"Take care of my baby for me, Matt." It was a lonely whisper as she tried not to cry, and then he threw caution to the winds and pulled her toward him, holding her for a long time like that as she drew on his strength and his friendship. She said nothing to him as she left, except as she stood in the doorway of the plane she signed to him, "I love you." He smiled broadly and signed back, and then she disappeared, back to L.A. and to Justin. And as Matthew walked back to his car he told himself he was crazy. Her life was too different from his, and always would be. He was nothing more than a teacher of deaf children, and she was Daphne Fields. For a moment he hated Justin Wakefield for everything he was, and everything Matt knew he wasn't, and then with a sigh he slipped into his car and went home, thinking every mile of the way of Daphne.
The plane touched down in L.A. at 1:30 in the morning L.A. time, and Daphne awoke with a start as they landed. For her it was 4:30 A.M. And she awoke with a heavy, lonely feeling, she had been dreaming of Matt and Andrew, playing in the garden with them at Howarth, and now she realized how far away she was again. For an instant she felt the same unbearable pain she had felt when she first left Andrew at Howarth. But as they landed she forced her mind back to Justin. She had to force her mind back to the present and what lay ahead, or she couldn't go on. But the memories of Andrew and Matthew seemed to stay with her. They were still too fresh in her head and she wasn't ready to let go. She didn't really want to be back yet. And yet, she reminded herself, she was coming home to Justin and all the thrills she felt in his arms. It was strange though, she felt as if she had been away not for three days, but for three months. Her two lives were so entirely separate that it was difficult to imagine leading both lives within the same week. And suddenly the thought of Justin was like thinking about a stranger.
She hadn't told the limousine to meet her at the airport, and she had told Barbara not to worry, that she would get home herself. She hadn't been able to reach Justin in three days because she didn't know the people he was staying with in San Francisco. But as she rode home in a cab she knew that in a few hours they'd all be back together. It was 2:00 A.M. by then, and they all had to be at the studio by 5:30. She realized as she walked in the front door that it wasn't even worth trying to go to sleep for two hours. She'd have to make do with the nap she'd taken on the plane.
The house was dark save for the lights that went on automatically each night to make the house look lived in even when it was deserted, and she walked inside thinking how strange it all looked. It seemed like someone else's house, not her own, and she realized again how far she'd flung herself. She walked into the living room and sat down, staring at the pool all lit up in the dark, and wondered how soon Justin would come home. And then she wandered slowly outside and thought of taking a swim. She looked down and saw a well-sculpted blue and white bikini top, two empty glasses, and a bottle of champagne. She wondered who might have left them there, and wondered if Barbara and Tom had used the pool while she was gone, but he had his own, and as she picked it up she saw that the brassiere was far too large for Barbara. She held it for a moment as her heart began to pound, and then she shook her head. It couldn't be. He wouldn't do a thing like that right here. She left it on a chair, trying not to think, and took the glasses and the champagne bottle into the kitchen and there she found a white lace blouse draped over one of the kitchen chairs. She smiled an ironic smile to herself, feeling like the Three Bears. "Who's been using my pool? ... Who's been sleeping in my bed? ..." She wandered into her bedroom with the thought, and found him there, the golden god, sprawled out naked and beautiful in their bed. He looked less than half his age, and she marveled at his looks again as she stood watching him and he didn't stir. Maybe he'd had a party before she came back and he'd been too tired to clean up the last of the debris. She felt suddenly guilty for what she'd thought, wondering if her confused feelings about Matthew made her want to think the worst of Justin. But that was wrong. She was in love with Justin, the golden god. As she took off her traveling clothes with a sigh, she felt an overwhelming longing for him. She lay down on the bed beside him for a time, but she couldn't sleep, and she didn't want to wake him by tossing around. At last she got up, and put on coffee at four o'clock, and half an hour later Barbara came in.
"Welcome home." She gave Daphne a hug with an enormous smile. "How's our boy?"
