He turned from the window and sat at the table again, saying firmly and decidedly:
- Please, Sugar, give me some time. I’ll sort out everything in a month or two. Believe me.
- Who is she? – Donna sternly repeated the question.
Victor violently put out the unsmoked cigarette in the ashtray, breaking it in two like a dry twig. He realized that he was now cornered against the wall and that he cannot back down. He suddenly remembered the words his best man Stacey had said to him a long time ago, in front of the pharmacy on 75 Street: “We have to look back when the time comes… We have to ask ourselves whether we’re winning or losing.” Victor now felt that he got himself into the exact same situation; right now, he was playing a losing game. Looking at Donna, he saw begging in her eyes, some sort of inner readiness and expectation.
- Something caught up with me, something I never thought would happen – Victor said, looking straight into her eyes.
- Who is she? – Donna wasn’t giving up.
- Do you remember the Longoria case? – Victor finally gave in.
- No, I don’t. Why would I?
- For the love of God, Sugar, I was telling you about it. It was in the newspapers.
- No, I really can’t recall this Longoria case you’re telling me about.
- Fine! It doesn’t even matter if you remember it or not. It was about Dr. Longoria, a surgeon whose patient died in mid-operation three years ago. The deceased’s relatives somehow got hold of the information that the procedure was done on the basis of a medical report that was more than six months old. They filed a lawsuit, and I was Dr. Longoria’s lawyer.
- Just don’t tell me that Dr. Longoria is a woman – Donna sarcastically said.
- Sugar, please, don’t be mean. If I’ve decided to tell you everything, don’t put more pressure on me with your primitive remarks.
- OK, I’m sorry.
- Anyway, the trial went on for almost two years. Of course, I was constantly in touch with Dr. Longoria and his wife Tatum, arranging his defense. We would see each other in my office, in the courtroom, sometimes at some restaurant, I even visited their house on Marble Hill a few times. In other words, I became too close with my client, which is both risky and intolerable in my line of work. I also noticed that Tatum was eliciting those meetings more often than her husband. I didn’t pay much attention to that at first, but eventually, I realized the real reason behind it: their marriage was on rocks for some reason, so Tatum became interested in me. She was looking for protection, consolation, support… I made a second mistake and gave her limitless trust. We got close and started having endless conversations about art, personal preferences, love… Those conversations would go on for hours, but we never managed to say anything meaningless to each other.
- Why, was she stuttering? Or were you? It really took hours for you to figure out something about love or personal preferences?!
- You’re being mean again!
- Sorry about that.
- Anyway, Tatum and I got too close and…
- …and you started sleeping together – Donna took the cue.
- You could say that. Actually… - Victor started stuttering.
- Well, that should be a no-brainer. Did you or did you not sleep together?
- Maybe two or three times, I can’t say for sure – Victor said without a blink. After a tense moment of silence, he leaned forward and said, monitoring the effect of every word on her face: - When I realized the real consequences of my foolish act, it was already too late: she controlled me firmly and stubbornly, threatening to spill the beans if I ever decided to leave her.
- How long has it been going on? – Donna asked, trying to remain calm and collected.
- Four or five months, six at most. I wanted to tell you everything about it, but she recently started threatening me that she would tell her husband I raped her.
- You’re a lawyer, Vic! A lawyer! – she said furiously. – You should know the limit between coercion and doing something willingly. You also know where truth ends, and a lie begins. If you’ve done anything illegal, you should pay for it. However, if she was willing, than we have nothing more to discuss.
- You don’t know that woman… She’s a nutcase… She’s blackmailing me incessantly… She’s ready to do anything, even to shamelessly lie to her husband. She’d even tell him the things I didn’t do.
- Let her say what she wants, their marriage is over anyway. As well as ours. The doctor won’t even give it a second thought because he probably doesn’t care about Tatum anymore. But, maybe you do: maybe you simply don’t want to end the relationship.
- I want to, I’m sure of it, but I don’t want to see my name in the newspapers. She’s capable of destroying my career, my family, my life… I wouldn’t be able to handle such a scandal.
- Neither would I, believe me – Donna flatly admitted. – I don’t think I can handle the things you told me in the last ten minutes. That truth is fatal and devastating for me – she added with a sad, depressed face, looking down; her lips relaxed after a visible sigh expressing the mourning of her lost happiness.
- Give me some more time, I’ll handle everything in the best possible way. Please!
- I want you to tell me how you’re going to handle it. How? I have a right to know.
- Just don’t tell me what’s right – Victor said, now in a slightly higher and sharper voice. – A lot of people think they know what’s right without really knowing it. It’s not just a moral question, it’s a deep truth about the soul. Not all people know that.
- OK, Victor, then let me read your soul: what did Tatum give you that I didn’t? What?! Tell me, Victor!
- I don’t know, Sugar! I simply don’t know! – Victor ruefully admitted. – All of this is crazy, insensible and unexplainable.
Donna’s face now resembled yellowish ivory; her forehead was creased and scowled. Harsh condemnation was gushing out of her eyes. She abruptly said:
- I agree with you: this is crazy and insensible, but it’s not unexplainable. I’d say it’s damn well explainable! You’ve become a catch. It seems to me you’ve become every woman’s dream.
