“That would be room service.” Charles must really be lonely, thought Lauren. It wasn’t like him to talk to himself. She could hear him unfastening the bolts, and then the door swung open. Charles stood there in his knee length silk dressing robe.
“Charles! Surprise!”
For the past two years, Lauren had spent every moment she could with Charles. She had experienced his array of emotions. Anger, affection, humor, impatience. He faced them all with a cool detachment, his face impassive save for the slight smile that covered his actual thoughts. So Lauren was completely unprepared for Charles’s reaction.
All the color drained from his face. His lips went white. He opened his mouth, shut it, and then opened and shut it again. He made some kind of sound. Then he stepped into the hall and closed the door. He grabbed Lauren’s upper arm with uncharacteristic force.
“What are you doing here?” he said in a hoarse voice.
Lauren was shocked. It was obvious he was not happy to see her. She was so distressed by his actions, she couldn’t speak.
“I have a breakfast meeting going on here. I thought I told you that my business life was to have nothing to do with our personal lives!”
Lauren struggled to fight back tears, to find her voice. “A breakfast meeting in your dressing gown? Charles! I came to surprise you. I — I thought you’d be happy.” She had never been so confused.
Charles’s grip tightened uncomfortably around her arm. Instinctively, she drew back. Charles opened his mouth to speak, but the door clicked behind him. He dropped Lauren’s arm.
“Darling?” Lauren heard the soft voice from inside the room. It echoed in her head. Somebody else was calling Charles “darling.” All at once she knew. If someone had hit Lauren in the chest with a sledgehammer, it couldn’t have stunned her more. She stood as one turned to stone, not thinking, just watching this unimaginable scene unfold before her. She knew she was being sucked into some appalling drama, and she could do nothing about it. She looked at Charles. He met her gaze, but he offered nothing.
The woman who belonged to the voice stepped out into the hall. She was tall and obviously of mixed Asian and European descent. She wasn’t young, much closer to Charles’s age than Lauren’s, but she was exquisitely beautiful. She was dressed in a long black silk peignoir. Her jet black hair cascaded down her back. Her skin was ivory-colored, and her slightly tilted dark eyes shone with the understated luminescence of highly polished ebony. She wore a strand of graduated pearls around her long neck.
She alone seemed to be in control. She gazed at Lauren. “Is this the girl?” she asked simply with no particular emphasis in her words.
Charles nodded. “This is Lauren Smith. Lauren, this is Sally Chong.”
“Please,” said Sally Chong, “come in. We shall discuss this. You should understand.” She didn’t smile, but her suggestion was not unfriendly.
Lauren’s first reaction was to slap Charles as hard as she could and turn and run out of the St. James’s Hotel as fast as she could, but she was recovering her dignity. The feeling was returning to her limbs, and she felt her face cool. Charles gestured with his hand. Still in shock, Lauren walked ahead of him into the room.
“Please,” said the woman again. “Sit.”
“I’d rather not,” said Lauren stiffly, finding her voice at last. She set her tote down slowly and stood, as if trapped in some nightmare.
Charles went to the bar and poured himself a Bloody Mary out of the crystal pitcher. “Would you like a drink, Lauren?” he asked her.
Suddenly, Lauren’s shock was gone, and her anger replaced it with a vengeance. “No!” she said viciously. “No! I do not want a drink, Charles. I want you to tell me what’s going on! Who is this woman? It’s obvious this is no breakfast meeting!” Lauren whirled to face Sally Chong, who was sitting comfortably on the pale blue sofa, seemingly completely unruffled. “Who are you? Tell me. Tell me now!”
It was Charles who spoke. “Sally and I have been friends for years. She is a business woman from Singapore. We’ve been working on a merger for quite some time. A communications conglomerate. And no, our relationship is not platonic and hasn’t been for years, but it had — has — nothing to do with our relationship. Sally has always known about you and my plans for our marriage. I wish you’d not made the choice you did, Lauren, to come here. If I had wanted you to accompany me, I would have asked you to come. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt or discover something you’re not sophisticated enough to accept.”
