The Deep End (39 page)

“I just wish we didn’t have to rush off so quickly,” Warren is saying as Gloria clears the kitchen table of dishes.

They have returned from the cemetery and are sitting at Joanne’s kitchen table, drinking coffee and eating a store-bought rhubarb pie, which Paul has noted with disappointment isn’t nearly as good as the ones Joanne bakes herself.

“Don’t be silly,” Joanne tells her brother. “Of course you have to go back. You’re going to be a movie star. This is your big chance.”

“There was no way I could get them to reschedule …”

“You don’t have to explain or apologize,” Joanne tells him. “I’ll be fine. Really.” How can she explain that she is actually eager for them to leave?

“Why don’t you come back with us?” Gloria asks suddenly.

“I can’t,” Joanne answers quickly.

“Why not?” Warren demands, warming to his wife’s suggestion. “You have another two weeks before the girls get home from camp.”

“And I have a job,” Joanne tells her brother, glancing at Ron Gold, who looks instantly relieved.

“I’m lost without her, I swear,” Ron Gold laughs. “I mean, I’d like to be noble and all that, but I really need her. If she were to leave me for two weeks, my entire practice, not to mention my life, would fall apart.”

Paul glares at the doctor across the kitchen table. “I was under the impression that Joanne was leaving at the end of the month anyway,” he says.

“I’ve decided to stay on,” Joanne tells him, clearly catching him by surprise.

“Praise the Lord,” smiles Ron Gold.

“I didn’t realize,” Paul begins, then breaks off. “When did you reach this decision?”

“In the past week,” Joanne tells him. “Actually my grandfather had a lot to do with it.”

It’s Warren’s turn to look surprised. “Grampa? How?”

“It gets complicated,” Joanne answers. “He just made me realize certain things.” She looks at her watch. “Shouldn’t you be leaving for the airport pretty soon?”

“I’d be happy to drive you there,” Paul volunteers.

“That’s not necessary.”

“I’d like to.”

“All right,” Warren agrees, glancing at his sister.

“You’re sure we can’t persuade you to come back with us?” Gloria asks, although both women recognize this is just a matter of form.

“How about at Christmas?” Joanne asks.

“Wonderful,” Gloria exclaims. “I know just the man …” She breaks off awkwardly, her eyes carefully avoiding Paul’s. “We’ll have a great time. Leave everything to me.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

The small group proceeds to the front door. “Say hello to Eve for me,” Warren says. “Tell her that I’m sorry I missed her, and that I hope she feels better soon.”

“I will.”

“Is this all your luggage?” Paul asks, looking at the small carry-on bag that sits on the floor next to the hall closet.

“That’s it,” Gloria answers.

There is an awkward pause in which no one seems sure of what to do with their hands or feet.

“Take care of yourself,” Warren finally says, drawing his sister into his arms. “If you need anything …”

“I’ll call.”

“I feel so guilty,” he whispers helplessly.

Joanne pulls back so that she can stare directly into his
troubled eyes. “Guilt is a waste of valuable time.”

He smiles. “How’d you get to be so smart?” His lips brush against her cheek.

“I’m not smart,” she whispers in his ear. “Just not as stupid as I used to be.”

“You were never stupid.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Say hello to my beautiful nieces.”

“Ditto,” she laughs.

“Goodbye, Joanne,” Gloria says, hugging her sister-in-law close against her. “If things aren’t straightened out by Christmas,” she confides, her deep voice descending to yet another level, her words remaining clear, “I know the perfect man.”

“I’ll look forward to him.”

Paul glances around the small hallway impatiently. “Ready?” he asks, opening the front door. “Are you leaving now?” he asks Ron Gold casually as Warren and Gloria step outside.

“I think I’ll stay around a while and keep Joanne company,” Ron says easily. If he is aware of any tension, he ignores it.

Paul nods, the beginnings of a smile freezing on his lips. He looks at Joanne. “I think we should talk,” he tells her.

“I think that’s a good idea.”

“Maybe I could drop over tonight.”

“That would be fine.”

