Eye of Flame

by Pamela Sargent

  Jacqueline had expected the two to linger at Patti’s house after dinner, but both women seemed in a hurry to get home. “We should get together this week,” Patti said as Dena got into her Jaguar. “I’ll call you—maybe we can meet at your place, or Louise’s.” Dena nodded, then followed Louise’s Mercedes down the street.

  “I’m really beat,” Jacqueline said. “Good thing I don’t have far to drive. Anyway, Joe should be home soon.”

  “I have to talk to you.” Patti hurried up the steps; Jacqueline followed her into the house. Patti turned on a light and crossed the living room to the wide window, keeping her back to Jacqueline.

  “What is it, Patti?” Jacqueline sat down on one end of the modular couch. “Is something wrong between you and Joe? You were being pretty hard on him this afternoon.”

  “I’m having an affair.”

  This was a surprise. “Is it just a passing thing, or is it serious?”

  “At first it was just curiosity. I’ve never been unfaithful to Joe before. You know how it is. The spark goes out, you fall into a routine, you want something different. But I think I’m really in love this time.” Patti continued to stare out the window. “I can tell you. I don’t think I could say it to Dena or Louise. I’m sleeping with Tad Braun.”

  Jacqueline struggled for control, grateful that Patti could not see her face. The pain of Tad’s betrayal was sharp. “How long?” she managed to ask.

  “You must know—just since that night we saw him. He came here the very next day, right after I was home from work. He says he’s been in love with me for years, that he had a crush on me in high school. I called in sick the next day and saw him again. Joe’s always home late—it was easy to see Tad.”

  Jacqueline was silent. Patti turned and paced toward the fireplace; Jacqueline composed her face. “It’s crazy, I know,” Patti said. “I don’t even know where he lives, or what he’s doing, I just know I have to be with him. It isn’t just the sex—he understands me; he listens to me.”

  Jacqueline closed her eyes for a moment. She should have guessed she wasn’t the only woman in Tad’s life, that his sincere-sounding words were only a line designed to hook the vulnerable, but he might have found someone besides her cousin. How had he even managed it? He had been with her for much of the past three days, would have had to rush away while she was asleep. That was possible; Patti’s house was only half a mile from the condominium. She had lost track of time with him, but was his energy limitless? How could he have had any strength left for Patti?

  “You’re shocked,” Patti said.

  Jacqueline lit a cigarette. “I’m a little startled,” she said, trying to mask her hurt. “You have a pretty good life with Joe. Do you want to throw it away?”

  “I don’t care about that now. Tad’s what I want; I think he’s the kind of man I wanted all along. I can’t even think of anything else when I’m with him.”

  “But you’ve admitted you don’t know anything about him.”

  “I know what I have to know, and he says he needs me.”

  She would be doing her cousin a favor if she told Patti that Tad had seen her as well. Patti would be angry, but the news might be enough to make her give him up.

  Jacqueline was about to speak, then hesitated. Patti might only get angry at her or refuse to believe the story. If she got jealous enough, Jacqueline could hardly stay on in her condo with a car borrowed from one of Joe’s showrooms; she would have to go home, and might not see Tad again. That possibility tore at her. Even now, she still longed for Tad; he must have sensed her weakness, her need.

  “You feel that way now,” Jacqueline said, “but it won’t last. You might find out later that Tad isn’t what you wanted, either. Stop seeing him before it’s too late. Joe doesn’t have to know.”

  “I’m in love with Tad.”

  “You just think you are.” Jacqueline took a breath, wondering if she was trying to help Patti or only trying to win Tad for herself. She stubbed out her cigarette. “Patti, you’re tired, and we’ve both had too much to drink. It’ll look different tomorrow, believe me.”

  Patti sank down onto the stone hearth. “You don’t understand; you don’t know how I feel.” She looked up suddenly. “You won’t say anything.”

  “Of course not.” Jacqueline stood up. “Look, maybe you can take an afternoon off this week and show me the sights. I don’t think I’m ready to take on the freeways alone.”