His last statement put Lauren right over the edge of her emotional cliff. Psychologically, she jumped, and in that split second, she felt as though she had landed in a clean, clear place. Suddenly, she was devoid of all feeling, and she gave way to her logic and reason. She stood straight and strong. She was able to speak without hysteria or tears.
“I thought I was sophisticated, Charles, but it appears, according to your standards, I’m not. I don’t care. Whatever I am, I can tell you I am horrified by this. Horrified. In any relationship, there are deal breakers, and this is mine. Not so much the infidelity — ” and here Lauren paused to give her words emphasis “ — which is terribly common of you, Charles. What is disgusting to me is the coldness and acceptance of it as…as simply a part of doing business. I will not, can not, be a part of it for one moment longer. Being in this room with you is making me sick. It’s a sick and twisted situation.” Lauren struggled with her ring, wrenching it off her sweating finger. She held it up for a moment. “Find something else to do with this, Charles. When we were standing out there in the hall, I wanted to ask you why, or get an explanation, but I don’t really care. There’s a certain power I find from finally realizing I don’t care. So you can continue working on your merger for as long as you want to, but you will not see me again. Ever.” She placed the ring on the coffee table, which was the nearest piece of furniture to her. “Please don’t come back to New York for two more days. It will take me that long to remove my things from your place. I ask that you respect me that much, at least.”
Charles spoke, smoothly, coolly. “You gave up the apartment in Murray Hill, Lauren. Where will you go?”
Lauren stared at him for a moment before she spoke. “That is of no concern to you.”
“I have several properties around the city. Nice properties. Please, relocate to one of these. A phone call from me, and you can move in. We can discuss things later.”
It was all taking a very surreal feel. Lauren struggled to keep her mind focused. “Charles, stop talking. You sound like some sort of old movie. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I am no longer a part of your life and certainly not your responsibility.”
Then it was Sally Chong who spoke. Her voice was calm and melodious. She spoke with a British accent as she met Lauren’s eyes. “Charles, darling, would you pour me a drink, and one for Miss Smith, also. Miss Smith, I ask you to listen to what I have to say.”
“I said I will not have a drink,” Lauren repeated emphatically. “And what could you possibly have to say to me that I would want to hear?”
Sally Chong stood up and took the drink that Charles handed her. Without taking her eyes off Lauren, she sipped it thoughtfully. Then she spoke in her clear and musical voice, walking slowly, elegantly up and down the room.
“I am surprised by your emotional outburst. Charles has always portrayed you as a level-headed pragmatist, wanting the same lifestyle he keeps, interested in being on top of the social heap, so to speak, and representing his best interests on the social scene. Charles has always wanted a child, also, and this is something I cannot provide for him. I am not interested in marriage or child-bearing. You, however — ” and here Sally Chong paused and looked at Lauren critically, up and down. “You however,” she continued, “would probably have no objection to conceiving and bearing a child or two. Of course, we would see to it that you have plenty of help to raise the children. You would not be inconvenienced. I urge you to reconsider Charles’s offer of
marriage. I can assure you that he does care for you and I would in no way interfere with your life in your home. Charles and I would simply continue the way we always have, these twenty-three years. Think it over, Miss Smith. You have everything to gain. Everything. Including any relationship you might desire outside the marriage as long as it did not interfere with the marriage. You would have all the benefits of being the wife of one of the most powerful businessmen in the world. What could possibly be more beneficial to a young woman like yourself than such an offer as this? Don’t be naïve, Miss Smith. Most men have mistresses. The advantage to us would be that you accept this arrangement from the beginning. We would all be equals and share in the benefits it would provide for us. And, to set your mind at ease, all this could certainly be spelled out in a new prenuptial agreement.”
