The Last Chance (23 page)

The little park was full of kids from school and older people on their lunch hours or with nothing to do. Two girls were playing violin duets, a straw hat at their feet, and passersby tossed coins into the hat and sometimes even a dollar bill. Old men sat under the trees playing chess. In the playground children ran in the sun, watched by their mothers.

Rachel and Andy found some space on a bench and sat down. “Where are you from?” she asked.

“Iowa. Where are you from?”

“New York.”

“I mean before that.”

“Oh,” Rachel said. “Kansas City. Do I still have an accent?”

“Well, to me those other kids have an accent. I think a New York accent is really weird. They don’t pronounce their
r’s
.”

Rachel laughed. “How did you end up here?”

“That’s quite a story. When I graduated from high school I decided to drive to California. I had this Duster with a special engine I put in and racing tires. It was a couple of years old and had twenty-six thousand miles on it, but I thought I’d get there without any trouble. Well, I got to Los Angeles and then the thing broke down on me and I needed five hundred dollars to get it fixed. There was no
way
I could get five hundred dollars—I didn’t even have a place to sleep. So, anyhow, I met some other kids and moved in with them, and then one of them had the idea that I should go on a TV game show and try to win a new car. At least some money. Her father knew somebody who knew somebody, so I applied to a lot of shows and I waited around a couple of months, and then I got on this game show, ‘Wheel of Fortune’—did you ever hear of it?”

Rachel shook her head, no.

“Anyhow,” Andy said, “you spin a wheel and get money for guessing the letters, and if you guess the puzzle you spend the money on prizes. You don’t get to keep the money, you have to spend it. I kept hoping I’d get the car, right? So what I won was a trip to New York. That’s how I came here. I really liked it here. It was funny, because everybody I knew told me I would hate it. But I think New York is great. So I called my parents and told them I wanted to go to college here. They were delighted because they’d given me up for a bum. My father really wanted me to go to college. He’s a doctor. So they sent me money and I applied to NYU and got accepted, and here I am. That’s why I’m older than the other kids, because I lost a year.”

“How old are you?” Rachel asked.

“Nineteen.”

“No wonder you like me, because we’re both so old,” Rachel said, smiling at him.

“What made you decide to go to college now?”

“I wasn’t ready before,” she said.

“My father would really have given you up,” he said and laughed.

“Well, in between I got married,” Rachel said.

“Are you still married?”

“Sure.”

“How does your husband feel about this?”

“He’s very supportive.”

“Doesn’t feel threatened?”

“No. Which is quite mature of him. He’s very sure of himself. He doesn’t have to prove himself at my expense.”

“Yeah,” Andy said thoughtfully. “You know, things aren’t that much different with kids my age. A lot of the guys feel threatened by the girls, even though they won’t admit it. A lot of them are really male chauvinists even if they’re eighteen years old. It’s the way they were brought up. I’m not. But it’s funny, they don’t think of girls as people at all. Their fathers never treated their mothers as people, so they just accepted that as the way things were. A lot of kids are from much more protective environments than they realize—or if they realize it, they won’t admit it.”

“What do you think you’ll major in?” Rachel asked.

“Maybe psych. How about you?”

“Well, I was going to try banking, but psych is really my favorite course. I think I might major in psych.”

“And then what? Graduate school?”

“I hadn’t thought about that yet,” Rachel said.

“But if you don’t go to grad school you’ll never get a decent job,” he said. “Even if you want to be a social worker …”

We’re sitting here discussing my future as if I was a kid like him, Rachel thought, amused and flattered. He doesn’t think I’m somebody’s mother dabbling in education. He really knows that I care. It never occurred to him that I could go right on being my husband’s wife and social director.

“I thought I might take an education course and teach little kids,” Rachel said. “I’d like to make them care more about learning than I did when I was young.”

“Do you like kids?”

“I never really thought about it.”

“Well,” Andy said, “you’d better like them if you’re going to teach them.”

“You’re right.”

“Do you have kids?” he asked.

“No.”

“Other people’s kids aren’t the same anyway,” he said. “You don’t feel guilty about their problems and you don’t get so mad at them.”

