Girl in the Moonlight (23 page)

“Good night, my friend,” Lio said to me. “Thank you for coming.” He weakly opened his arms, and we embraced.

Cesca and I watched him shuffle off, supported by Lulu and his father. She was silent. Thoughtful. “I don’t know who I feel more sorry for,” she said finally. “Pare or Lio.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

“What’s worse? To die or to watch a child die? I know which I’d think was worse. I don’t know how my mother does it. If it was my son, I’d be a wreck.”

“Lio’s still alive. There’s still a chance. They say there are new advancements all the time.”

“I don’t believe the doctors anymore. They’ve lied to us too much.” She sighed. There was a little balcony off the study that looked out over the backyard. “Let’s get some fresh air,” she said, turning the brass handle on the glass door that led to the balcony. She lit a cigarette and exhaled. “Brrrr. It’s chilly,” she said. Taking the hint, I removed my jacket and offered it to her. “Always a gentleman,” she said with a smile. She held up her arm. Around her wrist was the Cartier watch I had given her. “See, I still have it.”

“How are you?” I asked.

“I’m all right. The shop has been good for me. Keeps me in one spot. How are you?”

“Good.”

“Your girlfriend is very pretty. How long have you been with her?”

“A few months.”

“Serious?”

“I think so.”

“Do you love her?”

Memories of Paris. Of Selene. What I had thrown away. I had heard from a mutual friend that she had married. “Why do you care?”

“I didn’t say I did. I was just curious. But I’d be happy for you if you did love her.”

“Why? Would it make you feel better about what you did?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t feel badly about what I did. You shouldn’t have asked me to marry you. Who knows? Maybe if you hadn’t, we’d be together still.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Doesn’t it? Then I guess you don’t know me as well as you thought you did, Tricky Wylie.”

I said nothing.

She was close to me now. Her cigarette extinguished. I felt helpless. As always, I wanted her. There had never been a time when I didn’t want her. She knew that. Reaching up, she kissed me lightly on the lips, her eyes fixed on mine, lingering there for several seconds. An eternity.

“But I know you,” she said. “You will come back to me if I want.” She stepped back. “Here’s your jacket. I’m going inside.”

Then she turned and left the balcony, leaving me alone in the dark, the sounds of the party echoing through the big house.

For several minutes, I stood there, feeling the cold, replaying
the scene in my head, hearing her words, scared of the truth.

Finally I went back inside and rejoined the party. There were fewer people now. I had forgotten about Kate. Would she have missed me? Did she suspect anything?

I spotted her walking up the stairs. “Finally,” she said. “I didn’t know where you had gotten to.”

“I was speaking with Lio. He’s gone to bed.”

“His brother is charming. You shouldn’t have left me alone with him. He even asked me out. Would have served you right too for abandoning me if I had said yes.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Of course not. I told him I was with you.”

“And that worked?”

She laughed. “Well, it did take some convincing. He’s not the kind of person to accept no for an answer. But I didn’t trust him. I’ve known a lot of men like him. They always disappoint you.”

“And I wouldn’t disappoint you?”

“I wouldn’t let you.” She smiled.

That night, after we made love, I couldn’t sleep. I lay there in the dark listening to Kate breathe, watching her breasts rising and falling. For the first time since we met I felt I could betray her. That I could take her love and trample it underfoot. And I hated myself for that realization. She was so trusting, so loving. I knew how lucky I was but also knew how weak I was too.

Was Cesca right? Would I go back to her? I always had in the past. She just had to snap her fingers, and I came. But I was determined to be better than that. To not let Cesca poison this relationship too. I loved Kate. Maybe not in the way I had loved Cesca, but that love had always left me heartsick and alone, staring at an empty pillow. With Kate I could have something healthier. Be settled. Maybe one day start a family. Was it really that hard to decide? It wasn’t.

A
URELIO DIED OF AIDS IN JULY. IT WAS CARMEN WHO TOLD
me. I was in the office when the phone buzzed. “A Dr. Bonet for you,” said my secretary. “Will you take it?”