Lauren stood there, momentarily dumbfounded. She struggled to get her mind around this preposterous situation. It was so obtuse; she had to suppress a sudden urge to laugh out loud. Perhaps Charles had assessed her properly. Perhaps her priorities had been focused on the wrong goals for the wrong reasons. Otherwise, he would not have described her thus to Sally Chong.
Lauren turned to Charles. Suddenly, he looked small and old, withering in the shadow of Sally Chong. Then Lauren looked at the tall beautiful woman sipping from her crystal glass. They certainly deserved each other, she thought. She said, without looking at him, “Charles, I will take that drink.” There was always time to set oneself right, she thought, her mind clear at last.
Charles poured her a glass. Lauren took it and said with a dignity based in the honesty that had been sleeping at the core of her soul, “I do have something to say. Please sit down.” She gestured to the couch. Sally Chong sat gracefully while Lauren took the chair opposite her. Charles wandered across the room, drink in hand, and stood with his back to the windows, facing her.
Lauren sipped her drink and then spoke. “You are cutting a business deal. It doesn’t surprise me. I should have known it of you, Charles. It’s just the way you see things. Your offer might be acceptable to another person, but I can tell you without reservation, it is totally unacceptable to me.” Now her words came from a place within her she had forgotten existed. “It has nothing to do with sophistication. The time when women of our cultural background were forced to tolerate the infidelities of their husbands is over. I assume I am speaking about something that neither of you understand, but speak I will, just to bring closure for myself. Just to know no one can stop me from speaking. You see, I was raised to develop my ideals and stand up for them. One of my ideals, and the example I grew up with, is a loving marriage. I believe in love. Moreover, I believe in love at first sight and the most absurd notion, to you two, of true love. I will not abandon my ideals for anything. Not for penthouses or cars or careers or — ” and here she looked at Sally Chong “ — or diamonds and pearls. And when I choose to have children, I will raise them in the same way. Because that is power, Charles. You — both of you — have no power over me. Nothing you do or say can compromise my values and my ideals. I am a free person. My life will unfold before me in whatever way it will, but I will be free to make my own way, whatever that may be.” Lauren set her glass down beside the ring on the coffee table. “I will never see you again, Charles.”
There was nothing more to say. Neither Charles nor Sally Chong made a move or said anything. Lauren turned, picked up her carry-on bag, and walked out the door, shutting it quietly behind her. As though she was in perfect control, she made her way down to the concierge desk.
“Could you please call the car to take me to Heathrow? International flights.”
“Certainly, miss.” And the concierge picked up the telephone.
It was not until she was safely in the car and headed for the airport that the wave of nausea washed over her and she began to shake. She laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, gripping the door handle to steady herself.
The driver must have seen her in the rear-view mirror because he said, “Are you ill, ma’am?”
“Oh, no, thank you, I’ll be fine. Just have to get on that plane and get home.”
“Home’s the place, ma’am.”
Lauren felt her eyes burn with unshed tears and fought them back. He was right. Home was the place, but for Lauren, where was that?
The trip to the airport, then to the counter to secure her last minute ticket, moving through the line at the security checks, and finally boarding the plane was all a blur to her. She did it all automatically, feeling nothing. It wasn’t until she was seated in the plane, seat belt tightened around her, that she suddenly felt like she had been mixed up in something very dirty and sordid. The sight of Charles in his dressing robe and that strange woman, so secure in her own dishabille, had made her physically ill. She asked the flight attendant for a ginger ale and sipped it slowly, crunching the ice and letting the cold shards slip down her throat.
She hardly noticed the take-off, but about halfway into the trip, she did manage to fall into a fitful sleep, waking some hours later under the gentle touch of the flight attendant who said quietly, “We’ll be starting our descent into JFK now.”
It was a repeat of her actions of a lifetime ago as she went back through customs and security, picked up her tote, put her shoes back on, and found herself standing alone in the terminal. She walked out to hail a cab, feeling as though she could barely put one foot after the other. She glanced up at a clock on the wall. It was twelve-thirty on Sunday, New York time. There was only one thing she could do now.