“I bet I would get mad at them,” Rachel said.

“That’s normal.”

“You know, Andy, you’re very smart and mature for your age.”

“Come on,” he said, annoyed. “I don’t talk about your age, so don’t make fun of mine.”

“I wasn’t making fun of it. I’d adore to be nineteen.”

“So you could do it all over again better. My father says that.”

“Okay,” she said, “you got your revenge.” They both laughed.

“Listen,” he said, “they’re having a revival of
Freaks
at the Village Cinema. Did you ever see it?”

“No.”

“Neither did I. But it’s something we ought to see if we’re interested in psychology. Do you want to go with me later?”

“I have two more classes,” Rachel said.

“I meant after classes.”

“I have to go home then.”

“Oh.”

She realized she had hurt him. He seemed so casual and she felt so totally outside of his world that she had forgotten he really did seem to have a crush on her. “I have a better idea,” she said. “My husband and I are giving a party Friday night at our apartment. Why don’t you come?”

“Do I have to wear a suit?”

“No. Just not jeans.”

“Okay. I’d like to come. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“A date if you’d like to. Not if you don’t feel like it.”

“Do you
want
me to bring a date?”

“Only if you want to. It really doesn’t matter. Not all my friends are as ancient as I am. I think you’ll have a good time.”

“I’ll think about the date,” he said. “Actually, what I meant was, did you want me to bring some wine or anything?”

I hope he doesn’t faint when he sees the apartment, Rachel thought. A bottle of sangría in a paper bag in his hand, and the maid takes his coat. “No, thanks anyway,” she said. “That was sweet of you to offer. But just bring yourself.”

He looked delighted. He wrote down her last name and her address in his notebook. “What time?”

“Eight. And there’ll be food.”

“Oh, good, I love a free meal!”

She looked at her watch. “I have another class.”

“I’ll walk you.”

They strolled out of the park and toward the building where Rachel had her next class. Andy reminded her of the little boy who had carried her books in the sixth grade who had been red-haired too. Actually, he hadn’t carried her books, he had punched her on the ear, but she had known then that he had a crush on her. Even at that age she had attracted funny little boys.

The enormous size of the student body had made it easy for him to follow Rachel ever since school began. No one paid attention to his obvious difference in age; they thought he was a professor or possibly a part-time student. He lost himself in the crowds and let them sweep him along, keeping her always in sight. He noticed that she came out of one class with the same red-haired boy every time, and he saw them go to Washington Square Park. When he saw them sit down on a bench, side by side, engrossed in conversation, his insides lurched and he felt nauseated. A wave of hatred toward this boy came over him, and then transferred itself toward her. Of course the boy liked her, who would not adore her? But why was she leading him on? He knew what the boy wanted. They all wanted that. But did she want it? Here downtown, away from everyone who knew her, far from her recognized and exemplary life, was she indeed someone else? Why would she waste her time on that young hippie if she didn’t want to rut like all the other bitches? His goddess, dressed in those hideous teen-aged clothes—faded jeans, Snoopy sweatshirt—sitting next to a filthy boy who reeked of sauerkraut, her length of leg touching his, her soft mouth smiling at him. He closed and opened his hands and wanted to choke her.

As soon as he imagined her dead his eyes filled with tears. He couldn’t kill her, he loved her. But he wanted to tear her away from that hairy-faced boy and restore her to her rightful place. It wasn’t right for her to be here with these people. She didn’t belong here. She was giving away pieces of herself to people who didn’t deserve her, demeaning herself. She had to be punished. He didn’t know yet how he would punish her, but he would think of a way.

Nikki knew she would have to confide in someone. The strain of juggling her husband and her lover was more than she could handle without being able to talk to somebody about it and be reassured that she wasn’t losing her mind. She had resolved never to tell anyone, because she had always rather looked down on women who had to boast of their sexual conquests, but this was more than just a conquest; it was a real problem of how to hold her life together. Robert had his key to her apartment now, and had gotten into the habit of coming in twice a week and sleeping over. He always referred to it as “our” apartment, although he never offered to share the rent. She wouldn’t have let him take it over even if he’d wanted to. This apartment was her safety. Robert was really trying to be different, but if he had control of the apartment she would have no refuge that was truly her own, and then he could behave any way he wanted to. They were both aware of this. He felt the apartment was her weapon, and Nikki was not sure he wasn’t partly right. If having a place to hide was a weapon, then it was.

