Nell (26 page)

Long ago Nell had stopped attending church or Scout meetings or any other meeting where she had to be confronted with the sight of happy, perfect families. It just hurt too much, made her go home feeling too lonely, too aware of her own plight. On the other hand, she had never wanted to join any group of single parents; she couldn’t imagine how organizing in such a group would ease her individual situation. She was happy enough most days, or at least not suicidal, but now, watching this affectionate husband and wife … she turned away. She went downstairs and into the stern lounge and sat down in a chair by a window. She sat staring out at the sea.

One day a few weeks ago Stellios had picked Nell up at work to take her out to dinner, and Elizabeth had met him. The next day, Elizabeth had casually remarked, “My, he’s gorgeous, Nell, but he’s younger than you are, isn’t he? And not quite your—social equal? I mean, I’m not trying to interfere, and I certainly don’t disapprove, in a way I suppose I’m jealous. But why is it that you prefer these young hunks?”

“I don’t
prefer
them, Elizabeth,” Nell had said. “Somehow that’s just the only type I ever meet. Don’t you know I’d be thrilled to meet a single doctor or lawyer or accountant, even a vet!” She had been miffed.

But now Nell thought that perhaps it was a little more than that. Long before her divorce from Marlow, but during a time of unhappiness with him, Nell had begun to have a suspicion that by now had hardened into a simple conviction. She believed that there were two kinds of women in the world: those who were loved well by men and those who weren’t.

There wasn’t anything a woman could actually do to gain entrance into that special category of women who were loved by men. It didn’t help if you were beautiful or good or persistent or kind or patient or anything at all. It didn’t hurt to be ugly or dumb
or mean or shrewish or flighty. It was all completely a matter of luck. Some women were loved well and truly by men and some women weren’t.

It seemed to Nell as the years went by that she might as well face the fact that she had been placed by fate into the latter category, and there she would stay. It did not mean that she wasn’t lucky in other ways. It did not mean that she wasn’t attractive or clever or good; it didn’t mean anything at all except that she would be alone all her life. She didn’t feel unique in this; she had plenty of friends in the same category. These friends, however, never seemed to admit this truth to themselves, or maybe they just weren’t aware of it. They went optimistically plunging on into affair after affair, coming out again each time more bitterly disappointed. The men, the problems, the reasons for the breakups were never the same. The variety was endless. But it always made Nell so sad when one of her friends was shattered at the loss of a hopeful love. Her friends seemed to her like beautiful birds who could not see the pane of glass that separated them from the other side and so continually flew into the glass and were bruised and smashed and defeated.

Some people were lucky at cards. Some people were lucky at horses. Some people were lucky at love. And some people weren’t. The older Nell got, the more she believed that this kind of luck was unshakable; the person got luck in love the same way she got blue eyes or long legs. And just as a short person would be a fool to continually compete at the pole vault, so it was, Nell thought, just as foolish for a woman to hope continually for love after learning from a few trials just how far short she fell of her goal. Why make the effort, why take the beating, why endure the grief of failure? Much better, far better, Nell thought, to accept and enjoy and never get tricked by hope.

It was much easier to live out this philosophy if you dated only young hunks, men who were pleasurable but who could never cause any false expectations about living a life together. Part of her truly wished she had never met Andy Martindale. She was afraid that he would prove to be more or less like some drug for her, like heroin—addictive, providing great pleasure, but bad for her health and her sanity. But all of her friends advised her to stop worrying about the future, about the long-term consequences. Don’t be so pessimistic, they said. Good grief, don’t give up love and happiness because it may not
last
. What lasts? Live for the day, they said. Cheer up, Nell, they said, the world
might come to an end tomorrow and you would have wasted today worrying. Seize the day, they said. Nell was going to give it a try.

