“Good evening, Mrs. Walker,” he said, and tipped his hat to her, as he always did. The elevator man told her Bill had come in just a few minutes before her. And when she let herself in, she found him in the den, putting away some papers. She was in good spirits, and she smiled at him, as he turned to face her. And he looked startled to see her expression, as though they had both forgotten what it was like to have a good time, to be with friends, to talk to each other.
“Where were you?” He looked surprised. She looked like an entirely different person, and he couldn't imagine where she'd been at that hour, in blue jeans.
“Tanya Thomas is in town, we just had dinner. It was great to see her.” She felt like a drunk in church, as she grinned at him, and seemed to have suddenly forgotten the solemnity of the last year, the silence that had sprung up like a wall between them. She felt suddenly too loud, too jovial, and surprisingly awkward with her husband. “I'm sorry to come home so late… I left you a note…” She faltered, feeling herself shrink as she looked at him. His eyes were so cold, his face so expressionless. The handsome, chiseled features that she had loved for so long had turned to stone in the past year, along with everything else about him. He had taken so much distance from her that she couldn't even see him anymore, much less find him. All she could hear was an echo of what had been.
“I didn't see the note.” It was a statement more than an accusation. And as she looked at him, she often found herself wishing he weren't still so handsome. He was fifty-four years old, and he was well over six feet tall, with an athletic physique, and a long lean body. He had piercing blue eyes, which had looked like ice for a year now.
“I'm sorry, Bill,” she said quietly. She felt as though she had spent a lifetime apologizing to him for something she should never have been blamed for. But she knew he would never forgive her. “I left the note in the kitchen.”
“I ate at the office.”
“How's it going?” she asked, as he put the rest of his papers in his briefcase.
“Very well, thanks,” he said, as though talking to a secretary or a stranger. “We're almost ready. It's going to be a very interesting trial,” he said, and then turned off the light in the den, as though to dismiss her. He was carrying his briefcase to their bedroom. It was something he would never have done a year before, and it was a small thing, but it no longer mattered. “I think we're actually going to leave for London a little early.” He had said nothing to her until now. He had just made his plans, and that was it, as though he no longer had to consult her. She wanted to know what “early” meant in this case, but she didn't dare ask him. It would probably just annoy him.
If he was leaving early, maybe she would too, although she still didn't have the final details. They had reservations in hotels in Paris, St.-Jean-Cap-Ferrat, San Remo, Florence, and Rome, and they were going to be staying at Claridge's with Bill in London. It was going to be a terrific trip, and after their months apart, Mary Stuart was really looking forward to traveling with her daughter. She had just turned twenty in April. Her birthday was a week before her brother's. And both days had been important to Mary Stuart,
And as Bill put down his briefcase and headed for their bathroom to put his pajamas on, Mary Stuart remembered Tanya's invitation, and she told him about it. “I think it's a cocktail party or something. It's being given by Felicia Davenport. Apparently, she's a friend of Tanya's.” And at the look on his face, she felt like a fourteen-year-old asking her father to go to the senior prom. He looked appalled that she had even dared to ask him. “I think you might enjoy it. Her new play has gotten rave reviews, and Tanya says she's a nice woman.”
“I'm sure that's true, but I have to work late again tomorrow night. This is an enormous case we're preparing, Mary Stuart. I thought you understood that.” It was a reproach even more than a refusal, and his tone suddenly annoyed her.
“I do, but you have to admit, it's an unusual invitation. I think we should go.” She wanted to do it. She was tired of sitting home and grieving. Seeing Tanya had reminded her there was a whole world out there—even with her own problems, and worries about Tony, her lawsuits, and the tabloids, she wasn't sitting at home, crying in the corner. It had reminded Mary Stuart that there were other options.
“It's out of the question for me,” he said firmly, “but you're welcome to go if you want to.” He closed the door to the bathroom and when he came out, his wife was waiting for him with a purposeful look.
“I will,” she said, with a stubborn look in her eyes, as though she expected him to fight her.
“Will what?” He looked completely confused by what she was saying. And if he didn't know her better, he would have thought she'd been drinking. She was behaving very strangely. “What are you talking about?” he said, looking annoyed, and unaware of the fact that she seemed more relaxed than usual and actually looked very pretty.
“I will go to the party,” she said, looking determined.
