The Stork Club

by Maureen Freely

  I had only just returned to Charlotte when I got the second incoming call, which was from you. You wanted to know if I needed any groceries. I said no, again somewhat abruptly, and had just returned to Charlotte, just taken in the fact that she was crying, when a call came in from Becky, whom I mistook for Ophelia. Which is why I (tragically) told her to meet me at Green’s at one.

  She then said something that puzzled me, about getting Mitchell to babysit for Roo. Why was Ophelia talking about Mitchell and Roo? It was only after I went back to Charlotte and her broken sobs that I realized I had been talking to Becky, not Ophelia, that I now had two women meeting me for lunch at Green’s. And on top of it all, I had Charlotte demanding a blow by blow account of a sexual encounter I myself could only remember in the vaguest terms. ‘Listen,’ I told her. ‘We can’t do this over the phone.’ I tried my best to reassure her that what had happened was an aberration, thereby compounding my lies. Even this took too long: by the time I got her off the line and phoned Becky, she was gone.

  I sat down, looked at my watch: 12.35. That left twenty-five minutes to figure out how to deal with, explain to, Becky and Ophelia the mixup over lunch. First I had to do my final clean-up check before you came back.

  I went from room to room, trying to look at each one as you would look at it (standing in your shoes, just as you had asked me to do so many times!). Then I would look at it again, through my eyes, and ask myself, what is wrong with this picture?

  When I got to the children’s room (I had put them down for naps) I must have given Jesse a very strange look.

  Because now he said, ‘You look like a poltergeist.’

  To which I stupidly said, ‘I feel like a poltergeist.’

  To which he said, ‘Is that what you were watching last night?’

  I asked him what he meant, and he said, ‘I heard you screaming.’

  ‘You did?’ I screamed.

  ‘Actually, I heard them screaming.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Seb’s mom and Patten’s mom and Lara’s mom, too.’

  I went cold, said nothing.

  Jesse gave me a warm smile.

  ‘It must have been a really good movie for you to watch it three times.’

  I tried to nod, tried but probably did not manage to walk out of the room as if nothing he had said had alarmed me.

  How much had he seen? How could I find out how much he had seen? How could I prevent him from passing classified information on to you? How could I even think, for a split second, of asking this poor boy to lie to his mother? I broke into a sweat. I thought it through again. I realized I was going to have to have a serious talk with him, a serious talk which I had neither the time nor the space to have with him now. All I could do now was ask him not to mention the events of the evening to anyone until he talked to me about them, but before I had a chance to make this request, I heard your key in the door.

  The moment I saw you, I knew I couldn’t leave the apartment without talking to Jesse. That’s why I lied to you and said I was waiting for a phonecall, and that’s also why I encouraged you to take a nap. But you took such a long time getting settled, and trying to find out why, for example, I had changed our sheets, that, by the time you had closed the bedroom door, it was too late to talk to Jesse because he, too, had fallen asleep.

  I looked at my watch. It was five past one. In five minutes I would receive two angry phonecalls. I could not handle even the idea of talking to these women now. So the first thing I did was take the living-room phone off the hook.

  Then I sit down to imagine the scene I am missing …

  Ophelia, first trying not to notice Becky, then going to the parking lot to warn me, bumping into Becky, lying to her, Becky pretending to believe her … here my imagination failed me. Here was where I realized that events had moved beyond my control. I could only make things worse by interfering. It was better, if only marginally so, to let them come to me. The important thing was to isolate myself until I could think clearly. When I was sure you were asleep, I tiptoed into the bedroom, pulled the phone cord out of the jack, returned to the living-room, did the same to that phone, got out the earphones, put on ‘Blue Train’, sat back … only to remember. The sheets!

  As I take them down to the laundry room, I imagine …

  Ophelia, at Green’s with Becky, who has accepted everything she said, even when it directly contradicted what came before and after. Has their friendship always been this superficial? Could Becky have been carrying on a secret life for years and years without Ophelia picking up on a thing? The idea chills her.

