Tigers in Red Weather

by Liza Klaussmann

  “Really?”

  “Really.” Bill Fox leaned in close, his hand fluttering on her thigh. “Do you love fruit trees, too?”

  Helena remembered one night, when she and Avery had been drunk, they had snuck out and stolen some of the fruit. It was only a couple of apples, which hadn’t been ripe anyway. But she remembered wishing Nick was there. It was exactly the kind of escapade Nick would have loved.

  “Yes, I like them.” Helena moved a few inches away.

  “Well, well. You’re not shy, are you, honey?”

  “Bill, why would I be shy? We’ve known each other a long time.”

  “That’s right. We’re like family. You and me and Avery. And let’s not forget our dear, departed Ruby. She’s one of the family, too.”

  Helena saw one of the young actresses, Vicky or Kiki, or something, staring at them.

  “Is that your girlfriend?” She pushed her elbow in Bill Fox’s side.

  The Producer turned and looked at the young woman. “My girlfriend? Oh, I think I’m a little old for girlfriends these days. Couldn’t keep track. Besides, the girls keep getting skinnier and skinnier. I like them more like, well, like you, honey. Round, soft.”

  Helena reached for another glass of champagne. “Excuse me,” she said. “I have to go powder my nose.”

  In the bathroom she washed down another pill with the water glass left out for guests. She wished Avery were with her. She had only been to Bill Fox’s house a handful of times over the years, and never without her husband. She wondered how much Bill Fox was paying him. She hoped it was a lot. She couldn’t believe he had wanted her there. He had always been free with his hands, but never more so with her than anyone else. And he was old now. He had already seemed old when she had first met him, in Ciro’s, with his silver hair. Now he had liver spots on his cheeks and hands like a crone. She shivered. She just had to look pretty and be pleasant and then go home and sleep.

  Much later, she found herself alone with Bill Fox on the terrace. Everyone had left, without her noticing, somehow. She had been in conversation with one of the actresses, who was complaining about the casting couch. Her main objection, it seemed, wasn’t about the sex part, but about the fact that she never got dinner afterward. Helena had been nodding and drinking, and drinking some more. Then the girl floated away and it was just her and Bill Fox on the terrace. She knew what the Producer wanted. She had known all night. It didn’t take a genius. He was leaning against the frame of the French doors, smiling at her.

  On the way to the guesthouse, Helena tripped on one of the steps and twisted her ankle. Bill Fox caught her elbow.

  “Careful, honey,” he whispered.

  “Why are we going to my house?” She couldn’t remember.

  “You’ll be more comfortable there.”

  “Avery,” she said.

  “He’s gone out, honey. He’s working, remember?”

  She didn’t remember.

  In the bedroom, he wanted the light on.

  “I want to look at you. I want to see what I’m paying for. I haven’t had to pay since I was sixteen.” He chuckled.

  Helena joined in, although she knew the joke wasn’t for her.

  The Producer was moving over her, grunting. He was out of breath. He was old. Helena wanted to laugh at the old man who needed a nurse more than a roll in the hay. But she knew he would be angry, and then they wouldn’t get their money. So instead she let him rasp away, while she watched the wall.

  “You really are a slut,” he coughed in her ear. “I always knew it.”

  He was getting close now, she could tell.

  “Mother?”

  Helena’s body went stiff as a board. The sound of the Producer and the light and the bed, all swirled like a pool of water going down a drain. No, it wasn’t possible.

  “Mother?”

  Ed. How could she have forgotten about her son? She pushed the Producer off her, so hard that he fell off the side of the bed, panting and coughing. Helena sat up, covering her breasts with her arm.

  Ed was standing in the doorway in his pajamas. She wondered how she could have thought he looked tall. He was just a boy, but his eyes were flat, hard. He looked at her, more as if he was curious than afraid or angry.

  “Ed,” she said, but found she had nothing else to say.

  Ed looked at the Producer, who was peeking over the side of the mattress now. His clothes were too far away for him to get to without exposing himself.