When she knew Robert was not coming into New York she spent the night with John at his apartment. She would meet him there at seven thirty carrying a change of clothes in her tote bag for the next day at the office. She left a few toilet articles and other things at his place. She didn’t want to leave too much. She didn’t want to belong to him any more than she did to Robert. She wanted to belong only to herself. John seemed to understand that much better than Robert did, but he was her lover, not her husband, and so it was easier for him to understand.

She really did want to make her marriage work. That was why she stayed at John’s apartment when Robert was in the country, just in case Robert decided to surprise her by driving in and using his key. She would make sure that Robert never knew anything about John. He would leave her if he knew, whether he wanted to leave her or not, because that was the way he was.

She decided she would tell Rachel. Of all her friends Rachel was not the wisest, but she was the most discreet. Besides, Rachel had had more of a past than Nikki ever had, so perhaps she knew and understood more about the feelings Nikki couldn’t figure out in herself. They made a date for lunch on a day when Rachel had no classes after twelve.

Nikki arrived at the restaurant first and was having a drink when Rachel came in. Rachel looked radiant. She was wearing wool slacks, a cashmere sweater, and a suede coat. Her face glowed with happiness. Nikki glanced at herself in the mirror beside the banquette where they were seated and thought she looked pinched and tired. What good was sex and love if they made you look like that?

“You look so marvelous I think I’m going to enroll in college,” Nikki said.

Rachel smiled. “I just love it. I’m so glad to see you! How are you, are you all right?”

“Have a drink first,” Nikki said. “Then we’ll talk.”

“Perrier, please,” Rachel told the waiter. “With ice and lime. I have to study this afternoon,” she said to Nikki. “Each one of my professors thinks his class is the only one anybody takes.”

“Robert has started staying over in my apartment,” Nikki said.

“Well, that’s wonderful! I knew he’d come around. Did he say it was beautiful?”

“Yes. He’s trying hard to be nice.”

“But you seem worried.”

“Do I look awful?” Nikki asked.

“No, you don’t look awful. You just look as if you’ve been under a strain. Nobody would notice it who didn’t know you as well as I do.”

“I’m going to tell you something in the strictest confidence.”

“Of course,” Rachel said.

“I’m having an affair with John Griffin. Robert doesn’t know.”

Rachel beamed. “That’s fantastic! I’ve always had a crush on John Griffin, he’s my favorite actor. You ought to be happy. He can have any woman in the world and he picked you. Is he nice?”

“Yes, he’s nice.”

“Is he good? Oh, I shouldn’t ask that, I take it back.”

Nikki thought it was interesting that Rachel didn’t ask her if she was in love with him or he with her. Obviously Rachel was wiser than she appeared. Ellen would have assumed wild love, and Margot would at least have asked. “Yes, he’s good,” she said.

“It’s difficult for you, isn’t it,” Rachel said sympathetically. “Some women thrive on affairs, but not you. I couldn’t handle it, I know.”

“It’s not the juggling that’s hard,” Nikki said. “I’ve always been very efficient and calm. It’s not even the guilt. I faced the guilt when I decided to keep on with John even though Robert had come back. What’s so difficult is … I want it to work with Robert, I really do, but I have this feeling that what’s making it work is … well, John. I mean, he’s a crutch for me in a way. He makes me feel sure of myself. And Robert senses that security and it makes him afraid he’ll lose me. So he tries to be nicer.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. It will all take care of itself eventually.”

“That’s what’s making you so exhausted,” Rachel said thoughtfully.

“What is?”

“Letting ‘it’ take care of itself. You’re not the kind of person who can let other people run your life for you, Nikki. Maybe once you were, but not now. You have to feel in control of your life. We all do.”