by Sally Quinn
“But tonight,” she said, “we’re going to do strictly love songs for lovers. And I’d just like to remind everybody, as I’m sure Dr. Michael Lanzer would tell you, that abstention is the most effective form of safe sex.”
She laughed and everyone else in the room tittered and glanced at one another, not knowing quite what to make of their new First Lady.
There wasn’t a person in the room who wasn’t impressed. Blanche was a marvelous singer, had great presence, and she and “the boys,” as she called them, had done several moving songs together. It was unlike any White House dinner ever given and people felt quite excited to have been included. Despite Blanche’s outrageous appearance and her questionable remark about safe sex, Sadie felt the evening had been a relative success.
After the singing, Sadie stood up, indicating to the rest of the guests that they could do so as well.
Butlers came around with trays of liqueurs, orange juice, and water, and everyone seemed eager to stay on rather than disappear the way people normally do at a Washington dinner party the minute dinner is over.
Sadie noticed that Foxy was bringing Allison over to meet Antonia, who was in deep conversation with Michael and hadn’t yet stood up. Allison had that killer look in her eye, and Sadie chuckled to herself with satisfaction.
Sadie moved to Dr. Horowitz and began a conversation with her, half-turned so she could overhear what the others were saying.
“Antonia,” said Foxy, placing a proprietary hand on her shoulder. “I want you to meet someone.”
Antonia looked slightly annoyed as she turned to greet Allison.
“This little gal is the only person I’ve met who could be a match for you, Antonia.”
Antonia put out her hand, dismissing Foxy’s clumsy introduction.
“I am Antonia Alvarez of the Colombian embassy,” she said.
“Allison Sterling.”
“Ah yes. You recently got married? Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Allison was looking Antonia over carefully. “You’re a friend of the Foreign Minister, Mendez?”
“Boy, you two girls sure have done some intelligence work on each other. Who needs a CIA or a secret police? Didn’t I tell ya?”
Foxy, too, was drunk.
Michael stood now and introduced himself to Allison.
“Dr. Lanzer,” said Allison. “I’m national editor at the Daily. One of our new reporters has been assigned to the medical beat. She’s going to be calling on you shortly. You’ve been so helpful to everyone it’s really refreshing. You’re one of the few people who has a reputation for actually answering the phone.”
Michael beamed as Sadie watched.
“Would you ever consider having lunch with me? I’d love to come out and see NIH and talk to you, learn something about the place. I never covered it as a reporter and I’m trying, as an editor, to get out and see what it is the reporters are doing. I sometimes feel very isolated in my job.”
“I’d love to show you around.”
Sadie wondered if Dr. Horowitz knew that she hadn’t heard a word being said to her. All she could think about was that she had lost Des to Allison. She couldn’t bear to lose Michael, too, even if he wasn’t hers to lose.
“Well, you just broke my heart,” said Foxy. “I thought when you asked me for lunch it was because you thought I was irresistible. And now, right before my very eyes, you go and jilt me with this… this doctor.”
Allison was obviously having a hard time being civil to Foxy, but she was a journalist and she made a joke out of it.
“Well, just to show you I’m not discriminating, I’ll ask Antonia to lunch, too. Would that make you feel better?”
“Oh, you go both ways, do you?”
Michael stiffened. He seemed stunned that a cabinet officer could act this way at the White House.
“Foxy, please!” Even Antonia was provoked. It was clear she had no use for Foxy except for political reasons. She had been careful to humor him up to this point.
“Certainly for lunch,” laughed Allison. Sadie was impressed at how well she was handling the situation.
“I’ll call you next week, Antonia. I think you may be in dire need of advice on how to protect yourself in Washington.”
Antonia burst out laughing.
“And I’m not talking about the drug wars either,” continued Allison innocently.
Antonia’s laugh subsided rather too quickly.
“What’s going on over here?” asked Blanche as she walked over to the group.
“I’m afraid Foxy’s been misbehaving terribly,” said Sadie with an indulgent smile.
“Not Foxy,” said Blanche, “that ole devil, I can’t believe it.”
“I just don’t think he’s housebroken yet,” said Sadie, shooting Foxy a warning look. “Perhaps you should consider sending him to training school.”
Everyone laughed, leaving Foxy no choice but to join in.
“Well, darlin’, we got plenty of newspapers in the family sitting room,” said Blanche. “Maybe that’s where we ought to keep you the next time we have a party.”
“Whooooeeeeeee,” said Foxy. “These Washington gals are too much for me. I’m going back to Nashville.”
He turned to Blanche.
“Where are the boys? I think I’m going over to talk to them.”
“Y’all givin’ poor Foxy a bad time over here?” asked the President, walking over to the group.
“Not as bad as he deserves, from what I can see,” said Blanche.
“Well, don’t underestimate him,” said Freddy. “He ain’t called Foxy for nothing.”
“We’ll see,” said Allison with a mischievous smile.
Freddy didn’t smile back.
