There she was, seated in the green lounge chair by the window. His mistress, not his wife. Meredith Lazlo, in the flesh, had played a gullible hotel staff once again.
Why was she in Vietnam?
“Meredith,” he said her name, somewhere between a question and an answer.
“Alan. I know. I should have written ahead.”
“Meredith, what are you doing here? In God’s name.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re happy to see me.”
“It’s just such a surprise. We’re in a war zone. It’s dangerous.”
“Actually, it doesn’t seem that dangerous. Of course I’ve only seen the airport and came directly here to the hotel. I’m starving. Have you eaten?”
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.”
“I can see that. It’s just so unexpected.”
“Alan, I’ve left David.”
“No.” This frightened him.
“Yes. I’ve left him and that is all there is to that. It wasn’t because of what’s happening to your marriage. This is completely separate. I just want you to know that first. But it has occurred to me that I have not been happy for quite a long time. And then when you left for here, I was devastated. I couldn’t allow anything to happen to you. You were in such a state. I mean, my God, and we couldn’t even embrace. I’m tired, you see, Alan. I’m tired of this double life. Of course, I’ve adored meeting with you over the years, I look forward to it. We’ve seen the world together. We’ve grown old together. So when I left David, I came here because I didn’t know where else to go.”
“That’s crazy, Meredith. Are you crazy? Does David know about us?”
“Of course not. I didn’t tell him. I’m not a complete idiot.”
“Are you sure he doesn’t know? What did you tell him when you left?”
“He thinks I’ve gone to Australia. There’s a book fair. I made something up. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Well, he wouldn’t think to guess, I can say that. Nobody in their right mind would be so foolish as to come to Saigon in the middle of a war.”
“You’re here,” she said.
“I’m here working, Meredith. I’m working on a story. On a book that I plan to publish with your husband. How on earth would I be able to do that if he finds out we’re together? Do you suddenly want us to be out in the open? That’s not an option, it never was. That’s why we’ve worked so well all these years.”
“I’ve never been ashamed of being your mistress. I quite enjoy the time we spend together. Like I said, I wasn’t thinking clearly and I had nowhere else to go. You know how New York is. All of our friends are David’s friends, too. That or they work with him. Publishing is so incestuous.”
“Meredith, my God.” He paced the room, back and forth, trying to think of a solution. His head was swimming and sweat was accumulating on his forehead and under his arms. Was it so bad that she had come all this way to see him? Was it so bad that she had missed him and wanted to comfort him during this time? But that’s exactly why he wanted distance, not just from Penny, but from her, too. Their relationship would cloud his attempts to get Penny back. It would sap his mojo, his strength, his will. And then there was Meredith’s safety to think about. The shooting in the square just outside the hotel. The bombings he could hear at night. They didn’t sound like they were only on the outskirts of the city, like he’d been told. They sounded quite close.
“This is a very dangerous place. The other night I looked out the window and BAM! BAM! BAM! Three people. Murdered! An assassin right outside the hotel. The situation is volatile, Meredith. We need to get you out of here.”
“Now, Alan.” She came closer to him and put her hands on his chest. “Is it really so bad? Is it really so bad that I came here to be with you?”
“Meredith, please.” He was trying to get out of it. “You don’t understand. It’s for your own good. We need to get you on a plane.”
“But Alan, I missed you.” She was pouting her lips and moving closer.
“I know you have. I missed you, too.”
“Have you been thinking about me?”
“Yes, I thought about you.” He didn’t tell her about the letter he had written to her because meeting her here mainly canceled out his feelings.
“What did you think about?” Her hands moved down his chest and onto his stomach. She was caressing him and he hadn’t the power to stop her. Meredith’s sensuality was addictive and it certainly worked its power over him. “Go on,” she said. Her hands moved to his thighs and then slowly crept onto his crotch. “You can tell me, darling.” She was whispering, goddamnit. And he wasn’t stopping her.
“I thought about you plenty,” he said.
“Did you think about this?” She was rubbing the outside of his pants and his penis responded into a full hard-on. “Alan, my God. You must be very pent up. All by yourself with no one.”
“I am, dear. I am very pent up. I’m sorry, my love.”
She undid his belt and zipper. Meredith could seduce the life out of him, there was no way out of it.
“Please, Meredith,” he was pleading with her, only it was a very poor attempt. So he tried to talk himself out of it. Stop. Get out. Lock yourself in the bathroom and take a cold shower like the champs.
“Please what, Alan?” Seductress! She had one hand down his pants, the other was unbuttoning his shirt.
“Please,” he said.
“But Alan . . . Do you know what I think?”
“I have no idea.” She pulled him out and massaged him in her hand.
“I think you ought to fuck me.”
