She slid her feet against his warm ones, smiling as she remembered how he’d never minded her cold feet. She cupped her hands around his forearms, enjoying their muscular feel. He obviously worked out these days. She smiled again. The new and improved Richard, she thought. And apartment balcony gardening. She thought of his vibrant flower pots that she’d admired on her visit to New York last year. He’d never shown much interest in gardening other than maintaining the lawn when they had the house. She was more and more charmed by these unexpected changes in him.
“You know how the harem girls used to get into the sultan’s bed?” he asked, stroking her hair.
“I can’t imagine,” she said, pretending not to have read this scintillating detail in Roxelana’s biography.
“Well, they had to start at the foot of the bed and burrow up under the covers until they reached the sultan’s head,” he said, lightly trotting his fingers up her thigh until they reached her throat.
“Uh-huh,” she said. “And you need a harem girl to do that.”
She nestled closer to him, for once not wanting to think of anything she’d read about this place, only of being with him in this moment.
She sensed the edge of the bed behind her. “How come they gave you such a skinny bed?”
“To make sure I slept alone, I guess.”
She smiled at the lame joke.
“We can go up to your bed,” he suggested.
“Yours is cozier. Rich, remember when we were happiest?”
“Before we were married?”
“When we were first married and living in that tiny apartment and had that tiny bed. It was barely bigger than this one. We were always squeezed together. But I didn’t appreciate it enough then.”
The memory of that first cramped bedroom in the East Village was so clear that she could almost feel the cold air seeping in under the window despite their endless attempts to block it with duct tape and towels. The small bed had forced them to snuggle, and she always slept with her arm around his chest, serene in the knowledge that their whole life together lay before them.
“I thought you liked our king-size bed,” he said.
“But I was never as happy in it as in that first one. Sleeping in that tight bed and dreaming of a king-size bed made me happiest. It was pure ecstasy to anticipate the future in those days. Maybe it was not having it that was exciting.” Even as she said this, she knew it made no sense except to her.
“We can buy a small bed,” he offered.
“It’s not that. It was the looking forward to something that made it exciting.”
“Well, let’s start looking forward again, honey,” he said softly.
She sighed. “Things aren’t that simple, Rich.”
“They can be.”
He tugged at the sheet, pulling it over them like a tent. He held her close. “What do you say? I want us to buy a new bed together. I can see you waking up and putting your toes on that soft kilim.”
She imagined the silken wool beneath her bare feet. She’d always wanted a fine Oriental carpet at her bedside, but she felt a sinking feeling in her chest and shifted away from him.
“Maybe we can’t go back, Rich. Maybe it was stupid to have come here together, to give ourselves false hope.”
“Nothing’s stupid if we want to be together.”
“We have so much baggage, Rich.”
“And we’ll acquire new baggage,” he said with a laugh. “I want us to get married again, Joy.”
She didn’t respond.
He rose onto his elbow. “Well?”
That particular warmth in his eyes as he gazed at her got her every time, made her melt inside her skin. Yet she knew there would be more than just this moment. There would be misunderstandings and arguments, times when she’d want nothing more than to be beholden only to herself. We need to get real, she thought. Fantasies won’t hack it.
“We already had a marriage, Rich, a dysfunctional one. And now, for a few days, we’ve had a dysfunctional post-marital relationship. What else is there for us?”
“A functional post-post-marital relationship?”
“I’m not joking,” she said.
“I’m not either. I never stopped loving you.
“You should have thought of that before.”
“Before?”
“Before you and that—”
“Joy, why do you keep bringing it up? It’s the past. Finished.”
There it was again. The total denial of the pain he’d caused.
“I didn’t just choose to put myself through that, Rich. You were the one running around on me.”
“Joy—”
“Right?”
“Well, I’m damn sorry. I’ve regretted it more than I can say. I want to move forward, Joy. I want to make things work between us.”
She could barely hold in the torrent of past heartache and fury charging over her. “Nothing will change things.”
“Joy, won’t you try? Honey, I’ll do anything.”
His imploring plucked at her heart, but she couldn’t bring herself to respond.
Finally, he said, “What about your infatuations over the years?”
“What infatuations?”
“I managed to overlook those colleagues of yours, those so-called professors who ogled you. And not just once.”
“Those were silly, platonic fantasies. I never let them get in the way.”
“But they did get in the way. Months on end you’d be distant and unresponsive. Don’t tell me some of those guys didn’t want to jump into your pants. I had my share of suffering, too, Joy.” He took a sharp breath. “I had an affair. But it’s over and done with. Forgotten.”
“Forgotten?” Her voice carved the air in disgust.
“Yes. Forgotten.” He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “You always saw yourself as the one bored with our marriage. It felt like you even blamed me for Stephen’s death.”
“I never did that,” she snapped.
“Well, it seemed like you did. I couldn’t do anything to help you or ease your pain. I could never be what you wanted, whatever that was. Then, when I drifted, you were unforgiving. You never seemed to understand why it might have happened in the first place.”
