by Rona Jaffe
"Tell me something."
"What?"
"Are you prowling around on the end of that telephone cord?"
"What?"
She smiled, although he couldn't see her. "Nothing. Never mind."
"Hey, Caroline . . ."
"What?"
"Come on over." He hesitated. "Please."
Something inside her fluttered, very gently, like a leaf falling to the ground. She hardly felt it. But it gave her the strangest feehng.
"It will take me a while to get organized," she said.
His voice was more intimate, pacifying, almost affectionate. "I don't mind. We'll all wait."
"All right," she said softly. "I'll be there."
She hung up and looked around the room as if she had never seen it before. She was going to get out of here, get away, escape, the sooner the better. John Cassaro would be waiting for her, and he would make her laugh, and he would make her think about other things. He was a clown, he was funny, he was charming, and so attractive that she might even notice it. He could not stop her from remembering, even from thinking, but he would help. He would divert her. He might even save her.
If anybody knew, she thought, alarmed. My parents would be appalled. But she had gone so far from them in these three years, her life as it was and as they had hoped it would be were so different, that she could never hope for them to understand. She could not turn to her parents and tell them how she felt this minute; she would have to recite to them her whole life history before she could do that, and even then they would never understand. She could not turn to anyone. April was gone, Gregg was gone, they were all gone. All those girls she had known, gone like shadows, Mary Agnes, Barbara Lemont, girls in the office, girls from home, all gone. And I'd better pack, because I'm going to Las Vegas!
Gregg's cat walked silently out of the bathroom and rubbed its
side against Caroline's ankle as she packed. She bent down and picked it up, cuddling it to her face, kissing its soft fur, thinking of Gregg. Her fingers could feel the vibrations of its throat as it purred. "Poor cat," Caroline murmured. "Poor baby cat." She remembered how Eddie had carefully filled its dishes with fresh cat food and water, and the pain began again. Somebody would have to take care of Gregg's cat now. She kissed it. "Nice little alley cat," she repeated, in Eddie's words, and set the cat down on the floor. She went to the kitchenette and opened two cans of cat food. She'd heard somewhere that cats know how to pace themselves when they eat; you could leave enough food for three days and the cat would eat just enough each day. She put the food into two dishes and left two dishes of cold water and one of milk. Eddie had liked the cat. She would have to take care of it always, from now on.
Chapter 32
On Friday afternoon, the day before Christmas, Eddie Harris checked out of the Plaza Hotel, took his suitcase from the bellboy, and waited on the sidewalk for a taxi that would take him to the airport. He looked at his watch several times, because he was nervous, because he would barely make his plane, and he wondered whether he would have time to call Caroline one more time. He had telephoned her when he woke up that morning, hoping she could come to have breakfast with him, but she had not answered. He had let the telephone ring much longer than was really necessary, and then he had asked the operator to try again. It had occurred to him as he was finishing his orange juice that of course she had been in the shower, and so he had called her again. There had been no answer. Damn it, he had thought, what's the matter with that girl? Don't tell me she went to the oflBce? So he had called her office, not really angry with Caroline but annoyed at himself for having been stupid enough to forget that she might have gone to the office even though today was Christmas Eve.
"I'm sorry," the operator said, "there's no one here today."
"Well, isn't there a night number or something? Can't you find out if she's in her office anyway?"
'Tm sorry, sir. I'm only the answering service."
If Caroline had gone to the office, Eddie reahzed, she would have telephoned him. He thought perhaps she might be asleep, but no one he knew could sleep so deeply that an insistent telephone ringing twelve times would not awaken him. He called her again at noon, and at three. By that time he had to leave or miss his plane, and so he left.
To save time he took a taxi to the airport instead of to the terminal, and when he arrived he discovered that he had fifteen minutes to spare. He checked his suitcase through and then he walked to the nearest telephone booth and called Caroline again. At least he could say goodbye to her. As he listened to her telephone ringing far away, unanswered, it occurred to him for the first time that she might be sick. Perhaps she had been taken by an appendicitis attack in the night, or had been hit by a car on her way to his hotel this morning. Those things sounded ridiculous, but they did happen. Or perhaps, Eddie was just beginning to realize, she was tliere all tlie time, in her apartment, but did not want to speak to him.
He didn't want to wonder about it now because he knew that wondering would not do him any good. If something had happened to her, which was extremely unlikely, then he would discover it, and if she were angry at him, then he would find that out too. He had learned through the years that it did no good to waste hopeless conjectures on things you knew nothing about. You would always find out in the end.