  She returns her eyes to the menu. She can hardly read it. She can’t stop wondering what could have become of me. Am I waiting at another restaurant? Or did I walk in, see her sitting with Becky, decide not to risk it, and split? What if Kiki had been tracking me? What if Kiki had become violent?

  He had followed her to Green’s, she was sure of it. Where was he now? What if he had prevented me from entering the restaurant? What if he was sitting with me at 2238 trying to force a confession out of me? Should she get up now and try and find me? But what if she did find me, and what if I was with Kiki? How would she explain her presence? It was when she realized that anything she did could be used against her that she knew the situation to be beyond her control.

  So why was she carrying on this fake conversation?. Better to tell Becky straight out. If the bond was as strong as she believed it to be, it would survive the scandal.

  Ophelia clears her throat. ‘I have something to tell you. Mike and I are in love. Let me tell you how it happened.’

  The more Becky listens, the more she has to struggle to keep her face a friendly mask.

  What could this story she is hearing have in common with the one she heard from the other party, me?

  According to me, this thing with Ophelia began accidentally two weeks ago. According to Ophelia, it was always ‘there’, growing both stronger and harder to deny the more time she and I spent together. Until one night, neither of us could resist any more.

  According to me, it was just sex and going nowhere. According to Ophelia, it was such a powerful union of the souls that it was going to destroy both marriages. The outcome was clear according to Ophelia. She knew in her bones that I was ‘the one’. The question was, how much would we have to go through before we reached that happy resolution?

  She wants to know if Becky will forgive her. But the question is, how is Becky going to forgive herself for believing my story with so few reservations? As she stands in the bathroom throwing water on her face, she counts the lies.

  Why does she feel compelled to protect one man’s mismanaged business and another’s multiple infidelities? Because she believes that Mitchell is doing it all for the family? Because she is willing to shaft her three dearest friends just because I have told her she is the only one I really love? There is only one explanation: she is lying to herself.

  49

  It must have been about three o’clock when you came out to the living-room to ask me why the phones were unplugged. I didn’t have an excuse ready so instead I reconnected the one sitting next to me. It rang almost immediately.

  It was Becky. She said, ‘I’m sort of precarious so I want you to keep quiet while I bring you up to date. Ophelia told me her side of the story, and that it had zero and I mean zero in common with what you told me. This leaves me fucking flattened and has me seriously questioning my own motivations as well as yours. But don’t worry because I know what I have to do now, and that is level with everyone I’ve lied to, and that includes Ophelia, to whom I was kind enough, incidentally, to say nothing, by which I mean nothing yet. I’m going to level with your wife, too, and make sure you level with her, too, and I’m not going to forget about Charlotte either, and I’m not going to lie to the auditor and what’s more I’m going to tell Mitchell why I’m not going to lie and so the choice I’m giving you is are you going to come in on this with me or are you going to make me do it alon
e?’

  Pause. It was a lot to take in, especially with you standing there looking at me. Finally I said, ‘Becky, listen. That’s an awful lot to unload on me over the phone.’

  ‘Well then, let’s meet.’

  ‘I’ll be right over.’ I put down the phone.

  At which point you asked me, ‘Why are you still here?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I be here? It’s my home, too.’

  ‘You were supposed to be going out.’

  ‘I decided against it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Palpitations.’

  ‘Not again! Did you talk to Kiki about them?’

  ‘He said he would see me later but that in the meantime I should rest.’

  ‘So what was this phonecall about?’

  ‘Oh, just the usual lecture.’

  ‘I don’t mean Kiki. I mean Becky on the phone just now. So what was she so upset about?’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘You know. The auditor.’

  ‘The auditor? The auditor’s there already?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘But she does seem to have decided that, when the auditor does arrive, she should tell her the truth.’

  I had forgotten how deeply you yourself were implicated. I was rudely reminded when you screeched, ‘The truth? To the auditor? You must be joking!’ As you talked, you were already dialling. As you may remember, I cut the connection.

