Portraits (78 page)

At about eleven o’clock she walked out to the terrace and stood at the rail, looking out to the magnificent vista beyond—but all she saw was Joshua’s face. She kept asking herself what she was doing there without him, wondering what he was doing tonight and who he was with. Was he reaching out to her as she was to him? I’m really lost…No matter how much she wanted it to be otherwise, she simply hadn’t been ready for tonight. It was too soon…

Suddenly she felt the presence of someone beside her. She turned and saw Richard.

“Penny for your thoughts…”

“You’d get short-changed, I’m afraid.”

The answer changed his mind about her. Not dull or dumb, as he’d thought. Sad, lonely maybe…and he knew what the feeling could be like in a crowded room.

“Would you like to go home, Michele?”

“Not unless you’re ready—”

“I’m ready.”

“You’re sure? I wouldn’t want to take you away—”

“Look, when you go to four thousand parties a year, one more or less isn’t going to make a big dent in your social life.”

She smiled for the first time, and although the smile was a little wan, it made her even more beautiful. Taking her by the arm, he said, “Let’s say
au revoir
to the Perle Mesta of Bel Air.”

Catching up with their hostess as she circulated among her guests, Richard said, “Sandra, the party was terrific as usual. Hate to cut out early, but I’m going to drive Michele home.”

She looked at Michele. “If you have a headache, I’ve got aspirin. Why don’t you stay?”

“Thanks, Sandra. I don’t have a headache, but I’ve had an awfully good time and thanks very much for inviting me. I mean that…it’s been a beautiful party.”

Kissing her on the cheek, Sandra told her, “Well, it won’t be the last one. I warn you…”

As they walked to the car Richard said, “How about a nightcap?”

“I don’t want to seem like a wet blanket, but if you’ll forgive me I’m really a little tired. Saturday’s always a big day in Junior sportswear.”

Driving off, he said, “I. Magnin ought to have their heads examined. They should have you modeling.”

“How did you know I worked at I. Magnin?”

“Sandra told me.”

“Oh, of course, I’m not thinking…”

When they got to Michele’s place Richard parked the car, opened the door and helped her out. Without asking, he took her by the arm and led her into the lobby, then into the elevator and up to the fifth floor. At her door he hesitated a moment then asked, “What night are you free next week?”

She was tempted to say she had all kinds of social engagements and wasn’t free, but she knew she had to stop that…“Wednesday, I think.”

“Damn, that’s the one night I’m busy. Tuesday? Thursday?”

“Thursday…”

“Great. Any special place you’d like to go to?”

“No, you decide.”

“Is eight all right?”

“Fine.”

He wanted to kiss her, but sensed tonight was probably not the night.

“Thank you very much for everything, Richard. I’ll see you Thursday.”

When she’d shut the door behind her, she stood for a long time in the darkened hall. Suddenly she wanted to talk to her mother, but it was twelve-thirty. “God, she’d have given anything to have heard mama’s reassuring voice…She walked to her bedroom without turning out the light and went to the bathroom to undress, letting the red gown fall to the tile and kicking it away.

She took a long hot shower but it didn’t stop the shivering, and when she stepped out she knew that tonight she was going to have to take two Nembutals…

The next morning she sat with a coffee cup in one hand and the phone in the other. As so often in the last three months, when she heard her mother her first impulse was to say, Mama, I want to come home. But what she said was, “God, you sound so good.”

Better than I feel, Doris thought. “So do you, darling. How are you?”

“You want to know the truth? Kind of lousy this morning.”

“Why, darling?”

“Well, Sunday’s the most lonely day in the week, never mind what they say about Saturday…I miss you terribly, really…And I went to a party last night that wasn’t exactly my cup of tea. It was a beautiful party but it was just kind of rough…going out for the first time…”

“Did anything interesting happen?” She hoped, she hoped…

“Not especially…but I have a date with a man I met there, Richard Stein, for Thursday night.”

“I’m happy to hear you’re finally beginning to get out. That’s very important.” And a relief to hear.

“Hmm, I suppose you’re right, mama. How’re dad and Gary?”