What a coward, our Eastman. What a hypocritical coward. Succumbing to his mistress, no longer thinking about what was important. He really did want her now. Before, perhaps, he hadn’t, and wanted to rid himself of her, but she convinced him with her enchanted caresses, the anticipation of her glorious mouth and the sex that would follow. He could do nothing but kiss her now. And he kissed her hard, like he wanted to swallow her whole. He kissed her until they were both on the bed, kicking at the air on their backs, squirming out of their clothes. Pant leg, underwear, brassiere strap, hairpin. Off it all went.
• • •
Meredith came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head and smelling of soap and skin cream, her own, not the hotel’s. She slipped back into bed next to him and twirled the hair on his chest with her manicured fingers.
“Let’s talk about something,” she said. “Tell me about your trip so far. What have I missed?”
“Nothing. I’ve been making decent contacts. Staying here in the hotel . . . meeting with generals and other newsmen.”
“What have you seen of the country?”
“Poverty. Great poverty is all around us. Outside this square you won’t have to go far to see a man with no legs, pleading for piastres. I ought to write that down. ‘Pleading for piastres.’ It’s usable.”
“Can I read something?”
“I haven’t written much. A paragraph here and there. Notes, I have notes. Nothing else.”
They both stared ahead at the dark reflection of themselves in the television. She might have liked the way they looked together. And what he saw was the same, only it made him sad. It was as if he couldn’t cheat unless he was really cheating. With both of them broken off from their spouses, the affair should have felt right. Only it didn’t.
“While I’m here I might as well meet some of the reporters. Maybe someone is working on a book.”
“I don’t think you should be staying very long. We should get you to safety.”
“I’ve already seen plenty of well-dressed women walking around outside the hotel.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Alan, I’m staying. At least f
or a few days. The flight to get here was incredibly long. I am not getting back on another plane. I would just die if I had to.”
“You don’t know how serious this is, do you? You could die here. What am I supposed to do? Watch over you every second of every day? I have to work.”
“No, you don’t have to watch over me. I can handle myself.”
“I have plans, Meredith.”
“Well, don’t let me interrupt. I only want you for your body.” She pinched his ass. He pulled away.
“For instance, I’m supposed to travel to Cambodia.”
“What’s in Cambodia?”
“A war. A civil war. The Cambodia thing is serious. I’m going with another reporter. Anne Channing. She’s very good. Have you heard of her?”
“I don’t think so.”
“She’s a crackerjack reporter and she’s my ticket over there. You see that I have obligations already set up.” He was changing his mind about Cambodia as he had done about Vietnam when Broadwater first proposed the idea.
“You really want me to leave. You want to put me back on a plane and shoo me off. Alan, I need a holiday. I’ve just separated from David and have been under a lot of stress. Knowing that your wife just left you, I’d expect you to understand.”
“Wait, you and David are separated? I thought you left him.”
“Separated, left him, what’s the difference!? If you must know—I didn’t think you cared—we’re separated.”
“So it was mutual.”
She leaned back on the headboard, not wanting to talk about it. “I suppose I left him, but yes, we came to an understanding that we would separate. For now.”
“So there’s still a chance you and David might get back together. This isn’t a permanent thing.”
“I don’t know. It happened so recently, I told you. I needed to see you.”
“I thought you wanted to . . .” he trailed off, unable to complete his thought.
“You thought what?”
“I thought you were here because you expected that we would be together. I thought you were coming after me.”
“Well, you are my lover. You are who I come to when I need to be loved. I’m sorry, Alan, I take offense at that. You seem so sure that we could never be together.”
“Let’s not get into that. There’s nothing wrong with you, you’re a perfect, beautiful woman. Looks, intelligence, money. I just haven’t thrown in the towel on my marriage. I’m trying to work on things with Penny, I thought I made that clear before I left.”
“But she left you, Alan. For another man.”
“So?”
“She’s cheated you, moved out, and you still want her back? How can you trust someone like that? She’s moved on.”
“Will you shut up?”
“Don’t tell me to shut up. You shut up.”
Eastman got out of bed and picked up his underwear, his pants, and began to get dressed. He paced around the room looking for a missing sock.
“I’m not moving on,” he said. “The facts are not yet clear. I have two children with her. There are my boys to think about.”
“For your information, Alan, I’m not here to win you over and wait to ask you to marry me. I’m here because I’m also in pain. I have also experienced a loss. And I wanted to see you.”
“Well, it’s just a hell of a time right now.”
“I’m sorry. If you want, I’ll get my own room.”
“No, I don’t want you to do that.”
“I don’t need you to take care of me. I can take care of myself. Jesus, you’re being a prick.”
“This is what happens when you surprise me, Meredith. I’m sorry if I’m being a prick. But I’ve seen some things out here that I wouldn’t care to share right now. You know what happens to men who come over here. They return forever changed.”
“Oh, you’ve been here what? Two weeks?”
“I need some air.”
“Then get some!”
