The View Was Exhausting

by Mikaella Clements

  “Has she,” Leo said, and added, “This is Whitman. Whitman, Thea—”

  “Whitman,” Thea said, and pushed Leo aside to throw her arms around Win instead. Win grinned at Leo over Thea’s shoulder. “I can’t say how wonderful it is to see you at last. You’re even more beautiful than your photos. And so tall.”

  “It’s nice to finally meet you,” Win said. Thea stepped back to beam at her, catching Win’s hands in hers and pulling them up against her heart. “I’ve heard so much about you, I felt like I was missing out.”

  “You’re a very sweet girl,” Thea said. “I don’t know what you’re doing riding around with our darling brat.”

  “I think my mum feels the same way about him,” Win said.

  Leo preened. “I won Pritha over.”

  “Of course you did,” Thea said, brisk. “Right. Come in, both of you, we’ve had such trouble with those nasty little men lately.”

  “Paparazzi?” Win said.

  Thea nodded. “One of them climbed into a tree trying to get photos of my studio. Probably trying to scoop my next exhibition.”

  “Awful,” Win said, failing to contain another grin, but Thea just smiled back at her.

  “Well, it was fine. Gabrysia howled at him and he fell into the river. Can’t imagine that did his fancy camera any good. Come on, come on,” she added, as though she weren’t half blocking the doorway herself. “Gabrysia is just beside herself—can’t wait to see the both of you—”

  “She’s in the—”

  “Living room, of course, of course, darling,” Thea said. “In you go. Whitman! Would you like a tour? Let me—”

  “She should meet Mum first,” Leo said.

  “Well, stop dawdling in the hall, then,” Thea said, and flapped her free hand at Leo, still clutching Win with the other.

  The living room was chaos, as usual. Discarded shirts and shawls hung off the back of every chair, and a pile of Edwardian slips was draped lovingly over a green velvet ottoman. There were ferns on the bookshelves trailing down heavy artist portfolios and midcentury detective novels, and sketch paper lay scattered around an empty armchair, Gabrysia’s half-drawn profile winking up in charcoal next to teetering piles of fashion magazines weighed down with empty jars of La Mer. The floor-to-ceiling liquor cabinet was jammed full of heavy bottles of imported spirits, but also gilt perfume bottles, a decanter of turpentine, and an ominous unlabeled flask of black liquid sealed with a cork. A twelve-inch shark jaw lay apparently forgotten on the coffee table. Through the bay windows the lights glittered on the river, and the water lapped gently against the hull, like a farmyard dog come to sleep on the stoop.

  Deep in the corner’s shaded lamplight was the large wicker rocking chair that Gum, age six, had brought home from his first trip to Portobello Market, and in the chair gazing out over the inky water was Leo’s mother. She was wearing a black transparent gown over a slip, her gaze absent, her face peaceful, long legs draped over the coffee table and crossed at the ankle.

  “Hi, Mum,” Leo said, coming over to her.

  “Leo,” Gabrysia said, and uncurled from her chair, putting her arms around him. They were exactly the same height. Leo thumbed the streak of gray in her hair. She held him back by the shoulders and looked him up and down. “How are you?”

  “Good!” Leo said. “Really good.”

  “Hmm,” Gabrysia said.

  “No, really.” Leo gave her his best smile.

  “Well.” She reached for her glass of wine, balanced on a stack of old invitations. “It’s good to see you. Did you pussy out of bringing the girl?”

  “Thea’s got hold of her.”

  “Thea!” Gabrysia called. “Where are you?”

  There was a minor exclamation in the next room, and Thea and Win appeared. Thea still had hold of Win’s hands, and Win looked around the room and its explosive contents and didn’t even blink.

  “Darling,” Thea said, “Whitman was just telling me about her latest film, it sounds absolutely wonderful—we must go see it—have you met Whitman yet?”

  “I am not sure how you would expect me to,” Gabrysia said, coming forward, “given you’ve been with her every moment they’ve been here.” She took Win’s hand. They watched each other for a beat. Leo stuck his hands in his pockets and slouched, feeling oddly on show though nobody was looking at him. Gabrysia said, “It’s lovely to meet you at last, Whitman.”