  ‘You’re not telling Mitchell, are you?’ is what I said.

  And you said, ‘Of course I’m telling Mitchell! He has got to straighten that woman out!’

  To which I said, ‘I think I can do that without involving Mitchell. He’s hysterical as it is.’

  But I wasn’t going to leave the apartment without talking to my son. That was why I pushed you, somewhat unceremoniously, into the shower.

  I did not like having to wake the poor boy up, but I didn’t see what choice I had. As he struggled to keep his eyes open, I told him I had to go out for a while. I am afraid that when he said, ‘Off on a mission, are you?’ I said yes. How was I to know what he really meant?

  ‘Listen,’ I said. ‘There is something I am going to ask you to do for me until I get back. Keep a secret for me, just for the time being, about the movie I was watching last night.’

  ‘You mean not to tell Mom,’ he said.

  ‘Just until I’ve had a chance to talk to her myself.’

  ‘I don’t think you should tell her. She won’t understand.’

  ‘What won’t she understand?’

  ‘That supermen are different.’

  ‘But I’m not Superman! How many times do I have to tell you?’ At this point the phone rang.

  ‘I bet that’s one of your girlfriends,’ said Jesse. ‘Go answer it before Mom gets out of the shower.’

  It was Charlotte. ‘Have you seen Trey?’

  ‘Why would I have seen Trey?’

  ‘He didn’t pick up the children. They just had to call me out of my seminar, can you believe it?’

  I heard a bleep on the line. ‘Can you hold?’ I asked Charlotte. ‘I have a call coming in.’

  The other caller turned out to be Mitchell. He wanted to know where Becky was.

  ‘Oh no,’ I said. ‘Where are you calling from?’

  ‘Home,’ he said.

  ‘Oh no,’ I said again. ‘She’s supposed to be waiting there for me.’

  Well, guess what,’ said Mitchell. ‘She’s gone.’

  ‘Oh no,’ I said. ‘This is serious. Can you hold?’

  I went back to Charlotte on the other line. I told her I would have to get back to her.

  Why?’ she asked. Who’s on the other line?’

  I told her it was none of her business. She began to sob. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you. We’ll sort it all out later. I’ll come over and see you later after I’ve sorted all this other stuff out.’

  ‘Is that what you call me when you’re talking to her? Stuff?’

  ‘I’m not going to even talk to you if you take that tone,’ I said, and I slammed down the phone. Stupidly forgetting that Mitchell was on hold. When the phone started ringing, I picked it up, but not fast enough to keep you from hearing it.

  You jumped out of the shower. ‘Is that a call for me?’

  I had no idea. When I said, ‘Can you hold?’ to the caller, I didn’t even know who I was talking to. I told you the first lie that came into my head. ‘It’s Kiki to say he’s phoned in my heart prescription.’

  You seemed to buy it, but you kept the bathroom door open. I went back to my phonecall. ‘Why did you say I was Kiki?’ Mitchell asked.

  I told him it was a long story.

  ‘You’ll have to tell me some time. In the meantime, could I please talk to your wife?’

  ‘Under the circumstances,’ I said, ‘that would not be too wise.’

  ‘Fuck you, Mike. Say it was call-waiting.’

  I could not think of a better idea. So I called you to the phone. When you had finished talking to him, you turned to me. ‘So anyway. Mitchell wants me to go over and talk to Becky.’

  ‘But she isn’t there!’

  ‘She is now,’ you told me. ‘I’d better catch her before she disappears again. Why don’t I pick up that prescription for you on the way back? Where did he phone it to?’

  ‘Who? Phone what?’

  ‘Kiki! Your medicine! Which drugstore did he phone the prescription to?’

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘What? Are you serious?’

  ‘It’s not important anyway, because the palpitations have stopped,’ I said, but already you were dialling. I couldn’t bear listening to you talking to Kiki’s receptionist. I was at the window, I remember, when you came to tell me that Kiki had been out of his office since lunchtime. ‘That’s right,’ I lied. ‘I got him on his car phone at the golf course.’ I can’t tell you how relieved I was that you were unable to get through to him on his mobile phone.