Nell had in her suitcase a black satin nightgown trimmed with black lace. Ilona had given it to her after dropping in unannounced one Sunday morning and catching Nell in her elephant robe. Nell had thanked Ilona, but she had serious doubts about the gown. It had a matching jacket of black lace that cascaded and drifted from the silk bow at the neck to just below her wrists and waist. It could be very alluring if a woman were able to saunter gracefully through a room or lie about seductively in just the right position. Nell had little practice in sauntering or lying about, however; it made her feel silly even to think of arranging her body on the bed in a come-hither pose. She thought it much more likely that she would end up wearing this outfit while trying to fix coffee and that the billowing black lace would float with the movement of her arm onto the burner of the stove and catch on fire. But when she had tried to express these thoughts to Ilona, Ilona had exploded.

“For heaven’s sakes, Nell, you’re a beautiful, sexy woman!” Ilona had yelled. “And from what you’ve told me of this man, he sounds like the type who would appreciate a little elegance in the bedroom. Look at how he cooks. I’m sure he’s not like your young studs, who just want to rip off your clothes and throw you on the bed. Don’t you want to look
romantic
?”

Nell had smiled, listening to Ilona. Actually, the few times she had been with Andy, their lovemaking had more or less been paced to ripping and throwing. They hadn’t cared about clothes; they had just wanted them
off
. But she supposed she could see Ilona’s point. She knew she would have two months without her children and without the dog and cats, so she didn’t have to worry about getting up in the night to clean up someone’s vomit. Perhaps she could get away with wearing this luxurious gown. It was likely that Andy would be spending some nights with her while the children were gone—why not try for a little elegance, she decided. She just hoped she didn’t end up feeling too self-conscious. Andy was going to meet Nell at the ferry and go with her to the cottage to help her with her bags. Then he was going to take her out to dinner. Then … Nell grinned and leaned her head against the window of the ferry. The ocean was peacock blue today, and as the boat cut through the water, capricious sprays of white foam leaped up at
the window as if trying to peek in. Sunlight sparkled across the water. A large sailboat slanted by, and all the people on it waved at all the people on the top decks of the ferry. Everything was light and dancing.

Nell could tell by the movements of the other passengers that they were nearing Nantucket. She rose and went up to the deck to watch. The ferry rounded Brant Point and headed steadily for the harbor. The engines hummed firmly in the heart of the boat, and all around on the decks another, lighter, kind of humming passed through the air as people laughed and talked in anticipation, gathered up their belongings, waved to people on shore. It isn’t often, Nell thought, that you get to see yourself arriving at a new time and place in life, but now here she was, watching this island and whatever joys or sorrows awaited her for the next three months, come closer, closer. Sunlight sparkled off the water; eager laughter sparkled in the air around her. All these people are happy, Nell thought. She spotted Andy in the crowd on the wharf. He was really there, waiting for her. Her heart thumped.

All right, damnit, Nell thought, I’m scared and I don’t trust it, but I don’t seem to have much choice right now. I guess I’m going to be happy for a while. She went down to the car deck and in no time at all she was driving down the ramp onto the island of Nantucket.

That night, deep in the night—Nell didn’t know what time it was—she was awakened by Andy lightly kissing her face and neck. She had been in a profound sleep, but she was not confused on awakening like this. She was instantly responsive. She wrapped her arms around him and began to kiss him back. He was covering her with kisses, all over her face, down her neck and arms, across her shoulder blades, and down and around her breasts. He nuzzled at her breasts and stomach. It was very dark and she could not see him. She could only feel him, greedily moving in the dark above her, and she finally just lay back and let him be all over her. She reached up and grasped his thick hair in her hands. His desire made him seem both vulnerable and powerful. He was coming at her helplessly, and she received him with the same absolutely natural and thoughtless lust. In the dark bedroom it was much like being in a dark cave; they might have been Indians or bears. When it was over, though, he became very human, tender. He held her in his arms
to soothe her.

* * *

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, because she was crying and trembling.

“No,” Nell said. “Oh no. You didn’t hurt me. You just … it was just …”

She could feel his puzzlement in the dark as she lay in his arms. She knew she could not explain it to him, because he was a man, and the intensity of his having satisfied his lust could never approach the intensity of his need for that satisfaction. Whereas women’s bodies just seemed to go haywire with gratitude for such extravagant pleasure.