  “You, too,” Win said. They kissed each other’s cheeks.

  “Right,” Leo said. “What are we drinking?”

  Wine from Thea’s ex-girlfriend’s vineyard, it turned out, which was very good. They crowded around the dining table, long and worn and brought from Thea’s childhood home in France. Thea calmed down once she’d caught her breath, and Win relaxed halfway through her first glass of wine. Leo was feeling pretty pleased with himself.

  “Is your mother doing better?” Gabrysia asked. “I was sorry to hear she was unwell.”

  “Yes. She’s finished her chemo and the first scans have been clear. It’s just...” Win made a useless gesture.

  “It’s much more likely to come back again, isn’t it,” Gabrysia said. “Once you’ve already had it.”

  “Yes. Yes.” Win let out a breath. “She’s had a double mastectomy now, so.” Leo startled, because Win hadn’t told him that; it must have been before he arrived. “They weren’t sure this time if it was a recurrence or a new cancer, and the chemo was for safety. Hopefully it will have…Anyway. The doctors are optimistic. I’m holding on to that.”

  “She sounds like a brave woman,” Thea said.

  “She’s a champ,” Leo said.

  “Leo just likes her because she frightens him,” Win said, and both his mums laughed.

  “Hey, we’ve bonded now,” Leo said. “We’re roommates. I’ve spent a month fixing her TV.”

  “I didn’t know you knew how to do that, darling,” Thea said.

  “Well,” Leo said, resisting the urge to flex his bicep. “I figured it out.”

  “What have you two been up to?” Thea said. “The tabloids have been full of it, I suppose, but you know we don’t touch those things.”

  “Not officially,” Gabrysia said, sotto voce, and winked.

  “We’ve just been—you know, keeping busy,” Win said. She gave Leo an anxious look. She wasn’t used to discussing their agreement openly with anyone but him, Shift, and Marie.

  Leo said, “Win fixed my hair. And we went for a swim.” Neither of his mums looked particularly impressed; Thea swam all year round. Leo glanced at Win and said, as he lifted his glass to his mouth, “You know, the press were giving Win and her mum a hard time, and if I drop round and pretend there’s some big love story going on...”

  Win let out a breath, relieved. “It’s strange, I know,” she said, “but—”

  “It makes perfect sense to me,” Gabrysia said. “I think I was planning to try it at some point, only then...”

  “Scuppered it, didn’t I,” Thea said. “Ah well. You did just fine, I think.”

  “Hmm,” Gabrysia said, but she was smiling into her glass.

  “That’s—really nice,” Win said.

  “Don’t get them started,” Thea said, nodding at Leo and Gabrysia. “They’re romantics, the both of them, if you bring it up too much, they’ll both launch into the whole grand tale—”

  “I haven’t done that since I was fifteen,” Leo said.

  “Went down very well at his birthday party,” Thea said. “Rich boys love a lesbian love story.”

  Win started to laugh. Leo said, offended, “I think some of them were very moved. I told it pretty well. I’m a natural storyteller, Nicholle said.”

  “Which one of your dad’s wives was she?” Win said.

  “Third one,” Leo said, “the one who got done for—”

  “Oh, the embezzler,” Win said, and laughed again.

  Leo grinned at her, propping his chin on his hand. He hadn’t heard Win laugh this much in a
while. “You like that, do you? My family’s pain amuses you?”

  “It amused me,” Gabrysia said.

  “Not me,” Thea said. “That woman spent too much time with the children. I still worry it was her who set Geoffrey on the path to—well.” She stopped and sighed.

  “Gumbo is not on any path,” Gabrysia said. She curved her hand over Thea’s shoulder. “Unless you call running headfirst into trouble a path. He just wants to be loved. He had a bad week, poor little frog.”

  Leo frowned. “What happened?”

  “Forbes passed him over again,” Thea said. “He’s very disappointed. It was his last chance for the 30 Under 30, he won’t be eligible next year.”

  “Dark times,” Leo said, while Win looked torn between sympathy and amusement. “Why haven’t I heard about this?”

  “Hannah’s been handling it,” Gabrysia said. “They were on the phone for four hours yesterday.”

  “Four hours?” Win said.

