Splintered Heart (32 page)

There had been only a few times in Marian's life when who she was, when the very things about herself that she took for granted and depended upon, had simply vanished or changed. But the ability to change is a uniquely human attribute — animals are consistent, not men, not women, and Marian was curious. There didn't seem to be a logical reason for saying no, so when she arrived with Courtney Bennett at the entrance to his bedroom, she went on in.

The bedroom was a low-ceilinged, grey, carpeted cave, stark as a monk's cell, empty except in the center where there was a round, grey velvet covered bed.

Courtney noticed Marian hesitating in the doorway. "You want to use the little girl's room? It's to your left."

Stripping off his shirt, unzipping, he crossed to hang up his clothes. The open closet revealed men's and women's clothes — sequin things, lace things among the dark wools, flannels and tailored pinstripes. There were even ladies' slippers in a shoe rack, heel to heel with the men's boots and loafers.

"You don't have a television set in here?" Marian meant her remark to be humorous, but Courtney picked up a remote control and started pressing buttons.

The music changed. The colored lights became green, then red. A huge television screen appeared. There were books on a shelf behind a grey velvet curtain — classics, plays, poetry — a collection that belonged to the elegant man she'd expected to get to know, when she'd accepted the invitation.

Courtney pressed another button. An overhead panel slid open revealing a Japanese mural — pen and ink outlining pastel forms of men and women having intercourse. The postures were varied, creative, acrobatically inventive, disquietingly specific. All prurient erotogenic activities of hands, mouth, organs were clinically, thoroughly detailed.

"But why are you showing me these things? This isn't you Courtney!" Marian managed to say.

Courtney looked at Marian for a long moment. "Yes it is. It's as much me as the books."

Then, the moment was gone. He indicated the closet, with a nod of his head. "Do you want a robe, baby? Help yourself."

"No, I don't need a robe." The idea of fingering through the closet was more perturbing than stripping down in front of him. Anyway, Courtney wasn't looking at her, he was absorbed in folding the clothes he'd been wearing, arranging them neatly on a carpeted bench.

Marian kept on her cardigan sweater. She unbuttoned the buttons, except for one at the top. It made her feel a little more decorous. She left the rest of her clothes in a neat pile next to his because it seemed essential to follow his lead.

Courtney seemed to have the routine all planned. He took her hand and ushered her to the round bed, proceeded, more like a Doctor than a lover, to arrange her limbs for convenience. There were no kisses, but in friendly Doctor fashion he was helpful and explicit.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked at one point.

"Did you have your orgasm?" Courtney asked somewhat later. He waited patiently for her reply, then rearranged her limbs, explaining — "This is what I need. Excuse me." Then he had a few seconds of private pleasure which were remarkably quiet and detached from Marian.

They were now officially lovers though the word would have to re-defined to say that what had happened between them was in any way related to the word love.

Marian lay in the center of Courtney's grey velvet cave, looking up at the intimate couples in the mural above her, almost asleep, wondering if any of them ever felt as isolated as she was feeling lying in bed next to her new lover.

Courtney yawned and stretched. "I'm going to take my shower, baby doll. If you want one, use the girl's room."

"No thanks, I'm fine, just as snug as a bug in a rug," she said. She wanted a shower, but didn't want to be one more lady in his A
fter-The-Sex-Is-Over
 
routine.

Courtney peeked in while she was dressing. "That was a good one, baby doll, I could use a big steak dinner!" He was patting on a musky cologne. "It's eleven o'clock — time really got away from us, didn't it?"

Marian did one of her calculations: he'd phoned her at nine, she'd arrived at nine-thirty, the pictures, phone call, drinks had taken an hour at least, the bed routine including his shower had taken less than thirty-minutes. "I haven't had any dinner either," Marian said. She was suddenly ravenous. "I like your cologne." She didn't particularly like it, but she was trying to make human contact.

Courtney gave her a long look. "My spur of the moment lady — " He lifted her chin and smiled.

Marian liked him, when he was the way he was just then.

"Where'd you leave your purse, in the living room or the bedroom?" He was on his way to get it, "Time flies, doesn't it!"

"I'm not really in a rush..."

"Wish I could say the same," Courtney returned with the purse. "Here you go!"

Marian dug for her compact, she wanted to check her hair.

"You look great!" He seemed impatient. "Better get going."

Marian waited for him to lead the way.

"I'll phone you sometime, honey, spur of the moment, mmm? My girl is going to be back here any minute now. I'd love the two of you to meet. She's some dish but, well, you know — it just might be a little ticklish," he said, putting a black cigarette in his black holder.

It took a second to realize that she was being dismissed.

The Beauty's perfume, Courtney's cologne pinged in her mind.

Marian moved out of the bedroom as fast as she could without running. She didn't want Courtney to know how shocked she was. But she certainly did not want to bump into
 
some dish
 
like the auburn-haired beauty with the matching poodle.

As she buzzed for the elevator, Courtney called out to her, "Baby doll, wait a sec."

He came into the foyer. "I want a frank opinion — what do you think of Paul Sheldon?"

"Reliable, truthful, and honest," Marian said, praying for the elevator to arrive.

"Like Ferris." Courtney put the black holder onto a horseshoe ashtray, put his arms around Marian's waist and drew her to him, kissed Marian fully and lovingly on her lips.

It was their first kiss.

++++++++++

Chapter 50

"Marian darling, I've been trying to reach you since ten p.m. The line was busy, then it just rang. Were you in the shower? Where were you?"

...In another man's arms...
 
was on her tongue, ready to be blurted out.

