Her fingers were still in his, but he could feel himself releasing them one by one, small dry reeds he was feeding to the fire.
“I mean, nobody should give somebody else that much grief, right?” Joanna said.
He allowed the last finger to slip from his grasp.
“I even thought maybe I was bad for you,” she added.
He drew back slightly and lowered his hands into his lap.
“You don’t always know how things will end,” she said.
“You never do,” Corman said quietly.
Joanna put out the cigarette, lit another and laughed nervously. “I always wondered why you weren’t involved with a younger woman,” she said.
Corman shrugged.
“No, really.”
Corman shook his head. “I don’t see the point of talking about it.”
Joanna glanced away from him, fingering the salted rim of her margarita. “I guess not,” she said. “Anyway, I’ve been doing some thinking. I really have.” Her face tensed. “David, I’m going to stay with Leo from now on. That’s what I’ve decided.” She paused a moment, drew in a second deep breath. “Just Leo.”
In his mind Corman saw her curled in Leo’s naked arms, snoozing beside him in their bed, living in the tightly sealed jar of predictability and taking comfort in knowing with absolute certainty how it would finally end.
“Did you hear me?” Joanna asked.
“Yes.”
“It’s what works,” Joanna told him curtly. She waited for him to answer, then added, “Doesn’t it?”
Corman didn’t answer.
Joanna crushed out another cigarette. “But not for me, is that what you mean?” she asked with a sudden sharpness. “That look you just gave me.”
“I don’t know what works for you.”
“No, I guess not,” Joanna said brittlely, then waved her hand. “Forget it, Corman.”
Suddenly, he realized she would be easy to forget since nothing of any real importance had ever happened between them. He felt closer to Sarah Rosen, had seen her more utterly revealed.
Joanna’s eyes bore into him. “You have to make accommodations, don’t you?” she asked. “You just can’t live as if there’s no tomorrow.”
Corman stared at her silently.
“You were my hedge against being bored,” Joanna told him matter-of-factly. “That’s what it all comes down to.” She reached for another cigarette, then stopped herself. “You can’t have everything. Only a kid believes that.” She waited for him to say something and continued when he didn’t. “I wanted it all. That’s always been my problem. I wanted Leo at home with the laundry. Good, steady Leo. But I also wanted someone waiting for me in a little restaurant or a hotel room. You, or someone like you.” She looked at him as if she were making a final confession. “I’ve always had a lover. Long before you, Corman. Always.” She drew in a deep, determined breath. “But I’m giving all that up now. Completely giving it up.”
Corman leaned forward slightly and fought to keep his attention on her. But she already seemed very small and far away, made of gauze or flash paper.
“It’s what I’ve decided, that’s all,” Joanna said firmly. “I just wanted to let you know.” Then she reached toward him and touched his face gently. “My last lover,” she whispered.
He hardly felt her hand, and let his eyes drift toward the street.
Joanna seemed to sense the distance that already divided them. She looked at him closely. “David? Are you all right?”
He turned back toward her, but saw Sarah’s face again instead, all her agony building within him.
“David?” Joanna repeated.
His lips parted wordlessly.
Joanna’s eyes hardened. “You don’t care, do you? That I’m leaving. You’re not even thinking about it.”
Corman didn’t answer.
“You’re thinking about something else,” Joanna said. “Your own thing.” She glared at him fiercely, then began gathering her things, snapping up her cigarettes and lighter and dropping them angrily into her purse. “You turn everything into something else,” she said hotly. “Some big fucking deal. In your head. A federal case.”
She stopped for a moment and gave him an icy stare. “You know something? I never felt you were really with me. Even in bed—somewhere else.” She jerked herself to her feet. “I’m getting out of here.”
He didn’t try to stop her, and in an instant she was gone, the sound of her high-heeled shoes clicking first along the tile floor, then beyond the door and out into the street.
For a long time after she’d left, Corman continued to sit in place, his eyes concentrating first on her empty glass, then his own hands, finally settling on the few dark figures who sat here and there in the shadowy light at the back of the restaurant. In photographs, each one would look dramatically alone, an isolated shape in a shroud of faded light. Inevitably, he knew, a grim futility would gather in every frame, and because of that, he tried to imagine a way to show each figure differently—to compose, once and for all, a picture that could say what is without declaring that it had to be.
CHAPTER
THIRTY
“IT’S AWFULLY LATE,” the woman behind the reception desk told him.
“Well, he doesn’t sleep much,” Corman said.
“Yes, but, we have regular …”
“I can’t always make it during regular visiting hours.”
The woman eyed him a moment longer, trying to determine what she should do.
“Look, nobody else comes to see him,” Corman said softly. “Just me. Nobody else.”
“Well, okay,” the woman said reluctantly. “Go on down.”
The room was at the end of the corridor and Lazar’s face filled with quiet recognition as Corman came through the door.
“How you doing?” Corman asked.
The old man’s light blue eyes rested silently on Corman’s face. He sat up very slightly and pulled his head forward. A long strand of gleaming white hair fell at a slant over one eye.
