“And I will always love you, and you will always worry too much. Over nothing.”
He had made her uncomfortable, though. After they hung up, she sat silently and wondered. Was she crazy to stop writing the column? At one time, it had been so important to her. But not anymore. But still … was she losing touch with who and what she was? In a way, she had done it for Luke. And for herself. Because she wanted to be free to move around with him, and besides, she had outgrown the column years ago.
But suddenly, she wanted to discuss it with Luke. He was gone for the day. She could call Alejandro, but she hated to bother him. It was a queasy feeling, like leaving the dock in the fog, headed for an unknown destination. But she had made her decision. She would live by it. Martin Hallam was dead. It was a simple decision really. The column was over.
She sat back at her desk and stretched, and decided to go for a walk. It was a gray November day, and there was a nip of winter in the air. It made her want to throw a long wool scarf around her neck and run to the park. She felt suddenly free of an old wearisome burden. The weight of Martin Hallam had finally slipped from her shoulders.
Kezia grabbed an old sheepskin jacket from her closet and slipped tall black custom-made boots under her carefully pressed jeans. She dug a small knitted red cap from the pocket of her jacket, and took a pair of gloves from a shelf. She felt new again now. A writer of anything she wanted, not a scavenger of social crumbs. A small smile hovered on her lips, and there was a mischievous gleam in her eye as she headed for the park, with long strides. What a marvelous day, and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet. She thought about buying a picnic to eat in the park, but decided not to bother. Instead, she bought a small bag of hot roasted chestnuts from an old gnarled man pushing a steaming cart along Fifth Avenue. He grinned at her toothlessly and she waved at him over her shoulder as she walked away. He was sweet really. Everyone was. Everyone suddenly looked as new as she felt.
She was well into the park and halfway through the chestnuts when she looked ahead and saw the woman trip and fall on the curb. She had spun out into the street close to the clomping feet of an aging horse pulling a shabby hansom carriage through the park. The woman lay very still for a moment, and the driver of the carriage stood and pulled at the horse’s reins. The horse seemed not even to have noticed the bundle near his hoofs. She was wearing a dark fur coat and her hair was very blond. It was all Kezia could see. She frowned and quickened her pace, shoving the chestnuts into her pocket, and then breaking into a trot as the driver of the hansom jumped from his platform, still holding the reins. The woman stirred then, knelt and lurched forward, into the horse’s legs this time. The horse shied, and his owner pushed the woman away. She sat down heavily on the pavement then, but mercifully free of the horse’s legs at last.
“What the hell’sa matta wi’youse? Ya crazy?” His eyes bulged furiously as he continued to back his horse away and stare at the woman. Kezia could only see the back of her head, as she shook her head mutely. He mounted his platform then, and clucked his horse back into motion, with a last flick of his middle finger at the still-seated woman, and a “Stupid bitch!” His passengers were obscured beyond a scratched and smoky window in the carriage, and the ancient horse continued plodding, so used to his route that bombs could have shattered near his feet and he would have continued in the well-worn groove he had traveled for years.
Kezia saw the woman shake her head fuzzily and kneel slowly on the pavement She ran the last few steps then, wondering if the woman had been hurt, and what had caused her to fall. The dark fur coat was fanned out behind her now, and it was obvious that it was a long and rather splendid mink. Kezia heard a dry little cough from the woman just as she reached her, and then she saw her turn her head. What she saw made her stop, shocked by who it was and how stricken she looked. It was Tiffany, her face gaunt yet swollen, her eyes puffy, yet her cheeks were pulled inward, with painful lines near her eyes and mouth. It wasn’t yet noon, and she was already drunk.
“Tiffany?” Kezia knelt beside her and smoothed a hand over her hair. It was uncombed and disheveled and there was no makeup on the ravaged face. “Tiffie … it’s me. Kezia.”
“Hi.” Tiffany seemed to look somewhere past Kezia’s left ear, unknowing, unseeing, uncaring. “Where’s Uncle Kee?”
Uncle Kee. Jesus, she meant Kezia’s father. Uncle Kee. She hadn’t heard that in so long … Uncle Kee … Daddy …
“Tiffie, are you hurt?”
