Come Pour the Wine (16 page)

As the plane taxied down the runway for takeoff Janet had the same thoughts she’d had for days. How had Bill spent his time? Had he missed her? Had he taken someone else out, taken her to bed? Janet closed her eyes, trying to visualize him with someone else, but her mind rejected the idea. She would never ask him, of course, but she prayed he missed her … missed her badly. As she had him …

If Janet had known the truth, she could have laughed at her anxious thoughts.

Bill had watched that Friday afternoon as Janet boarded the plane and then had waited for the takeoff. As the plane streaked into the sky he had turned and slowly walked to his car.

He missed her already. More than he wanted to. In fact, more than he’d ever missed anyone. Back in his apartment, he sat staring out into the dark. That night he didn’t see the bridge and the view he loved so much. He saw the vivid memory of the past weekend. He
felt
her presence. But he couldn’t touch the softness, smell the sweet scent of her. And memories, no matter how fine, were lousy substitutes. Yes, by God, face it, he was lonely as all hell.

He switched on the lamp, poured himself a Scotch over ice, turned on the stereo and sat down again. He’d never had to wonder what he was going to do on any given night. He knew dozens of people he could call, and getting a date would be no problem either. All he’d have to do was pick up the phone. But somehow that seemed offensive. What the hell was wrong with him, was he getting moral all of a sudden? Not exactly. The women he knew did everything but eat a bunch of grapes from his navel while swinging from the chandelier and he had never complained. But after Janet his former affairs somehow seemed sordid, cheap … demeaning to both of them.

He reached for the phone, dialed Kit’s number. Out of all the people he knew, Kit and Charles Bristow were the only real friends he had. Now that he thought about it, he’d never felt close to anyone … it had never seemed important before. If anything, he had kept people at arms’ distance, happy not to be beholden to anyone.

He was so deep in thought that Kit’s voice startled him. “Kit? It’s Bill.”

“Hi. What’s up, doc?”

“What are you doing?”

“What did you have in mind? A gin game, billiards or a roll in the hay?”

“I’m … sort of at loose ends.”

Well, well, well, that’s a switch, Kit thought. Bill McNeil needing someone? She smiled to herself. Things must be picking up for Janet.

“Why don’t you come right out and say it, Bill? It only hurts for a minute.”

“Say what?”

“That you’re lonesome.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Why should I be—?”

“Because you called me.”

“I called because I haven’t talked to you for quite awhile.”

“I see. Well, that’s a right friendly gesture, especially at ten o’clock at night.”

“Is it that late?”

“Okay, kiddo, we’re on for a drink at your favorite pub.”

Bill was down to some serious drinking by the time Kit arrived at eleven. “What took you so long?” he asked as she slid into the booth.

“Had to get my face on. What are you complaining for anyway? You did get me out of bed, you know, and I’ve been up since five this morning. Give a girl a break.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Sorry! My God, will wonders never cease. Watch it, Bill, you might be turning into a real person.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Only that I never expected to hear you apologize to anyone. You’re the center of your own little universe, and you just go your merry way without ever considering other people. And then you sit and wonder why no one’s standing there to put you on your feet again when you fall down.”

“And you?” he said, taking a long sip.

“I have Nat, Charlie and his wife, and a very dear friend named Janet Stevens.”

And I have my
mother,
he thought … and Janet … ? “What do you want to drink?” He said it brusquely.

“Temper, temper … Irish coffee.”

They sat silent for a long moment.

“Okay … now what did you call me for?”

“Like I said … I thought it was time—”

“You didn’t say anything and you didn’t think it was time to meet an old friend. You’ve fallen on your face for the first time and you can’t cope with it … right?”

God, was it that apparent? Bill ordered another double Scotch and sat stirring it with the swizzle stick.

“Okay, so you don’t want to answer. Incidentally, booze isn’t going to solve anything. Janet is still going to be running around inside your head tomorrow morning, and being hung over isn’t going to make you feel any happier about it.”

Taking a deep swallow, he said, “So you know about us?”

Kit laughed. “What do you think girls talk about? Of course I know. Now listen to me, Bill McNeil. You have a habit of lovin’ and leavin’ ’em when it gets a little too close for comfort. But Janet’s no quick roll in the hay. Janet’s in love with you.”