Corman walked to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. “I’m sorry I missed you last weekend,” he said. “I had some things I had to do.”
The old man nodded. “D-d-d-d-d-d-d-d … ”
“I had to handle some things about Lucy,” Corman continued. “Nothing big. Just some stuff with Lexie and her and … you know.”
One of Lazar’s eyes narrowed. “D-d-d-d-d-d-d-d.”
“Nothing bad,” Corman assured him quickly. “She’s not in any trouble or anything.” He tried to smile. “This’ll surprise you. I did a shoot with Harry Groton this week.”
A small hesitant smile formed on Lazar’s lips. “D-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d.”
“At the Waldorf,” Corman said. “Some big wedding or something.”
The old man grinned dismissively. A silvery string of drool descended slowly from the corner of his mouth and gathered in a glistening pool on his white bedshirt.
Corman took a cloth from the end of the bed and wiped the old man’s mouth.
“Groton’s leaving the paper,” he said. “Pike offered me his job.”
Lazar shook his head slowly. “D-d-d-d-d-d-d-d.”
Corman smiled thinly. “You probably think I shouldn’t take it.”
Lazar nodded. A single hand came from under the sheet, crawled toward Corman’s wrist, then encircled it.
“I haven’t decided yet,” Corman said. “But I have to have some money, Lazar.”
Lazar’s face softened almost imperceptibly.
“You know how it is,” Corman added. “With money.”
Lazar nodded. A second tangled strand of white hair fell across his forehead, dangling between his eyes.
Corman pushed it back. “Do you have a comb?”
Lazar shook his head.
“I’ll bring you one next time.”
The old man stared at him scoldingly for an instant, then smiled.
“I have to let Pike know in the next few days
,” Corman told him. “I don’t know what to do.”
Lazar’s head drooped forward slightly.
“It’s steady money. That’s the one good thing about it.”
Lazar raised his head slowly, the white eyebrows twitching slightly. “D-d-d-d-d-d-d-d.”
“A woman jumped out a window down in Hell’s Kitchen about a week ago,” Corman said.
The old man’s eyes widened somewhat.
“I took some pictures,” Corman added. He drew the small stack from the camera bag and showed them to Lazar one by one.
He looked at them intently, eyes narrowing more forcefully with each one. Then he nodded slowly.
“I don’t know much about her,” Corman said. “She went to Columbia. She wrote an essay.” He returned the photographs to his bag. “There’s this guy I know in publishing. He says maybe a book, something like that.” He heard his own words, how disjointed they were. He leaned forward and drew the old man gently into his arms. “Christ, Lazar,” he whispered. “I’ll never be the same because of you.”
The old man began to cry softly, his shoulders shaking.
“I know, I know,” Corman said, then waited until Lazar had regained himself and eased him back onto his pillow. “Lucy says hi,” he told him.
Lazar smiled tremulously.
“I was going to bring her by on Sunday,” Corman said. “But she’s going to be with Lexie. You know, up in Westchester.”
Lazar grasped Corman’s hand again and squeezed.
Corman’s eyes fled to the window, the dark city beyond it. He could feel small bones breaking in his soul.
“D-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d.”
Corman turned back to the old man. “I’ll let you know what I find out about the woman,” he said. Then he lifted himself to his feet. “I have to be going now, Lazar. Lucy’s home, so I’ve got to head back.”
Lazar’s body suddenly tensed. His eyes searched the room frantically.
“You want something?” Corman asked.
“D-d-d-d-d-d-d.”
“Water?”
“D-d-d-d-d-d-d.”
Corman tried to follow the movement of Lazar’s eyes. They were darting furiously in all directions, as if he were following the movements of an invisible bat.
“Food?” Corman asked. “You cold? Hot?”
The eyes continued to dart around. He seemed to be indicating everything in the room, the pictures on the wall, the television, the window. Then suddenly they stopped dead and fell toward the police band radio at Corman’s side.
Corman smiled. “The city,” he said. “You want the city.”
Lazar nodded fiercely. “D-d-d-d-d-d-d-d,” he said loudly.
“You want to hear what’s going on.” Corman took the radio from his belt. “SOD okay?” he asked as he wrapped the old man’s fingers around it.
“D-d-d-d-d-d-d,” Lazar said happily.
“Okay,” Corman said softly. He switched the radio on, dialed the SOD code, then propped it firmly against the old man’s ear. “That ought to keep you busy for a while.”
Lazar nodded vigorously as the first click of the radio sounded in the silent room.
“See you soon,” Corman said as he stepped away from the bed.
He walked to the door, then glanced back. The old man had eased himself into the pillow once again, the slender black receiver perched at his ear. His eyes grew intense, his brow slightly wrinkled in concentration as he listened to the first call. A fire was burning in a Brooklyn warehouse. No one knew if there were still any people trapped inside.
Trang was more or less poised at the entrance to Corman’s building, squatting silently, his eyes following the traffic up and down the street. He rose quickly as Corman approached.
“How you doing,” Corman said, as he tried to pass.