“Fine. And I will not, as long as you understand that. It'll be fun for you to meet people like that. Tanya certainly seems to have interesting friends, but that's hardly surprising.” He seemed to forget about it then, and went to bed with a stack of magazines he needed to glance through for legal and business purposes. There were several articles about some of his clients. And Mary Stuart disappeared into the bathroom, and emerged ten minutes later in a white cotton nightgown. She could have worn chain mail or a hair shirt and he wouldn't have noticed, and she lay in bed quietly while he read, thinking about her conversation with Tanya, and the things she had said about Tony. She wondered if Tanya was right, and if he really would be leaving soon, or if he would stick around and work it out. It seemed so unfair of him not to stand by Tanya, but she seemed resigned to his defection, and almost to expect it. Mary Stuart couldn't help wondering if Tanya should take a less accepting role, and at least try to stop him. It was so easy to look at someone else's life and decide what they should do. She had been completely unable to do it in her own life. In the past year, she had been completely helpless to reverse the tides, or to reach Bill at any time. He was totally beyond her reach, behind a wall of ice that grew thicker and thicker by the moment. She felt as though she hadn't really seen him in months, and she had begun to lose hope of ever reaching him again. She had no idea what they would do about their future. And he was certainly not open to discussion about that either. She had the feeling that if she had even mentioned it to him, he would have acted as though she were crazy. As he had tonight, when she came home with a lighter step, and a smile on her face. He had looked at her as though she came from another planet. It was obvious that laughter was no longer to be tolerated, and any kind of closeness between them was a thing of the distant past. And she only really noticed how bad it had become when she saw them through other people's eyes. Alyssa had looked horrified when she came home at Christmas, and couldn't wait to go back to Paris. And yet, as awful as it was for all of them, Mary Stuart had no idea how to stop it. And Bill didn't want to.
He turned out the light when he finished reading, and said nothing at all to Mary Stuart. She was lying on her side, with her eyes closed, pretending to be asleep, wondering if he would ever become human again, if he would ever reach out to her, if anyone would ever care about her, or touch her, or tell her they loved her, or if that was all in the past now. At forty-four, in more ways than one, her life was not only shrinking, it was over.
Chapter 4
Mary Stuart diligently stayed home to watch Tanya on television the next day, and wanted to leap out of her seat and smash the screen when the interviewer segued from a question about Tanya's childhood in a small town in Texas right to one about the recent rumor linking her to a trainer, and then a snide reference to the lawsuit she'd just been slapped with for sexually harassing an employee. But in spite of Mary Stuart's fury, Tanya handled it gracefully and seemingly with ease and a friendly smile, as she brushed it off as blackmail, and typical fare for the tabloids. But when she came off
the set, her arms were glued to her sides, and she felt as though she'd spilled a glass of water under each armpit, not to mention the beginnings of a massive headache.
“So much for daytime TV,” she said to the publicity woman who had accompanied her to the set, and escorted her to her next stop, the appointment with the literary agent about doing a book about her life. But in the end the meeting held little appeal for her. All they wanted was sensationalism, not substance. She was sick of all of them by the time she called Jean that afternoon, and found out that she was once again all over the L.A. papers, and there was something in the tabloids about her husband spending a weekend in Palm Springs with an unidentified starlet.
“Was that harlot ?” she asked pointedly, and Jean laughed. It was not a pretty story. Jean read the L.A. piece about the lawsuit to her, and Tanya had to fight back tears as she listened. The ex-bodyguard was claiming that she had taunted him repeatedly by strolling around the house naked when they were alone, which would have made her laugh, if she hadn't been so distressed by the story. “I wish I could remember the last time I was alone in that house,” Tanya said, feeling depressed. She could just imagine Tony's reaction. But she declined Jean's offer to read the tabloid story about him to her. She went out and bought it herself after she hung up, and it was a beauty. There was a photograph of him trying to hide from a photographer, and a picture of a young actress Tanya knew, who couldn't have been a day over twenty. But it was also impossible to tell if the photograph had been computerized, and the paper just made it look as though they were together. These days you could never be sure about pictures. But she didn't like it anyway, and although at first she resisted, she eventually called him at the office. She caught him just as he was leaving.
“I gather my name's been up in lights again today,” she said, trying to inject a little humor into a dismal situation.
“You could say that. Your friend Leo seems to have a lot to say about you. Have you read it?” he said, sounding really furious and barely able to conceal it from her.
“Jean read it to me. It's all bullshit though. I hope you know that.” She sounded very calm, and very much in control, and very Southern.
“I'm not sure what I know anymore, Tan.”
“What they wrote about me is no worse than the tabloid story on you and the girl you supposedly took to Palm Springs. They even printed a picture of you,” she said, trying to tease him. “And that's not true either. So what's the big deal here?”
There was a long pause, and then he spoke very slowly. “As a matter of fact, it is true. I was going to tell you about it, but I didn't get a chance before you left.” She felt as though he had hit her with a club. He had cheated on her, it was in the tabloids and he was admitting it to her. For a long moment, she was silent. She didn't know what to say.
“That's quite a story. What do you expect me to say now?”
“You have a right to be real pissed off, Tan. I wouldn't blame you at all. I think someone tipped them off. I have no idea how they turned up at the hotel. I figured it would hit the papers.”
“You're a little too old to be that naive, you know that? You've been around Hollywood long enough to know how it works. Who do you think called them? She did. This is a big coup for her, walking off with Tanya Thomas's husband. Big time, Tony. How could she pass up an opportunity like that?” It was a nasty thing to say, but it was probably true, and he knew it. It hadn't even occurred to him when it happened. And at his end of the phone, there was a long, long silence. “You're a celebrity now, Mr. Goldman. How do you like it?”
“There's not much I can say, Tan.”
“No, there isn't. You could have at least been discreet, or taken someone who wouldn't sell out your ass and mine to the tabloids.”