“I think it’s time to leave,” said Sadie, and then under her breath to Freddy, “before the fox gets treed by the hounds.”
* * *
“Lunch?”
“Yes. Lunch. You don’t have to make it sound like an indecent offer, Michael. I’m inviting you to have lunch with me. Just lunch.”
“I already told you I don’t do lunch.”
“God, you’re a pain,” said Sadie.
He burst out laughing, clearly enjoying their now established repartee.
“What do you think I’m running out here, a health spa? I’m working fourteen or fifteen hours a day trying to save people’s lives and I’m supposed to drop everything and come into town to spend three hours with you for lunch, probably lose a couple of patients while I’m at it? No problem.”
“This is a working meeting. I have an agenda.”
“I’ll bet.”
“How about next Wednesday at noon? My house.”
“You really think I’m just going to—”
“See you then, bye,” she said in a lilting voice as she hung up.
* * *
She was even more nervous this time.
This would be the first time she would be seeing him alone since La Samanna. She missed their long talks on the beach.
Since they had been back she had felt estranged. Being with him only in public hadn’t helped; but she needed to see how he fit into her world. They both had to know what they were dealing with.
In her bereaved state she didn’t trust her judgment. And no matter how hard she tried to talk herself out of him, it didn’t work.
The phone would ring and his voice would bring her to her knees. She would see him, and his eyes would burn a hole right through her.
To make it even more difficult, he had been wonderful at the White House, witty, intelligent, and charming. She was so proud of him. She had to keep reminding herself that he wasn’t hers.
Now he was coming to lunch at her house. She had an uneasy feeling that she could lose him this time if she didn’t do it right. What was right with him, though? She just didn’t know. He defied all the rules.
He stood there with a smile in the raw March mist. He looked so young and boyish that she longed to take his head in
her hands and kiss him on the forehead.
“Aren’t you going to ask me in? Or is there a separate entrance for Jews?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Michael,” she said, laughing. “You really are awful.”
He walked into the entrance hall of the house with its old wood-plank floors and soft oriental rugs, antique chests and grandfather clocks, porcelain lamps and crystal chandeliers.
“Is this a house or an apartment building? I’ve never been in anybody’s house that was this big except the White House.”
She knew he was trying to bait her and she ignored his remark, leading him into the sunny yellow library filled with books. She motioned him to an armchair next to the fire and then walked to the bar.
“I’m having a Virgin Mary, how about you?”
He didn’t answer right away and she was pleasantly aware that he was distracted by her well-fitting white wool pants and cashmere sweater.
“Uh, fine,” he said.
She handed him the drink, then sat in the chair opposite him, curling her feet up under her.
“I’m happy to see you,” she said. “I’ve missed you.”
He smiled but said nothing, looking down at his drink.
She took a chance.
“Haven’t you missed me?” She was partly playful, partly serious.
“Yes, actually.”
He looked directly at her this time and there was no mistaking how he felt.
“Oh Michael, I—”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Grey,” Monica interrupted, sticking her head in the room. “Willie and I are off to play group. Would you like a hug?”
“Of course.”
Even though Michael had been at La Samanna, he had never met Willie, and she wanted him to know her youngest child. She wanted him to know anything that would establish more intimacy.
Willie came toddling in on sturdy legs, a bundle of energy and movement. He had Des’s swagger already.
“Hey, Willie,” said Michael, picking him up, and holding him in the air like an airplane. “Where did you get all that curly black hair?”
Willie giggled and Michael looked over at Sadie. Her face was drained. He took one more look at Willie, then quickly put him down.
She gave Willie an extra-strong hug and handed him to Monica.
“Y’all have a good time. I’ll see you back here around four?”
“Righto,” said Monica.
“You must be hungry,” Sadie said to Michael. “I’ll see about lunch.”
When she returned she led him back to the informal dining room off the kitchen, a cozy wood-paneled room with a large fireplace and an old English table and chairs. Two places were set, with two bowls of steaming hot soup. On the sideboard was a salad, sandwiches, fruit, and brownies.
“Everything’s fine, Asuncion,” said Sadie to the invisible housekeeper in the kitchen. “I won’t be needing you until around five. Would you mind answering the phone while we have our meeting?”
They sat down in silence, took their napkins rather formally into their laps, and picked up their spoons.
Michael took a sip of his soup.
“What is this?” he asked her.
“Crab bisque. Don’t you like it?”
“It’s trayf.”
“What?”
“Food that’s not kosher.”
“Oh, dear. Michael, I’m sorry. I had no intention of offending you.” She was genuinely upset. She got up and started to remove his soup dish.
He put his hand on her wrist and held it.
“Sit down.”
“But if you can’t eat it…”
He burst out laughing.
“I’ll eat it. I’ll eat it.”
They finished their soup. She couldn’t wait to clear the offending soup bowls. He got up this time to help.
She grabbed his wrist and held it.
“Sit down.”
They looked at each other and smiled.