“Dad’s fine. And Gary made halfback on the football team.”

“That’s terrific. Is he still seeing Barbara Levy?”

Doris hesitated. Trying to be off-handed, she answered, “No, as a matter of fact, Gary and I have been having quite a dialog. Suddenly he has a thing about taking Jewish girls out. Or rather not taking them out. I can’t say it doesn’t bother me because it does. But unlike dad, who’s been putting pressure on him, I feel the best way is to just let it run its course.”

“It seems there’s never a dull moment lately.”

“Well, it’s not all that critical. He and dad had a little argument because he’s been taking out a gentile girl, but he’s only eighteen so I wouldn’t take it too seriously.”

“That makes sense…Mom, do you think you could come down for a few days? Maybe next week?”

“Of course, darling. I’ll call and we’ll make arrangements.”

“Look, I could spend the day on the phone with you, but the phone bills are staggering as it is. I’ll speak to you soon, though.”

Thursday came and this time Richard came into the apartment. As he entered her livingroom he looked around appreciatively. “God, you have great taste.”

“Thank you…what would you like to drink?”

“Scotch, please.”

“How do you like it?”

“Rocks, with a twist.”

“The rocks I have, but the lemon I don’t.” She smiled.

“Well, if you keep smiling like that I won’t miss the lemon. Incidentally, I have a reservation for Chasen’s at eight-thirty.”

“In that case, we’d better drink up.”

Michele studied him closely as she raised her glass to her lips. On Saturday night she’d been so disconnected that she hadn’t noticed how good-looking he was. He was about medium height, with thick brown hair that was just slightly graying at the temples and deep blue eyes. He dressed impeccably, expensively, but it was his beautifully modulated voice that caught one’s attention, without a touch of stuffiness.

When they got to the restaurant, Michele was surprised to find herself feeling very much at ease as she sipped another vodka.

“Michele, I’ve ordered something sort of special. Chasen’s is famous for its hobo steak. I hope you like it.”

Before she could answer, the waiter was standing by their table, carving the steak, and it was every bit as good as Richard said it would be…

By the time they finished dinner it was a quarter to eleven…and this time when they stood in front of her door he took her in his arms to kiss her goodnight. She backed away from him. “I’m sorry, Richard, but…thank you, it’s been a lovely evening…”

For a moment her pulling away bothered him but he was certain she wasn’t just being coy. There was more to her than that. He said goodnight as she opened the door, then closed it and proceeded into the safety of her apartment…

Afterward, back in his apartment, the lights out and trying to sleep, Richard couldn’t get Michele off his mind. He was intrigued by the reasons for her defenses, and in a way he admired her for holding him off tonight…clearly it wouldn’t have been honest, it would only have been done to please him…

At his drawing board the next afternoon, he found his mind drifting away from the electrical outlets on the blueprints to the Junior sportswear department at I. Magnin. Finally he couldn’t resist the impulse, went to his desk, picked up the phone and called Michele at I. Magnin.

“Yes, this is Mrs. Wolf.”

“Mrs. Wolf, this is Richard Stein. I’d like to find out if you have a size thirty-six waist in Bermuda shorts.”

Michele laughed. “We just happen to be out of that size. Maybe you should take a bit off…”

“I’d rather take you out—to Scandia tonight?”

She hesitated. “All right, I’d like that. By the way, thank you for dinner last night. It was really lovely.”

And so are you, he thought, but instinctively knew better than to say it. If anybody came on too strong with her, he knew what the answer would be—thanks, but no thanks. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. What time can I pick you up?”

“Seven-thirty?”

“See you then. And cancel the order for the shorts.” …

Over the next week they saw each other three times…

After dinner on Saturday night Richard said, “I think the least you can do is invite a friend in for a nightcap.”

Michele wasn’t foolish enough to think she could keep putting him off. He’d been damned sweet, and damned patient, as it was.

He settled himself on the white sofa and once again looked about the room. It was almost as beautiful as Michele, and it seemed right that she should live in such surroundings. He put his drink on the table beside him and shook his head admiringly. “I have to say once again, this is one of the most charming apartments I’ve ever been in.”

