Splintered Heart (25 page)

"I love you, you beautiful, brilliant, and talented lady. I'll tell Courtney what you said, he's right here."

"And I suppose Charles is nearby?"

"Yes ma'am! You can count on that! I'll be sure and tell O.A. that you thought his book was very inspirational!"

"Darling, I couldn't get beyond the first page."

"I know that will please O.A. I'm sorry you have to hurry off, darling, I know you're anxious to get the room ready immediately, tonight, for Hannah. You be sure and give Hannah my love, and Uncle Paul too!"

In Ferris' domain, everything had its place — pencils, stationery, paperclips, files, correspondence. The papers Ferris was talking about were probably in his shoe box.

Marian was humming. Happy because she knew what was ahead for tomorrow. Happy because the California trip wasn't hanging over her. Happy about the blue bedroom for her Mother, and happy because there was something she could do to help her husband.

...
Four more days-four more nights-and no more phone-he'll be home
... It was a jolly tune in her head.

Marian was singing, humming as she opened the lower right hand drawer and took out the large brown shoe box file. Inside it, she found what she was looking for.

The manila folder had Paul Sheldon's logo on the cover. Inside were incorporation papers for a new business entitled "Ferris Cooper Inc." There were no partners for the new business, no associates, just the directors and officers necessary to legalize a corporation. Most of the legal work had already been done; there were notarized signatures of Ferris' two brothers, and Paul's signature. As soon as Marian signed, the papers would be ready for final filing.

Marian looked through the papers a second time. There was no mention of Charles Riche.

Paul Sheldon told Marian where he wanted her to sign. He explained that the new corporation would give Ferris the ability to negotiate, sign, and ultimately control the
 
OAy's Farm Kitchens
 
account. If O.A. and Courtney agreed, Ferris could begin to function immediately, totally in command, without Charles.

Paul said he would send a messenger to pick up the papers in the morning.

Marian leaned back in Ferris' chair. It was an expensive piece of office equipment, chair for Director, boss, leader and king pin. Ferris' strategy was a bold one. She was aware of the problems that could arise if Charles wanted to make problems, but it was a good to know that Ferris was finally going to have a chance to be as powerful and successful as he had ever dreamed. It made her want to bow to him. She wished she could phone him or get a message to him.

...
Dear Ferris, how happy I am for you, for us, our future together
...

She sent the thought to him through the air waves. She felt a strong straight line from her brain and heart to his. She was full of joy and admiration for him.

...Dear Ferris, these old Christmas cards are so neatly arranged...

It was tenderly amusing to observe how each card was clipped to its envelope. Letters from his brothers, his parents, were rubber-banded. The warranties were a huge and bulky file. She lifted it out. It was nine years of things they'd bought for their home and for their life together. There were papers on the refrigerator, the T.V. sets, the dishwasher, the new lounge chair. There was a registration paper for Baccarat crystal, warranties for the air conditioner, vacuum, stove, smoke detector, shaver, stereo, electric toothbrushes, massager, electric blanket, bathroom scale. ...
he never throws out anything that might be important.
..

She wasn't even half-way through the warranties, when she noticed another group of rubber banded letters.

Ladies who have had their own secret adventures, have a certain wisdom which Marian did not have. She was an innocent, in love at first sight, in love with her man's looks, his bearing, his manners, his speech, his choice of clothing, the way he talked — his ideas, ideals, taste in movies, books, poetry, music — his princely grace was a young girl's dream of Father-Prince-Lover.

She loved her Ferris with the innocence and purity of first-love, and what a love that is! What a shock, what a blow, a crack of thunder to come across not just one love letter, but many — some dated, some signed, with sexual, explicit descriptions and references to things he'd shared, things he'd done, places he'd been — so many, many things Marian hadn't known about, that had happened in the time of their time together.

Walls came crumbling down. All the neatness, shape, safety, the bricks, the mortar of the present began disintegrating, came shattering, crashing, falling down around her.

As Marian's fingers moved through letters and more letters, her present world ceased to exist. Her sweet, cherished memories of past moments, pleasures and loveliness they'd shared became fragments, smithereens like the saucer. It had been cracked a long time ago and what was left was for the dustpan and the incinerator.

The breaking down of Marian's world took less than twenty minutes. In the middle of the pile of letters which were arranged in some kind of chronological order, Marian found the letters from Elena.

It had been an on-going affair — Ferris and Elena — for at least five years. The discovery came down on Marian, cracked her, tore her apart, devastated her — all that.

It broke Marian's heart.

++++++++++

Chapter 36

It was bedtime. The night was unseasonably warm.

Marian moved stiffly up from the chair and out of Ferris' study. Contrary to habit, she left all the lights on.

She moved along the hallway, her hand tracing a pathway on the wall, touching an object on the table, brushing over a doorknob as if dusting it, but she wasn't dusting. In Intensive Care, Mamma had been on a heart monitor and suddenly the screen had gone blank — Code 99 they called it — for a long bad moment there was no pulse, just a straight line and a one-note monotonous hum. That was how Marian felt — blank, Code 99 — there was only the one-note monotonous hum.

In the bedroom closet, her fingers touched a cool feeling garment — the yellow organza. She picked up a pair of high-heeled sandals, pulled down a white purse from the shelf, dug out summer gloves.

She remembered something about "The Day She Wore a Yellow Dress." It seemed vague and far away.

She put on lipstick — an extra heavy layer, blotted it and tossed the red print of her mouth into the toilet. It was a remnant of adolescent rebellion, from the days when she'd been too young to wear what she wanted.