  “I’ll see.” Patti’s voice was flat.

  Jacqueline tossed on her bed restlessly, unable to sleep. The sound of passing cars outside was competing with the noise of a party somewhere in the building. The weekend crowds had thronged to the beach and later to the bars along the Strand in search of the pleasures so low on Plato’s hierarchy.

  Tad was outside; she could feel it. She was afraid to confront him. She was imagining things; he might be roaming with the people outside, looking for another victim.

  She heard a knock at the door; maybe it was Patti, wanting to talk. She pulled on her robe and left the bedroom; the living room’s track lights came on as she slapped a switch. Her bare feet padded across the thick beige carpeting. “Who’s there?”

  “Tad.”

  “Go away.” She had to force the words out.

  “Jackie, I have to see you. Please open the door.”

  Her hand reached for the knob; she recoiled. “I don’t want to see you—can’t you understand?”

  “Let me in.” His voice had risen. The knob twisted in her hand; the door swung open. She let go of the knob and stepped back as he entered.

  “Jackie.” He was wearing a casual suit tonight, with an open-collared blue shirt; perhaps he had been in a bar trying to pick someone up. As she looked up at his face, her anger began to dissipate. He gazed at her intently, almost apologetically; before she could speak, he took her hands in his.

  “I want you to know this,” he said. “Maybe you think this is just a momentary thing, a few nights and no more. It isn’t. I’m serious, Jackie. I have to be with you.”

  She pulled her hands away. “You’re quite an operator, aren’t you? I talked to Patti before, and she told me about you two. You can’t fool me anymore.”

  “I won’t deny it. I have some feeling for her, but I think part of that’s because she’s your cousin. She can’t be what you are to me—no one else can be.”

  She clenched her fists. “Then leave her alone, for God’s sake. Don’t break up her marriage and ruin her life. She thinks you’re in love with her. She doesn’t know about me; I couldn’t tell her.”

  “How do you know I won’t improve her marriage? It happens sometimes. I’m attracted to her, and she seems to need me now, but she’ll tire of me. Later on she’ll be grateful for the memories and the bit of romance.”

  “So you’re a psychologist now,” Jacqueline said acidly. “You’re just trying to help her out.”

  “I’m attracted to her. Look, just staying with one woman—it’s something I’ve never been able to do. But I could do it with you; you can be that one woman for me. I’ve been waiting for you all my life. I can’t change overnight, but I will if you let me have the chance.”

  His words seemed so plausible, his expression so sincere. Already she was weakening; she wanted to believe him. He reached for her, loosening her robe. “I love you,” he said. “You brought me here; you’ll understand. I won’t let you leave me.” She sagged against him as he drew her down to the carpet.

  Jacqueline shivered. Her body ached; the bedroom seemed colder. The pillow next to her still bore the scent of Tad’s cologne. She listened to the silence before realizing he was gone.

  How long had they been together this time? She couldn’t recall leaving the condominium. They had made love, she had slept, and then he had reappeared at the door with groceries and wine. He had assured her of his love, but had not spoken of any plans they might make. She did not even know if he expected her to live out here or was willing to follow her east. />
  She stretched, then felt a sharp pain in her shoulders. Her hands were stiff, she flexed her fingers. Her shoulder pains stabbed at her again as she reached over the edge of the bed for the telephone. She set it on the mattress, lifted the receiver, and dialed.

  “May I help you?” a voice chirped.

  “What day of the week is this?”

  “Why, it’s Thursday, February—”

  She hung up. She had been with Tad for nearly five days, besotting herself with him. Her hand still lay on the telephone; she gazed at it in surprise. The joints of her fingers had swelled a little; a few tiny brown spots marked the back of her hand.

  She threw off the covers, ignoring her pain, and made her way to the bathroom. The sight of her face in the mirror nearly made her cry out. The lines around her eyes were deeper now, the skin of her cheeks looser. Her neck was crepy and lined, while her hair was streaked with gray. She gripped the sink, closed her eyes, then opened them again; the middle-aged face was still staring out at her. It isn’t possible, she thought; no one could age so much in five days.