“I don't want to play this game with you, Tanya,” he said, sounding embarrassed and angry. “I'm moving out tomorrow.” There was another long silence, while she nodded and fought back tears.
“Yeah, I figured that,” she said hoarsely.
“I can't live like this anymore, being a constant target for the tabloids.”
“I don't like it either,” she said sadly. “The only difference is you have a choice, I don't.”
“I'm sorry for you then,” but he didn't sound it. He had turned mean suddenly. He'd gotten caught with his pants down, and he didn't like it. He didn't like playing second fiddle to her, he didn't like being sold out and betrayed and made a fool of. He didn't like any of it, and he couldn't wait to get out of her house and her life, and the spotlight he had been forced into while he was married to her. At first he had wanted it, but when they'd turned the heat up too high, he found he didn't like it.
“I'm sorry, Tan… I didn't want to do it over the phone. I was going to tell you tomorrow when you got home.” She nodded, as the tears rolled down her cheeks, and he inquired if she was still there, and she finally answered.
“Yeah, I'm here,” more or less, what was left of her. It was all so damn hard, and so unbearably lonely. She had been through so much for so long, been so used and so exploited and treated so unkindly. She had been robbed blind by the manager she'd married, and now Tony didn't have the balls to stick it out after three years, and he was running off to Palm Springs to fuck starlets. Just what did he think the tabloids would do with that? How could he have been so careless and so stupid?
“I'm sorry,” he said weakly, but by then it didn't matter.
“I know… never mind… I'll see you when I get back,” she said, anxious to get away from him. He had hurt her enough. She didn't have anything else to say. And then she had another thought. “What about Wyoming?”
“Take the kids. It'll be good for them,” he said grandly, relieved to be off the hook himself. He was anxious to be off to Europe, and he was taking the same starlet with him.
“Thanks…” And then, “Tony… I'm sorry too…” She started to sob then, and a moment later she hung up the phone. She was still crying when it rang again. She almost didn't answer it, she was sure it was Tony, calling back to see if she was all right. But it wasn't. It was Mary Stuart, and she could hear instantly how upset Tanya was. And through tears, Tanya managed to explain that Tony had just left her. She told her about the two articles, and that Tony had been cheating on her in Palm Springs. It was all tangled and nearly unintelligible, but Mary Stuart managed to figure out what was happening, and insisted she come over. They had plenty of time before the party, if they even went after all. All Tanya wanted to do was go home, but they weren't sending the plane for her until the next morning.
“I want you to come up here for a cup of tea, or a Kleenex, or a glass of water… come on, you. If you don't come, I'll come and get you,” Mary Stuart insisted, and Tanya was reluctant but touched by the offer.
“I'm okay.” But she sounded anything but convincing while she cried harder.
“No, you're not okay, you liar.” And then, the ultimate threat. “If you don't come, I'll call the tabloids,” Mary Stuart said firmly, and Tanya laughed.
“You're disgusting,” Tanya said, laughing through her tears. “I don't see you for a year, and what do I do, I end up getting divorced in the two days I do finally see you.”
“At least I can be here for you. Now come on over, before I call the Enquirer and the Globe and the Star, and any others I can find. Do you want me to come and get you, Tan?” she asked gently, but Tanya blew her nose again at the other end.
“No, I'm okay. All right… I'll come over. I'll be there in five minutes.” And she was, with uncombed hair, and red eyes and a red nose. But in spite of it all, she still looked gorgeous, as Mary Stuart told her, as she put her arms around her and held her like a child crying in her arms. She had had a lot of practice with Todd and Alyssa, and she was a good mother. She had done a lot of comforting and consoling in twenty-two years. But sadly, not enough for Todd. If she had, things might have been different.
“I can't believe this… it's all fallen apart in about five minutes,�
� Tanya said about her marriage. Except they both knew that it had actually taken a lot longer. Tony had been steaming for a long time, about all the things that irked him in her life, he just hadn't said so. And she realized now that he had been unhappy for a lot longer than she thought. Looking back, she could see all the signals, but she had missed them as they happened.
Mary Stuart made her a cup of tea, despite the heat outside, and Tanya sat down in the immaculate white kitchen and drank it.
“What do you do in this place anyway?” Tanya asked, as she looked around her. “Order out?”
“No, I cook here,” Mary Stuart said primly, but with a smile at her friend. Tanya looked battered and bruised, but a little bit better for the comfort. “I just like things clean and organized.”
“No,” Tanya corrected her. “You like things perfect, and you know it. But it can't always be perfect, sometimes everything is a mess and that's just the way it is, and you can't change that. Maybe you need to accept that. I keep getting the feeling that you're beating yourself up for what happened.” It was true, and Tanya wanted more than anything to release her friend from the torment she could still see in her eyes.
“Wouldn't you beat yourself up?” Mary Stuart asked softly. “How could I not blame myself? Bill blames me… I know it… he can't even look at me anymore. We live here like strangers. We're not even enemies anymore… at first we were, there's not even that now.”
“Is he coming tonight?” Tanya asked her, feeling sad for both of them. The hands life had dealt them had not been easy. At least not lately.
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