortable listening to David lie. It seemed so effortless and believable.
"Toast?'' she asked, putting the eggs in the fry pan.
"Why not?" he answered. "I've come this far. Might as well go all the way."
A few minutes later, Jill put David's breakfast on the dining room table. David's face was buried inside the business section of the morning paper. "Breakfast is ready," she said, smiling.
He looked over. "Oh, great. Thanks." He laid the paper down beside his plate. "Smells terrific."
"I hope it tastes as good," she said sincerely, surprised how much it meant to her that he be pleased.
He took a bite of his eggs and looked back at her. "It does," he smiled. She sighed with relief. "Aren't you having any?"
Jill looked down at her glass of orange juice. "I've decided to go on a diet," she said.
"Oh? What for?"
"I thought it probably wouldn't hurt to lose five pounds."
David looked back at his paper. "Probably right," he said. "But watch that you don't starve yourself."
Jill laughed nervously. Why was she so nervous? "I don't think that's likely," she said, watching him eat. "David—?"
"Hmm?" He looked up from his paper. "What is it?"
"I just wanted to tell you again how sorry I am about not telling you about Beth—"
"Forget it."
"No, please. I don't want it to come between us—"
"It won't."
"I love you.”
"I love you, too.”
They stared at each other for several long seconds, Jill desperately seeking some assurance from David's eyes. "I love you so much," she whispered.
"Come here," he said warmly, holding his hands out. Jill got quickly up from her seat and walked into his waiting arms. She felt his hands pressing against her head, squeezing her hair into a tight round ball. "I'm sorry, too," he told her. "I acted like a first-class prick."
She looked at him with tears in her eyes. "As long as it's first-class," she said, sniffing.
He finished the last of his breakfast and Jill took his dishes into the kitchen. "Is today a busy day?" she asked.
"Aren't they all?"
"I thought maybe we could take in a movie tonight.”
"Tonight? No chance. I've got too much work."
"I thought you got a lot done last night."
"I did. Unfortunately, there's lots more. I don't think you'll be seeing much of me for the next few weeks. Until I get caught up—"
"What about Friday night?"
"What about it?"
"Dinner," Jill informed him. "At my parents'. They invited us last week—"
"Oh, honey, I'm sorry," he said, putting down the business section and coming into the kitchen. "I did forget. I can't make it Friday night."
"Dinner's not till eight o'clock. I could pick you up at the office," she volunteered.
"That's not it," he said, and waited ominously. Jill knew instinctively that she wasn't going to like the next several sentences out of his mouth. "Please don't take this the wrong way," he began. Jill felt her breath becoming short. David felt himself groping for words, a fact which made Jill all the more uncomfortable, knowing her husband was rarely at such a loss. "I don't know quite how to say this because I know how you feel about her already—"
"Feel about who?" Jill asked, already knowing the answer.
"Nicole Clark," he said.
"What about her?" Jill asked, her voice cold, flat.
"She's being called to the bar on Friday."
“She asked you to come?"
"Her father can't be there. She has no one."
“What about her friend, Chris whatever-his-name-was, the (Mie she brought to Don Ehot's that night for dinner—"
"He's just a casual friend. He doesn't mean anything to her."
"And you do?"
Jill held her breath.
"I guess I do," he said, softly. "Jill, please listen to me. This is the last time that I'll ever put myself in this position. I promise you that. Now, I think you're wrong about Nicki's intentions and I don't think she's the calculating, manipulative woman that you believe her to be. But I'd have to be an idiot or a blind man not to have realized by now that she is in love with me, and I'm neither an idiot nor blind. Nor do I regard her in any light other than that of a brilliant young attorney who's also a very sweet and lonely little girl. But that's all there is—and there'll never be anything more to it than that. I promise you." He looked around. "But I'm not being fair to Nicki, and I'm certainly not being fair to you, if I allow her fantasies to continue. It's flattering having a beautiful young girl like Nicki in love with me, but that's all it is. There's no more. There never will be. So—" He took a deep breath. "From now on, there will be no more courtroom observances, no more lunches, and no more racquetball games. I will go to her graduation this Friday because I promised that I would be there. I committed myself. But that wil
l be the end of it." He stared into Jill's eyes. "All right?"
Jill turned away, wanting to tell him the answer she knew he was waiting for but unable to find the words. "I didn't realize the ceremony was at night," she said.
"It isn't," he answered. "It's in the afternoon.”
"You're taking her to dinner?" Jill asked.
There was a slight pause before he answered. "Not just me. About five or six of us. To congratulate her, welcome her into the firm."
"That's very nice of you," Jill said, her voice empty of feeling.
“Jill, please understand. It's nothing. It's never been anything. After Friday, it'll be even less."
“How can there be less than nothing?" she asked.
David looked at the floor. "Well, what can I say? I've been completely honest with you. I've told you all there is to tell. I can't do more than that. The rest is up to you. Maybe it's too much to expect you to understand—"
"It is too much," Jill said, feeling very old inside. "But I'll try," she added.
David's arms went quickly around her, hugging her tightly to him. "I love you," he said.
"I love you, too," she repeated.
"And I'm very late," he said, checking his watch. "Doug Horton must be shitting bricks by now, I've kept him waiting so long."
"Tell him it's my fault," Jill said, watching David bound toward the door.
"I might do that," he said, opening it. "Call me later." The door closed behind him.
Jill stood for several minutes in the middle of the tiny box that was their kitchen and contemplated all that had transpired in the last hour. She replayed David's apologies several times as if she were listening to a tape recorder. Push to start and listen, press down to reverse and rewind, push back down to start again. His voice was rich and soothing, filled with deep understanding for what she must be going through. I realize that she is in love with me, he was saying, or words to that effect. When was it, Jill found herself asking, that David had come to this enlightened realization? Last night in her living room? Before—over a quiet lunch perhaps? She shook her head. It didn't make any difference when, she tried to tell herself. What was important was that David was about to put an end to Nicole's little game of cat and mouse. After Friday, the weight of the world could go rest on somebody else's shoulders. After Friday, she repeated, almost aloud. It was going to be a long week, she decided, impulsively reaching for the phone.