  She stumbled out of the bathroom and reached for her watch. It was nearly five o’clock; Jerome would be home. She sat down on the bed and dialed the number. The telephone rang twenty times before she gave up. She took a breath, then dialed another number.

  “Directory assistance. For which city?”

  “Do you have a listing for a Thaddeus Braun?” Tad, she vaguely recalled, bore his father’s name. The operator gave her the number; she dialed it quickly.

  “Hello,” a woman’s voice said.

  “Mrs. Braun?”

  “This is she.”

  “Uh, my name is Jackie Sloane. I’m calling long-distance from California. I’m staying in Hermosa Beach, and I’m an old friend of your son Tad. I wanted to look him up, but he doesn’t seem to be listed—I thought maybe you could give me his number and address.”

  There was no reply.

  “I heard he was living somewhere near L.A. Do you think—”

  “When did you know my son?” The woman’s voice sounded strained. “In college?”

  “No, in high school. He was in a couple of my classes.”

  “And you were his friend? I know who Tad’s friends were. He had few enough of them, certainly none who were girls.” She sounded angry. “Forgive me. There was one. He wouldn’t say anything about her. He’d tie up the phone talking to her, and I think he met her a couple of times. And then—”

  The woman was silent for so long that Jacqueline thought their connection had been broken. “Hello?”

  “Tad had a breakdown,” Mrs. Braun continued. “We were too ashamed to admit it at the time, but it hardly matters now. We sent him away for help and then to a boys’ school after that. If you were his friend, you might have called us then, asked about how he was.”

  “I meant to, but—”

  “Oh, I understand. So easy for all of you to ignore him, to make his life even more miserable. I’m afraid I can’t help you. We don’t know what happened to Tad. He was living near here, and then he accepted a job offer out there a couple of years ago. He told us he’d let us know when he got settled. He never showed up at the job. We finally hired someone to track him down. Apparently, Tad rented a car at the airport when he arrived and then vanished. The car was found parked near a beach.” The woman’s voice broke. “His things were in the car, and there was no sign of violence. The police think he’s dead, that he walked into the ocean to die.”

  Jacqueline nearly dropped the receiver. He’s not dead, she wanted to say, but how could she tell his mother that? The woman would think it was some kind of cruel joke. Tad must have had reasons for disappearing; she did not want to think of what they might be.

  “I’m sorry,” she said at last.

  “Sorry. It’s too late for you to be sorry.” Jacqueline heard a click as Mrs. Braun hung up.

  Someone was knocking at the door. She pulled on her robe and hurried into the living room, then halted. “Who’s there?” she called out.

  “Tad.”

  She wanted to open the door; that urge frightened her as much as Tad himself did. “I talked to your mother,” she shouted. “I don’t know why you decided to disappear, and I don’t want to know. Maybe you’re working for the CIA or the Mafia. I suppose you had plastic surgery, and maybe you use another name, too. I don’t know what you’re up to, but you’re not going to drag me into it.”

  “Jackie, let me in. I love you; I have to talk to you.”

  “Go away.” She sank to the floor and pressed her head against the carpet, longing for him in spite of what she suspected.

  She took to driving on the roads along the coast, going north past Santa Monica, then south until she came to the cliffs of Palos Verdes. She was afraid to stay in the condominium; she continued to drive along the same route, retracing it until she was too tired to drive anymore. Whenever she returned to the condominium, she made certain that the door was securely locked, then drank wine until she was able to fall asleep.

  Tad had said that he cared about her, she thought as she drove. She still wanted him in spite of what she now knew; her reason was powerless against him. Perhaps he had been planning to tell her why he had to disappear once she had committed herself to him. That was what she wanted to believe, but she couldn’t know his purpose; he might be trying to use her in some way. Tad had heartlessly deceived his own parents; all his professions of love were probably a lie.