- You really have no mercy. OK, I don’t blame you. But, at least spare me of your venomous sarcasm.
- I’ll repeat what you often say in the courtroom: “The indisputable truth that I have found by examining the facts and making conclusions gives me the right to say that these charges are unfounded.”
- What are you trying to say?
- I’m trying to say that you’re lying again. And I have solid proof for that.
- Then say it – he was almost yelling. – Kill me.
- That wasn’t Tatum Longoria on the phone today. I think I’ve become familiar with her squeaky voice. That was some other woman. I know I’ve heard that voice before, but I can’t remember when and where. The only thing I know for sure is that she wasn’t calling from New York, maybe not even from the States. It was accompanied by a strange echo, as if she was calling from another continent… Oh, God, what are you doing to me? What?! There was a time when I’d do anything for you, and now I don’t even know you anymore. I don’t know you, Victor! I don’t know who you are! – Donna said while listening to children laughing outside on the street. She felt her whole world collapsing and disappearing around her.
On the other hand, his face was outraged and hostile. A barely noticeable spasm appeared in the corner of his mouth. There was no way he knew who that woman Donna was talking about might be, not even in the darkest depths of his brain. He really didn’t know!
* * *
Nothing changed for the better or for worse in the next month. Their marital life was flatlined, monotonous and slow, thickly flooded with ditch water and complete apathy. When the summer vacation started, Victor took the kids to Florida, while Donna stayed in New York because she recently got a job, which was received with surprise by household members. Through Lorna Bond, her skiing partner, she acquired a positi
on at Paladino, a small tourist agency specialized for tours in the Far East. Financially speaking, Donna didn’t need that job, but she wanted it badly nonetheless: she simply wanted to escape the household monotony and to do something she would really enjoy.
The Paladino Agency was successfully managed by Donald Cooper, an unusually cunning, young and undisputed expert in travel management. His main intellectual passion was family tourism. Cooper started his education in Great Britain and continued his studies in Rome, where he received his PhD with honors. He was the son of Milton Cooper, a respected businessman and an expert on metallurgy who had spent most of his life in European and overseas branches of American firms, so Donald acquired qualities of a worldly man while moving with his parents and sister from one country to another: he was brought up in broad-minded, cosmopolitan spirit and had the manners of an English gentleman, an American entrepreneur and a Japanese workaholic. He was fluent in English, Italian, Portuguese and Russian, and even spoke some Swahili and Arabic when necessary.
He was burly, tall and overly athletic. He had strong features, a somewhat aquiline nose, chestnut hair and a smooth forehead. He led an unprejudiced life. He enjoyed quality wine, good food, nice art – and, above all, beautiful women. He used to say for the latter: “Women are my passion. The majority of people, including myself, believe that passion forms a personality.”
Like every other human being, he had his downsides. No one is perfect, and neither was Cooper. People would mostly complain about his contempt towards those who had different opinions, his cruelty and insensitivity towards anyone who would confront him for legitimate reasons; he was especially heartless to everyone who – as he would say – irresponsibly babbled about his demerits.
When Donna started working at Paladino, she quickly realized his merits and demerits; she considered him a sharp, knowledgeable expert, even a good-looking man, but a man who doesn’t deserve any special attention when it comes to other things. That’s what she thought until the end of December, when Lorna Bond phoned her and asked:
- Have you got any plans for New Year’s Eve?
- Not really – Donna retorted.
She and Victor indeed didn’t agree on where to celebrate New Year’s Eve, even though thay had already received several invitations from all over the world – from their friends in South America, Europe, and even from Asia. However, neither of them were in the mood for leaving New York, not only because the weather was slushy and autumn-like and because their relationship was still pretty strained, but also because the children were planning to organize a New Year’s Eve party in their house; they needed to be monitored because their youthful behavior had caused some minor incidents recently, which Donna saw as the next step to delinquency, while Victor considered it a mere childish frolic.
- If you really have no plans, you and Victor could come to my place. I’ve invited a small, selected company. You won’t be disappointed and you’ll make me really happy – Lorna suggested.
- I have to talk to Victor about this, but as for me, I like your suggestion – Donna said.
Victor complied, although drudgingly and not exactly gladly, and a small, selected group ended up in Lorna’s huge apartment on Roosevelt Island to celebrate New Year. Twenty people were invited, and sixteen of them showed up: four cancelled in the meantime – two because of illness, and the other two because of death in the family. Among those who were at Lorna’s that night were, except for Donna and Victor, three New York fashion chain owners with their wives, two journalists with their partners, a well-known Boston psychiatrist and his wife, and the Coopers – Madison and Donald. As usual, the party started off as stiff and constrained, but as the time went by, the atmosphere was getting better until everything turned into an interesting party. The guests were singing, dancing, drinking and eating unlimited quantities of food. The soul of the party was none other than Donald Cooper: he recited poems and drama excerpts, and when he took the guitar, the atmosphere changed for the better. He was excellent at playing and he had a perfect voice: he was even better than some professional musicians.