  “Now, son,” he started.

  “I’m not your son,” Ed said, impassively. “You shouldn’t be here. My mother isn’t well.”

  “I was just … Well, well.” The Producer, too, seemed at a loss.

  But Ed didn’t move. He stood there, stock-still, until the old man made a dash for it, grabbing up his clothes and fleeing. Helena would have laughed at his cowardice in the face of a young boy if her heart wasn’t breaking.

  “Ed, dearest,” she began, when the Producer was gone. She had covered herself in the bedsheet. She wanted to hold her hand out to him, as some kind of peace offering, but the gesture, just the idea of it, seemed somehow grotesque. “Your father, dearest. He’s been working so hard for so long …” She stopped. She couldn’t explain this to her son.

  “I understand,” Ed said. “Research.”

  And with that, he left her alone in the lit room.

  * * *

  Helena awoke to the sound of a radio.

  “A bus carrying a group of young civil rights activists bound for Birmingham, Alabama, was attacked Tuesday afternoon outside Anniston.”

  Her nerves felt like glass, her head was throbbing. But she no longer felt sick to her stomach and she found she could sit up without feeling dizzy. She reached for the pitcher and poured herself some water. It tasted sweet and lemony, and she gulped it down before pouring herself another.

  “Helena?”

  Helena looked up to see Nick standing in the doorway.

  “How are you feeling, darling?”

  “My head hurts.”

  “Oh, darling, you’re back with us. In the land of the living.” She crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. “You didn’t speak for days. I was wondering if we were ever going to hear your voice again.”

  Nick tried to take Helena’s hand but she pulled it away.

  “What is it?”

  “I want to see Avery,” Helena said.

  “I see.” Nick looked down, fidgeting with a corner of the sheet. “I don’t think Avery will be coming, darling.”

  “You mean you won’t let him come. Does he even know where I am?”

  “No, I don’t think he does.” She saw Nick’s face, a mask of soft pity.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t want your pity; I want to talk to my husband.”

  “Darling, we’re going home. You haven’t been well. We need to get you well and we want you back with us, Hughes and I. I’ve missed you and I don’t want to be without you anymore.”

  Helena laughed, a hot, shallow shuddering through her lungs. “You’ve missed me?”

  “Yes, Helena, I’ve missed you. I want …”

  “You want, you want.” Helena’s skin had begun to itch again and she wanted to tear it off with her nails. “And what about what I want?”

  “Helena, for heaven’s sakes. Be reasonable, darling. Do you really want to go back to that awful house and be all alone?”

  “I’m not alone. I’m married, if you’ve forgotten.”

  Helena watched Nick’s eyes go a shade darker.

  “I haven’t forgotten.” Nick’s voice was cold now. “But it looks like your husband may have.”

  “Don’t say that.” Helena felt her strength dissipating. “I know he’s not perfect, like your saintly husband. But I want to speak to him.”

  “No,” Nick said slowly. “No, I’m sorry, darling, but I can’t let you. Not now, anyway.”

  “You can’t keep me prisoner. You can’t stop me from being w
ith Avery.”

  “I am not keeping you prisoner. I’m trying to protect you, and I don’t give a goddamn what you say.”

  “Oh, I know you don’t. Avery was right all along. You’ve never cared about me, not really. I’m your shadow, there to make you look better, and I can have your scraps, when you’ve finished. But I can never have something of my own. It just kills you, doesn’t it?”

  “How can you say that to me?” Nick’s eyes got shiny. “I love you. Don’t you know that?”

  “Well, I don’t love you. Not anymore.”

  “You’re not well, darling,” Nick said, rising from the bed and crossing the room to the door. “I know you don’t mean that.”

  Helena could hear her crying in the other room. And, even though it hurt her a little to know it, she was glad.