  She could go to the police, but wondered what she could tell them, what Tad might do if he found out. If he were engaged in something illegal and had accomplices, she would then be in danger. The longer she dwelled on her fears, the more they seemed to grow. She knew she should warn Patti and leave the area, yet she could not bring herself to make that decision. Another fear began to take shape in her mind—the fear that Tad would not let her leave.

  The telephone was ringing. Jacqueline stirred on the bed. She had forgotten to take off her shirt and jeans, and had stumbled inside around dawn to drink more wine before collapsing.

  Her mind cleared. She had to pull herself together, decide what to do. She reached for the telephone; maybe Jerome, stingy as he was about long-distance calls, was finally calling. He might be able to advise her. “Hello?”

  “Jackie, it’s Joe.”

  She propped herself up on her elbows. “What is it?”

  “Is Patti there with you?”

  “No.”

  “This is important. I called her friend Louise, and she swore up and down she wasn’t there, and then Dena came by about a couple of minutes ago, so I know she’s not with her. I’ve called all our friends. Look, I just want to know she’s O.K.”

  “She isn’t here, honest. What’s wrong?”

  Joe sighed. “I know I should have seen it earlier, but I’ve been working late all this week, and she was always asleep when I came home. I found out yesterday by accident that she’d taken a leave from work, and that was when I went home and took a good look at her. Jackie, she’s sick—she looks like an old woman who’s wasting away. I couldn’t believe it, couldn’t see how—”

  Her stomach knotted. “And it took you days to notice it?”

  “Give me a break! I’ve been putting in a lot of time—and why didn’t you bother to come around? You might have—” Joe cleared his throat. “I told her I was calling our doctor and then taking her to the hospital. She went into this rage, started yelling at me that she’d be all right, that—” He paused. “Then she calmed down, begged me to wait until this morning before I did anything, told me how afraid of hospitals she was, convinced me that she was starting to feel a little better. I shouldn’t have listened. When I woke up, she was gone; she took her car. I’ve been calling people ever since.”

  Jacqueline sat up. “Did she say anything about—” She swallowed. Patti might not have mentioned Tad; it would do her cousin no good to reveal that secret to Joe. “Did she say anything about where she might go, even
a hint?”

  “Do you think I’d be calling you if she had?” He choked and was silent for a bit. “I’ll have to call the police, and they won’t even start to look for her right away. I don’t know if I can handle this. I mean, Jesus, I’ve got a business to run; I didn’t need this right now. Look, if she shows up there, give me a call and then see if you can talk some sense into her. Maybe she’ll listen to you.”

  “I’ll call if she does.”

  “Thanks.”

  She hung up. The darkening sky outside the window told her that evening was approaching. She got up and entered the bathroom, expecting to look even more ravaged than she had before. Strangely, her hair didn’t seem quite as gray, while the skin of her face and neck was firmer. She thought of what Joe had said about Patti; she should have told her cousin what she had learned from Mrs. Braun. Irrational suspicions were forming in her mind; she shuddered.

  The doorbell rang. Her heart fluttered as she hurried toward the door. “Who is it?”

  “Dena.”

  Jacqueline pulled the door open. Dena was wearing a dark linen suit and a wide-brimmed hat with a veil. “I thought I’d better come by,” she said. “I stopped at Patti’s for a moment. Her husband’s frantic about her. She—”

  “I know. He called. She isn’t here.”

  “I couldn’t understand what Joe was saying. I wanted to talk to her. I was over at Louise’s. We had a falling-out, I’m afraid.” Dena’s ankles wobbled a little as her high heels dug into the thick carpet; she crossed the room and perched gingerly on the glass table. Her movements seemed awkward and stiff. “You look like hell, Jackie. What have you been up to?”

  “Sleeping, drinking, driving around. What day is it?”

  “Sunday.”

  Jacqueline shook her head and sat down on the floor. “Don’t tell me you put on a suit and a Princess Di hat to go to church.”