“Do you mind if we join you?” Jim asked, catching Lara’s arm aggressively. I bristled at the audacity of that man, actually touching her, but Lara was ahead of me. She winked at me when she caught my expression.
“Not tonight, fellas. Sylvie and I have serious business to discuss.” He looked incredulous, and was about to push further, but she added. “You know, girl talk,” she explained, winking at him, and repeating her flirty laugh from earlier. When we were safely seated at the table I let out a sigh of relief and she started laughing.
“Did you enjoy that?” I asked. My tone was sharper than I meant it to be.
“Actually, I did, a little,” she admitted, wearing a teasing expression. “Are you sore at me?” I didn’t answer her, instead lifting my menu. “You can’t deny me these little pleasures, baby.”
“Pleasures?” I asked quietly. “What pleasure could you have gained from them?”
“The way that man looked at you, with a sort of wolf hunger. He wanted to eat you up.”
“And that was enjoyable for you, watching that man objectify me?” I snapped.
“Quite,” she said with certainty. Her hand moved under the table to catch my mine, gripping it tightly. “I especially enjoyed your reaction, so haughty and aloof. I’ve never seen you around men before. But now I know.”
“Know what?” I asked, growing exasperated with her. She released my hand.
“What did Mother call you, prickly?” Lara grinned. “Her observational abilities are…”
“I didn’t like the way that man looked at you, as if you’re a toy for him to play with,” I interrupted.
“But you must realize, baby, to them we are toys, shiny, new, expensive toys. We’re supposed to be the rewards for their success. It’s really rather sad if you think about it from their perspective. After all their strivings for power, and displays of masculine superiority, we still don’t want them at all. They would probably call it a waste.” She laughed that dismissive laugh again, making me feel exposed and small. She picked up her menu and I stared down at my own, trying to understand what had just happened, and why her words made me so uneasy. The sounds of eating and conversation mixed with soft music, as I waited for her to speak again. Finally, my eyes were drawn to her face as I tried to figure her out.
“What do you want, Lara?”
“I don’t know, the Wiener Schnitzel, I guess. You?”
She misunderstood the question. I stared down at the menu, realizing I was not the least bit hungry. “The duck,” I answered absently.
“I guess we’re ready then. Do you care for any wine or a cocktail?” I shook my head. “I’ll have a glass of burgundy I think,” she murmured. I nodded. “You seem almost sullen now,” she said softly, raising her gaze to mine. “Did it bother you so much, talking to those men?” I shook my head.
“Maybe I don’t know you at all,” I replied. “I was so young when I fell in love with you. Did I only see what I wanted to see? Since you’ve been in Chicago, I’ve been busy working. We haven’t talked much. I’ve been so wrapped up in the physicality of you, and maybe I missed the big picture.”
“Ouch.”
“I didn’t mean…” She held up her hand to stop me.
“No. You’re right, baby. I forgot how delicate you can be. I’m not used to caring.” I watched her carefully, not daring to speak. “What an awful time I’ve given you tonight. And it’s funny, because all I want is to make you smile. The whole world lights up when you smile for me, Sylvie,” she said quietly. She looked around us at the nearest tables, seeming to gauge whether we were being observed, and then she leaned in as if to tell me a secret. “Let me make it up to you. You know our man, Phil?” She was referring to her driver. I nodded. “Well, I got the feeling he might be a little light in his loafers.” I didn’t have a clue what she meant, or why she was commenting on his shoes. My confusion must have shown. I was picturing Phil walking on air just above the ground. She picked up on my ignorance and explained. “He’s different, like us, you know? I mean, he never leers at either of us, and he’s been so helpful with my shopping, knows all the best designers and boutiques, and his shoes are so expensive and shiny, and his uniform is always neat... Anyway, you see what I’m getting at, don’t you?” I nodded.
“You’re saying he’s gay,” I replied evenly. She bit her bottom lip, her eyes narrowing.
“Yes, that’s what I’m saying,” she replied evenly. I nodded. “Well, anyway, I asked him a few questions, and it turns out he knows a place where people like us go to dance.” She grinned and raised her eyebrows at me. “Can you imagine it? It’s a real club, not some hidden hole in the wall. Phil assured me it’s legal. We could get arrested doing that back home, but not here. What do you think?” I couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm, like a kid’s, her nose all scrunched up. I nodded. “So you want to try it? Do you want to go dancing with me?”
“More than anything!” I said too quickly.
She was still grinning, her eyes sparkling with mischief, when our waiter approached the table to take our order.
****
Dinner was wonderful, as was dancing after, but when we were finally dragging ourselves back through the deserted hotel lobby, ensconced in mink and giddy with exhaustion, it was nearly three in the morning. My feet had long since begun to ache. My strongest craving was the removal of my too tight shoes, as my toes had long since begun demanding freedom from their confines. I leaned heavily on Lara for relief. She took the opportunity to press close, wrapping her arms around me.
“You’re my goddess,” she whispered next to my ear as we waited for the elevator. “I can’t wait to have you naked so I can worship you properly.”