He went to the cigarette machine and bought a package of cigarettes, glancing at himself in the mirror on the front of the machine. It reminded him of the night he and Caroline had looked at themselves in the mirror in her apartment, after they had made love. How beautiful she was! He wanted her that instant, with a physical sensation that struck him with the speed of lightning. He walked slowly to the gate that led to his plane, looking around, as if for some reason Caroline might have decided to come to the airport by herself and would just be rushing through the door, breathless, to throw herself into his arms. But he knew she wouldn't come, and he sighed, and he tried not to wonder where she was.
He remembered that he had nothing to read on the plane and so
he turned around once more and went to the newsstand, where he bought an evening paper and several magazines. In his seat, Eddie glanced at the headlines on the top half of the folded newspaper and turned it over. He tried to concentrate on it. The government was having some land of vendetta against scandal magazines, and it was about time too, Eddie thought. On the lower half of the front page there was a photograph of John Cassaro with a girl. He had just been handed a subpoena to appear in court to testify.
Something about the girl made Eddie look twice. She was beautiful, with dark hair and a very white face, and large eyes that looked terrified. He reahzed that to him she looked just like Caroline. Perhaps from now on every girl would look like Caroline. He smiled, and read the caption under the photograph. John Cassaro and Fabiun editor.
The story was in the column alongside. It didn't hit him right away, he glanced at it first simply to see who this Fabian editor was. Then he wasn't smiling any more.
With Cassaro in the plush Pharaoh Hotel was pretty Fabian editor Caroline Bender, 24, who works for the company that publishes Unveiled. Asked by a reporter if Miss Bender was gathering further material for another Unveiled story, Cassaro swung a punch and had to be forcibly restrained by two of his friends. Cassaro described her later as "an old friend." Miss Bender refused to comment or to pose for photographers, and locked herself in her room, which is next door to Cassaro's.
Christ! Eddie thought. He couldn't quite believe it still, it was like knowing someone was a few blocks away from you and suddenly discovering that he wasn't there at all, he was on Mars instead. What would make her go ofiF with Cassaro?
The engines stopped racing now and then started up again as the plane began to rush down the runway. Eddie sat in his seat, strapped in by his seat belt, and stared at the picture of Caroline. It was CaroUne, all right. Even in the photograph you could see that she had hght-colored eyes, blue. He remembered how blue they were, and he remembered how her eye
lids looked when they were closed, and how dark and thick her lashes were. God, she was sleeping with that guy! What would make her do a thing like that? Eddie looked
more closely at the photograph. She was wearing a dress with a V neck and at her throat he could see the tiny gold heart he had given her only last week. She was still wearing it. She was wearing it when she went away with Cassaro.
He couldn't figure out what made girls do what they did. All right, John Cassaro was a celebrity, but Caroline knew lots of celebrities, that was her business. She was no movie-struck schoolgirl. She was a good, sensible, intelligent girl, gentle, loving. Loving . . . Eddie swallowed. He felt a little sick. The No Smoking sign had gone off so he lighted a cigarette and dragged on it deeply. Over the wing he could see the ground, far below, the skyscrapers like scale models on a table. Loving . . . She said she wouldn't come to Dallas with me, and then she went off with John Cassaro. Caroline . . .
I guess, Eddie thought, I never really knew her as well as I thought I did. Three years is a long time. I thought I knew everything about her. She was the girl I'd loved for such a long time, and I thought I really knew her.
He folded the newspaper. He didn't feel like reading any more. When the stewardess came down the aisle he would ask her for a drink. That was one thing about flying first class, at least you could get good and stiff. And soon he'd be home. Tomorrow he'd have Christmas with Helen and the baby. He'd bought Helen a mink jacket, the first really expensive present he'd ever bought any girl, and tomorrow it would be her surprise. She'd be very excited. My wife, Eddie thought. It was a good feeling to be able to give your wife a fur coat, even if it was only a jacket. It was like knowing you were on your way. You could see the future, planned, secure, getting better and better as the years went by. It was funny, but now that he was on his way home he missed her.
"Miss . . . Could I have a Scotch on the rocks? Make it a double."
He'd never be able to figure it out about Caroline. He wasn't even going to try any more. You never knew what a girl was going to do, and once she'd done it you could never find out a logical reason why because she probably didn't know either. John Cassaro! One of the most notorious bedroom athletes in Hollywood. Christ! She'd be famous now herseff, the girl who was with John Cassaro in Las Vegas. Eddie shook his head.
You're well out of it, buddy, he told himself. Maybe you're lucky. Tilings wouldn't have worked out any other way, you were just too romantic. Now you know how things stand. You made the choice. And it was the good choice. Sometimes life is simple—sometimes» just when you think it never will be simple again.