Walking out to the curb, she put out her arm. A yellow cab swept up and stopped, New York style, inches from her toes. She opened the back door, got in, and gave the driver Kelly’s address in Tribeca. Hopefully her best friend would be home. She brought out her phone to call and make sure.
“Hello,” answered her friend.
“Kelly?”
“Lauren, what is it? Where are you?”
“In New York. I’m on my way to your place. Are you home?”
“Yes, yes. Lauren, what happened?”
“I’ll explain when I get there.”
“I knew it!” said Kelly, through her teeth. “I just knew it! Brian and I have just finished brunch. Are you hungry?”
“I don’t even know,” Lauren said with a sigh. “It was awful, Kelly.”
“Just come right here. Brian is leaving for a softball game. You can tell me everything when you get here. See you soon.”
“Bye,” Lauren said softly into the phone. Twenty minutes later, the cab pulled up in front of Kelly’s building. Lauren paid him, exited the cab, and entered the lobby of the building. Kelly was there, waiting for her. She put both arms around Lauren in a big hug.
“Come right up,” she said, leading Lauren by the hand to the elevator. Lauren followed numbly and soon found herself standing inside Kelly’s loft.
“You look pale and exhausted,” Kelly took Lauren’s bag and tote from her. “Sit over there on the sofa, and I’ll make some tea. Would you like something to eat?”
“I would throw up anything I tried to eat. I feel like throwing up now.” Lauren sat down heavily on the sofa.
Kelly rummaged in a canister, brought out two tea bags, and popped them into two mugs. She opened a cabinet door and brought out a honey pot. Then she turned the gas on under the kettle.
Just then, Lauren’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen. Her stomach clenched. Charles. At first, she refused to answer. Then, she reconsidered.
“Hello?” She tried to sound in control, but her hand was shaking so badly, she could hardly hold the phone.
“Lauren, I need to talk to you. Are you alone?”
“What difference does it make? Are you alone, Charles?”
“Please, I must explain.”
“You already did.”
“Are you alone?” he repeated.
Lauren glanced at Kelly. “Yes, I’m alone,” she lied. Kelly raised an eyebrow.
“I wan
t you to reconsider your decision concerning our relationship. I’ll agree not to see Sally anymore.”
“Really, Charles! Twenty-three years. I’m not stupid.”
“Please, darling, we’ve made all the plans. We make a good couple. We make a good pair. We can have a life together.”
“What kind of life? And for how long? Charles, this has tired me out. I thought you loved me.”
“Oh, but I do, darling. You know I do. Sally is, well, a business associate of long standing. We can change our relationship. She’s a reasonable woman.”
“Charles, really, do you know how awful that sounds? Please, you’re making me ill.”
“Will you agree to one more chance? One more try? It’s important to me. I’ll make everything up to you. I’ll make it worth your while.”
I’ll make it worth your while. That was how Charles thought of everything. As if he were talking about a business deal. Suddenly the image of Caleb was clear in her mind. His honest smile, his twinkling eyes, his simple and straightforward emotions. His touch and the soft urgency of his kisses.
Lauren sighed into the phone. “I’m sorry, Charles, I can’t. I can’t even talk about it with you now. We can’t be together. Every time I’d look across the table at you, or see you each morning, I would see you standing there, in your dressing gown, with Sally Chong in her black negligee.”
“I’m not a man to beg. You know that, but I’m asking you just to give it a second chance. You’ll have the world by the tail when you’re married to me. You won.”
How odd, thought Lauren, to hear him talk like this. It was as though she was hearing him talk for the very first time, and she didn’t like the conversation.
With resolution, Lauren spoke into the phone. “In the first place, Charles, I don’t believe it. I don’t think you broke it off with that woman. In the second place, what do you mean, ‘I won’? What did I win, Charles? You? Why did you want to marry me, Charles? Why didn’t you just marry Sally Chong? Or is she already married?”
Small Town Girl Page 15