“Drifted? You think you can just push your little fling into the corner and bury it like a bone? What you did was heartless.”
He was silent. Then, looking genuinely remorseful, he said, “It was.”
His admission only increased her anger. “You totally forgot about me.”
“I never forgot about you, Joy. Ever.”
“Sure.”
He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “All that testing we did so you could get pregnant. I felt like I’d lost something. You wanted a baby, and that was it. I wasn’t enough anymore. I was never going to be enough after that.”
She drew in her breath. “Oh, God, Rich! Don’t you think I had enough on my mind without having to also prove my love for you all the time? Couldn’t you let me grieve for my baby? Couldn’t you give me space to withdraw until I was ready to be myself again?”
Despite her words, she knew that what he said was at least partly true. She’d been devastated by the awful loss of Stephen, and then she’d been consumed by her desire for another child. She’d been yanked into the riptide of her own sorrow and emptiness for some time. Maybe until it was too late.
They were both silent for a while, pain a stubborn boulder between them.
“It wasn’t any good, Joy,” he said softly. “You were too far away. I couldn’t reach you. Losing Stephen was unbearable for me. I suffered, too. Maybe I suffered differently, but I suffered as much as you did.”
His voice cracked as he moved slightly away. They always called Stephen by his name, as if they’d known him, as if he’d been a full-term child and an active part of their lives.
“At the time I felt another woman would . . . I didn’t know how else to save myself. It may sound stupid, but I ne
eded to be loved. God, I know I hurt you, Joy. I hate myself for it. But you’ve punished me enough.”
She turned away. “Go to hell.”
After a few moments, he said, “At least I didn’t give up on us.”
“Now you’re saying it was my fault?” she said. “Your heart was sucked in by some bimbo you barely knew. No wonder you seemed to recover from it all far sooner than I did. What a convenient little escapade.”
She wiped her eyes now, but it was too late even for tears. Nothing would bring their Stephen back, nor their life before. Nothing. She knew Richard was sorry, but all she could hold on to was the past. No matter what he said, it was too late. She could never be the way she was then, vulnerable and trusting.
She inched away from him. “I just wanted my baby back.”
He reached out and touched her shoulder. “Me too, honey. I wanted him back, too. And I want you back, Joy. I want you. We can’t have him back, but we’re still here. We can have each other.”
She sighed deeply. “I can’t just forget. I don’t know how to.”
He was silent for a while, then squeezed her shoulder lightly. “I hope you’ll try, Joy.”
She lay still, wanting to say something but finding no words. This was all so confusing. She had grown used to not trusting him. Now, he was asking her to put herself in his hands again.
“I never stopped loving you, Joy. Please—come home.”
The gulp in his voice as he said this let her know he meant it. But was she ready to make a change, ready to make a fresh start with him?
She glanced to where the robe he had bought her was draped over a chair. A few years ago, he might not have thought to get her something so extravagant just because she’d admired it. She imagined herself wearing it with nothing underneath, imagined him undoing those infinite buttons and making love to her all over again as if she were Roxelana. Not the helpless slave girl, but the all-powerful consort in charge of her life, her love.
She was about to tell him that maybe they could give their relationship another shot when he said, “First, I have something to tell you. It won’t be easy for you, but I need you to hear me out.”
Surprised, she turned to him.
She was suddenly springing from the bed, grabbing the sheet, and pulling it around her. Her insides turned to ice.
“A child?”
He sat up as if stunned himself by what he’d just said.
“From her?”
He slowly nodded.
She stared at him, trying to find the words in her mouth. “Where are they?”
“In North Africa. Tunisia.”
“How . . . how do you even know it’s yours?”
He lowered his head. “She says I was the only one, then.”
She stiffened at the resolve in his voice that the woman’s claims were true. “And you believe her? Just like that?”
“She’s not the kind to lie about that stuff.”
She glared at him. “When did you find out?”
“A month ago.”
“A month ago?” she said incredulous. “You mean you weren’t aware of it all this time?”
“No.”
“What does she want? Is she blackmailing you?”
He took a deep breath. “She’s dying.”
“Liar,” she said.
He shook his head and said softly, “She has cancer.”
She wondered whether she’d heard him correctly.
“Joy,” he said, “she wants us to have the child.”
“Us?” She stared at him.
“She thinks we’re still married. She wants us to raise the girl. Her—my daughter.”
The words slashed her: my daughter.
“She wants a mother for her—”
“No!” Joy vigorously shook her head as if to fling his words right back at him. “You did what you did. None of this concerns me.”
“Joy—”
“How dare you even—you’re on your own, Richard.”
She made a move toward the door despite still being naked underneath the sheet.
He reached out as if to touch her, but his hand halted mid-air. “Don’t go, Joy. Please.”
She pulled back farther. “Don’t expect me to get involved in this.”
She needed to escape the acute shock in her gut, to get out of there, to go anywhere, but he looked so pathetic that she simply stood where she was.
“Joy. I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry,” he said. “God, I’m so sorry.”
