But in spite of that, it was a challenging weekend. It was the first time Mark had seen the children since they'd left LA more than a month before. Janet said he should have given them more time to settle in before he came, and she seemed nervous and hostile to him. She was leading a double life, pretending to be unattached when she was with the kids, and continuing her clandestine affair. And Adam wanted to know when he was going to meet her kids. She had promised him it would be soon, but she didn't want them to figure out why she had moved them to New York. She was terrified they'd object to Adam, and start a war with him, out of loyalty to their father, if nothing else. She was looking nervous and strained when Mark saw her, and he wondered what was going wrong. And the kids were unhappy too. But they were thrilled to see their dad.
They stayed at the Plaza with him, and ordered lots of room service. He took them to the theater, and a movie. He went shopping with Jessica, and he and Jason went for a long walk in the rain, trying to make sense of things. And by Sunday afternoon, he felt as though he had only scratched the surface, and hated leaving them again. He was depressed all the way home on the plane. He was really beginning to wonder if he should move to New York. He was still thinking about it the following weekend, as he lay in the sun at the pool on Saturday, and he noticed that someone was moving into the gatehouse finally. He took a stroll over, and saw Jimmy hauling boxes out of a van by himself, and offered to give him a hand.
Jimmy hesitated for a long moment, and then accepted gratefully. He was surprised himself at how much stuff he had. He had sent most of what he had to storage, but had kept a lot of framed photographs, some trophies, his sports equipment, and his clothes. He had a lot of stereo equipment, some of which was Maggie's. There seemed to be a mountain of stuff he had brought with him, and even with Mark helping, it took them two hours to unload the van, and they were both tired when they stopped. All they'd done was introduce themselves to each other at that point, and Jimmy offered him a beer when they finally sat down, and Mark accepted gratefully. It had been a lot of work.
“You sure have a lot of stuff,” Mark said with a grin as he sipped the beer. “Heavy stuff, what's in all that, your collection of bowling balls?” Jimmy smiled and shrugged.
“Damned if I know. We had a two-room apartment and I sent most of it to storage, and I still had all this.” He had a lot of books and papers, and CDs. It seemed endless, but it disappeared easily into the drawers and cupboards and bookcases and closets of the gatehouse. And when he opened the first box, he took out a picture of her and set it on the mantelpiece and stood looking at her. It was one of his favorites. She had just caught a fish in a lake on one of their trips to Ireland, and she looked victorious and pleased, her bright red hair tied in a knot on top of her head, her eyes squinting against the sun. She looked about fourteen years old. It was the summer before she got sick, only about seven months ago. It seemed like a lifetime ago to him, as he turned and saw Mark watching him. Jimmy looked away and didn't say anything.
“Pretty woman. Your girlfriend?” Jimmy shook his head and took a long time to answer, but finally did with a knot in his throat. He was used to it now, it felt like a growth sometimes, the knot that still turned into tears at the drop of a hat, and felt like it always would.
“My wife,” Jimmy said quietly.
“I'm sorry,” Mark said sympathetically, assuming they were divorced, because it seemed like everyone was now. “How long has it been?”
“Seven weeks tomorrow night,” Jimmy said, as he took a breath. He never talked about it, but he knew he had to learn how, and maybe this was as good a time as any to start. Mark looked like a nice guy, and maybe they'd be friends, living on the same property. Jimmy tried to keep his voice steady as he lowered his eyes.
“It's been six for me. I just visited my kids in New York last weekend. I miss them so damn much. My wife left me for another guy,” Mark said in a somber voice.
“I'm sorry,” Jimmy said sympathetically. He could see the pain in Mark's eyes, mirrored and magnified only by the pain in his own. “That's tough. How old are your kids?”
“Fifteen and thirteen, a girl and a boy. Jason and Jessica. They're great kids, and so far they're hating New York. If she was going to fall for someone else, I wish it had been someone out here. The kids don't know about him yet. What about you? Kids?”
“No. We were talking about it. We hadn't gotten around to it yet.” He was amazed at how much he was willing to say to Mark. It was as though they had some strange invisible bond. The bond of heartache and loss and unexpected tragedy. The brutal blows of life that come as a surprise.
“Maybe it's just as well. Maybe it's easier to get divorced if you don't have kids. Maybe not. What do I know?” Mark said with a blend of compassion and humility, and suddenly Jimmy realized what he thought.
“We're not getting divorced,” he said in a choked voice.
“Maybe you'll get back together,” Mark said, envying him, but she obviously wasn't around either, so things couldn't be working out for them. And then he saw the look of raw anguish in Jimmy's eyes.
“My wife died.”
“Oh my God… I'm so sorry. … I thought What happened? An accident?” He glanced at the photograph again, suddenly horrified that the beautiful young woman holding the fish was gone, not just to her own life, but dead, and it was easy to see how heartbroken Jimmy was.