“I know. I mean, I think I know … but that’s what bothers me. She’s the only girl I ever felt this way about. But damn it, Kit, even though I’m crazy about her, I still don’t want to get involved—”

“You mean married.”

“I’m plain scared, to tell it straight.”

She didn’t have to ask why, but once and for all she was going to bring it out in the open.

“Of what?”

“Losing my freedom, I guess—”

“And
what
does freedom mean? Bedding a lady any time you want? Did it ever occur to you that one day you’re going to be old, that even
you
won’t be able to get it up? Then what? By that time mama will have been long gone and Betsy and Alice will have a whole passel of children and no time for you. You’ll just be old Uncle Bill, brought off the back burner for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Did you ever think about that?”

He kept silent, then looked up at her. “Sure, I’ve thought about it, and I’d be less than honest to say that marriage hadn’t crossed my mind since I met Janet.”

“So?”

“Well, I’ve only known her about two months.”

“Got nothing to do with it. George Bernard Shaw fell madly in love with a woman he’d seen on a train, and he knew right away that he’d love her forever. And he did. So it happens. Love at first sight.”

“Okay, okay, that may be true. But I don’t know if I’m in love with Janet or maybe just infatuated. She’s just so different from anyone I’ve ever met. When I’m with her something happens to me. In fact, even when I’m not with her. And damn it, I did miss her today. Badly. I can’t imagine getting through the weekend without her. I’m going to be off the wall by the time Sunday comes.”

“Now honest injun, Bill, have you ever felt that way about any other girl?”

“Never …”

“And you don’t think you’re in love?”

“I honestly don’t know, Kit.”

“Because you don’t want to. But what makes you think all women are like your mother? Give us a break, fella.”

Kit had a point. And it wasn’t only his mother’s example. Betsy and Alice had followed right in mama’s footsteps, clucking and fussing over their children and manipulating their husbands as if they were puppets on a string. Harriet was the only one who made a man feel like a man. She went along with whatever Gordon wanted. Or did she? How had she convinced Gordon to move into that big mausoleum with mama, and did Gordon see it as compromise or capitulation … ? Kit made a lot of sense. He certainly had been conditioned to feeling trapped by women. But understanding this didn’t make him any less trapped.

“Okay, Kit, what do I do? I really want Janet but I don’t want to get married. I don’t want to
belong
to anyone again—”

“I think you’ve got your ass in a sling.”

“Why? You and Nat have been together for two years.”

“And that’s what you’d like. To have your cake and eat it too, right? Well, I’m not Janet and she’s not me. Besides, my life has been a little different from hers. I don’t come out of her ball park.”

“But you love Nat.”

“More than you know, but like I said, I’m different … been around the block a few times. Besides, they grow them a little different out in Kansas. Janet wouldn’t go for that.”

Bill looked down into his drink. “Well,” he finally said, “let’s see how things develop. Maybe if I have time to get used to the idea—”

“Listen, if you have to brainwash yourself it won’t work. Be a nice fellow and break it off now … for Janet’s sake. It won’t be easy for her, but nothing lasts forever. I’m the expert on that. There’s nothing like a good man to help mend a broken heart, so set her free and let her find someone who
does
care for her … Now, let’s have one for the road and call it quits. I’ve got to be rested come morning. That’s my day with my special guy.” …

If Bill was confused and unhappy on Friday night, Saturday certainly hadn’t been any better. He roamed the spots they had visited the week before, but without Janet there was no fun, no real pleasure. He called Charles to see if he and Carol were free for dinner, but they were busy and so he stayed home, remembering the dinner Janet had fixed last Saturday. After ordering out for Chinese food, he found he had no appetite for it and threw it into the sink to let the disposal gobble it up.

He went back into the living room and poured himself a stiff drink. As he sat on the sofa Kit’s words kept coming back to him. “There’s nothing like a good man to …” Well, a man needs a woman too, he thought, but the idea of falling in love with Janet, of marrying her … He tossed back his drink and poured another. Kit was wrong about one thing. Booze helped … damned right it did. Didn’t have to think, didn’t have to feel. With a half-empty bottle at his side he passed out on the living room sofa.