Eastman put his shirt on and left. Once he was out in the hall, he felt as if he had exited a bad dream. Meredith was one of the factors that had contributed to the dissolution of his first marriage. She was the start of his philandering. Not that Meredith could be faulted for anything. Her attraction to him was real, and was once without attachment. There was love between them. Now it seemed as if Meredith wanted to turn his unfaithfulness, his dirty little secret, on its head. To come out with their love. Although a monogamous life was simpler, it wasn’t exactly what he wanted. Eastman wanted his life to remain as it was before the falling out with Penny. And if he could have her back, would he still continue his sporadic affair with his mistress? No. He’d have to end it.
Meredith was rarely demanding of him. They’d hit a rough patch in 1967 when Meredith became pregnant with what she believed to be Eastman’s child. She was already forty-six years old and they weren’t taking precautions. To him, the situation was an absolute crisis. But Meredith, always a voice of reason, remained calm, collected, and made all the hard choices for him. His would have been the principled, dignified way. When she told him about the pregnancy, Eastman was already calculating the cost—what he would need to allot each month for child support. He would never have left Meredith holding the bag. And that she was Lazlo’s wife was another factor that weighed heavily on Eastman. A secret affair was one thing, but a secret child, duping another man into thinking it was his own? His publisher, no less, a rising star at the company. Beyond being scandalous, the thought was beginning to sicken him.
They spoke over the course of a week, Meredith from her closed office in Midtown and Eastman either from his study when Penny was out or from a pay phone at his boxing gym. It was Meredith who suggested the abortion. “I don’t want children. I never have. I know of a doctor in New Jersey who can safely have the whole thing taken care of. At my age, if I was to have the child it would be a danger.” “Maybe we should give it a few more days and think of another way.” “This is the only way, Alan. You would have me ruin my marriage over this?” “It’s a baby, Meredith.” “It’s my life, and my decision.” “Then I’ll come with you. I want to be there.” “Too suspicious. Don’t get emotional, Alan. This is just something that happened and this is the way I have to take care of it.” “At least let me pay for it. I feel guilty as hell here. Getting off scot-free.” “We’ve done nothing wrong and I don’t blame you for anything. You’ll make it up to me.” “I will, darling.”
That’s the kind of woman Meredith was at her core. He suddenly felt selfish for wanting to get away from her now.
Eastman went down to the terrasse and ordered some food to have brought up to the room. Noodles and soup, Caesar salad, French bread, a bottle of champagne. There was no sign of Channing at any of the tables. He was hoping to run into her. He could have just gone to her room, but it now seemed inconsequential.
He went through the lobby and checked his messages with Mrs. Nguyen. A telex from Broadwater asking what the fuck was going on. More of interest to him was an invitation to the presidential palace for a “celebration of peace” that very evening. Perhaps General Burke had something to do with getting him on the list of attendees. This was the perfect opportunity to open up a dispatch from Saigon. A presidential party, a glimpse of President Nguyen Van Thieu and other dignitaries, there was potential in this. He went back upstairs to the room and told Meredith to pick out something nice to wear because tonight they were going out.
17.
The only visible sign at the new palace that there had been a war on were the spirals of barbed wire, waist high, bordering the palace gates. Eastman and Meredith walked alongside these barriers for a few blocks, under the canopy of trees and beneath the squeal of bats. They came to the front of the palace. Security seemed tight and excessive, which demonstrated his point that Saigon was still too dangerous for Meredith to act recklessly
. See, he seemed to say to her with his eyebrows as they walked through the security outpost. Meredith, however, disregarded him. Instead, she looked ahead in anticipation of a proper Saigon party. They continued up the driveway around the great lawn. The night air was humid and they could smell the flowers along the path. Eastman admired the palace at night, the way it took to the light. It was a modern construction, three stories high, with a presidential balcony and columns that resembled bones, perhaps double the size of the White House.
“It’s not very French, now is it,” said Meredith.
“This palace is new, I’m told,” he said.
“What happened to the old one?”
“They blew it up.”
Once inside, they were led through the main hall to a large assembly room, where the reception was already in progress. He scanned the room. Mostly Vietnamese men in suits exhibiting political importance. Sprinkled in between were tall Westerners, contractors and diplomats, newsmen from the bars around the Continental. Some of these men he imagined were CIA or former MACV. The who’s who of Saigon. And at the center of the room, a mountain of prawns and exotic fruit, mangoes, pineapple, papayas and jackfruit, little spiky nubs called chom choms.
Eastman took Meredith by the arm and they moved to the bar, where they secured some champagne.
“Did you know I’ve been to the White House?” he said.
“Johnson or Nixon?” she asked. They clinked glasses.
“No, it was before that.” He wanted to let her believe it had been with Jack Kennedy, that perhaps he’d been invited to dine with him and Jackie, to whisper into the president’s ear something about the state of the nation. Only Meredith was too intelligent to let anything slip by her, even for a second.
“Kennedy didn’t invite you the White House,” she said, as if it was unheard of.
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