“A brain tumor. She started having headaches… migraines… they did some tests. She was gone in two months. Just like that. I don't usually talk about it. She would have loved this place. Her family was Irish, born in County Cork. She was Irish to her very core. An amazing woman. I wish I could be half the human being she was.” Mark almost cried listening to him, and he could see the tears glistening in Jimmy's eyes. All he could do was look at him sympathetically, and then he helped him haul the rest of the boxes around, and he carried at least half of them upstairs. They didn't say anything to each other for a while, but Jimmy seemed to have regained his composure again by the time all the boxes were in the right rooms and Mark had helped him open some of them. “I can't thank you enough. I feel a little crazy moving to this place. We had a perfectly good apartment in Venice Beach. I just had to get out, and then this came up. It seemed like the right thing to do for now.” It gave him a place to recover where he didn't have a thousand memories of being there with her. And under the circumstances, it seemed sensible to Mark too.
“I was living in a hotel two blocks from my office, listening to people cough all night. An accountant I work with does work for Coop and knew he was renting out the gatehouse and the guest wing. I fell in love with the place the minute I saw it, and I think the grounds will be great for my kids. It's like living in a park. I moved in two weeks ago, and it's so peaceful here, I sleep like a baby. Do you want to come see my place? It's completely different from this. You had just rented this place the morning I saw mine. But I think mine will work better for my kids.” It was all he thought about, particularly after seeing them the previous weekend, and knowing how unhappy they were in New York. Jessica was fighting constantly with her mother, and Jason seemed to be disconnecting from everyone and isolating. He didn't think either of them were in good shape, and neither was their mom. He had never seen her as stressed. She had blown all their lives to smithereens, and he wondered if she was finding that it wasn't as idyllic as she had thought it would be. She had chosen an arduous, rocky road, not only for them, but herself.
“I'm going to take a shower,” Jimmy said with a smile at Mark. “I'll come down to your place in a while, if you'll be home. Do you want to play some tennis this afternoon?” He hadn't played since Maggie died.
“Sure. I haven't looked at the courts yet. I haven't had anyone to play with. I've used the pool though, it's very nice. It's right next to my place. I was going to swim laps every night after work, but I haven't had time.”
“Have you seen Coop?” Jimmy asked with an amused grin, and Mark could see he felt better
again. The poor guy was in a fragile state after losing his wife.
“Not yet, or not to talk to anyway. Only from a distance, when he drives in and out. He drives some damn nice-looking women. He seems to have a flock of young girls.”
“That's his reputation, isn't it? I think that's pretty much what he's done all his life. I haven't seen him in a movie in years.”
“I think he's down on his luck, or in a tight spot anyway, which is why you and I wound up as his tenants,” Mark said practically. It had worked out well for them.
“I figured that much. Especially in your case,” he said to Mark, “why would he rent a wing in his house, if he didn't need the money? This place must cost a fortune to keep up.”
“His accountant just fired all the help. Maybe we'll be seeing him out gardening one of these days.” They both laughed at the thought, and a few minutes later Mark left and went back to his place. He was glad to have met Jimmy and was impressed by the work that he did with kids in Watts, and he was sorry as hell about his wife. What miserable, rotten luck. It seemed worse than what had happened to him. At least he still had his kids, and Janet had broken his heart and screwed up his life, but at least she hadn't died. Mark couldn't think of anything worse than what had happened to his new friend.
Jimmy turned up half an hour later, looking fresh and clean, with freshly shampooed hair. He was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and carrying a tennis racket. And he was vastly impressed when he saw the wing where Mark lived. And Mark had been right, it was completely different than his. Jimmy liked his own place better, but he could see why Mark's place would be good for his kids. There was a lot more room to move around. And he suspected they'd be happier close to the pool.
“Coop didn't object to your kids?” Jimmy asked as they walked to the tennis court.
“No. Why?” Mark looked surprised. “I told the realtor they live in New York, and they're not going to be out here much unfortunately, except on vacations. It's easier for them if I go there.”
“I got the impression from the realtor that he doesn't like kids. I can see why of course. He's got some pretty nice stuff in both our places. It worked out well for me. We didn't have much furniture, it was kind of beaten up and our apartment was very small. I just put it all in storage. It's kind of nice to have a fresh start for a while. What about you?”
“I let Janet take everything, except my clothes. I thought it would be better for the kids to have all their familiar stuff with them. This place was a godsend for me. Otherwise, I'd have had to go out and buy a load of furniture. I think if I'd had to do that, I'd have stayed at the hotel. For a while anyway. I really wasn't up to furnishing an apartment, or worrying about all that. I just walked into this with my suitcases and unpacked. Presto, magic, I'm home.”
“Yeah,” Jimmy grinned, “me too.” As Mark knew.
They found the tennis court easily, but were disappointed to find that it was in bad shape. They tried to play a game and the surface was broken and too rough. And in the end, they just volleyed some balls back and forth. They enjoyed the exercise, and afterwards, wound up at the pool. Mark swam laps, while Jimmy lay in the sun for a while, and afterwards Jimmy went back to his place. He invited Mark for dinner that night. He was going to cook a steak on the barbecue, and out of habit, he had bought two.