She stared at the ceiling, her eyes starting to well up. “I just don’t know what I ever did to deserve this.”
“You don’t deserve any of it. It’s my problem. I don’t know where else to turn. All I can think of is you and our life together and how I want it to be that same way again.”
“The same? Nothing will ever be the same again,” she said. “First, you tell me it’s all over and forgotten, and now you tell me this. It’s never going to be forgotten, Rich. Never!”
He exhaled. “All I can do now is move forward, Joy, and do what’s right.”
“Do what’s right for whom? For you? This certainly isn’t what’s right for me!”
She grabbed her underwear and slacks from the floor and yanked them on, then slipped on her blouse that an hour ago she’d been only too ecstatic to have him remove. Fool! She felt utterly betrayed. What a fool she’d been! She needed to get back to her own room to burst into tears, explode, anything to rid her of this nightmare.
Richard’s hand moved to touch her.
“Don’t!” She pulled her arm away, trying to quell her sudden dizziness.
Had his romantic talk these past several days, his lovemaking moments ago, been all a charade? Those feelings he’d so deftly been planting in her since they got here, convincing her that love could sprout anew, had it merely been part of a scheme to draw her into his predicament?
Well, this changed everything. All that she’d created in her mind about a new life with him was now totally wiped away.
“This shit was supposed to be out of my life for good,” she said, bitterly. “Now this. To haunt me forever.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, bringing his hands to his face.
After a few minutes, she managed to gain control of herself and cleared her throat. “How long?”
“How long?” he echoed.
“How long does she have?”
“I don’t know.”
Instead of jealousy or a chafing at how pained Richard must be by this news, she felt nothing. Just an indifferent emptiness.
“Why the hell does she want me in this child’s life?”
“I told her about you, how motherhood meant a lot to you. Maybe she thinks you’d be the best one to take care—”
She felt a renewed seething. “How dare you discuss intimate details of our life with that woman?”
He was silent.
“You’re really something, Rich. Is nothing sacred to you?”
He stared at the floor.
“She doesn’t know we’re divorced?”
“No,” he said.
“Well, at least you kept that to yourself.”
He stood. “I know that, to her, now, you’re even more important than I am.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the damn father. You don’t need me. Just go to Africa and meet your damn daughter.”
He nodded absently, as if trying to convince himself. “Joy, I can’t do it without you. I just don’t know what to do with a little girl. I’ve never seen her and know nothing about her. I can’t do this alone. I can’t.”
She turned away from him and buttoned her blouse. What she really wanted was to shred the air to bits, to destroy all that she’d just heard.
“Life is fucking complicated,” he said softly.
She glanced at him. “You’re fucking right about that,” she said. “It fucking sure is.”
In the dark, she heard his breathing. His arm moved next to her, but she didn�
�t react. When his hand rested on her waist, she wanted to fling it away, but her energy was gone and she had neither the urge nor the will to remove it.
“How on earth do you expect us to go on together after this?” was all she said.
A part of her knew she should walk out of this room right now before being sucked into a vortex of untold complications, that she should go back to her factual, quantifiable life in Virginia, back to her girls and their teenage struggles to find themselves. Oh, God, how benign their adolescent dramas seemed in light of what Richard had just dumped on her.
She didn’t move to escape his touch, though, didn’t do anything to get away from him. As livid as she was, she found no ability to express it.
Instead, she sat down beside him. For the first time tonight, she actually felt sorry for him.
They lay silent next to each other for what seemed like hours, but she knew it was perhaps only twenty minutes. She stared at the ceiling, barely feeling the pillow beneath her head. Richard had fallen asleep beside her. She wasn’t sure whether the fact that he could sleep in the face of what he’d just revealed troubled her or gave her hope. If he could sleep after such a confession, maybe it wasn’t all so bleak.
How had he put it? “I didn’t know how else to save myself.” Is that what had driven him into that woman’s arms? The need to save himself from a grief that she’d had to endure just as much? He had to do it to survive? Each had a strategy to keep going. He claimed he needed to be loved. Well, she’d needed love, too, but she knew deep down that she hadn’t been receptive to his love at that point. She still didn’t understand what exactly had caused her to lose her feelings for him, but she couldn’t deny her coldness at the time.
She breathed in and exhaled, trying to flush out all she’d just been told. If she just kept breathing, she thought, she might lull herself to sleep, or at least into a stupor in which she would feel nothing. She’d be able to survive, just one breath after another.
She closed her eyes, continuing to breathe in and out until she felt weightless as she listened to Richard’s steady snoring. She was envious that he could fall asleep so easily. She tried to match the rhythm of his breath to maybe achieve the same result, and with each breath she tried to imagine herself slowly lifting off, floating above her body and beyond the bed. She opened her eyes and stared at the robe on the chair again, glanced toward the window where a light from the street flickered off the yellow crystals of the lampshade. The crystals looked like tiny stars, each with its own mysterious galaxy, each beckoning to her.
A Marriage in Four Seasons Page 18