  1967: AUGUST

  II

  After her escapade with the neighbors’ dog, Helena had tried to brush out the horrendous nest of hair, but it hadn’t done much good. So, she had lain down on the chaise longue in her room and fallen asleep, awaking some time later to a knock on her door. The sun was making its way down to the water, and she could hear the hum of the beetles on the front lawn. The grass had been brown for some weeks now, burnt out by the long, hot summer.

  “Helena,” she heard Nick call softly. “Can I come in, darling?”

  Helena sighed.

  Nick didn’t wait for an answer, of course, she just pushed the door open slowly and poked her head in.

  “I don’t want to fight. Not on your birthday.”

  Helena looked at her. There were so many things she couldn’t say to Nick anymore that it made it almost impossible to say anything at all. Even the small pleasantries, or minor concessions.

  “We’re not fighting,” she said. She felt tired.

  “I’ve brought you something. A peace offering, and a gift. Can I come in?”

  “Of course you can come in,” Helena said. “It’s your house.”

  Nick pretended she didn’t hear the last comment. She was carrying a brown parcel under her arm. On the side table next to the chaise longue, she put down a small white pill.

  “I found an aspirin.” She looked at Helena as if she expected her to jump up and rejoice.

  “Thank you,” she said. She kept her hands in her lap, clasped tightly around her book.

  “And I wanted to give you your birthday present. Before dinner.” Nick placed the package next to her.

  Helena waited, hoping she would leave and not make her open the present and pretend gratitude in front of her.

  “Go on, darling, open it. I’m feeling pretty clever about it.” Nick smiled one of her winning smiles.

  Involuntarily, Helena found herself smiling back. She picked up the parcel and tore the paper, revealing carefully folded fabric: light blue muslin, embroidered with gold tigers. She pulled it out and unfolded a dress, knee-length and fitted at the waist, with a bell-shaped bottom.

  “I used one of your old patterns, with a little tweaking, just to update it, and had it remade for you. What do you think?”

  Helena gingerly touched the cloth. It was beautiful.

  “Do you love it?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Oh, I knew you would. Hughes worried that you might not, because it had been my dress, before. But I told him Grandfather had brought it back for both of us and I had been selfish in taking it. I know it was selfish, darling. I’m sorry.” Nick clasped her hands together.

  “You said you were going to make cushions out of it,” Helena said, careful not to sound reproachful.

  “Oh, I know. I know, and I made a dress. Well, I said I was sorry, and I am.” Nick looked up at the ceiling for a minute and Helena could tell she was trying to keep her temper. It made Helena smile inwardly. “In any case, darling, I’m just thrilled you love it.”

  Helena placed the dress over her lap and smoothed the fabric with her hand.

  “Well,” Nick said, finally, when Helena remained silent. “I guess I’ll leave you to it. I have to go prepare for your birthday dinner.” She stood and then turned. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I’m sorry, darling, but your cake appears to have been stolen, if you can believe it. Must have been one of the neighborhood boys. We looked everywhere for it, but it’s just vanished. The strangest thing. I am sorry. I know how much you love angel food.”

  “Amazing,” Helena said.

  Nick walked to the door. “I really do love this room,” she said. “I’ve always loved it, especially those bluebirds.” Then she shut the door softly behind her.

  Helena fell back against the chaise longue. God, she hated her. The worst part of it was that she also missed her. She was charming and she was fun and awful, all at the same time. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to forgive her cousin, it was that she just couldn’t. She had gone too far. Helena had only ever really wanted one thing and Nick had ruined it.

  “Why do you believe she’s stronger than you?”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “If she’s not stronger than you, then how could she take your husband away?”

  “She’s one of those people who get what they want. And she decided I had made a mistake.”

  “Who are these people who get what they want? Why do you feel like you aren’t one of those people?”

  “Because I’m not a fool, Dr. Kroll. I know what the world’s like.”

  “And what is the world like, Mrs. Lewis?”

  “The world is cruel to the innocent.”

  “And you are innocent?”

  “I was, yes. I know I was.”

