Alexandra Waring (51 page)

“Oh, fuck you anyway!” Jessica said, stumbling out of her chair.

“Then don’t call me in the middle of the night!” Alexandra said.

Snap, snap, snap, snap, snap went the switches on the monitors.

“Who the fuck would ever call you?” Jessica mumbled, falling over into a chair, righting herself and then continuing on toward the door. “I hate you, I hate you—I hate all you fucking prom queens—” She knocked into another chair, cracking it into the wall.

Alexandra stopped then, rubbed her eyes for a moment, and turned around to look at her. Jessica was at the door now and Alexandra winced at the sight of claw marks on her back and someone’s clumsy attempt to do the buttons of her dress back up. Alexandra closed her eyes, bringing her hand up to her mouth, murmuring, “Oh, God, help her,” and opened her eyes just in time to see Jessica whack herself in the head with the door. Alexandra dropped her hand. “Oh, Jessica wait.”

“Fuck you,” Jessica told her, tottering out.

“Jessica” Alexandra ran around the desk, grabbed her keys, flew out the door and down the hall. She stopped at the doorway to engineering—no one—looked back over her shoulder and then ran back the other way, past the control room to the doors to Studio A. She pushed the bar on one of the doors and stepped inside, letting it close behind her.

The safety lights over the exits were on, and some light was coming in from the newsroom but not much. The studio was pretty dark. Empty. Huge. Alexandra took another step, listening.

And then she saw her.

Jessica was slowly making her way across the studio, toward her set. She was about halfway, there in the middle of the studio, when her form stopped and began to sway. And then, ever so slowly, her body sank to the studio floor.

Alexandra went running over. Jessica was lying on her side, curled up in fetal position, hugging her knees. Alexandra knelt down next to her, dropping the keys on the floor beside her. “Jessica?” she whispered.

“I want to die,” Jessica said. “I just want to die.”

“No, you don’t,” Alexandra said.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Jessica said, crying, hiding her face against her knees. “I can’t stand it. I just want to die.”

“No,” Alexandra whispered, reaching to touch her, but hesitating.

“But I do,” Jessica whimpered, curling up even tighter. “I do. I do. I want to die, but I can’t even do that. I can’t even kill myself.”

For a long while Alexandra just sat there, hands in her lap, tears running silently down her face. And then, when Jessica stopped sobbing and started whimpering again, trembling, Alexandra murmured, “Let me hold you,” and after a bit of a struggle, got Jessica to let go of her knees. “Oh, Jessica,” Alexandra said, starting to cry in earnest, scooping up the top half of Jessica in her arms, “we can’t let you go down like this.” She held her head against her chest and began to rock her. “And we won’t,” she whispered, “we won’t. We can’t let it happen to you.”

He started, and then flipped over on the bed. “How is she?”

“Better,” Alexandra whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed still.

“Good,” he said, pulling up the covers around him. He yawned. “You should sleep now.”

“I will. As soon as she does,” she said. A ray of morning light was falling between the curtains, falling right over the corner of Gordon’s forehead. Alexandra reached to touch this patch of sunlight with her hand. Then she leaned over and gently kissed it. “Go to sleep,” she whispered, slipping away.

She closed the door behind her and walked down the hall to the guest room. Jessica was sitting up in one of the two beds—clean and washed and dressed in a flannel nightgown—sipping on a glass of beer. She looked up when Alexandra came in and lowered the glass. “Are you sure I didn’t say anything horrible to you?” she asked her.

“I’m sure,” Alexandra said, coming around to sit on the inside of the bed, by the night table.

“So why the doctor?” Jessica said, holding the glass in her lap with both hands. Her expression, as she said this, looked as though she half expected Alexandra to reach out and slap her in the face.

Alexandra smiled, patting Jessica’s leg through the covers. “For my peace of mind. Besides, he lives down the hall. You heard him—what are neighbors for?”

“Yeah right, Alexandra Eyes.” Jessica smirked into her glass, sipping again. “We all know what kind of bill he’s got in mind for you.”

Alexandra laughed. “You are feeling better.”

“Much,” Jessica said, leaning over to put the glass down on the night table. She frowned, turning the clock toward her. “It’s almost eight.”

“Yes,” Alexandra said.

Jessica settled back against the pillows, looking down at her hands. Then she looked up, nodding her head toward the night table.