When he awoke on Sunday morning it was ten-thirty. His head felt like a balloon and every muscle in his body ached. Wow, he’d really tied one on last night … never did that before, never
had
to.

When he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, his eyes were bloodshot and the lids puffy. He looked like he felt, which was plain lousy. He’d better shape up and get himself together, he thought, opening the medicine chest and reaching for a bottle of eyedrops. He had to drive out to Long Island to see his mother for a few hours, then go to the airport and pick up Janet at six-thirty. The way he felt now he wondered if he could make it through the next six minutes.

By the time he had showered and shaved he was beginning to think he might survive after all. He poured himself a mug of coffee, brought it into the living room and sat down. The room was a mess. Records were strewn about and there was a large wet stain on the rug where his glass had broken. It must have fallen out of his hand when he’d passed out. The ashtray was bulging with cigarette butts. A wonder he hadn’t set the place on fire. Don’t drink while driving. Don’t smoke while drunk … don’t fall for a girl, you could go all the way … Well, he wasn’t going to. That’s how it came out in the light of day. He was crazy about Janet but not in love … not enough, anyway, to give up his life … yes, damn it, his
freedom.
He’d never cheat on her, he’d be as loving and caring as he was capable of and he’d be the best friend she’d ever had—and lover, if she’d let him. There would be nothing he wouldn’t do for her, except marry her. Some people stayed in love for twenty years and never got married. And maybe, just maybe he could get Janet to feel that way. Oh, to hell with it. Don’t try to second-guess life. Pour the wine and enjoy it while you can …

No man, whether husband or lover, had been as happy as Bill when he saw Janet walking down the landing steps.

During the drive back to Manhattan they talked about how they had spent the weekend. Both stretched the truth a little, he more than she. Loneliness was never mentioned, but now it didn’t matter. They’d soon be snug and together. No pillow for her, no booze for him.

As soon as they stepped into the elevator in his building his lips were on hers. He carried her down the hall to his apartment, kicked the door closed behind them and put her down on his bed. This was where she wanted to be, Janet thought as she held him against her, where she needed to be. This was no childhood fantasy but what her life was really about.

Their desire had been heightened by the separation and they made love eagerly, quickly. As Bill lay spent on top of her they spoke in hushed, contented voices, then made love again, more unhurried now, until Janet arched her back to receive him and they met each other with a surpassing urgency….

Bill loved her, she thought as she lay beside him, his arm hugging her to him. She was as sure of that as that the world was round. She knew by the way he had loved her tonight. The words left unsaid were unimportant. They were spoken through his touch and the honest outpouring of his feelings….

Bill’s feelings were not quite as tranquil. He had made love as never quite before, but the intensity of her lovemaking made him vaguely uneasy. Trying to dismiss his thoughts he said lightly, “This is getting to be a boring question, but what would you like to do? I mean for dinner?”

She laughed. “You’re right. And I’ll give you the same boring answer. You make the decision.”

“Okay. I had a little time to kill this morning so I went to the deli and loaded up the freezer.”

Well, well, he was becoming domesticated, she said to herself. The first time she’d been here all he’d had was some wine in the refrigerator and coffee in the cupboard.

“What did you buy?”

“I don’t remember. A whole bunch of stuff. Want to see?”

Smiling, she got out of bed, opened her suitcase and slipped into her robe while he got into his. They went into the kitchen, and when he opened the door to the refrigerator Janet stood back and laughed.

“How did you get this home, with a moving van?”

He smiled, rather pleased with himself, and that she approved. “No, hailed a taxi.”

“Well, in case the Russians land in New Jersey there’s enough food to last for the duration.”

She viewed the assortment of goodies. A large wheel of Camembert, an enormous wedge of imported Swiss cheese, a ball of Gouda encased in red wax, Cheddar and American cheese. There were pounds of cold cuts, from ham to pastrami, turkey and corned beef. She rummaged through the shelves and found cream cheese and smoked salmon, tubs of potato salad and cole slaw, a jar of kosher dills, a pint of black mammoth olives. In the freezer were pizza, blintzes, bagels, kaiser rolls and English muffins, tins of sardines from every country in the world.