“Hurt?” She looked up vaguely, seeming not to understand.
“The horse, Tiff. Did it hurt your.”
“Horse?” She wore the smile of a child now, and seemed to understand. “Oh, horse. Oh, no, I ride all the time.” She stood up shakily then, and dusted off her hands and the front of her long black mink coat. Kezia looked down and saw torn gray stockings and one bruised black suede Gucci shoe. The coat gaped a little and Kezia caught a glimpse of a dressy black velvet skirt and a white satin shirt, with several rows of large gray and white pearls. It was no outfit to be roaming the park in, nor was it an outfit for that time of day. Kezia wondered if she’d been home the night before.
“Where are you going?”
“To the Lombards’. For dinner.” So that was where she’d been. Kezia had been invited there too, but had turned down the invitation weeks ago. The Lombards. But that had been last night. What had happened since?
“How about if I take you home?”
“To my house?” Tiffany looked suddenly wary.
“Sure.” Kezia tried to put an easy tone in her voice, while holding Tiffany up firmly by one elbow.
“No! Not my house! No….” She bolted from Kezia’s grip then and stumbled, and was instantly sick at Kezia’s feet and over her own black suede shoes. She sat down on the pavement again and began to cry, the black mink trailing sadly in her own bile.
Kezia felt hot tears burn her eyes as she reached down to her friend and tried to pull her up again.
“Come on, Tiffie … let’s go.”
“No … I … oh God, Kezia … please …” She clutched at Kezia’s denim-clad legs, and looked up at her with eyes torn by a thousand private demons. Kezia reached gently down to her and pulled her up again, as she saw a cab swoop around the bend from which the hansom cab had appeared only moments before. She held up a hand quickly and hailed it, and then pulled Tiffany closer. “No!” It was the anguished wail of a heartbroken child, and Kezia felt her friend trembling in her arms.
“Come on, we’ll go to my place.”
“I’m going to be sick.” She closed her eyes and sank toward Kezia again, as the cabbie darted out and threw open the door.
“No, you’re not. Let’s get in.” She managed to slide Tiffany onto the seat and gave the driver her own address as she rolled down both windows to give her friend air. It was then that she noticed that Tiffany wasn’t carrying a handbag.
“Tiffie? Did you have a bag?” The girl looked around blankly for a moment and then shrugged, letting her head fall back onto the seat as both eyes closed and the air rushed in over her face.
“So what?” The words were so low Kezia had barely heard her.
“Hm?”
“Handbag … so what?” She shrugged, and seemed almost to fall asleep, but a moment later, her hand blindly sought Kezia’s and gripped it tightly as two lone tears squeezed down her face. Kezia patted the thin cold hand and looked down with horror at the large pear-shaped emerald flanked by diamond baguettes. If someone had taken Tiffany’s handbag, he had missed the best part. The thought made Kezia shudder. Tiffany was ripe prey for anyone. “Walked … all … night….” The voice was almost a painful croak, and Kezia found herself wondering if it wasn’t more likely “drank” all night. It was obvious she hadn’t gone home after the Lombards.
“Where did you walk to?” She didn’t want to get into a heavy conversation in the cab. First she’d put Tiffany to bed, call her home and tell the housekeeper that Mrs. Benjamin was fine, and then they’d
talk later. No drunken hysterics in the cab…. The cabbie might decide he had a hot story and … Christ, that Kezia did not need.
“Church … all night … walking … slept in church….” She kept her eyes closed and seemed to drift off between words. But the grip on Kezia’s hand never slackened. It was only a few minutes before they drew up in front of Kezia’s building, and with no explanations required or proffered, the doorman helped Kezia get Tiffany into the elevator, and the elevator man helped get her inside. The apartment was empty; Luke was out, and the cleaning woman wasn’t due. Kezia was grateful for the solitude as she led her friend into the bedroom. She didn’t want to explain Luke, even in Tiffany’s current state. She had taken a hell of a chance bringing her there, but she couldn’t think of anyplace else.
Tiffany sat sleepily on the edge of Kezia’s bed and looked around. “Where’s Uncle Kee?”