Then she put on her largest, most gaudy and expensive ring — it was a glittering blue-green eye to watch over her — watch her going for a walk much too late at night.

Her keys were in hand and she was turning the door knob, click clack, when she remembered one last detail. She dug up and put on the cheap, nylon black half-slip.

The night world was teeming with people. Everybody seemed to have the same idea about celebrating the first hot night of the season. Couples were walking with arms about each other's waists. Men and girls were giggling. Kids were playing in an open hydrant, their half-naked bodies were gleaming in the spray of water. Heat, joy, and sensuality were all around.

Where do you go walking when you're a refined married lady in a fancy new, never worn, yellow party dress, stop-light red lipstick on your lips, wearing a half-slip that someone left in your laundry bag, wearing a dazzling aquamarine ring?

Marian went to Andrea's street.

There, on the opposite side of the street, she picked out a window with a light on that revealed a bamboo blind and said, "That's HER window!" Ferris was not upstairs in the room with the bamboo blind but he might as well have been — his connection to Andrea had brought her there, to the lowest point, lowest moment in her life.

After awhile the door to the building opened and a few people came out. Later, a girl came out with a man.

With I-don't-give-a-damn, haphazard logic, Marian decided the girl was Andrea. There was a general vague resemblance to one of the girls Marian had seen, split screen, quadrupled, eight-times-four on the Florida commercial.

Marian followed the man and the girl all the way down the street. She stopped behind a parked car and leaned against a cool fender while they bought ice cream on a stick from a corner vendor who was doing business as if it were late July not late April. When the couple went into the subway, so did Marian, and she followed them when they got out nine stops later on the other side of the town. She followed them to a very large, high-rise building that had glass doors and a door man, and watched them, fading away through the lobby.

There was a sense of loss, when they disappeared into an elevator.

Marian waited, while the night sky grew red from the lighted up city. She stood. She continued to watch as the sky became redder, and the night got hotter and later.

Marian could feel a trickle of sweat making its way from her neck to her wishbone, an indiscreet pathway under the waistband of the half-slip, on down to her navel. No one could see it so it didn't matter. Every once in a while a passerby would slow down, cast a glance, say a word, give a shrug, cruise and go on his way. She felt invisible in the shadow of the building, like a yellow-grey moth.

Through the soles of her feet in the high summer heels, Marian could feel the rumbling of subways, vibrations of passing trucks, the hidden pumps, generators and mechanisms that kept all the city life around her in motion.

She couldn't move. She could hear her heart, feel the pit-patting of it, as if it were a little red valentine heart. To the valentine belonged the tiniest of tiny voices that was praying "Oh God, please help me, someone help me tell me what to do."

There didn't seem to be anything to do, except stand there and wait for something, even just breeze, to blow her somewhere, anywhere, wherever.

++++++++++

Chapter 37

Marian slid onto the first empty barstool.

The bartender came over. "What'll you have, lady?"

She cleared her throat, she couldn't think of anything except what Ferris would have ordered. "Scotch and water." Her voice sounded rusty.

A man moved over from where he was sitting. "This round's on me, honey. Make it two, Izzy!" He contemplated Marian's profile, watched Izzy fixing the drinks, serving them. "Nice night isn't it?" He stirred his drink with the plastic spear, sipped, made another sentence about the weather, and lapsed into silence.

After a while, he got up. "What's the damage, Izzy?" He put some bills on the bar. For the benefit of Izzy and a few of the other customers who were in earshot, he muttered, "She's out to lunch — ain't nothin' here for me!"

Then he was off and Marian was sitting alone.

Out of the corner of his eye as he was polishing the glasses, the bartender cased the lady. When he got home each morning, Izzy liked to tell his wife about some of the types he'd seen. "One of these days, when I retire, I'm gonna write a book!" He figured she wasn't a swinger, or a call girl. Just a lonely lady type, just looking.

There wasn't much to look at — a couple three-sheets-to-the-wind and necking. The Drunk — he was a regular. Ernie was a college type who hung around, couple of beers and that was it for Ernie. There was a business man nursing a vodka tonic and a few seats down — a weirdo — not exactly a creep, but Izzy didn't like the look of the guy. Junkies, muggers, bums — they all looked alike.

"Drink up, folks, we'll be closing in about fifteen minutes," the Bartender announced.

Marian dug for her wallet.

When Izzy came over to tell her the drink was paid for, he saw the ring. For a second it made him nervous, but then he figured, even though she was wearing a fancy dress, the ring had to be a five and dime fake.

"You put your money away, lady," Izzy said, "your friend paid for your drink."

"My friend?" she said.

Izzy wiped up around her glass. "The fella you was sitting with."

"Oh, my friend paid," she repeated.

"That's right, Lady," Izzy wasn't sure that the lady understood. She seemed spaced-out. He moved down the bar with his rag, it was time for the end of the night cleanup.

The kid, Ernie got up with his beer, took the seat next to the lady.

At the sink, Izzy took out his can of Ajax. He liked to keep the stainless steel sink gleaming, but he was keeping an eye on the kid and the Lady. Un-escorted Ladies were trouble. There was something about the kid moving in on that type of Lady that didn't sit right with Izzy.

"I haven't seen you around here before have I? This is the first time you've been here, isn't it? It's kind of a neighborhood hangout," Ernie explained. "I know just about everyone who comes in here, maybe not by name but I sure know the faces."

Marian looked at the boy, not listening to what he was saying, it was as if she'd been asleep and she was just waking up. She had a feeling she knew him.

"Man, I sure do like your ring. At first I thought it was a sapphire, but it's not, is it?"

Marian shook her head, trying to place him. It was frustrating, his name was on the tip of her tongue.