“Thanks for the beer.”

“The doctor suggested it,” Alexandra said.

“Yeah, I know,” Jessica sighed, looking back down at her hands again.

Alexandra reached over and covered her hands with her own. “It’s okay,” she whispered.

Jessica shook her head. “It’s not okay. I mean, what if I don’t want to stop drinking?”

“Then you won’t stop drinking,” Alexandra said, shrugging.

“Oh, man,” Jessica muttered, looking across the room. Then she brought her eyes back to Alexandra. “So isn’t there ever anything wrong with you? Why do I always have to be the one who’s a mess?”

Alexandra threw her head back and laughed.

And laughed.

And laughed.

Jessica was smiling, laughing a little too. “Well, thank God-the first sign that there is something.”

Alexandra smiled, clearing her throat

“Come on-you can tell me, Alexandra Eyes.” Jessica leaned forward. “What is it? A stable of lovers, right?”

Alexandra laughed. “Hey, my fiance’s right down the hall, remember?”

“Who could forget? Flash Gordon marries Alexandra the Great—one for the record books. Meanwhile, back at the ranch,” she said, sagging against the pillows with a sigh, “Jessica quietly drowns in despair.”

“No,” Alexandra said, shaking her head.

“No?” Jessica asked her.

“No,” Alexandra said.

Silence.

“I’m pretty scared,” Jessica admitted. She sighed, closing her eyes.

“You couldn’t hold me for a minute, could you?” She opened her eyes, sniffing.

“Of course,” Alexandra said, opening her arms as Jessica leaned forward.

Jessica rested the side of her face on Alexandra’s shoulder, eyes closed, as Alexandra held her, lightly rubbing her back. “I have to tell you,” she said after a while, “but I’m afraid I’d go crazy if I didn’t drink. It’s the only thing holding me together these days.”

“No, Jessica, no,” Alexandra said. “It’s what’s making your body chemistry so screwed up.”

“I’m screwed up, period,” Jessica said.

“Right,” Alexandra said, pushing Jessica back against the pillows. Then she reached over for some tissues from the night table and handed them to her. “That’s why I like you, right?” she asked her. “That’s why you’re my friend—because you’re all screwed up, period.”

Jessica, wiping her eyes, started to laugh.

“And I have nothing better in my life to do than to invest my emotional energy in screwed-up people,” Alexandra continued. “As a matter of fact, the single most important responsibility of anchors everywhere is to collect screwed-up people who have absolutely nothing to contribute to them and do nothing but waste their time.” She gave Jessica’s shoulders a little shake. “Right? Isn’t that why I care about you?”

Jessica smiled and blew her nose.

“And I’ll tell you something else,” Alexandra said.

Jessica lowered the tissue. “What?”

“If you didn’t drink, I’d have a ton of secrets I could tell you about myself. And heaven knows,” she added, rolling her eyes, “I could use somebody to tell them to these days.”

Jessica turned her head slightly, narrowing her eyes at her. “Secrets—yeah, sure.”

“Yeah,” Alexandra said, widening her eyes. “Enough to ruin me, believe me.”

Jessica’s eyebrows went up, expression hopeful. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alexandra said, nodding.

“No shit,” Jessica said, looking at her. “Huh.” And then she sighed, turning to toss the tissues in the wastepaper basket by the bed. “Well, it’s a motive anyway.” She looked at Alexandra. “It’s got to be pretty good, though. If I stopped drinking and found out that your secret was that you once got a C in field hockey, I’d be pretty upset.”

lexandra laughed a little but then turned serious, saying, ‘Jessica,” and reaching for her hand.

Jessica looked at her.

“I don’t know if you want to stop drinking,” Alexandra said quietly. “All I know is that I’m willing to help you in any way I can. It’s your life, it’s your business—and you’re my friend, but that doesn’t give me the right to interfere. And I wouldn’t want to.” She swallowed. “But being your friend does give me the right to say that your drinking’s interfering with our friendship, and that it frightens me to think about how much worse things can get for you. Your health, your sanity, your dignity.” She bit her lower lip, looking up at the wall for a moment. Then she looked at Jessica again. “I just don’t want you to have to lose any more.” She let go of her hand, dropping her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, “I don’t mean to lecture you.”