Her father again … Christ. “He’s out, Tiff. Why don’t you lie down, and I’ll call your place and tell them you’ll be home later.”
“No! … Tell them…. Tell…. Tell her to go to hell!” She began to sob then and shake violently from head to foot. Kezia felt a cold chill run up her spine. Something about the words, the tone of voice … something … it had struck a chord in her memory, and she suddenly felt frightened. Tiffany was looking at her now with wild eyes, shaking her head, tears pouring down her face. Kezia stood near the phone and looked at her friend, wanting to help, but fearing to go near her. Something inside Kezia turned over.
“Shouldn’t I tell them something?” The two women stayed that way for a moment, with Tiffany slowly shaking her head.
“No … divorce….”
“Bill?” Kezia looked at her stunned.
Tiffany nodded.
“Bill asked for a divorce?”
She nodded yes and then no. And then she took a deep breath. “Mother Benjamin…. She called last night … after the Lombards’ dinner. Called me a … a … lush … an alcoholic … a … the children, she is going to take the children, and make Bill … make Bill …” She gasped, choking back more sobs, and then retched briefly, but dryly.
“Make Bill divorce you?”
Tiffany gasped again and nodded while Kezia continued to look on, still dreading to go near her.
“But she can’t ‘make’ Bill divorce you, for Christ’s sake. He’s a grown man.”
But Tiffany shook her head and looked up with empty, swollen eyes. “The trust. The big trust. His whole life … depends … on it. And the children … their trust … He … she could … he would …”
“No, he wouldn’t. He loves you. You’re his wife.”
“She’s his mother.”
“So what, dammit? Be reasonable, Tiffany. He’s not going to divorce you….” But suddenly Kezia wondered. Would he? What if the bulk of his fortune depended on it? How much did he love Tiffany? Enough to sacrifice that? As Kezia watched her, she knew Tiffany was right. Mother Benjamin held all the cards. “What about the children?” But she saw the answer in Tiffany’s eyes.
“She … she … they …” She was racked by fresh sobs, and clutched the bedspread beneath her as she fought to finish. “She has … them…. They were gone last night after the … Lombards’ dinner … and … Bill … Bill … in Brussels … she said … I … oh God, Kezia, someone help me please….”
It was a death wail and Kezia found herself trembling as she stood across the room and finally, painfully, slowly began to walk toward her friend. But it was like hearing it again … hearing it … things began to come back to her. There were tears on her own face now and there was this horrible, terrible urge to slap the girl sitting filthy and broken on her bed … an urge to just sweep her away, to shake her, to … oh God, no….
She was standing in front of her and the words seemed to rip through her soul, as though they were someone else’s, hurled by and at a long vanished ghost. “Then why are you such a fucking drunk, dammit … why … why?” She sank down on the bed beside Tiffany then, and the two women held each other tight as they cried. It seemed like years before Kezia could stop, and this time it felt as though Tiffany were comforting her. There was a timelessness about the arms veiled by black mink. They were arms that had held Kezia before. Arms that had heard those words before, twenty years before. Why?
“Jesus. I’m … I’m sorry, Tiffie. It … you brought back something so painful for me.” She looked up to see her friend nodding tiredly, but looking more sober than she had in an hour. Maybe in days.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m a bad trip all around.” The tears continued to fan out from her eyes, but her voice sounded almost normal.
“No, you’re not. And I’m so sorry about the kids, and about Mrs. Benjamin. What a stinking thing to do. What are you going to do?”
She shrugged in answer, looking down at her hands.
“Can’t you fight it?” But they both knew otherwise. Not unless she cleaned up radically overnight. “What if you go to a clinic?”
“Yeah, and when I come out she’ll have a grip on those kids that will never loosen, no matter how sober I get. She’s got me, Kezia. She’s got my soul … my heart … my …” She closed her eyes again then, and the look of pain on her face was intolerable. Kezia put her arms around her again. She seemed so thin and frail, even in the thick fur coat. There was so little one could say. It was as though Tiffany had already lost. And she knew it.
“Why don’t you lie down and try to get some sleep?”