"Absolutely wonderful. You should see him ride his bike, and he's grown again, and he sent you his love." She looked sad for a moment as she sat down on the chair still draped with the lace blouse. "It was so hard to leave, Barb. I wish we weren't working so damn hard so he could come out for a visit. And yet, I know that if I work my ass off, I can move back to New York sooner. It's a kind of Catch-22, isn't it?"
Barbara nodded, she felt what Daphne was going through. "Maybe before or after Wyoming, Daff."
"That's what I told Matt."
"How was he?" Barbara searched her eyes, but there was nothing there she hadn't seen before, warmth, affection, interest, but nothing more. She was still in love with her Greek god, much to Barbara's chagrin.
"He's fine. As nice as ever." She said nothing more, and Barbara poured them both coffee and when Daphne got up she glanced at the chair.
"Is that yours?" Her eyes were suddenly grim.
"No. Justin must have had friends in to swim." The silence between them seemed to fill the room. "Have you and Tom been around?"
Barbara shook her head. "I came in every day to pick up the mail. You got two checks from Iris yesterday, but other than that it was all junk and bills."
"The new contract didn't come in yet?" She was signing with Harbor to do another book.
"No. They said not to expect it till next week."
"No rush, I can't touch it till we finish the movie anyway." Barbara nodded again and fought with herself for the hundredth time. Tom had told her to keep her mouth shut when Daphne got back, but every time she thought of Justin her stomach turned, and she had told Tom that she didn't owe the son of a bitch a thing.
"What made you ask if we'd been here?" Barbara averted her eyes and filled Daphne's cup again.
"Just curious. Someone used the pool. I found some wineglasses and an empty bottle of champagne." She didn't mention the bra.
"Maybe you ought to ask Justin about that." Her voice was unusually smooth and Daphne looked up at her. She was too tired to play games.
"Is there something I ought to know?" Her heart began to pound again. It wasn't a matter of Goldilocks this time. But Barbara said nothing at all, never taking her eyes from her friend's.
"I don't know."
"Was he here? I thought he went away."
"I think he stayed." But she was too vague. Barbara would have known if he had stayed in L.A., especially if she picked up the mail every day.
"Barb ..."
She held up a hand, fighting back a rush of pent-up fury once again. "Don't ask me, Daff." And then through clenched teeth, "Ask him."
"What exactly should I ask?"
Barbara couldn't take it anymore. She held up the blouse. "About this ... and the bra at the pool" --then Barbara had seen it too--"and the underpants in the front hall..." She was prepared to go on but Daphne stood up, feeling her knees go weak.
"That's enough!"
"Is it? Just how much shit are you going to take from him, Daff? I wasn't going to say anything when you got back, Tom told me it was none of my business but it is"--her eyes filled with tears--"because I love you, dammit. You're the best friend I've ever had." She turned her back on Daphne for a moment and when she turned to face her again her eyes were bleak. "Daphne, he had a woman staying here." There was an interminable silence in the room as Daphne listened to her heart pound and the clock tick and then her eyes met Barbara's with an expression Barbara had never seen.
"I'll take care of this, but I want to make one thing clear. You were right to tell me, Barb. And I appreciate what you feel. But this is between Justin and me. I'll handle it myself. And whatever h
appens, I don't want to discuss this with you again. Do you understand?"
"Yes. I'm sorry, Daff ..." Her tears spilled onto her cheeks, and Daphne went to her and hugged her for a moment.
"It's okay, Barb. Why don't you go on to the studio in your, car." It was almost five o'clock and Tom had been letting her use one of his cars. "I'll meet you there in a while. And if I'm late, tell them that I just flew in from the East Coast."
"Will you be all right?" She dried her eyes, frightened by Daphne's sudden calm.
"I'm fine." Her eyes held Barbara's meaningfully, and then she walked out of the kitchen and closed the bedroom door. She walked over to where Justin lay and she touched him on the shoulder with a trembling hand. He stirred sleepily then, squinted his eyes, looked at the clock, and then realized she was in the room.
"Hi, babe. You're back."