“You’re not,” Jessica said. After a moment, “I just don’t want to let you down. Because I’ve got to tell you, I’m not sure I can do it.”

Alexandra looked at her. “Let me down?” she whispered. “Oh, Jessica—you really don’t understand, do you?” She paused. “I haven’t had a real friend in years. You’re not letting me down—you’re already my friend. There’s only you we have to worry about—about whether or not you can see yourself through my eyes and know what a truly wonderful person you are.” She smiled slightly, eyes glistening. “And know that what you have is a gift—that you have many gifts—and that the proper response to being given a gift is to say thank you and to use it—not to throw it away or belittle it. But it’s hard,” she added, voice growing louder. “God knows, it’s hard. I don’t know why it’s so hard for us to be happy in this industry,” she said, waving her hand through the air and dropping it, “but it is. There’s something about the burning desire that we all have to get here that seems to want to kill us once we are.”

Jessica sighed, nodding. “I know.”

“And I am here, and you’re here, and you are my friend and I want us to help each other learn how to make the most of what we’ve been given, and to figure out how to build ourselves lives that replenish something of what we give away to everybody every day.”

Jessica’s eyes were drooping slightly.

Alexandra smiled. “Enough,” she said, patting Jessica’s hand. “Enough for one day. We’re both exhausted.”

“Hard work, baby-sitting,” Jessica said.

“Look you,” Alexandra said, smiling, “do you think you might be able to go to sleep now?”

“Look you,” Jessica said, giving her a light punch on the arm, “yeah.” She leaned forward and kissed Alexandra on the cheek. “You’ve got strange taste in friends, Waring, but I love you anyway.” Then she fell back and nestled down under the covers.

“Sleep as late as you like,” Alexandra said, standing up and then leaning over to straighten the pillows a little under Jessica. “Gordon has to leave for the airport at ten-thirty. And if you get up and I’m not here, I’m just out for a run.” She pulled the covers way up and then turned them down, proceeding to tuck them in around Jessica. “The bathroom’s right there and you know where the kitchen is—help yourself to anything you want. And wake me if you need me,” she said, tucking the last bit of covers in, “okay?”

“Okay,” Jessica said.

Alexandra smiled at her. And then she leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “Sleep well.”

“Thanks,” Jessica said. And then, as Alexandra reached to turn off the bedside lamp, Jessica turned her head to look at the night table.

“Take that will you, all right?”

“Take what?”, Alexandra said softly.

“The beer. Take it with you.”

Alexandra looked at her. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” Jessica said, closing her eyes, turning on her side and pulling the covers up over her shoulder. Then she opened her eye a crack. “I’ve only had about two million hangovers, Alexandra Eyes, so I should know—I’ll be fine. Just leave the water.”

Alexandra smiled. “Okay,” she said.

And so Alexandra turned off the light and left the room, carrying out the first drink that Jessica Wright had ever not wanted to finish.

35
Lovers

She stirred. He heard her, wondering if she was asleep and merely turning over, or if she was awake still, like him. He felt her lips on his back. He felt a gentle kiss.

Jackson smiled.

“I don’t hate him. I just don’t want to feel anything for him.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. To love someone and be hurt so badly that you hate them for a while, hoping it’ll swing back to something in between—something you don’t really feel, one way or the other.”

Silence.

“Does it work?”

“No.” Pause. “You know, it’s okay—you can ask me.”

“About
…
?”

“Barbara. Don’t you want to ask about her?”

“I don’t want—”

“It’s all right, really. I don’t mind. Not with you. Wait—can you scoot over a little?”

“Like this?”

“Perfect. There—comfortable?”

“Mmmm. Very.”

Silence.

“Good golly Miss Molly, but you’re beautiful.”

Silence.

“Taste good, too.”

“Silly.”

“Know what?”

“Hmm?”

“She’d approve. Barbara, I mean. She would.”

They took showers, dressed, went downstairs to Jackson’s car and drove to Cassy’s.

He loved her apartment. He said it reminded him of a New England farmhouse with a view. And nice high ceilings. A man could breathe here, he said. He looked at pictures carefully. He looked around each room carefully. He asked many questions. He kept his hands behind his back, though, careful of her family’s territory.

She changed into blue jeans and made breakfast. He sat on a stool at the breakfast bar and they talked like pals.