He stands awkwardly in the doorway. “What time is good?” he finally asks.

Should she ask him for dinner? Joanne wonders, then decides that she doesn’t feel like making dinner. “Eight-thirty,” she tells him.

“See you then.” Paul takes a final look at Ron Gold before following Warren and Gloria down the front steps.

“Do you think he’ll try to talk you out of keeping your job?” Ron Gold asks after Joanne closes the door.

Joanne shrugs, patting her boss reassuringly on the shoulder as she walks past him back into the kitchen. He follows her.

“Your brother’s a nice guy,” Ron says. “I don’t remember him from school at all.”

“He was a few years behind us.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to go to California with them?” he asks. “Please say you’re sure.”

Joanne laughs. “I’m sure.”

“I must say you surprised me today.”

“How do you mean?”

“I thought you might …”

“You thought I’d fall apart.”

“I thought you’d fall apart,” he repeats.

Joanne stares at him thoughtfully. “How many times can you fall apart?” she asks. “Eventually you either pull yourself together or you find there’s nothing left.”

“And you’ve pulled yourself together?”

“Let’s say that I’m in the process of,” Joanne explains.

“I’m glad to hear it. Paul’s dropping by later won’t upset you?”

“It probably will,” Joanne admits.

“Think you’re up to coming back to work tomorrow?”

“Face it, Ron,” Joanne deadpans. “Without me, you can’t function.”

“I knew that the minute you found my pen,” he says.

Paul steps nervously into the front foyer at just after eight-thirty that night. Joanne notices that he has changed his clothes, is more casually attired in light brown pants and a pale beige shirt that accentuates the deep chocolate brown of his eyes. “How are you?” he asks, following her to the living room, where Joanne quickly sits down in the swivel chair Paul has always staked out for himself. Has she done so deliberately? she wonders as Paul tries to make himself comfortable on the sofa. “The place looks good,” he comments, absently looking around.

Joanne nods. “Would you like a drink?”

Paul is immediately on his feet. “Yes, as a matter of fact. Can I get you something?”

“No, thank you.” She notices a certain hesitancy in his gait despite the seeming self-assurance in his voice. He is aware of a subtle change in what he always considered his home, and though everything looks the same, he has been thrown slightly off-balance, unsure of where things are, if they still occupy the same positions in which he left them.

She hears him pouring himself a drink, feels his hesitation at the doorway before he reenters the room.

“It was nice to see Warren again,” he says, sitting down and taking a sip of his drink.

“He looks good,” Joanne agrees.

“Can’t say I’m overly fond of his wife.”

“You never were.”

“Something about her that I don’t trust.”

“She’s all right. I think she means well.”

“I guess I just don’t like women whose voices are deeper than mine.”

Joanne smiles.

“It’s too bad they had to rush off so quickly.”

“Well, I’m a big girl now,” Joanne says, impatient with the conversation, which she has already had once today. “I have to learn to take care of myself.”

Paul seems puzzled by this assertion. “Were you serious about visiting them at Christmas?”

“I thought I might. Why?”

“Just curious.”

“I haven’t been to California in a long time.”

“You’re sure Ron will give you the time off?” The question is delivered with a light cadence, hiding the more serious question underneath. “You’re sure that it’s a good idea, your continuing to work?” he continues, staring into his glass to avoid her eyes.

“I’m very sure,” she answers simply.

“What about the girls?”

“What about them?”

“They’re used to having you at home.”

“They’ll get used to having me work.”

“It’ll be difficult to work a full-time job and run a household.”

“So we’ll eat out more, order in more, and the girls will have to learn to help out more than they’re used to. I think it’ll be good for them. I think it’ll be good for me,” she adds, her voice strong.

Paul finishes his drink and returns his empty glass to the coffee table between them. “You’ve changed,” he says after a long pause.

“You didn’t leave me much choice.”

Her answer clearly upsets him. “There’s no need for you to work, Joanne. I promised that I would support you. You don’t have to worry about money.”

