A Perfect Life: A Novel (7 page)

“Abby promised to make her special waffles,” Salima said, looking like a child again.

“It would be fun to eat at Peterson’s,” Blaise suggested. She always thought it would do her good to get out, but Salima seemed to have no need or desire to venture into the world. She was happy in her cottage.

“I’d rather eat here,” Salima said bluntly. She lived in a cocoon that Blaise had provided for her, and Abby was happy in it with her. She was a local girl who had never ventured far from home. She had gone to New York for the first time with Salima, and looked terrified the whole time she was there when they came home for school vacations. It was Salima who had reassured her. Abby was used to it now, but it had taken several years. And while Salima was
at home, they rarely left the apartment. They watched movies on Blaise’s big movie screen, which Salima could listen to and follow, with tapes recorded by a “movie describer” to describe the action for the vision impaired. Salima loved movies. They ordered meals from restaurants to be delivered to the apartment. Blaise always had a tough time getting them out, even here. But Abby took exquisite care of her. She monitored her blood counts and checked her pump scrupulously, and did everything for Salima. And Salima looked immaculate, beautifully groomed, and perfectly put together. The only thing Abby couldn’t do was braids, and sing, and Salima teased her mercilessly about both.

Abby went out to the kitchen a few minutes later, set the table, and served them freshly made waffles.

“I forgive you for not being able to sing,” Salima announced with a mouthful of waffles and diabetic maple syrup. “Your waffles are fantastic!” Abby loved to spoil her in countless small ways. It made Blaise’s heart ache. Abby was the mother that she knew she could never be. She didn’t have the time or the patience. Abby did. Blaise lived in a much bigger world, which she had shielded Salima from religiously. Salima was not a secret, but Blaise never talked about her diabetes or her blindness. And she had kept her away from the press all her life. Blaise was intensely private and protective of Salima.

Her going blind, and being diagnosed with diabetes before that, had broken Blaise’s heart, and Harry’s. He had never been able to adjust to it. And rather than accepting that he had a blind daughter and dealing with it, he ran away from it and hardly ever saw her. It
was too painful for him. He sent her birthday cards, and had Blaise buy her Christmas and birthday gifts. He didn’t know what she wanted, even as a young child, and her blindness confused him, so he didn’t bother getting her anything, and asked Blaise to do it, which she did, and always credited him with fabulous gifts, beautiful dolls when she was younger, which she enjoyed even if she couldn’t see them. She was like any other child. She loved music as she got older, leather jackets, a fur parka when she turned eighteen that Salima had worn ever since. But her father hardly ever coming to see her had been a disappointment to her all her life. He never called her either. She rarely spoke about it and had made her peace with it, but sometimes when his name came up, Blaise could see how much it had hurt her. Blaise tried to explain it to Harry, to no avail. He just said he couldn’t. He found parenting any child hard enough, but doing so for a blind one was too much for him. It was easier for him to ignore her.

“What do you want to do after lunch?” Blaise asked her, as Abby put the dishes in the dishwasher Blaise had bought them.

“How about a movie? I just got two new ones.” She particularly loved musicals. She had “watched”
Annie
and
Mamma Mia!
and
Mary Poppins
and
The Sound of Music
hundreds of times and sung along.

“Why don’t we get some air?” Blaise suggested. “You can watch a movie anytime. It’s a beautiful day outside.” It was the one problem Blaise always had with her. It was hard to get her out of her comfort zone, even to go for a walk on the grounds. She didn’t like to go out unless she had to, and Abby didn’t push her. She hated
making Salima unhappy, and Salima liked to stay home in the cozy cottage. The only time she left it now was to go to school.

“Tell me about your trip,” Salima said, trying to distract her from insisting on a walk, but genuinely interested too. Blaise told her about both interviews, and how fascinating both subjects had been. She told her all about Dubai, or what she’d seen of it, and the diamond bangle from Cartier. She had Salima feel it on her wrist.

“It feels expensive,” Salima said with a grin. “He must have liked you a lot.”

“No, he was just generous. Saudis are. And how would you know it’s expensive?” Blaise was intrigued.