“Do goddesses get this tired?” I asked, wincing from the pain in my feet. She straightened and looked more closely at me, her eyes skimming my body, pausing at my belly before returning to my face, her expression one of concern.
“What an idiot I’ve been, keeping you out this late. Are you okay, honey?”
“Okay?”
“Is everything all right with the baby? You look like you’re in pain.”
“I’m in excruciating pain, but it’s only my feet. These shoes are killing me,” I explained. Lara looked relieved.
“I’d never forgive myself if something happened to her because of my foolishness.” She shook her head. “And I haven’t even given her a thought for hours. Isn’t that strange?”
“Not at all. Why would that be strange?” I asked. Her eyes were moving over me as if I were something fragile, and she was examining me for a crack. “Why should you have thought of that tonight? Wasn’t the point of this evening to escape reality? Even I was able to forget my predicament for a while.”
“But I don’t want to forget about her. I want to protect her. She’s all I want to think about, besides you,” Lara replied, as if what she was saying was the most natural thing in the world.
“What?” I stared at Lara, trying to understand her words through the haze of exhaustion. “What could you possibly mean by saying that?” Her expression became sharper, more determined. “What are you planning, Lara?”
“It’s not a plan, not really,” she said softly. “It’s just, she’s important to me. She could be our child.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming,” I said under my breath.
“How could I help loving her, Sylvie, when I worship her mother? And what’s stopping us from keeping her, anyway?” she countered.
“Sanity, first of all,” I snapped. “Or are you truly insane?”
“You think I’m…”
The elevator opened, interrupting her. She stepped on without finishing her statement and stood next to me without another word as we rose through the floors. When we stepped from the elevator she strode ahead of me, her step sharp and quick. The door to our suite she held open, waiting. I limped after her, my feet almost numb at that point. She hardly waited for the door to close before she spun to face me,
catching my wrist in her grip.
“Do you think I’m crazy? Is that it?” she snapped. “Tell me now if you do. I deserve to know where I stand with you.” I shook my head.
“You know I don’t think that.”
“All right then,” she said more gently. “If I’m not crazy, why can’t we keep her?”
“It’s just not possible, Lara.”
“Of course it’s possible. In fact, it’s really simple,” she said quickly. “Giving her away would be impossible.”
“No. This is my life, Lara. My decision.”
She watched me for a few minutes, her eyes trailing over me, taking in the determination in my expression. Finally, she took my hand and led me over to the sofa. She then dropped down to the floor, easing my feet free from those torturous heels. She began rubbing my feet, easing the ache slightly before she spoke again.
“I’ll do it by myself then,” she offered quietly. She released my feet and moved up to the couch, sinking down beside me. “I’ll take responsibility for everything. I’ll take care of all of the bills, and support you while you carry her. If you still don’t want her once she’s born, you can walk away. But I want this child. I want to be her mother.”
“No, Lara. That won’t work either. She needs a mother and a father. She won’t be illegitimate. She won’t be like me.”
“She’ll have the best possible father, a rich dead one,” Lara said softly.
“Lara.”
“I mean it. We won’t tell anyone she’s not mine. No one needs to ever know.” I shook my head, astounded by her blindness.
“When you look at me, what do you see?” I asked sharply.
“I see my beautiful girl,” she said gently. A sweet smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
“What about my skin?” She ran her eyes over me from head to toe, and then grinned. “What do you see when you look at my skin?”
“You’re the color of praline ice cream, but you taste like more like...”
“Stop it! Just stop avoiding reality,” I snapped. “You know what I’m trying to say. In Chicago no one really questions it, because I’m so light skinned, but we both know. I tell people I’m Creole when they ask my heritage, and up here, with my name, they think that means I’m French. It’s not that simple though, is it, Lara?”
“What does it matter?”
“It matters because it’s only by some chance of nature that I look this way. This baby could be very dark. My mother’s darker than I am. My aunts and uncles, all of my cousins, they’re dark, Lara, and you’re very light,” I said sharply. “My child will be of mixed heritage.”
“Hattie has those striking ink-black eyes. Do you think our daughter will have dark eyes? What color are the father’s eyes? Your father was the whitest man in Natchitoches. That’s where your beautiful blue eyes came from. I hope she has your eyes,” Lara rambled happily.
“How would you know anything about my father?” I replied without thinking. She diverted her eyes.
“From your mother,” she said softly. “Hattie told me about it after what happened to me when…” Lara diverted her eyes and took in a sharp breath, which she released very slowly. For a moment I couldn’t speak and I was certain my head would explode. I forced the thoughts spinning in my head to slow. “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to remind you of that. It just slipped out. It doesn’t matter how you came to be, any more than it matters for this baby.” I was tempted to ask her who he was. She obviously knew more than I did, but confessing my profound ignorance on the subject was unthinkable. I contained the turbulence inside myself and focused on what mattered instead.
“Will you still want her if she’s dark?” I asked evenly. Lara nodded. “How would you explain that to your family and friends?”