“It’s not the money,” she says quickly, then backtracks. “Well, no, that’s not entirely true. It’s partly the money. I
like
earning my own money. It gives me … a little bit of power, I guess. It gives me some independence. I’m not saying that I don’t expect you to contribute. My salary is no great shakes, and I have a house to look after. You have two daughters you have to support …”

“You’re talking as if I’m never coming back,” he says quietly.

“Are you?” Joanne asks directly.

“I asked you to give me time.”

“I’ve given you time.” Joanne’s steady gaze forces Paul’s eyes back to her own. “Time’s up.”

“I don’t understand. A few weeks ago …”

“A few weeks ago my husband and I made love, and I thought everything was all right again. I woke up the next morning to the news that nothing had changed, and to the realization that, as long as I’m prepared to put up with it, nothing ever will.”

“Has Ron Gold had something to do with this sudden epiphany?” Paul asks pointedly.

Joanne almost laughs at his choice of words. She feels herself rise out of her chair, is aware that she is pacing back and forth across the hardwood floor. “Ron Gold is a lovely, generous man who gave me back a little of what I’d lost over the years—what I’d given away—my self-respect. For that, I will always love him and be grateful. But we’re not having an affair, if that’s what you’re implying.”

Paul seems relieved. “Then why the sudden deadline? Why the rush?”

“It’s been almost four months, Paul,” she informs him. “I can’t waste any more time waiting for you to decide
what you want to do with your life. I have my own life to get on with. My grandfather told me that.” Paul looks appropriately confused. “I went to see him after we came home from camp. I was very upset. I was pouring my heart out as usual, complaining about all the awful things that were happening to me, when he suddenly opened his eyes and asked me if I’d like to change places with him.” She pauses, hearing her grandfather’s words still echoing. “I don’t know what happened. I guess something suddenly snapped, and I realized that, no, I didn’t want to change places with a dying old man. I’m young—or at least, I’m not old—and there’s still lots that I want to do.” She takes a deep breath, watching Paul do the same. “I love you, Paul. I love you very much. You are the only man that I have ever loved. I want you to come home. But I won’t be manipulated any longer, and I’m not prepared to wait anymore for you to come to your senses and see that I am worth a truckload of little Judys …”

A look of surprise passes across Paul’s face.

“… and if you haven’t discovered that fact for yourself by now, then that’s your problem. Not mine. Not anymore.” She swallows hard before continuing. “The girls come home in less than two weeks. We’re either a family by then or we’re not. I’ll wait till then before calling a lawyer.”

“Joanne …”

“I don’t want to see you again, Paul,” Joanne says steadily, “unless it’s the sight of you pulling your suitcases up the front steps.” She walks to the door. “Please go.”

A loud knocking wakes her up at just before seven the following morning. Confused, Joanne reaches for the alarm clock, which suddenly goes off in her hands. “Jesus!”
Joanne exclaims, jolted instantly awake, pushing herself out of bed. Realizing someone is at the front door, she proceeds to the intercom on the bedroom wall. “Hello?” she asks, sleep still clinging to her voice. “Is someone there?”

There is no reply.

Joanne stands absolutely still in front of the intercom. She understands that the knocking was not part of any dream. She knows that there is something—or someone—downstairs waiting for her.

With deliberate slowness, she proceeds to her closet and throws on a robe. Her feet are bare against the carpet of the stairs.

She reaches the front hallway, pressing her body against the heavy oak door to stare through the small peephole. She sees nothing. Carefully, she reaches over to shut off the alarm, her fingers drawing back abruptly when she realizes that the alarm light is not on. Staring at the front door as if she can see through it, Joanne quickly runs over the events of the previous evening. She sees Paul step out into the warm night air, watches him pull his car out of their driveway, feels the weight of the door against her shoulder as she closes it behind him. Joanne follows the memory of herself as she proceeds into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea, feels the soothing heat as it travels down her parched throat, reexperiences a sudden wave of fatigue as her image disrobes and crawls into bed for what proves to be a long, dreamless sleep. A loud knock at her front door awakens her just before her alarm clock is scheduled to go off at seven o’clock this morning.