“And then what?” Her eyes were almost haunting.
“Then you can take a bath, have something to eat, and I’ll take you home.”
“And then?” There was nothing Kezia could say. She knew what the other girl meant. Tiffany stood up slowly and walked shakily to the window. “I think it’s time I went home.”
She seemed to be looking far beyond and far away, and Kezia berated herself silently for the wave of relief that she felt. She wanted Tiffany out of her house. Before Luke came home, before she fell apart again, before she said something that brought even one instant of horror back, she wanted her gone. Tiffany made her unbearably nervous. She frightened her. She was like a living ghost. The reincarnation of Liane Holmes-Aubrey Saint Martin. Her mother … the drunk…. She did not argue with Tiffany.
“You want me to take you home?” But she found herself hoping not.
Tiffany shook her head and brought her gaze back from the window with a small, gentle smile, and quietly shook her head. “No. I have to go alone.” She walked out of the bedroom, through the living room, and stopped at the front door, looking back at Kezia hovering uncertainly in the bedroom doorway. Kezia wasn’t sure if she should let her leave alone, but she wanted her to. She just wanted her to go home. To go away. Their eyes held for a moment, and Tiffany lifted one hand in a mock military salute, pulled her coat more tightly around her, and said, “See ya,” just as they had when they were in school. “See ya,” and then she was gone. The door closed softly behind her, and a moment later Kezia heard the elevator take her away. She knew she had no money to go home with, but she knew that Tiffany’s doorman would pay for the cab. The very rich can travel almost anywhere empty-handed. Everyone knows them. Doormen are delighted to pay for their cabs. They double their money in tips. Kezia knew Tiffany was safe. And at least she was out of her house. There was a heavy scent left hanging in the air, a smell of perfume mixed with perspiration and vomit.
Kezia stood at the window for a long time, thinking of her friend, and her mother, loving and hating them both. After a while, the two seemed to blend into one. They were so much alike, so … so … It took a long hot bath and a nap to make Kezia feel human again. The excitement and the freedom of the morning, of ditching that damn column, was tarnished by the agony of seeing Tiffany sprawled in the street at the feet of that horse, shouted at by the hansom cab driver, puking and crying and wandering lost and confused … and screwed over by her mother-in-law … bereft of her children, with a husband who didn’t
give a damn. Hell, he probably would let his mother talk him into a divorce. And it probably wouldn’t take much talking. It made Kezia’s stomach turn over again and again, and when at last she lay down for a nap she slept badly, but at least when she awoke, things looked better again. Much better. She looked up to see Luke standing at the foot of the bed. She glanced at the clock by her bed. It was much later than she’d thought.
“Hi, lazyass. What did you do? Sleep all day?” She smiled at him for a moment and then grew serious as she sat up and held out her arms. He leaned over to kiss her and she nuzzled his neck.
“I had kind of a rough day.”
“An assignment?”
“No. A friend.” She seemed unwilling to say more. “Want something to drink? I’m going to make some tea. I’m freezing.” She shivered gently and Luke looked at the window and the night sky beyond.
“No wonder, with the windows open like that.” She had opened all of them wide, to banish the smell. “Make me some coffee, babe?”
“Sure thing.” They exchanged a haphazard kiss and a smile, and she took the newspaper from the foot of the bed where he’d left it when he leaned over to kiss her hello.
“That girl in the paper anyone you know?”
“Who?” She was wandering barefoot through the living room now, yawning as she went.
“The socialite on the front page.”
“I’ll look.” She flicked on the kitchen light, and looked down at the paper in her hands. The room spun around as she did. “It … it … I … oh God, Lucas, help me …” She slid slowly down the side of the doorway, staring at the photograph of Tiffany Benjamin. She had jumped from the window of her apartment shortly after two. “See ya … see ya….” Suddenly the words rang in her ears. “See ya.” With that little salute they had done all through school. Kezia scarcely felt Luke’s arms around her as he led her to the couch to sit down.
Chapter 21
“Do you want me to come with you?” Kezia shook her head as she zipped up the black dress and then slipped on the black alligator shoes she had bought the summer before in Madrid.
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