"I am." She looked down at him and there was nothing friendly in her voice or face. She sat down in a chair across from the bed because she could no longer stand up and she stared at him. "What exactly went on around here while I was gone?" She got right to the point and he sat up, barely rumpled by a night's sleep, with a look of innocence and curiosity in his eyes.
"What do you mean? How was your kid, by the way?"
"He was fine. But right now I'm more interested in you. What have you been up to around here?"
"Nothing. Why?" He stretched and yawned, and smiled invitingly as he reached out and touched her naked leg. "I missed you, babe."
"Did you? What about the woman who stayed here while I was gone? I'll say one thing, she's got big tits. Her bra would fit over my head." But funny as she may have sounded, she was not amused, her eyes were hard as rocks and she pushed his hand away from her leg.
"I had some friends in, that's all. What's the big deal?" Suddenly she wondered if Barbara had been wrong. She would feel like a total jerk if he was telling the truth and had been falsely accused. Her eyes faltered for a moment and then she saw one of his discarded rubbers under the bed. She reached over, picked it up, and held it aloft like a trophy of sorts.
"What's this?"
"Beats me. Maybe someone slept here."
"Are you telling me it's not yours?" Her eyes never left his.
"Oh, for chrissake." He stood up in all his splendor and ran a hand through his golden hair. "What's with you? I was here alone for four days and I had some friends in. What's the matter, Daff"--his eyes glittered nastily--"don't I get pool privileges unless you're here?"
There was no other way to find out. "Barbara tells me there was someone staying here." But at her words he started, he hadn't known she was around.
"That bitch! How the fuck does she know anything? She wasn't here."
"She picked up my mail every day."
"She did?" His face grew pale. "Oh, Christ." He sat back down on the bed and dropped his face into his hands. He said nothing for a while and men he looked into Daphne's eyes. "All right, all right. I got a little crazy. That happens to me sometimes after I work that hard. It doesn't mean anything to me, Daff ... for chrissake ... you have a lot to learn about this business ... it drives you nuts after a while." But they were lame words and he knew it. There wasn't much he could say to her.
"Apparently it does. Nuts enough to sleep with someone else in my house, in my bed." Tears filled her eyes. "Does that seem right to you?" She felt betrayed and hurt. She had suffered loss before, but she had never suffered this ... brassieres left by the pool ... spots on the couch ... condoms under the bed ... and all in three lousy days. "What the hell's the matter with you, dammit?" She got to her feet and paced the room. "Can't you keep it in your pants for three days? Is that all I mean to you? A convenient piece of ass and when I'm not around you sleep with someone else?" She stood before him, her eyes blazing, and he looked sad.
"I'm so sorry, Daff ... I didn't mean--"
"How could you?" She began to sob. "How could you? ..." She was beyond words and she lay facedown on the bed as she sobbed, and gently he stroked her back and hair. She wanted to tell him to go to hell, but she didn't have the strength. She couldn't believe what he had done, and the callousness of doing it in her own house and letting her find out made it even worse. This wasn't a quick screw he'd picked up at some bar, this was a girl he'd moved right into her house, her bed. The humiliation of it was almost more than she could bear. And what it told her about him was very painful.
"Oh, Daphne, baby ... please. ... I got drunk, I snorted some coke. I just flipped out. I told you I didn't want you to go. I wanted to go to Mexico with you, but you insisted on flying East to see your kid. I just couldn't take it, I ..." He began to cry too, and turned her over gently to face him. She felt as though all her bones had melted into the bed. She didn't have the strength to fight. She almost wished that she were dead. "I love you so damn much. This doesn't mean anything." He wiped the tears from his eyes. "I was crazy. It'll never happen again. I swear." But her eyes said that she didn't believe a word as tears streamed down her face and she said not a single word to him. "Daphne ..." He lay his head down on her slender thighs. "Oh, God, baby ... please ... I don't want to lose you...."
"You should have thought of that before your friend left her bra at my pool." Her voice sounded defeated and she sat up slowly in the bed, feeling ten thousand years old, but not yet hating him. She was too hurt even to feel anger yet. All she felt was pain. "Is this how you always behave during a shoot?" Or was this how he behaved in real life? She was beginning to wonder. And it made her feel like hell.