She had to drop off a present for the baby of some friends of hers who lived down the street. She asked him if he wanted to wait in the car or come up. He said he’d like to meet her friends. If she didn’t mind. She said she didn’t mind at all.

They took the elevator to the top floor. Her friends’ names were Amanda Miller and Howard Stewart. Howard greeted them at the door and led them back to the living room, where his wife, Amanda, was pacing back and forth, carrying their new baby daughter, Emily Tinker Stewart. Emily was screaming her head off and her mother was crying with her. A woman who was both Cassy’s and Amanda’s housekeeper, Rosanne, came out with a silver tea service and announced that she was renaming the baby Screaming Mimi. Then a nice old lady named Mrs. Goldblum came in with a plate of cookies. She put the plate down, sat in the rocking chair by the window and motioned for Amanda to bring the baby to her. Amanda handed Emily over to her and Mrs. Goldblum talked to Emily. “Oh, sh-sh-shhh, yes-yes-yes, my little princess-poo, I know, we have a little gas, don’t we? I know, I know, my sweet, it’s no fun, no fun at all, is it? Oh-oh-oh, no-no-no, I know, my little pet, my littlest lamb,” and Emily, being patted and rocked and spoken to as Mrs. Goldblum’s littlest lamb, was soon asleep. And so Amanda stopped crying and starting smiling, holding hands with her husband and paying attention to her guests for the first time.

They sent the car away, deciding to walk. They walked east. With his arm around her shoulders, they strolled down through Central Park, to the Plaza. To make love.

“No, I didn’t mean that. There was one other person besides Michael. But I don’t want to talk about it. Not now—”

“Please—shhh. Stop. I wasn’t asking. Really, I wasn’t.”

They took a shower together and then they walked through Central Park again to the Upper West Side. They scouted Cassy’s neighborhood, shopping for dinner.

They held hands at the butcher’s counter.

“It’s Alexandra—would you mind terribly going in the other room? It’s just that I can’t talk business to her while you’re sitting here like this. I—”

“No, of course not. Oh, listen, maybe I could call Langley.”

“In the den, sure. Use the other line.”

“We can take care of all our business and then
…
”

“Mmmm. Okay, sweetheart, come on—she’s going to think I left town.”

“I hope you didn’t mind.”

“Mind? What crazy lunatic would ever mind making love with you?”

“I meant the guest room.”

“No, not at all. I like being a guest—certainly this kind of guest. We never had this kind of action in our guest room back in Hilleanderville, that’s for sure.”

Silence.

“Oh, you are impossible.”

“No. I’m in love. With the most wonderful woman in the world.”

Silence.

“So are you going to marry me or what?”

“What?”

Well, why not? What are we waiting for?”

“I think it might be wise to spend more than sixteen hours together.”

“Seventeen?”

“How ‘bout we just try and take it a day at a time and see where it goes.”

“A day at a time and see where it goes? I want to marry you, not go on the Lewis and Clark expedition.”

“I’m serious, Jack. I just can’t handle much more than this—not until I have some idea
…
” A sigh. “I just don’t want to think about anything right now. I just want to be here with you and let tomorrow come when it comes. Which it will.”

Silence.

“Why do you go to a therapist? You said you had to go tomorrow.”

“Uh-huh.” Pause. “I go because… because sometimes I have trouble knowing what I feel. I know it sounds funny, but it’s true. I always have. Since I was little. Though I didn’t know it—not for years.”

Pause.

“Will you talk about me?”

Laughter. “Will I ever be talking about you!”

“And will I get a chance to defend myself?”

“What?”

“Defend myself. Show myself. State my case after he—”

“She.”

“After she tells you that I’m no good for you.”

“She would never say anything like that.”

“Can I meet her?”

“Jackson!”

“What? I just want to know if I can meet her.”

“Why do you want to meet my therapist?”

“Because I want to meet somebody, know somebody who knows about us.” Pause. “I want to ask somebody for permission to court you, all right? Oh—go ahead and laugh, you. Come ‘ere.”

She was not at all comfortable with the idea of Jackson sleeping with her in her apartment. But she wanted to sleep with him all night. She wanted to feel him next to her all night.

And so she packed a case, left the number where her answering service could reach her in case of an emergency, and she went back with him to the Plaza. And she slept next to Jackson all night. And she felt Jackson next to her all night.

And Cassy slept better than she had in years.