Cesca had asked her to call me. They had been with him at the end. Cesca was too upset to talk to anyone, Carmen said. She was a doctor now and had learned how to distance herself. Her voice sounded modulated, professional. The funeral would be the day after tomorrow. In Amagansett. Only family and a few friends. Lio had specifically asked that I be there. Would I come?

“Of course,” I replied, my heart heavy, sadness seeping through my bones like water in a sinking ship. I then added, “I’m sorry.”

“I know. Thank you. If it’s any comfort, there was plenty of morphine. He died peacefully.”

I hung up and stared out the window at the bright blue summer sky forty stories above the sidewalk. I had been expecting this news, but that made it no less tragic. My eyes welled with tears, and for a moment I wept for my friend.

I called Kate to tell her the news. “Oh God, that’s awful. I’m so sorry,” she said.

“The funeral’s on Thursday.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“It’s going to be small. I think I’m one of the only nonfamily members invited.”

“So maybe I shouldn’t come. It would be an imposition?”

“Maybe. Do you mind?”

“Of course not. I understand.”

Early Thursday morning, I drove Kate’s Bug out to Amagansett. It was a fine summer day, hot but not humid. Traffic moved relatively easily, and I made good time. I got there early so I just drove around. My father would be at the house, but I didn’t go to see him. I didn’t know if he would be at the funeral or not. I would have been surprised to see him. Funerals had always depressed him.

At eleven I drove up to the big house. Some cars were already there. I recognized Cesca’s red BMW. Some others. A blue Mercedes coupe that for some reason I thought might be Roger’s. There was no sign of my father’s car. Around the back, I saw a white van with the name of a local catering company painted on the side. A man and a woman in white shirts and black pants were carrying trays into the kitchen.

I couldn’t help thinking of Izzy’s memorial. That had been the celebration of a long life. There was nothing to celebrate about a short life. Death had come too soon for Lio. There were too many people left who would miss him.

I knocked on the door and entered without waiting for anyone to answer. It had been years since I had last been here. Kitty had redecorated since moving in after the deaths of her parents. The interior had been modernized, lightened. The living room ceiling had been extended through the bedrooms above to form a large atrium. Now, with curtains drawn, it was
sunless and quiet as a church. Lining the walls were Aurelio’s paintings, both old and new, some hung on the walls, others on stands, still more simply tilted up. The first person I saw was Roger sitting in a chair. He looked pale and agitated.

“Uncle Roger,” I said, feeling like an intruder. “It’s Wylie. I’m so sorry.”

“Wylie,” he said, looking up, his normal ebullience dimmed. “Come in, come in. Terrible. Just terrible. What a waste. What a loss. Unbelievable. That beautiful boy.” He shook his head.

“Carmen called and told me that Lio wanted me here today. I hope that it’s still all right that I’m here.”

“Of course. Of course. Everyone will be along soon. Just taking a bit longer than usual. It’s been a terrible couple of days.” He stopped speaking and looked out the window. Then he seemed to remember I was in the room. “Can I get you anything? A drink maybe?”

“No thank you. Please don’t trouble yourself. I’ll wait outside.”

I stepped through the sliding doors onto the deck. There was no one else out there, and I breathed more easily. The sun sparkled on the sound, and I was warm in my jacket and tie. I was standing there staring out at the water, my hands in my pockets, when I heard the door slide open behind me. I turned and saw Cesca. Without saying anything, she walked up and embraced me. I had held her so many times, but never like this. She stood there and sobbed for several minutes, her arms around my neck while I stroked her hair.

“Thank you for coming,” she said at last.

“Of course I’d come. I loved him too.”

“I know you did.”

She stepped back and looked at me. Her eyes were red. I noticed a single gray hair. Barely perceptible lines on her face. I handed her my handkerchief, with which she dried her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said. “Always a gentleman. I must look awful.”

“No,” I answered. “Not at all. You look beautiful.” I meant it.

She smiled and moved a hair from across her face. “Oh, Wylie. I am so glad you’re here. It’s been hell. I’m sorry I didn’t call you myself. I was out of my mind. Carmen even had to give me a sedative to calm me down and help me sleep.”

“How’s your mother?”