"This has been a rough shoot. You don't know how much of myself I've been pouring into this, Daff ... how desperately I've wanted to please you ... to make this movie of yours a major hit ... Oh, Daff ..." His eyes looked so childlike and so sad, he looked as though his best friend had died. The fact that he had killed her himself didn't seem to enter his mind as he grieved. "Baby, can't we start fresh?"
"I don't know." Her eyes went to the rubber she had tossed onto the bed and he picked it up and threw it in the John. When he came back, he looked at her.
"Maybe you'll never forgive me. But I swear I'll never do it again."
"How do I know that? I can't sit on you for the rest of your life." She sounded so tired and so sad and he smiled for the first time since he had seen her in the room.
"I wish you would."
"I want to go back and see my son again. What happens then? I worry myself sick for three days while I'm gone that you're out screwing around again?" She was suddenly overwhelmed by a mindless, wordless, bottomless lonely feeling. Who in hell was he? And what did she mean to him? Did he care about her at all? It was hard to believe he did now.
"If you want, I'll come with you." But suddenly she wasn't sure if that was what she wanted. She wanted him to meet Andrew, but there was more in New Hampshire than that. There was Matt. And suddenly she didn't want Justin to be part of that life, especially now. Suddenly, she didn't trust him. Not enough to expose Andrew to him.
"I don't know. I don't know what I want right now. I think I might want you to move out." But she knew that if he did, they would never work it out. He shook his head slowly and reached for her hands.
"Let's not do that yet. Please, Daff. Give me a chance." It was like watching a little boy beg to get his privileges back, but this was a lot more important than that. "I need you."
"Why?" It seemed strange to hear him say that, she had thought that it was she who needed him. "Why me and not someone else, like your friend with the big tits?"
"You know who she is? A twenty-two-year-old cocktail waitress from Ohio, Daff. That's all she is. She isn't you. No one is." But Daphne narrowed her eyes. Something rang a bell.
"Isn't that the girl you were going out with before?" He hesitated at length and then nodded, dropping his head into his hands again.
"Yes. She heard through the grapevine that we were taking a break and she called."
"Here? How did she know where you were?" The question struck fear in his heart
, he was caught. Either he had let her know where he was before, or he had called her.
"All right, dammit, if you're so fucking smart, so I called her."
"When? After I left or before?" She got out of bed and stood facing him. "Just exactly what has been going on with you?"
"Nothing, dammit! I've been with you night and day for the last three months. You know I haven't seen anyone else. How could I? When?" It was true.
"You told me she was an actress." It was a minor point, but everything mattered now.
"She is. She's out of work, so she's waiting on tables. Daphne, dammit, she's a nothing, a child. You're worth fifty thousand of her or any other woman in this town. I know that. But I'm human. I do crazy things sometimes. I did it, I confess, I am desperately sorry, it won't happen again. What more can I tell you? What do you want me to do to atone for my sins? Cut off my balls?"
"It's a thought." She sat down in the chair again and looked around. Suddenly she hated this room, the whole house. He had poisoned it while she was gone. She looked up at him then. "I don't know if I could ever trust you again."
He sat down from her across the bed, trying to keep his voice calm. "Daphne, every couple goes through these things. At some point or other, everyone screws up. Maybe one day you will too. We're all human, and at some moment in time, we all get weak. Maybe it's better to have it out now, to have some giant tear in hearts that we can sew up and make them stronger. We'll be better for all this if we make it through and we can, if you let us. Give me a chance. I'm telling you, it won't happen again."
"How do I know?"
"Because I'll show you. And in time you'll come to trust me again. I know what you feel. But it doesn't have to mean the end. He reached out gently and touched her cheek with his fingers. She faltered for only a fraction of a second and he sensed it and moved in quick, reaching out and pulling her into his arms. "I love you, Daff, more than you'll ever know. I want to marry you someday." To him that was the ultimate statement--the beginning and the end--but Daphne still looked sad.
Once in a Lifetime (1982) Page 27