Our Seas of Fear and Love
Page 21
She pulled me closer to her, ignoring the perspiration. “I never. . . .” She didn’t finish. Perhaps she was thinking of Thomas. But then she looked at me. “I never stopped loving you either, dearest one.” There were tears in her eyes. “I want you to be better. I want you inside me.” She placed a leg over my side and pushed into my thigh. “I want to. Do you think you could?”
Somehow we managed, and I was happy though I was so exhausted. She looked so content, the way we used to be with one another.
We heard Pamela coming down the stairs and Brigit slipped quickly from the bed and straightened her clothes and brushed back her hair. I think Pamela knew, from her somewhat surprised look when she came to the door, her quick gaze going from Brigit’s hair, reddened face, to her skirt. But if she did, she ignored it. By her eyes, however, it was evident she knew or realized Brigit and I were having sex. She began to retreat, having seen Brigit’s hand movements.
“Oh. Pamela. Come in. Done with writing?” forcing a normal voice but obviously embarrassed, also hesitant. Pamela managed “Yes,” Pamela's and Brigit's faces both coloring. “Come in, Pamela. Your dad and I,” and she stopped. Lying was preposterous. Brigit refused to become lost in subterfuge. Pamela looked at me, hesitated, and came in when I motioned. Pamela walked to Brigit, looking intently in her eyes. “I hope you're making him happy. He needs that,” she stopped a moment, “and you.” She blushed. She was uncertain about continuing. “Brigit, there's something I've wanted to say.”
“Fine. With me just say it.”
Brigit could see the questioning in her face.
“I love you, Brigit. I do. I – I wish you were my mother.” Her face flushed again. “Oh, that’s terrible, but I don’t care. I mean it.”
As Brigit kissed her, Pamela looked at me in the bed, at the messy covers at which I had quickly pulled.
Her face coloring again, she blurted, “You all belong together,” Her voice dropped. “You're both married to others.” She had to be thinking of our adultery and tried to shrug it off. She wanted to say something more. Before she could, Brigit placed her hand over Pamela’s mouth. “I wish I were too. You’re so easy to love, and I do love you. You remember that, regardless of what happens. I’ll always be there for you.” Brigit looked away, then back to Pamela. “I guess you remind me of my daughter, as if you two were sisters. I wish . . . .” and the words were lost in the seas of fear and love. She had cheated on Thomas, I on her, who I wondered on Deirdre. I know Deirdre was screwing that Frenchman and God knows who else. What did it matter anymore? But I believe there was pain for Brigit.
I knew Pamela would talk to Melinda. “If only,” perhaps Pamela was thinking. “But only’s don’t count.” She paused, stammering, “I love you both. I’m going back to my room. O.K.? probably write a little.”
Brigit looked back at me, her hand inadvertently going to her inner thigh and lightly, quickly rubbing. “I do love your daughter, Greg, and I intend to take care of you both.” Later she told me, “I meant what I said, regardless of cost – except for my son and daughter.
So much has happened and so much before watching and listening to Pam and Brigit. Brigit who could have been her mother. Pam wishing it so.
_______________
The first time a Chinese antique – a Ming vase Deirdre told me – appeared in our living room, I wondered why this suddenly became part of the décor. “Deirdre, where did that come from?”
“Oh, Étienne gave it to me for a present, for the work I helped him with. Remember my last trip?”
“Yes. I just was wondering if you were thinking of changing the living room around. It seems out of place.”
“Oh, it does not. It’s beautiful right where it is. Who knows, maybe I will change as we come across more things.”
“What, every time you get something new, everything changes?”
“Stop being foolish. There won’t be that much. Most of what we find you know goes to the Walker Museum.”
And now that the Korean war was over, it became a bit easier, perhaps, for Étienne to travel to the East. Somewhere he always wanted to go. But he never lost sight of Greece. That country was becoming more protective, but he managed somehow. He knew the right people.
“He’s good, Gregory.”
“I don’t trust him. You’re going to get into trouble Deirdre.”
“Stop being so damned stupid. Gregory.” She always called him Gregory, as though she were talking to a young son. “You know I knew him in France, how we fought together.”
“Yeah. You and I. Two war heroes. Only I didn’t have a woman on the ship.”
“Are you accusing me of fucking him?”
“I said no such thing. I only want you to be careful.”
~
Careful. I thought back to Boston, the first time I saw her, and then the second in that gown that expressed every part of her body, left the rest to imagination. How she came forward, sultry and slowly to me, eyes wide, directly on me, her deep brown eyes mesmerizing me when Brigit had gone to the powder room. I and other men, stared as she crossed, showing her face and body to the hushed and admiring men. The women curious to know who she was, some jealous, others fascinated, others wishing. All the women but Brigit could have been outshone if she cared to be seen and known as a voluptuous sex object, perhaps a representation of Heddy Lamar. I continued watching as though she were about to reveal herself, what she had to offer but would hide and take away when the expectant heart and mind of the viewer stopped and she slid behind a curtain then purposely teased by showing a bare leg and thigh. Beckoning.