“It’s all right,” she whispered. “Really. I’m fine. I’m not sad. I’m happy.” Still he held her. “That was very nice,” she said, to reassure him, though she felt a quick little snort of laughter pass through her at the extremity of her understatement. Oh, Nell, she thought, you’re lost. But she was so exhausted that she fell immediately back into her profound sleep.

Nell woke up again that night. Andy was lying next to her, so close she could feel the rise and fall of his chest in his rhythmic breathing. She could hear his breathing. Her body was all on its own, unconsciously adjusting to his weight in the bed, and she lay tilted away from him slightly so that she did not roll right down onto him.

* * *

I’m
sleeping
with a man, Nell thought.
Shit
.

This time she did not fall back to sleep so easily.

She awoke at eight-fifteen, when her alarm clock went off, to find that she was alone. She rose and looked around. He had left a note on the bed for her.

* * *

“Sorry to leave without saying good morning. But I have a habit of rising early and taking long walks, as you know. I did kiss you goodbye—but you were too much asleep to know it, I think. I’ll stop in the boutique later. Love, Andy.”

Nell slipped into her elephant robe—since he wasn’t around—and had her breakfast, then wandered through the O’Learys’ bright cottage sipping her morning coffee. She felt wonderfully fit and optimistic. Andy had greeted her with flowers and champagne when she drove off the ferry. He had carried her luggage into the house for her, then carried her right up to the bedroom and made love to her. He had then taken her out to a marvelous restaurant for dinner. He had awakened her in the night to make sweet love to her. He had left her this note; she would see him later. Every time Nell passed a mirror on one of the walls, she caught a glimpse of herself—and she was always smiling, a true goony smile. I wonder what he meant by writing “love” on that note, she thought.

She stared out the window at the summer day and thought, with a thrill passing through her, that this was only the first day—all the days of June and July stretched out in front of her, all those days when she would be free of the responsibility of running a house and caring for children. She was free to work and play in the sun and be loved by a wonderful lover. It was an incredible luxury.

Something about living in the O’Learys’ house and being without children made Nell feel both more adult and more childlike. She felt eminently capable and responsible, full of energy and bright ideas, and at the same time she had a delicious feeling of playing house, playing shop. She was dressed and ready to go early, so she walked to work and had to keep from skipping, for the day was brilliant. Everyone she passed looked happy. A woman in running clothes jogged by her, accompanied by a happy black dog carrying a yellow ball in his mouth. A father pedaled by on a bike, pulling a black two-wheeled carriage holding a grinning toddler. Nell walked down Main Street to buy a newspaper at the Hub. She walked on down the street, passing a store with a window full of solar-powered toys. A brass stick figure pedaled furiously on a bike, airplanes dipped and lifted, Ferris wheels spun. She felt like that, felt that she was now effortlessly moving, powered by the sun. She walked farther down the street to the wharf, where the Hy-Line ferries docked, past the great red Nantucket lightship, past the little wooden shops selling frozen yogurt, oil paintings of the sea, and shell jewelry. She stood for a while watching
large and small boats slip in and out of the harbor.

Next to her, a child yelled, “Mommy, Mommy! Look at the seagull!” Nell looked where the child was pointing: A gull was soaring on the wind. “I wish I could do that,” the child said.

I
am
doing that, Nell thought, and smiled to herself.

She walked back up the street and opened the boutique and set to work. She had never been more efficient, more helpful to the customers. Mindy, the salesgirl who had run the store in May and who would be Nell’s assistant for the summer, came in at one to work until nine that night. Mindy had graduated from college the year before. She was a pretty girl, and bright, but talkative. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do with her life, and she wasn’t sure which boyfriend she was in love with, but that didn’t stop her from discussing her life and loves in great detail. Sometimes her chatter annoyed Nell, but today she just took it in her stride.