His wife was a tall, elegant brunette with a passionate, cheerful face. Her smile was seductive and she gave an impression of smoothness and skill. When the guests started mingling and spreading across the apartment after midnight, two couples started dancing in the middle of the room: Madison with Victor, and Donna with Donald. The orchestra was playing Vernon Duke’s Autumn in New York, and Donald was humming along.
- Do you love him? – Donald abruptly asked looking at Donna’s exhilarated face. Although they shared the office at work, they weren’t divided by that invisible boundary that was customary for the relationship between the boss and his employee. The workers at Paladino simply thought of themselves as family members, and no one ever questioned the rules of everyday communication. Cooper only demanded that all of his employees wear decent clothes and maintain proverbial courtesy towards the clients. – Do you love him? – Donald repeated the question.
- You mean Duke? Vernon Duke? – Donna replied with a counterquestion.
- No, not him! Do you love your husband?
- What an impudent question – she jokingly rebuked him. – Of course I do.
- And does he love you?
- You’re being indiscreet. Why are you asking me this?
- For peace of mind.
- Peace of mind? – she repeated. – I don’t understand.
- There’s nothing unclear about it. And everything can be easily calculated – Cooper said, and then asked: - What do you think of Madison? Madison Cooper?
- Your wife?
- Yes.
- She’s pretty. Actually, she’s very pretty. This dress suits her perfectly.
- If you think she’s pretty, imagine what your husband thinks of her – Donald laughed at his own, slightly allusive joke. – Have you noticed that they’ve been together all night, almost inseparable?
Donna stopped in the middle of a dance move and gave him a seemingly reproving look, saying:
- Do you ever stop being frivolous?
They danced in silence until Autumn in New York ended. Then he decided to continue the conversation where they left off.
- Do I ever stop being frivolous? Of course I do. Now I’m going to recite some love poems to you. Would you like that?
- No.
- Would you like me to sing you an opera tune?
- No.
- Would you like a pop song?
- Absolutely not.
- Maybe a rock song?
- I said no!
- A love song?
- No.
- Would you like me to send you to Paladino right now, to check whether we’ve filed our IRS report?
- We’re at a party. I don’t want to discuss work right now.
- You’re extremely picky. Would you like me to blink at you à la Rococo?
- What does that look like?
- I have no idea, but I’ll think of something.
Donna burst into laughter with her nose in the glass, and wine splashed her face. She had to wipe it with a napkin.
- I have to admit you’re amusing me. I feel like I’m watching a satirical play.
- Really! – he exclaimed. – Then I’ll start charging tickets.
Soon Madison and Victor joined them; the conversation took an entirely different course. The young journalist approached them and her partner muttered a sleek compliment on Donna’s account. She only rolled her eyes as if she wanted to say: “Sir, you’re gravely mistaken. Surely, the most beautiful woman tonight is Madison Cooper.”
Eventually, the chit-chat got completely watered down: the company suddenly became terribly boring when the three fashion chain owners stepped in. Donna had never seen the two of them before, but she had once met the third one, Steven Church, when she went swimsuit-shopping last summer. He was one of those middle-aged parvenus from New York that are often seen at social gatherings, who neither have enemies, nor are favored b
y their friends. He was an obnoxious busybody, usually boring and tastelessly dressed; together with his wife, a woman with a slightly pockmarked face that gave her a somewhat coarse appearance although she had a nice personality, they were an extremely dull couple who believed that excessive cordiality can make up for complete lack of ideas.
- Have you seen the movie “French Kiss” with Meg Ryan, Kevin Kline and Timothy Hutton? – Steven asked pseudo-scholarly, and then boastfully asserted: - That terrible guy… that petty thief… what was his name again? Luc, or something like that… That bastard was a vicious pretender. He had that poor girl Kate callously wrapped around his finger so as to get himself out of trouble.
When Donna and Donald were alone again, he said:
- I have no idea what he was trying to say when he mentioned a vicious pretender. Maybe he just wanted to let us know that he saw the movie, but maybe he wanted to suggest that there are all sorts of con artists around us, and that they can destroy our lives.
- You’re exaggerating, as always – Donna reprimanded him, suspecting a new, forthcoming joke.
- You didn’t get me – Donald said, smiling mysteriously. – I have nothing against Steven. In fact, I think his an OK guy. I even kind of like him. But, he’s one of those pushy, nosy people that don’t keep their promises and think they know everything. Neither of us knows everything, let alone one of us – you know what I mean?
- Be specific.
- Some people know nothing.
- More specific.
- Some people move through life as slowly as a turtle. Things slip out of their hands as if they don’t have any.
- You’re very eloquent, but I still don’t know what you’re trying to say.
- You see, when we were on our way to the party, I told Madison: “Honey, I demand that you don’t let Victor Nash out of your sight. Not for a single moment. Not until I capture the heart of his wife Donna. This party is perfect for that.”
- You told that to your wife? What a bold move – Donna feigned astonishment. She could guess the outcome of this conversation.
The Lover from Fifth Avenue (The Greatest Love Stories) Page 5