“Dr. . . . by the way, what is your name?”
Why is she fibbing? She already knows my name.
“Hurwitz. Gregory.”
“Do you come from Boston?”
“No.” I looked toward the ladies’ room.
“Dr. Don’t worry. She’ll be in there like the rest of us, touching up ourselves to be more tempting.
“Well, where are you from?”
“Maine. Cape Astraea.”
“Really. I’m from Maine, not such a fancy place. Warrington.” She moved her leg against mine. “Any chance of our meeting again?” as she saw Brigit coming through the door. “It would be nice. I’d like it very much. Your work interests me. Perhaps mine would fascinate you. I travel here and there looking with my friend for art objects for the Walker Museum of Ancient Antiquities.”
“Yes, I know from the last time you all were here when the lab had its party.”
My mouth was dry. I wanted to see her. Brigit sat beside me, surprising me. She saw Deirdre slyly smile. “I’m Deirdre Cunningham,” she told Brigit who was watching her, I imagine Brigit wondering which one of them was the more appealing.
My face is hot, an emptiness in my stomach. That’s foolish. There’s something sophisticatedly cheap about her. The way she’s looking at Greg, though, like she’s ready to seduce him. I wonder if he’s dumb enough not to notice. I’ll fight, but I can’t flaunt like that one.
Whatever she may have been thinking, Deirdre interrupted her thoughts. “I came over, because I was here the night he was honored and just wanted to say hello.” She looked at Brigit’s left ring finger. Woman. I can take him from you. I just may.
She rose slowly for Brigit and me to watch her. I looked at her breasts, even thought about the underwear she might be wearing, gazed at her slim waist cinched by the dress and emphasizing her hips.
Brigit, rarely vicious, could not help herself, even though I believe now she thought she might be the loser. “Careful, dear, you almost caught that long skirt in the leg of the chair. You don’t want to embarrass yourself with a fall. It’s terrible when people see you in an awkward position. And you could twist your ankle terribly. Think of being laid up for a while. I know, being a nurse, and seen some of that.” Brigit, Deirdre did not know, was sorry she had said anything, that she had made herself appear bitchy, which she knew I noticed from the disgust on my face.
Suddenly she returned to the table and in a soft, seductive voice, told me, “Don’t forget, doctor, you said I could see your laboratory. I’ll make an appointment.” She smiled at Brigit, and as an afterthought, “It was nice meeting you.” But I doubt we’ll see each other much again. He’s mine.
I stared after the sultry woman who would remain in my imagination.
“What did she mean by that?” Brigit interrupted.
“What?”
“Why’s she coming to the lab? I can’t imagine she knows anything about what your work means diagnostically.” Unfortunately, Brigit, also rarely jealous, said, “I bet she’s ignorant about anything to do with science.” Brigit’s face was growing hot with anger that she could not hide. “Who the hell is she?”
“Like she said,” I answered with annoyance. “She saw us at the honors and was curious. What’s wrong with that? Why are you so angry?”
You stupid man. A whore appears and you’re lost – in her pants. If you’re such a simpleton, she can have you. Brigit’s face colored again. Why am I mad? Calm down. I could tear his and her eyes out. If she means so much to him, he can have her. Then let’s see what happens to your grand design for your future.
She must have decided she would not mention Deirdre again, that we would spend the remainder of the evening dancing and talking as though nothing had happened. With that, when we arrived home, Brigit seemed to be herself, but she was unsettled and was determined I would never know. We kissed goodnight while she turned away from me, staring into the dark bedroom, looking sad she had lost her temper, had shown it; but she knew this woman was a Venus’s fly trap for men.
~
Deirdre decided she would wait a week or even two before appearing, surprise him by arriving about lunchtime, so he would be forced to ask her to lunch. From there the remainder of the day would tactically be hers.
“So, Dr. Hurwitz,” surprising him, touching him on the shoulder as he heard her voice and started to turn from a microscope.
“Oh. Hello. Come in.” He rose somewhat awkwardly and gave her his seat and took another for himself.
“Please just don’t touch the microscope.” He felt stupid for telling her that.
“It must be something interesting. May I look?” She glanced at him, smiling. “Well, I don’t know much about these things, though I did take a science course at Radcliffe. But don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to . . . .”
She interrupted. “Oh, don’t be embarrassed. I should have called before coming and would never touch anything without your permission. But I am interested.”
By now, the focused scientist seemed to have lost his calm from seeing her, trying furtively to look at her from her face to her feet. Her dress was short skirted, coming just below her knees but raised when she sat. She made no effort to cover them, knowing he would be distracted.
“It’s nice to see you again, Miss . . . . I don’t know your last name.”
“Well,” she smiled, her eyes directly on him, “Let’s not be that formal. I’m Deirdre. You’re Gregory. O.K.? Now show me what’s in the microscope.”
He came closer, telling her what to do, though she knew and having taken more than one science course, thinking they might help her with the art she concentrated on, learning scientifically, if possible, what was fake and what was real, learning disciplined thought.