  “That’s not so crazy for him,” Leo said. “Gum calls her every day for a family gossip update. So Hannah’s sorted him out?”

  “Well, I think she would have, but there’s the time difference, you know,” Thea said, looking dour. “So she went to bed and Geoffrey called up Jim Barnes at the New York Post—”

  “He did what?” Win said.

  “Oh, Gum does this all the time,” Leo told her. “He met Jim Barnes at a fundraiser years ago and decided they were best friends—”

  “Geoffrey’s very lonely, you know,” Thea added. “He takes to people—”

  “Every couple of months he rings this guy up and tells him he’s got a huge scoop, and then just rattles on about whatever he’s thinking about for a while,” Leo said. “Most of the time it’s useless, but every now and then he manages to do some real damage. Once he mentioned that Dad was selling a hotel under the table, just as an aside, and Barnes got curious and looked into it and it turned out the guy Dad was selling it to had mob ties—”

  “No,” Win breathed. “How did I not know about this?”

  “Oh, Dad managed to make it blow over,” Leo said. “It was nasty for a minute there, though, I half thought I should call you in to pull focus, but you were dating what’s-his-face.” He snapped his fingers. “The ugly one.”

  Win sighed. “Dermott.”

  Leo shook his head, unconcerned. “No, the other ugly one.”

  “Adam,” Win said. The corner of her mouth was twitching. “You were with Kristina around then, anyway.”

  “It was after we broke up,” Leo said. “That’s right, it was too soon after the Met thing. I knew Marie wasn’t going to let me near you for months.”

  “Well, you needed to learn some self-control,” Win said, something assessing in her gaze. She turned to Thea. “What did Gum say this time, then?”

  “He was very tragic about the whole thing,” Gabrysia said. Her accent was getting stronger, normally a good indication that she was annoyed. She leaned in confidingly toward Win. “Gumbo is a bit of a drama queen, I’m afraid.”

  “I have it here,” Thea said, squinting hard at her phone and tapping the screen with one pointed index finger. Her reading glasses, Leo noticed, sat jauntily on the head of a taxidermied pelican in the bookcase. “Hem hem. Well, maybe I am over the hill! But when those bright-eyed babies finally catch up with me, they’ll be singing a different tune. Life is decay. Your friends leave you, your achievements fall by the wayside, Old Father Time marches on.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Leo said.

  Win looked taken aback. “Is he okay?”

  “Oh yes, he’s quite cheerful about it now,” Thea said. “Getting the quote in the Post has rather perked him up. I think he’s considering a transition to tortured artiste. He asked me where he could buy a beret.”

  Win cracked up. Gabrysia smiled at her and said, “These moods never last long.”

  “Just long enough to ruin a night,” Leo said. Win was still laughing, rocking forward in her chair; Leo caught the back of her neck, stroked his fingers over the smooth line of her nape as she let her forehead fall against his shoulder. “You know at least some of this is about Charlie’s wedding, right? He’s obviously freaking out. What if he turns his best man speech into a eulogy for their lost youth?”

  “Oh dear,” Gabrysia said, which Leo thought was an understatement. She held her hand out for the wine, and Thea diligently emptied the bottle into her glass.

  “I didn’t realize he was so upset about it,” Win said.

  “Poor Gumbo. He’s actually very fragile,” Gabrysia said. “He struggles with change. I think this wedding will be hard for him.”

  “Leo will look after him,” Thea said.

  Gabrysia looked at Win. “As long as you don’t mind sharing.”

  “Whatever I can do to help,” Win said.

  Something startled in Leo’s chest. He’d thought this was over; he’d thought they were nearly done, Win about to split ways again. He stayed quiet, watching her, and Win turned to him.

  “You were supposed to be my date.” She shot Leo that daring look, the same one she always used right before raising a bet. “Unless you’ve got a better offer.”

  “No,” Leo said, and touched the curve of her chin. He knew that the mums were watching him, but they would know everything whether he touched Win or not. Leo felt comfortably obvious in front of them, and there was no point controlling himself. “I’ll stick with you.”

  He hadn’t had his fill of her, not in France or Sussex or all those years ago in New York. He still hadn’t had his fill. She was about to leave, and Leo was beginning to recognize the clawing tension in his body every time he looked at her for what it was. He was hungry.