  The first thing I did when you had left to go talk to Becky, was to talk to Becky myself. It took a few tries to get past Mitchell, which was why I was abrupt when I finally got through. ‘Laura is on her way to see you,’ I said. ‘So if you want to speak to me alone, here’s your chance.’

  Pause. Then Becky said, ‘Maybe I should just speak to her and get it over with.’

  ‘You promised you would talk to me first.’

  ‘Well, I just don’t happen to be available right now. I’m sorry. I’m in the middle of asking my husband for a divorce.’

  ‘Calm down, for God’s sake.’

  ‘For God’s sake, why don’t you start taking some of your own advice. Listen,’ she said in her harshest voice, ‘I meant what I said. I’ll see you at Vesuvio’s at eight.’

  By now the children were awake, but I was far too distracted to deal with them. I sat them in front of the TV. No sooner had I tuned in to Mister Rodgers than the doorbell rang.

  It was Ophelia. In a state.

  ‘Is he here yet?’ She hissed.

  ‘Is who here?’

  ‘My husband. I gave him the slip.’

  At that, the doorbell rang.

  ‘That must be him. Quick. Let me out the back.’

  I just managed to get her into the service elevator when the inside doorbell rang. It wasn’t Kiki, though. It was Trey. Trey in camouflage fatigues, carrying a tennis racket. He entered stealthily, then made a request in crude sign language for writing materials. When I got them for him, he wrote, ‘Pretend you have a tennis date with me.’

  ‘What?’ I said.

  He put his hands to his lips, then circled his finger the way they do in movies when they want to indicate a room is bugged.

  ‘This is important,’ he wrote. ‘Say it’

  So I did. No sooner had I done that than the doorbell rang again. Trey hissed, ‘Quick!’ and gestured to the service elevator. I got him into it just as you walked through the door.

  ‘Sorry,’ you said. ‘I forgot my keys.’ />
  ‘And, oh, by the way,’ you said. ‘I finally got hold of Kiki. He said he knew nothing about this prescription. He sounded strange. Is he OK? Anyway, I told him what you needed and he phoned it in to Walgreen’s, so after I gave up on Becky and Mitchell, I stopped off there and got it.’

  You handed me a bottle of pills. ‘He’ll be around later to check on you.’

  Oh great, I thought. ‘When will that be?’

  ‘As soon as he can, he said. And also, I ran into Charlotte at Walgreen’s. She was hysterical. Her kids have nits and they made her cut her seminar short because they needed to have her pick them up at once. Trey should have done this but she can’t find him.’

  ‘Actually,’ I said. ‘He’s here.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Here. I mean, down in the laundry room.’

  ‘What’s he doing in our laundry room?’

  ‘He wants me to play tennis.’

  ‘You’re not playing tennis, Mike! Not if you’ve just had palpitations!’

  ‘To tell you the truth, I don’t think he really wants to play tennis. I think he wants to talk to me.’

  ‘Well, if he wants to talk the first person he should talk to is Charlotte because she’s frantic’

  At this point, you called the service elevator.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Downstairs to get our sheets.’

  ‘No! No!’ I shrieked. ‘Let me get them.’

  ‘Why?’

  Up came the elevator. In it was Ophelia. She was shaking. So much so that, when you asked her what she was doing in our service elevator, she just ignored you. ‘There is something seriously wrong with Trey,’ she said to me. ‘I am really worried.’

  You said, ‘So is Charlotte.’

  Ophelia said, ‘Trey just told me to tell you he’d be waiting on the tennis court across the street.’

  Turning to me, you said, ‘I’m not letting you go unless you take your medicine.’

  Ophelia said, ‘What medicine?’

  After you had gone down to get the laundry, I explained to her that Kiki had phoned in a prescription for me because I had been having palpitations.

  ‘For God’s sake, don’t take anything Kiki prescribed for you. It could be cyanide!’