Their shoulders touched. He moved away. “No. Come here, Gregory,” she said in a low, sultry voice. “You need to tell me what’s here, like those little things wiggling in there. What does this have to do with, oh with isotopes?”
“Well, something, I believe. If I can diagnose with what we are using, and then we can treat the disease, we’ll erase what you see there. It’s not really wiggling, you see. They’re cancer cells moving about in the solution.”
“Oh,” she easily made herself sound excited while all the while concentrating on him, his voice, what he would be like as a lover. She had already decided to find out. For Brigit, despite her appeal, was no match for her. Here we are two models on the runway, but I’ll run with him, Brigit dear. I want him. He’s known, has money from what I heard. That’s for me. If he isn’t that great a lover, I’ll teach him.
“Well, that’s interesting. She purposely looked at her watch. “Oh, it’s lunch time. I’m keeping you.”
“No,” he replied almost too loudly. “We can go to that small restaurant just across the street. My treat.” He paused. “That is, if you have time. I’m pleased you came. Actually, I remember you said you would, but I thought it was just. Oh well.” His face colored. “I’m glad you came,” he repeated to hide his exasperation with himself and wanting to quiet his faster beating heart.
At the restaurant, a friend noticed them and came for a curious hello, questioning who this woman was. When he left, Deirdre laughed. “Did you see his face?”
He tried to ignore her, thinking of Brigit and whether anyone would say something to her.
She interrupted the silence. “Are you free after lunch. You know, my partner and I do deal in art, but I think I could persuade him to give money for your work. If you’re free, why don’t you come with me, and we’ll talk about it.”
“I’d love to,” and he criticized himself for answering so quickly. He hesitated, calmed some, “Yes. That would be nice. I can take off. I’ll just call in.”
Deirdre had almost and so easily completed her plan, laughing to herself, enjoying the thought of her eventual conquest.
She took him to Étienne’s and her apartment at the foot of Beacon Hill. She had always wanted to live on the hill, but for now a house was unobtainable. This man with his money and his reputation? Étienne? He was a jealous man, occasionally wondering whether she thought of him as too old for her, despite his ability to satisfy her sexually and with money. He’d either understand how an association with Gregory would help them or she’d persuade him as she usually did. She’d have both men, any she wanted.
Gregory hesitated. “Is something wrong?” as she held his arm and pulled slightly toward the door.
“I, I was just thinking of something.”
Thinking of that bitch of his, so sweet, lovely, homebody. Well, in a while I’ll be your somebody, everything you think she is and more.
In a sweet voice, “Come on Gregory. If it’s something at work that can’t wait, well another time,” she feigned.
“No. I’ll take care of it later.” He feared going in with her, knowing she could easily enrapture him, mesmerized as he was now and had been the first time he had seen her.
She started to raise her voice, caught herself. “Well then, come on.”
When he heard the door close, he knew, despite what might happen, hoped would, Brigit would never know.
“You sit there on the sofa. Take off your jacket and be comfortable. You can even loosen your tie. Here let me.” All the while her voice was soft, tantalizing. She went to him, pushed him toward the corner of the sofa. “We can talk better this way.”
There was a painting of a nude on the wall facing them. He gazed at it as she undid his tie.
“You like that painting? Well, you should see me.”
Her comment astounded Gregory who tried to hide his surprise, still thinking of Brigit and that he would not do what was about to happen. But when Deirdre began to unbutton the back of her dress and stood before him in her zippered latex corset and fashionable pointed bra and her panties, Brigit disappeared. Deirdre leaned toward him, started to unbutton his shirt, stopped. She took his hand. “Come,” and she continued, whispering, “We belong together. I knew it the first time I saw you.”
/> “Come,” and she led him toward her bedroom, the large bed, sat him on the edge, watched him move back to become more comfortable, unbuttoned his shirt, undid his trousers, pulled at them and took off his underwear. “That’s nice,” she added, watching him grow, leaving him there, his heart beating faster as he became hard. She went to her bathroom. “I’ll be right back.” She unzipped her girdle, took off her garter belt and stockings, smiled. She put on some perfume, returned, undid her bra, stepped out of her panties and stood before him. “You like what you see?” as she ran her hands from her breasts to her inner thighs.
He swallowed, nodded, his hands reaching for her breasts and moving below in a slow massage as she closed her eyes, purposely loudly moaned, lying softly on top of him, then pulling him with her as she turned on her back, spreading and raising her legs to fold about him.
~
Arriving home late was nothing for Brigit and me. We expected it. When I walked in, she had been waiting and had eaten alone. She was reading the evening news about what was happening in Korea and the horror of MacArthur advocating atom bombs on Manchuria. She hated war, had seen too much of its damage and what it had done to me. She despised MacArthur. I did too. In disgust, she threw the paper on the floor.
“Hi, sweet.” I watched nervously as she came toward me, put out her arms, placed them around my neck. Guiltily I hesitated and then put my arms about her and took her to me, happy to see her. But she drew back suddenly. “What’s that?”