  Helena could hear them downstairs. Tyler, it seemed, had arrived. She caught his voice, and then Daisy’s laughter. It was a specific kind of laughter, the kind girls produced when someone they loved told them something charming about themselves.

  Helena put on her girdle and then looked at the dress lying on the bed. Of course Nick would think it was all right to give her something she had already worn, something used. She had intended to throw the dress in the wastepaper basket. But she knew they would worry, they would think she wasn’t well again. So, the dress could just go to the back of the closet, and it could stay there until kingdom come, for all she cared.

  But looking at it, lying there on the bed—blue the color of evening and the perfectly stitched gold tigers—she began to have second thoughts. She picked it up and slipped it over her head, zipping up the side. It fit perfectly, she had to give it to Nick.

  She crossed the room to the vanity and looked in the mirror. The dress matched the color of her eyes, and for a moment she wished Avery could have seen her in it.

  “I love you,” he’d say. “My movie star.”

  She closed her eyes and imagined him, holding out his arms to her. She would fall into him and he would pull her very close.

  Helena opened her eyes and looked at herself, standing in the blue dress in the middle of the room. No, she decided, she would wear it after all. This dress was made for her; tigers suited her very well. In fact, tigers were just perfect.

  “You say soul mates. If that is the case, why do you think your husband hasn’t come to visit you here?”

  “Because he doesn’t know where I am.”

  “I see. Why is that?”

  “Because she won’t tell him. She paid him off to stay away.”

  “And why do you think he would accept that? Why would he accept money to give up his wife?”

  “He needed the money, Dr. Kroll. For something he’s been working his whole life on. The most important thing to him.”

  “So you are expendable.”

  “I don’t really think I know how to answer that question.”

  “Why is that, Mrs. Lewis?”

  “Because you make it sound like he had a choice, which he didn’t.”

  “It wasn’t a choice?”

  “No. She had a choice. But we didn’t.”

  “Aunt Helena?” Daisy was tapping on her door.


  What was this, Grand Central Station? Why couldn’t she just be left in peace for one blessed moment?

  “Yes, sweetest lamb? What can I do for you?”

  Daisy opened the door and, just like Nick, peeked around.

  “I have a surprise for you.”

  “Really, now what would that be, dearest? I feel like I’ve been spoiled enough today.”

  She heard Daisy whispering behind the door. Helena turned back to the mirror.

  “Hello, Mother.”

  Looking up, she saw her son standing in the doorway. He took her breath away, he was so handsome.

  “Ed, dearest.” She rose to go to him, but found herself hesitating, stopping just a few feet in front of him. “Well, this certainly is a surprise.”

  “I know,” Daisy said, pushing in behind her son. She was always doing that, touching him, bossing him around, as if there were no barriers between them. Helena envied her. “Isn’t it just the best? Ty drove him in from the city.”

  Helena saw Ed turn to look at his cousin. As always, his expression remained relatively unchanged, although Helena detected a kind of softness there. Again, she wondered if her son was in love with her niece. But she knew that wasn’t quite it. Something else, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. In any case, it suited her fine.

  “Ed has been very mysterious with his comings and goings, but I managed to pin him down.” Daisy was practically beaming over her coup.

  “Happy birthday, Mother.” Ed crossed to Helena and kissed her on the cheek. The kiss was neither warm nor cold. She wouldn’t call it perfunctory, but it was close.

  “Have you been very busy with work, dearest?”

  “Yes, Ed Lewis, what have you been up to?” Daisy stamped her foot in mock outrage. “I tried your office a hundred times and they said you were away on business. Now, what kind of business does a market researcher have to do away from the office? I thought you all sat in basement dungeons, poring over figures.”

  “Housewives in Iowa,” Ed said, looking at Daisy. “How they feel about Hoover’s latest model.”

  “Dearest, all the way to Iowa and back for my birthday? Well, I couldn’t be more touched.” Helena tentatively put her hand to his cheek. He was so pale, as if he hadn’t seen the sun all summer long.