Trang stepped in front of him. “Good evening, Mr. Corman,” he said. “As you know, we have a few matters to discuss.”
“I haven’t sold anything yet,” Corman told him. “I’m still working on it.”
Trang looked unhappy. “It is very serious now. You many months in arrears.”
“I realize that,” Corman said crisply.
Trang’s body seemed to puff out slightly, make itself appear more formidable. “I’m afraid I have taken steps.”
Corman stared at him expressionlessly.
“Filed papers.” Trang looked exasperated. “I’m sure you know what I mean, Mr. Corman. Eviction. You left me no choice. I did it with regret.”
In his mind, Corman saw two small white fangs slide down from Trang’s mouth, then rise up again and slip behind the thick pink cloak of his upper lip. He felt his body tighten, make a quick, violent move toward him, then ease back, regain control.
“You’ll get your rent,” he said curtly, then turned quickly and headed for the elevator doors.
Lucy groaned sleepily as he kissed her. She looked up briefly from the pillow, her eyes fluttering softly before they closed tight again. “Oh, Papa,” she groaned, a little irritably. “I was sleeping.”
“Go back then,” Corman said softly. “Good night.”
He walked out of her room as the phone rang. It was Edgar.
“Glad to see you’re home at night,” he said. His voice seemed slightly strained. “Uh, I’m at home. I mean, in bed,” he added quickly. “You know, with Frances.”
“I understand.”
“But, uh, I wanted to let you know that I’ve made all the arrangements with Lexie.”
“Okay.”
“Saturday night.”
“Where?”
“She’ll meet you at your apartment,” Edgar said. “She’s going to be in the city all day, she told me. Probably shopping for some art. They’re building a new house, you know.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Edgar didn’t go into it. “Anyway, she says she can meet you at your apartment.”
“Okay.”
“I tried to talk her out of meeting you there,” Edgar added.
“Why?”
“Come on, David,” Edgar said. “The way it looks. Grist for her mill.”
Corman glanced about the apartment, noting its disarray, and saw it as Lexie would, scattered, unkempt, collapsing at the center.
“She’ll come by around eight,” Edgar said.
“I’ll be here.”
“Make sure you are,” Edgar warned. “If you weren’t, she might take that in a very bad way.”
“I’ll be here,” Corman repeated coolly and started to hang up.
“David?” Edgar said quickly, stopping him.
“Yeah?”
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound it.”
“I’m busy, Edgar.”
“Developing?”
“Yeah, developing.”
“Well, listen,” Edgar said. “If anything happens. I mean, with money. It would be helpful if you could mention it to Lexie. Strictly in passing, of course.”
“Okay.”
“Technically, it’s not her business,” Edgar added. “But we’re dealing with a mood here.”
“I understand.”
“Just a passing mention, that’s all.”
“If I sell anything,” Corman assured him, “I’ll let her know.”
“All right,” Edgar said. “Get some sleep, for God’s sake.”
“I will,” Corman told him, then hung up and walked to the window. Outside, the city struck him with such broken beauty that after a while, he pulled his eyes away from it and let them drift downward until they caught on a little feather of dust which clung to the thigh of his trousers. He brushed at it softly, but the faint brownish mark only sank further into the cloth, so he slapped at it harder, then vehemently, with his fist, until suddenly he stopped and began to cry, gently at first, then in wrenching shudders until he finally stepped back from the window, raised his hand to cover his mouth, and waited for it to pass.
When it had, he returned very quiet
ly to Lucy’s room. She’d turned over on her back, sleeping deeply, her arms spread wide apart, head arched slightly back, throat exposed, as if waiting to be sacrificed.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
“I’M READY,” Lucy said after she’d finished dressing the next morning.
Corman walked slowly to the door, opened it and ushered her into the corridor.
“Will you pick me up this afternoon?” Lucy asked.
Corman shook his head quickly, his mind concentrating on her with a sudden, biting pain, as if someone had slipped a needle into his brain. “Victor will,” he said, then added impulsively, “I’ll miss you tonight.”
She looked at him oddly, then moved down the hall to the elevator.
They rode down silently, Corman clutching his camera bag while he thought of Trang, the eviction, the way it would send Lexie over the edge. He could see her sitting coolly across the table from him, her dark eyes as piercingly accurate as ever. She would know, no matter how much he lied. She would see it in the little feints, shifts, coughs. He was desperate, she would know that. Her true perception had never failed her in regard to his deficiencies.
“Did you and Joanna have a good time last night?” Lucy asked, prying gently, as she always did.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t look like it.”
“We had an argument.”
“Did you break up?”
“I think so.”
She tucked her hand in his arm. “Sorry.”
“It happens.
“Not to Mom and Jeffrey,” Lucy said. “They don’t ever fight.” Corman shrugged. “They’re great people, that’s why,” he said facetiously, before he could stop himself.
Lucy jerked at him slightly. “That’s not nice.”
Suddenly the sound of her voice, the glancing touch of her hand went through him like a searing charge. He stopped and knelt down to her. “I love you,” he said emphatically. “I will always love you.”
The City When It Rains Page 23