“It’s heavy, and I can feel the diamonds all around it. It wasn’t cheap.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Blaise agreed with a smile.

“Was he handsome?” She loved hearing about her mother’s trips, and listening to her interviews. She was Blaise’s biggest fan. And her mother was hers. Salima was a remarkable girl, and had been since she was a child. She was sad that Harry hardly knew her, and that she herself didn’t have more time to spend with her. The years had flown by.

“He was very handsome, and extremely smart,” Blaise said about the Saudi prince.

“Was he hot for you, Mom?” Salima teased her, mostly because of the bracelet. But she knew her mother was beautiful. Everyone said so.

“No. I’m about ten or twelve years older than he is, so that rules me out. And he already has three wives. That’s three too many for me.”

Salima knew all about her mother’s romance with Andrew, and how it had turned out and why. She had met him and liked him, and he had made an effort with her, but she didn’t like how it had ended, or how dishonest he had been with her mother. Salima had been fourteen at the time, and her mother’s voice had sounded so sad afterward, for months, maybe a year. It made Salima’s heart ache to hear her. Salima herself had had a couple of romances at the school, but all the boys there were too young for her now, and she hadn’t met anyone at college. She was always with Abby, and they came and went for her classes and never stuck around. And Salima was shy. With sighted people, she was self-conscious about being blind. And the only sighted people she knew were teachers, not kids. It was the downside of living at a school for the blind. She had no idea how to behave around people who could see. All her peers were blind, and had been for the past eleven years, since she was eight years old. But Blaise was still convinced that she was better off here. But as the years went by, Salima was less and less familiar with the outside world. New York would have been a jungle for her now, and far more dangerous than Blaise was willing to deal with. At Caldwell, Blaise knew she was safe. And Salima never asked to come home. She only did so when she had no other choice, when school was closed for vacations.

It took some doing, but Blaise finally convinced her to go for a walk. She described the trees to her, turning orange and scarlet, and Salima tucked her hand into her mother’s arm as they walked, while Abby walked right behind them and said nothing. She was there if they needed her, but she didn’t want to intrude. She was always very discreet, and Blaise liked her nearby. She was
never alone with her daughter, and preferred it that way. She didn’t feel competent to meet Salima’s needs if something unexpected happened, and she knew Abby could. All Blaise could do, as far as she was concerned, was tell her stories of her work and travels and make her laugh. They always had fun together, which was something, but Salima needed so much more than that.

Abby made them hot tea when they got back to the cottage, and Blaise sat with them until late afternoon, when it started to get dark. And at six o’clock, with a tone of regret, she said she should leave. She had a long drive back to the city.

“Would you like a sandwich before you go?” Abby offered with her gentle smile.

“No, I’m fine. I should get on the road.” She hated to leave. She always did. “I’ll come back soon,” she said, as she hugged Salima, who clung to her mother for a minute, savoring the feel and smell of her. She always loved the scent of her perfume, and her shampoo. Sometimes she could smell her in a room. Salima’s senses other than her sight were acute, especially hearing and smell. “I’ll call you this week,” Blaise promised, vowing to herself that she would. She loved being with her, and hated how life got away from them, and interfered. Salima was the greatest gift of her life, no matter how infrequently she saw her.

“Thanks for coming up, Mom,” Salima said with a smile, as she walked her mother to the door. “It was fun. It always is when you’re here.” She thought her mother was exciting.

“I can’t wait till you come home for Thanksgiving,” Blaise said, and meant it. “I’ll get tickets to a Broadway musical. That would be
fun,” and she knew Salima would love it. They tried to see a musical whenever Salima came to town.

“The opera would be nice too … or a concert. Beethoven, if there is one.” She looked excited at the prospect. The one way to spark her interest and get her out was always music.

“I’ll see what’s playing that weekend,” Blaise promised.

“Drive safely,” Salima admonished her as Blaise hugged her for a last time.

“I will.”