"You seem so far away, Marian. I wish you were here — the grass, the flowers — there's something in the Florida air that's so sensual."

Marian laid her things on the foyer table and unbuttoned her cardigan. His words were coming in clear, but she couldn't focus on them.

"You'd enjoy the beach, the clean streets and the young people — the hotels are full of college kids on spring vacation — not just the retired rich old folks." In the mirror, Marian saw that her hair was windblown, her mascara was blurred, the way it got when you slept without taking it off. She understood what Ferris was trying to express. When you were away from home, alone in a town full of people on vacation, there was a special loneliness. You needed to share your feelings with someone you love. She'd felt the same need poignantly the last time in California.

"I want us to be together more Marian. I guess that's why I had to speak to you tonight. I don't tell you often enough what you mean to me."

Ferris, you don't have to tell me." Marian did not want to hear it, not tonight — tomorrow maybe — not now.

"Yes, I
 
do
 
have to tell you. You are an extraordinary woman, Marian. The kind of woman a man looks up to, cherishes and I..." He paused, he didn't want to sound mushy. "I should send you flowers every day. Buy you presents..."

"It isn't necessary, Ferris."

"I'm trying to explain — these young girls — they're beautiful, but you have so much more. You are a very beautiful woman. Your mind soars. You're gentle and wise and... I just felt as if I needed to tell you, Marian."

His words were better than flowers and presents but she didn't want his words, not tonight.

"On my way to Chicago, I'll stop off, we can have an evening together. I miss you. We need a honeymoon night don't we?"

Marian laughed appropriately, but didn't answer. She didn't want to think about a honeymoon night with Ferris. What she wanted to do was get off the telephone get to the shower, wash her hair, get out of what she was wearing and into comfortable night clothes and then, maybe, go to the music paper in her study.

"Goodnight darling. I can hardly wait to be with you. I love you." Ferris said.

"I love you too," Marian replied, automatically.

She stood with the phone in her hand. "Why did I let myself fall into bed with Courtney — because of Elena? Because of the others?"

There were many questions to ask herself, but not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.

'Not tonight, maybe tomorrow' was a pop tune refrain, something to put down for music class tomorrow.

"Oh dear," Marian said as the date came to mind. "Is that why Ferris called?"

The day had arrived without Marian realizing that tomorrow was their tenth anniversary.

++++++++++

Chapter 51

"Who in the Hell are you phoning now, for Godsake?" came the voice from the door.

Shelley hung up, quickly.

"Oh hi, Mommy. Is it still cold out?"

"Shelley, why do you always hang up the moment I walk into the room?"

Shelley's eyes were big, round and innocent. "I was just phoning a girl friend to get the homework. She's not home."

"What girl friend?" The finger was pointing, the tone menacing.

"Brooke!"

"Brooke Shields, I suppose? You and your imaginary friends!"

"Brooke Del Monte, Mother. You remember Brooke don't you? She's from school, you saw her in the school play last year."

Myra took off her head scarf, patting her hair. She'd been at the beauty parlor. "Well I don't remember any Del Monte except on the cans."

"Oh, your hair is
 
so
 
beautiful! What a pretty color."

"'True Blond' — that's the name. It suits me, doesn't it?"

"It's heaven!" Shelley smiled her little girl angel smile, happy that she'd been able to get her mother off the subject of phone calls.

"Andrea would die if she could see it!" Myra puffed up a few of the waves.

Shelley giggled. It was too bad Aunt Andrea couldn't see the True Blond, but Mommy had sworn they were never going to speak to Aunt Andrea again unless Aunty apologized for marrying that wop jerk — Aldo.

Myra studied her profile. "It does make me look younger!"

"And blonds have more fun, Mommy," Shelley said, brightly.

"I don't like it when you call me 'Mommy' in that tone of voice!"

Shelley quickly looked down and clasped her hands, so that Mommy would know that she was sorry.

"You're getting to be old enough now, you can call me 'Myra'!" Myra leaned in close to the mirror to check the roots. "And I still don't know why you hang up the phone the moment I walk into the room — you haven't been phoning Herb or the lawyers have you?"

Shelley didn't answer. She was studying the floor. She wished she'd been able to listen in on the phone a little bit longer, it was the first time Lady Marian ever had said anything more than hello. "Such a super game," Shelley was thinking, "Maybe next time she'll say some weirdo thing."

"Shel — leee! Goddammit, I asked you a question!"

"Ohhh, you look groovy, like a model, just simply devastating, Myra!" Shelley said, knowing her reply would satisfy almost any question that her Mommy might have been asking.

++++++++++

Chapter 52

The tiny office was a claustrophobic jungle but Dr. Stephen MacGregor seemed like a stream running through the middle of it all, carrying all sorts of people, all manner of things out into the open. Just being there, even though it was a twenty-minute wait, Marian felt better.

Every inch of wall space was covered — degrees, certificates, class pictures, a framed cartoon, a print of the Cathedral of Notre Dame, a reproduction of the self-portrait of Vincent Van Gogh. Every flat surface was packed with trophies and mementos. The desk top was a mass of job applications, advertisements, letters and postcards. Marian indulged in a bit of snooping — much of it was from grateful patients. And rising up in the midst of all this was picture of the family, an island — Irene, Joey, Robbie and Cherry holding a banner — "Happy Birthday Daddy." It made Marian smile. It made her envious, too.

Stephen came storming in, glasses in one hand, the other ripping the pocket of his jacket. He stopped in the doorway, came out of his trance with a big broad grin, "Marian Melnik, you are probably the handsomest woman in..." He looked at her carefully. "Something's really troubling you, isn't it?"