  * * *

  They sat in front of their empty plates talking after dinner was done; to Leo’s dismay, his mums had produced several leather-bound photo albums. Win shuffled her chair around to pore over them, laughing at a series of Leo’s bad hairstyles and pictures of Leo and his school friends posing aggressively in front of various European landmarks, chests thrown out, chicken-legged in their tan shorts.

  “These kids all look like such jerks,” Win said.

  “That’s a Swiss boarding school for you,” Gabrysia said. “I wasn’t sure, but his father insisted…Well. Oh, look, there’s Sami.”

  Leo groaned. Sami meant they were up to the stage in the photos where Leo had worn a lot of button-up pastel shirts and boat shoes. He wished they would skip past.

  Thea looked fond. “What a nice kid. Leo had such a crush.”

  “Uh, excuse you,” Leo said. “I was in love.”

  “It was very sweet,” Gabrysia told Win. “They were best friends.”

  “Yeah,” Win said, throwing him a laughing look. “That’s Leo’s type.”

  Leo narrowed his eyes.

  “Speaking of photographs,” Thea said, and Gabrysia stood up, saying, “Oh yes. We meant to show you—Anya sent it to us.”

  Win and Leo exchanged quick glances.

  “Here,” Gabrysia said, recovering the fall issue of Ci Sarà with unnerving accuracy from under three empty wineglasses, a pashmina, and several newspaper clippings Leo hoped were about Gum, and dumping it in Win’s lap. His own face looked back at him from the cover, gaze faraway and heavy-lidded, and Win’s photographed mouth curled into something private and knowing. Leo almost didn’t want to touch it. It was another uncomfortable thing they didn’t talk about, a relic of the summer before everything fell apart.

  Win didn’t hesitate. She flipped it open to their spread with a quick, practiced turn of her wrist.

  “Oh,” Leo said, realizing something. He touched her shoulder. “You’ve looked at this before.”

  “I think I took it out a few times to deface you.”

  “A few times,” Leo said.

  Win smoothed her hand over the glossy paper. The Win in the photograph was in her lingerie gazing up at him, her expression cool, her eyes dark. He looked at it for a moment, li
ngering over the sharp lines of Win’s hips, the curve of her breasts against lace, the way the underwear cut in along the line of her thigh. When he glanced back at her, she was still watching him, and there was something satisfied about the line of her mouth, like she’d caught him. Leo looked at her lazily, let his gaze track over her the way it had the photo. “Very nice.”

  “Thank you.” Win cleared her throat and closed the magazine. Leo couldn’t tell what she was thinking. “Help me clear the table.”

  “What? Oh, all right,” Leo said, and gathered the rest of the dishes. He followed Win into the kitchen.

  Win looked around. “I don’t know if this place has a sink. Your parents are—”

  “Garbage rats, I know,” he said, and placed his teetering stack of dishes on another teetering stack of dishes. He leaned on Win’s back, an arm slung loose around her shoulders. Win flicked a look back at him.

  “You’re drunk,” she said.

  “I’m not even that tipsy. Well, a little bit. I want more wine—”

  “Ah-ha,” Win crowed, pulling him forward and kicking several drooping ferns out of the way. “Look. Is that a dishwasher?”

  Leo blinked. “I don’t know if that’s ever been used.” When Win pulled it open, it was empty and gleaming.

  “Come on, let’s see how many we can fit,” she said.

  “It’s such fun hanging out with you,” Leo told her. Win was laughing quietly to herself, a pleased happy buzz in the kitchen.

  “Thanks for bringing me here.”

  “What? Oh, uh, you’re welcome,” Leo said. “They’re having a great time.”

  Win slotted him a sly glance. “You think?”

  “You’re up for family gossip and clearing the table,” he said. “They’re probably planning the wedding as we speak.”

  He turned away then, not sure if he’d overstepped the mark, but all Win said was, “They’d have to beat Marie to it.”

  “Really?”

  “She’s definitely thought about it,” Win said, gathering up glasses. “In her darkest moments. I think she has a spreadsheet of worst-case scenarios.”