“You’re so domestic,” he said.
When she came back she tossed the salad and placed the sandwiches in front of him.
He took a bite.
“What is this?”
“It’s a Croque Monsieur, a French grilled ham and chee… oh God.” She started to giggle. “Pork.”
“Not just pork. This is the ultimate trayf. Meat and dairy together.”
“Well,” she said, defensively, “I have lots of Jewish friends who eat ham and bacon…. Oh the hell with it.”
“Relax. Can’t you see I’m just teasing you?”
“Yes, but…—”
“There’s no reason for you to know this stuff,” he said. “Besides, the thinking is, if we can maintain self-control in our diets, then it will help us to control ourselves when we face other temptations.”
“I guess you’ll have to be content with salad and fruit,” she said mischievously.
“Who said I had any self-control?” He grinned, taking a large bite of his sandwich.
“I talked to Blanche about the President being tested for HIV.”
“And?”
“And she thinks it’s brilliant.”
“So?”
“Freddy is reluctant.”
“I have to admit he didn’t seem all that pleased when I suggested it the other evening.”
“You know, Freddy has had a rather checkered past. There were lots of women between the time he got divorced and married Blanche. I mean lots. And some of them were not exactly the kind you’d want to take home to Mother. Party girls, I think is the description. Freddy and Foxy were what you might call tail hounds in the old days. So I think he’s just scared.”
“Will he do it anyway?”
“I don’t see how he can avoid it. You suggested it in front of a table full of people. If he doesn’t do it, it will be headlines all over the country, thanks to Des or Allison. Blanche is already furious at him for not agreeing immediately. She’s now threatening to cut him off if he doesn’t get tested. She says if he doesn’t he must think he might have it, and if he does, she’s going to be hog-tied if she’ll sleep with him and risk her life.”
Michael laughed.
“Poor guy. I didn’t really mean for this to happen.”
“What would you do?”
He didn’t see where she was headed.
“If I were Freddy? I’d have the test.”
“And if it’s positive?”
“I’d do the test again.”
“Would you do it again if you tested negative?”
“No.”
“Why not? You said yourself the tests are inconclusive. Surely if they test false positive they could test false negative.”
“Yes.”
“Do you do more in-depth tests on yourself twice a year or just the superficial test?”
“Just the superficial test.”
“Don’t you want to know?”
“No.”
“I thought you said there were all these great new drugs.”
“I’d rather not prolong death.”
“Aren’t you scared?”
“No. We all have to die sometime.”
“Isn’t Giselle scared?”
“She doesn’t think about it. If I’ve got AIDS then she’s got AIDS.”
It was the first time he had indicated they still slept together. The confirmation was more painful than she would have expected.
“Blanche would cut Freddy off so fast it would make your head swim. Giselle wouldn’t refuse you?”
“Never.”
“Why not? What if she doesn’t feel like it. What if there’s no passion?”
“Sex is a currency. You can spend it. Give it as a down payment. Sex is fealty. If your man is having sex with you it confirms that you are his woman, his wife. You have control.”
“That doesn’t sound too thrilling. What’s in it for him?”
“It is a sign of his obedience, his devotion, his fealty.”
“How depressing.”
“Not
really. You can use sex to get intimacy, for loneliness. It’s easy to be lonely when you’re married. Sex is only one kind of dialogue. For most women sex is more dialogue than orgasm…”
He looked at her and smiled gently.
“You should know all this better than most.”
“I didn’t expect you to resist that one. I expect our scenarios are not all that different.”
“You have dinner. Then you do the dishes…”
“While the husband reads the paper…” she said.
“Well, sometimes,” he said. “Then you do homework with the kids…”
“Who are arguing about God knows what, somebody borrowed something of someone’s…”
“Then you go upstairs to get ready for bed. He brushes his teeth…”
“She takes a bath,” said Sadie.
“He showers.”
“Where were we? Oh, yes. She puts on a nightgown.”
“He gets into his pajamas.”
“They get in bed.”
“He gets something out of his briefcase.”
“She picks up a fashion magazine.”
“The sign of wanting to have sex is prolonged reading.”
“If you don’t fall asleep,” she said.
“If you haven’t fallen asleep and if you do want to have sex you turn out your light. If your partner wants to have sex, too, then she turns out her light.”
They were both immensely pleased with their neat little pas de deux.
“Oh God, this is so exciting,” she said. “But wait,”
“What?”
“Birth control. She has to get up and do something about birth control.”
“Damn, just when it’s getting exciting,” he said.
“Okay, she’s back in bed. They’re kissing.”
“In the dark.”
“What about oral sex?” She couldn’t believe she was asking him that.
“No experimentation.”
“None?”
He was describing her sex life with Rosey completely. Here was one area where there were no cultural differences.
“Only shiksas give blow jobs,” he said with a chuckle. “That’s what the whole reformation was about. Although I’m told Jewish women do, too, now. It’s really the end of the culture.”