Salima waved and then closed the door, and as Blaise left, she could hear Salima put music on, and the two girls laughing again. They had a good time together, and as she walked to her car, Blaise felt strangely left out, and she realized how lucky Abby was. She had so much time with Salima, and Salima loved her so much. At times, Blaise wished that she had made different choices, but she knew that the choices she had made were right for both of them. Blaise needed her work, as part of who she was, and Salima was happy at the school. It was just the way things were. And as she got on the road and headed south, she wiped a stray tear from her cheek.

The week after Blaise’s visit to Salima was typical of life at the network. She planned her show, covered a variety of stories, did several editorials, and was working on two specials, when she heard a rumor, and at first wondered if it was true. It was the kind of thing one heard frequently, that someone was being hired or fired, or shifted around, that management was making changes, and often it was only gossip. She had learned over the years not to panic or react too quickly. The network was a rumor mill.

The first she heard of it was from Charlie, who told her simply that there was a new girl in town. She had been brought in from an affiliate in Miami, she had been a model before that, and he said she was a knockout, and twenty-nine years old. And the next day Blaise heard it from Mark. The new girl was going to be doing weekend news for a while, which was where new faces often started, to try them out. And when Blaise was introduced to her at a meeting, she was as beautiful as Charlie had said. She was a tall, statuesque blonde, with astounding breast implants and a tiny waist, and she had a lovely face. And Blaise thought she seemed
enthusiastic and smart. Susie Quentin had gone to Brown and had a master’s in journalism from Columbia.

As they left the meeting, the new girl in town walked over with an awestruck look as she spoke to Blaise.

“I’ve always wanted to meet you,” she said in a breathy tone that Blaise couldn’t envision on the news. Her voice was unfortunate and made her sound less bright than she was. But her looks more than compensated for it. And her eyes observed everything, and Blaise had the distinct impression that Susie Quentin was gunning for her. Blaise could smell it, and she had been there for too long not to know how it worked. It was how she had come in, twenty-five years earlier. She had arrived from San Francisco to replace someone else, whom the world had forgotten long since, and Blaise had too. She couldn’t even remember her name, and she’d only been there for a few years before Blaise. But with Blaise they had gotten a lot more than they’d ever expected. She had become a major star at the network, there wasn’t a house in the entire country where they didn’t know her name, and everyone working at a network, an affiliate, in any city wanted to be her. And Susie Quentin had come from Miami to do just that. She wanted to be the new Blaise McCarthy, and as their eyes met, Blaise knew she was in trouble again. It had happened before, they had brought in others over the years, to warm them up, and get them ready to take her place. It had always backfired, but she knew that one day someone would come along, smarter or better, more exciting, and prettier to look at, and young above all, and she’d be gone. She just wasn’t ready for it to happen yet. Blaise was at the top of her game. Her specials
were getting better and better, her editorials more astute, and her ratings were solid. And now they had brought this girl in, and just looking at her, Blaise could feel management breathing down her neck.

“You were my idol and role model all through school,” Susie said to Blaise, as Blaise felt her blood run cold. Susie Q, as people were calling her behind her back, made Blaise feel about ninety years old.

“That’s nice to hear. Welcome to New York,” Blaise said, trying not to look upset. She was a big network star after all and tried to tell herself that she had nothing to fear. But Blaise knew better. There was always something to fear at the network.

“I just got here last week,” Susie explained. “Everyone’s been terrific. They’re letting me use a corporate apartment, till I find a place.” More bad news. They never let anyone use those apartments unless they expected them to go far, or were planning to see that they did. They were obviously investing in Susie Quentin and expected to get their money’s worth. When she went back to her office, Blaise’s heart was in her feet, and her stomach between her ears. Mark said nothing to her about it, until the next day. He knew he had to tell her, before she heard it from someone else.

“They’re giving Susie Q a special on the homeless to do,” he said in an undertone. It was an important story and a major piece, and the kind of thing they would have normally asked Blaise to do.

“Thanks for the tip,” Blaise said without further comment, and went back to work at her desk. She knew what this meant for her. She would have to work even harder and better and longer hours,
be more innovative and creative, and keep her ratings up in the stratosphere somewhere. They were already great, but there was no room now for any slips. The pressure was on.