“Thank you. Not too many men would notice.”

“I notice more than furnishings. During the past week, for example…you.”

He reached over and drew her toward him, but when he started to kiss her she gently released herself. “Richard, you’re going to have to forgive me, but it seems I’m still not ready for this.”

“Ready for what, Michele?”

“To have even a casual relationship with a man.”

“Why?”

“I…I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it either.”

“Michele, I don’t believe in preaching. But if you’ll forgive a little amateur Freud and a lot of practical experience, I’d like to suggest to you that the more we repress things, the deeper we bury them—and then it becomes difficult as hell even to
try
to peel off the layers. If you feel like it, it might help to talk about whatever’s bothering you to somebody who’s a comparatively new…friend.”

She got up and walked over to the bar cart. When she sat down again she took a long swallow of her drink before looking up at him. “I’m getting a divorce and apparently I’m doing a lousy job of facing the reality of it. I just keep hoping that phone is going to ring and it’s going to be Joshua saying, ‘Honey, I just can’t live without you.’”

“And if that doesn’t happen, what are you going to do. Sit for the rest of your life by the phone? Michele, maybe this will make it a little easier to talk about. I graduated from M.I.T., picked up my diploma and invited myself into the navy during the war. I was crazy in love with a girl, had been for a long time, and we were married two days before I shipped out. Now, after four years of going with somebody, you think you know them pretty well. But when I came back I found that Linda and I were not only total strangers, but that being faithful wasn’t one of her long suits. It knocked the props right out from under me. I did all the things that your average well-rounded all-American male does when he finds out he’s come home to an unfaithful wife. I sort of went a little off my rocker, did pretty good in the booze department and made up my mind then and there that I was never going to take a woman seriously again. A few years later I met a lovely girl by the name of Bonnie and we lived together. One day she said it was either-or, but much as I liked her I had to say that marriage was out of the question. It’s not so easy to live with someone for a couple of years and suddenly lose her. There were nights I’d lay awake and wonder if I hadn’t made a mistake. But by that time Bonnie had found someone else and gotten married. Well, I’m thirty-seven now, and I feel there has to be somebody special in my life, and that the word
we
instead of
me
is very important…probably the only parallel in our stories is that we both loved somebody very much. Believe me, I know how rough this is. But don’t let it make you bitter or frightened. We all have to go on living, and unless you leave that door open, you’re going to wake up one day and find you’re one very, very lonely lady. Sandra Heller’s going that route.”

“There’s a difference between death and divorce. At least in Sandra’s case, she knows that phone’s never going to ring.”

“True, but you know it too, don’t you?”

“Yes, I guess I do. I just keep hoping…but there’s also a slight difference between your story and mine. I lost two children and I feel guilty as sin…as if I’ve criminally failed…”

“I don’t think you’re as much a failure as you imagine you are—”

“It doesn’t matter what you think, it’s what I feel…”

“Michele, don’t beat on yourself. Give yourself a
chance
. And while you’re at it, give me a chance. I’d like us to be friends. Good friends. How about it?”

She looked intently at him. “I’d like that.”

During the next few months she dated other men, but they distinctly weren’t Richard. He had a sensitivity that she needed, and the more she saw of him, the more she liked him. More important, much as she knew he wanted her he never pushed her, and there was a kindness and understanding in that attitude that she appreciated more than she knew how to say…

One evening at dinner she was unusually withdrawn.

“Trouble, Michele?”

Reaching into her purse, she took out a large, legal-size envelope and handed it over to him.

He looked at the size and at the name in the lefthand corner. “I’ve had one of these before, I don’t have to look.”

“It hurts a lot, though, doesn’t it? Knowing it’s really over…”

“It does, but the best answer to that is try again.”

She had known it would come to this eventually. It had become as inevitable as receiving the divorce papers that had come today. But it seemed too early and she was still so preoccupied with the past. “I’ll have to think about it, Richard. Today’s really been pretty rough. Would you mind if we left? I’d like to go home.” …

When they got back to her apartment she realized how grateful she was that he was here. To go through this alone…it would have been nearly as bad as the night Joshua left her.