“She’s been amazing. There’s so much to do when someone dies. I had no idea. The forms. The funeral home. We had him cremated, you know.”

“I didn’t know.”

She nodded her head. “It’s what he wanted,” she continued. “Today we’re going to scatter half his ashes over the water, and next week we’re flying to Barcelona and scatter the other half there.”

The rest of the guests began arriving. Esther came alone, a cane in her right hand. Paolo was not feeling well. A few other people I didn’t know, friends of Kitty’s. Aurelio’s dealer. Carmen’s boyfriend, who was Asian and also a doctor. He introduced himself as Jonathan and said he was a neurologist. They had met at medical school. We stood around in the living room chatting idly, but we were mostly lost in our thoughts while the bartender set up the bar, adjusting the folding table, laying out the heavy white tablecloth, pouring ice, unpacking the glasses. Carmen came out and joined us, standing next to Jonathan, who put his arm around her. Then Cosmo, who looked puffy and distraught. Roger and his wife, Diana. Finally, Kitty entered, head high, chin firm, like a queen in mourning. She had her arm around Lulu. Dot came next, followed by Randall and a haggard Ugo Bonet. On his arm was a handsome blond woman who held a little girl, also blond, by the hand. Last came Cesca, holding an urn.

Kitty stopped and addressed the small crowd. “My friends, thank you all for coming to show your love and support for Lio on this sad occasion. We will now go to the beach.”

At the sand everyone kicked off their shoes, and some of the men rolled up their trouser legs. Cosmo carried a guitar. I gave Esther my arm and helped her over the sand. No one sat in the white chairs that had been set out.

When she reached the water’s edge, Kitty stopped and said, “This is one of the places Lio loved most. When he was a child, he would spend hours in this very spot swimming or making elaborate designs or sand castles. Over the past few months, he kept saying he wanted to come back, but by then he was too sick. Now that he is gone, he can finally return here.” She paused and then, speaking with effort, continued: “What we’d like you all to do today is step forward and take a handful of his ashes, and as you scatter them say a little prayer. It can be silent or aloud. It doesn’t matter. Lio will hear you anyway.”

Cesca stepped forward with the urn. Cosmo began to play, a mournful ballad that I assumed was Catalan. One by one we took our turns. Carmen went first, wading into the gentle surf, lifting her dress with her left hand, holding her brother’s ashes in her right. She spoke in a soft voice, and I couldn’t hear what she was saying. Then she flung the ashes over the water. One by one, the rest of us took our turns. When I stepped up to take my handful, Cesca gave me a quick, private smile and a wink. I walked into the water up to my knees. The ashes in my hand felt so light and inconsequential. “Good-bye, Lio,” I said to the wind. “I will miss you. The world is a poorer place without you.” Then I scattered the ashes, watching them quickly disappear.

I watched Cesca wade into the water, could see her body contract as she cried, taking deep breaths, and when she was finished, she threw the ashes with a defiant shout as far as she could.

Kitty went last. It was heartbreaking to watch. Most of us were already in tears, overcome by the emotion of the moment. Cosmo had stopped playing. Kitty stood there, almost up to her hips, the bottom of her dress floating on the surface of the water, and began to sob. Large, uncontrollable outbursts, almost screams, naked in their maternal agony. Finally, Cesca waded back out and put her arm around her mother, comforting her. Kitty grew quiet and then with an effort released her son’s ashes.

Silently, we followed her back to the house, as Cesca supported her, stopping to retrieve our shoes but not bothering to wipe the sand from our feet. I had offered my arm to Esther. Cesca took Kitty inside, but the rest of us remained outside, subdued, staring back at the beach, alone in our thoughts.

“There is nothing worse than the death of a child,” said Esther after a while, grimly shaking her head. “Poor Kitty. Their lives will never be the same again.”

In the house, Roger came up, followed by a waiter, urging people to have a drink, something to eat. “We have lots of food and drink,” he said. “Please. Help yourself. Just give the waiter your order, and he’ll be happy to bring it.”