“I don’t care,” she said, affecting an air of bravado. When she realized I was unimpressed with her acting skills she softened. “Why would anyone doubt me?” she asked finally. “Besides, Joe had a great-grandfather who was said to be of French-Algerian descent. He was a very dark Frenchman. It’s where Joe’s dark eyes and olive skin came from. I’ll just say she takes after him. No one will question it.”
“It wouldn’t work.”
“Of course it will work. I’ll make it work,” she said, staring straight at me, her jaw set. “There’s no reason for anyone to doubt she’s mine. Everyone already knows I’m pregnant.”
“What are you talking about? You’re not pregnant. Jesus, Lara. How long have you been planning this?” She shook her head. “When did you start lying about being pregnant?”
“I never lied about that,” she whispered.
“What do you call telling people you’re pregnant when you’re not, if not lying?”
“I was pregnant, Sylvie, almost five months along this time. Everyone knew I was pregnant, not because I told anyone, but because I was showing. It’s all anyone spoke of at the funeral. There was a sort of hushed, tragic, undertone as everyone speculated about whether or not I’d be able to carry this one to term. I lost him just before I came to find you, when I was alone in that awful prison of a house. I very nearly died with this one, I think. There was so much blood, and I was too weak to drag myself up from the floor and to the hospital. I lay there for hours, wanting you to appear, and thinking how I’d ruined everything.” I swallowed hard, picturing her collapsed on the cold tile floor of her bathroom, alone and bleeding, crying. “When I was still alive the next morning I carefully cleaned everything, and told no one. As soon as I was strong enough, about five days later, I came looking for you.”
“What about your mother?” She shrugged. “You haven’t told her?”
“I’ve only spoken with her once since I left Natchitoches, and she was afraid to come right out and ask me directly. Instead, she asked if everything’s still all right, with my health. I knew what she meant, but I told her I’m fine. It’s not really a lie. I’ll have no problem lying about my child when I need to, though.”
“Lara.” I shook my head.
“I won’t allow you to give her to a stranger.”
“Allow me?” I asked, incredulous.
“It’s settled then. This is my child you’re carrying.”
“I can’t do this,” I said under my breath.
“You can and you will, or I’ll never forgive you,” she said, pausing, her gaze narrowing. “Unless you think I’m unsuitable. Is that it? Do you think that because I love you the way I do that I’d be an unfit mother?” She watched me digest the threat within her words. I shook my head slowly. “It’s pretty obvious my body’s defective. Even if Joe hadn’t managed to kill himself, I wouldn’t have tried again, not after this last one. And as for adopting…” She laughed cynically. “Who in their right mind would let a single woman with a history of mental illness adopt a baby? This is the only way I’ll hold my own child in my arms. I want this child. I want you both. I’ve no doubt that you’re the love of my life, Sylvie, but if you force me to choose between you and this innocent, helpless, child, you won’t like the outcome.”
I collapsed back on the couch feeling as if I’d been punched in the gut. My hands pressed my belly, reaching for the creature so powerful it had already stolen Lara away from me, even before drawing its first breath. My eyes were stinging, my nose burning, as if I’d inhaled something pungent. I couldn’t look at Lara, but closed my eyes to think. I remembered the gauntness she wore that first morning after she tracked me down. I’d assumed she was just tired from travelling, but that dark misery had been in her eyes, replaced by shock when I told her I didn’t want to be a mother. Why had it been so easy for me to carry this creature when above all else I didn’t want it? Lara had suffered immeasurable devastation, and given up everything, including me, striving to become a mother. My pregnancy would be one more lost child to her, another nameless baby she’d never hold, and more devastation.
“Okay, Lara. Have it your way.”
I glanced over at her as I reached down to collect th
ose too tight shoes from the floor, and stood up from the couch. Lara didn’t answer, but just watched me, as if I were something puzzling, or not quite real. I walked away from her to the bedroom, dropped the shoes on the floor, and crawled, fully clothed, between the sheets. She would have what she wanted. I was too tired to consider what that meant for me, and what I’d lost in our exchange. I planned to face reality later.
****
I woke to the aroma of waffles, and the thick, rich, dark scent of coffee, mixed with flowers. When I opened my eyes to scan my surroundings I could find nothing different or out of place, except Lara was missing from our bed. I stretched my arm out, beneath the covers to check if her side of the bed was still warm. It wasn’t. That’s when I sat up and realized I was still wearing my dress from the night before. I struggled to unfasten the zipper, and then clumsily dragged the dress over my head. I got out bed and laid it across the bedspread, trying ineffectually to smooth the deep creases from the velvet. I heard Lara’s laughter from the doorway and turned to meet her eyes. She appeared happy, wearing a simple white silk robe, with her hair damp and full. She was freshly bathed, and her hair toweled dry. Her gaze traveled over me, taking in the crumpled state of the dress I’d worn the previous evening.
“We’ll send your dress out for cleaning,” she offered. “If they can’t salvage it, we’ll toss it and buy you another.” I stared at her for a few seconds not really knowing how to respond.
“You have to stop buying me all of these gifts,” I said softly. She shook her head slowly.
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