Gradually, the pall lifted, and we began to talk again. I chatted with Esther, a little with Carmen’s boyfriend. Helped myself to a ham sandwich. I had planned to return to the city but wanted to see Cesca before I left. Eventually she reappeared.

“Please don’t leave yet,” she said.

“I need to get back. I have work tomorrow.”

“Just a little longer. I need to talk to the guests.”

“All right.”

She reached up and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. I knew I could count on you.”

Inside Cosmo was at the piano. Playing something sad yet beautiful, elegiac. Brahms maybe, possibly Chopin. The notes perfectly capturing the mood. While the others chatted in the
dining room, where the food was, I sat to listen. Cosmo acknowledged me with a smile. There was nothing to be said. I stared at the objects around me. The sorts of beautiful knickknacks that the rich effortlessly acquire. Silver cigarette boxes. Beaten brass. Bronze Florentine sculptures of centaurs. A Murano glass ashtray. I picked up a small ivory netsuke and inspected it. It was of a boy, his hands bound, being fed by mice. I wondered what the story was behind it. How did he become a prisoner? What had he done to earn the mice’s friendship? My mind ranged idly about the room, allowing me momentarily to forget why I was here. It was comforting not to have to talk, to be allowed to look at Aurelio’s paintings and think about him, what he had been and what he might have still become.

Then Cosmo stopped and asked me: “Where’s your pretty girlfriend?”

“She’s not here.”

“Ah. Too bad,” he said and resumed playing.

Esther came over to tell me good-bye. Other guests were leaving too, hugging Kitty, carefully closing the door behind them so it wouldn’t slam. They waved wordlessly to Cosmo, who kept playing. The bartender stood idly behind the bar, her hands behind her back. Nearly a whole ham, baskets of bread, untouched food sat on the dining room table. The waiter moved around the room, collecting glasses and emptying ashtrays.

“I told Mare she was ordering too much, but she wouldn’t listen,” said Cesca, slipping into the chair next to mine and lighting a cigarette. She leaned her head back and rubbed her eyes. “God, I need a drink.”

“Can I get you one?”

“Would you?”

“What do you want?”

“White wine. No, make it a vodka on the rocks. A big one. It’s that kind of day.”

I returned with the drink. “Thank you so much.” She took a sip. “God, I needed that.” Another sip.

“How are you holding up?” I asked.

She laughed. “You don’t want to know.”

“Your mother was incredible today. So were you. And Cosmo. And Carmen. Lio would have been proud.”

“He’d have told us to stop being so melodramatic because we were bumming him out.” She smiled. “Mare asked me to see if you could stay for dinner.”

“She did?”

“Yes. It would mean a lot to her—and to me as well. She knew how fond Lio was of you. I don’t think we’ve quite gotten used to him not being here, you know. The empty seat at the table. If you could fill it tonight it would be a great help.”

“Of course. I’d be glad to stay.”

“Good. Thank you. I’ll tell Mare. She’ll be so happy. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

I calculated the time. It was still possible that if I stayed for dinner I could drive back late. I would have to call Kate and let her know.

When Cesca returned, I asked if I could use the phone. “Use the one in the kitchen,” she said. “Come find me when you’re done.”

I called Kate at work. When she picked up, I said, “Sweetheart, it’s me.”

“Hi, baby. How are you? I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“I’ve been better. It’s been very sad.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Look, the reason I’m calling is that they invited me to stay for dinner. I hope that’s okay. I know we had no real plans, but I just didn’t want you to go to any trouble.”

“No, that’s okay. I was going to make you something nice for
dinner because I figured you’d have had a rough day, but I can do it tomorrow. What time will you be back?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure. Late. Midnight maybe. At least traffic will be light that time of night. Do you want me to come over, or should I stay at my place?”

“Call me when you’re leaving. If it’s not too late, come over. If it is, then maybe you should just go home.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I hung up and went looking for Cesca. There was no one around except for the waiter and bartender, who were cleaning up. “Are you Wylie?” the bartender asked. “Miss Bonet asked me to tell you to meet her in the Playhouse.”

I thanked her and walked over to the Playhouse. I knocked and called out, “Hello? Cesca?”

“I’ll be right down,” she answered from upstairs.