“Sounds good. I'll bring the wine,” Mark volunteered. He showed up an hour later with a bottle of very decent cabernet, and they sat on Jimmy's terrace and talked about life, sports, their jobs, Mark's kids, and the ones Jimmy wished he'd had, and might someday, and they talked as little as possible about their wives. It was still too painful for both of them. Mark admitted that he was reluctant to start dating again, and Jimmy wondered if he ever would. For the moment, he doubted it, but at thirty-three that was a tough decision to make. They both agreed they were just going to drift for a while. And eventually their conversation extended to Coop, what they both thought he was like, who he really was, if anyone. Jimmy had a theory that if you led the Hollywood life for as long as he had, it eventually corroded your reality. It certainly seemed like a plausible theory about Coop, from what they'd both read about him.
At that exact moment, as they sat on Jimmy's patio, Coop was at the main house, in bed with Charlene. She was a veritable smorgasbord sexually, and he had done things with her that he hadn't even thought of in years. It made him feel young again, and challenged, and amused. She had a kittenish quality, which titillated him, and then a moment later, she was a fierce lioness, defying him to conquer her. She kept him busy for most of the night. And the next morning, she sneaked downstairs to cook breakfast for him. She was going to surprise him with a wonderful breakfast, and then make love to him again. She was standing in the kitchen wearing nothing but a thong, and a pair of red satin platform high heels, when she heard a lock turn and a door open, and she turned around to see Mark standing in Coop's kitchen in his underwear, with his blond hair tousled. He looked like a sleepy eighteen-year-old kid, as she stood there without apology or any attempt to cover herself, and just grinned.
“Hi, I'm Charlene,” she said, as though she'd been wearing a dressing gown and fluffy slippers. He couldn't even see her face, he was so overwhelmed by her enormous breasts, the thong, and her endless legs. It took him a full minute to find her face.
“Ohmygod… I'm so sorry…. Paloma told me Coop never uses his kitchen on the weekends… my stove doesn't work and the espresso machine is broken… I was just going to make a cup of coffee…she gave me the key….” He was practically stuttering, and Charlene didn't look the least upset. More than anything, she seemed friendly and amused.
“I'll make you a cup of coffee. Coop is asleep.” Mark suspected she was probably an actress or a model Coop had brought home, or a girlfriend of his. He'd seen a blonde with him weeks before, and Mark didn't know who either of them was. Sexual talent in some form or other he assumed.
“No, really, I'll go I'm terribly sorry….” She just stood there, smiling at him, with her breasts practically in his face.
“It's okay.” She didn't seem the least bothered to be standing naked in front of him. And if it hadn't been so embarrassing he would have laughed at the scene. He felt completely inept standing in front of her, and while he continued to look mortified, she made him a cup of coffee and handed it to him. “Are you the tenant?” she asked comfortably, as he held the steaming cup, trying to retreat.
“Yes, I am.” Who else would he be? A cat burglar? A stranger off the street? “I won't come in here again. I'll buy a new coffee machine. Maybe it's best if you don't tell Coop,” he said nervously. She was a stunning-looking girl.
“Okay,” she said amiably, as she took out a container of orange juice and poured a glass for Coop, and then she glanced at Mark before he left. “Do you want orange juice?”
“No, thanks… really. I'm fine. Thanks for the coffee,” he said, and disappeared as quickly as he could. He locked the door to the main house again, and then stood grinning in the hallway off his living room where the communicating door was. He couldn't believe the scene he'd just been in. It was like something in a very bad movie. But she sure had one hell of a figure, and incredibly long raven-black hair.
He was still laughing to himself, and the scene seemed to get funnier as he thought about it. And once he was dressed, he couldn't resist walking up to the gatehouse to tell Jimmy. He had already vowed to himself he was going out to buy a new coffee machine that afternoon.
Jimmy was sitting on the patio, drinking a mug of coffee and reading the newspaper, when he looked up and saw Mark grinning at him. He smiled easily, and Mark looked unable to contain his amusement.
“You will never guess where I had coffee this morning, or with whom.”
“Probably not, but from the look on your face, it must have been good.” Mark told him about Paloma and the key, the broken stove and the coffee machine, and that he had walked in on Charlene, standing virtually naked, wearing a G-string and a pair of platfor
m shoes, looking totally unembarrassed as she made coffee for him.
“It was like a scene in a movie. Christ, imagine if I'd run into him. I'd probably have gotten evicted.”
“Or worse.” But Jimmy was grinning too. It was the funniest vision, imagining Mark in his underwear, with a naked woman serving him coffee.
“She offered me orange juice too. But I figured I was pushing my luck, staying another minute.”
“Do you want another cup of coffee, though I'll admit, the service is a little more mundane here.”
“Yeah, sure.” They were like the two new kids on the block who had found each other, and their circumstances were sufficiently similar to form a bond between them. And there was something easy and pleasant about being neighbors. They both had their own friends and lives, but they had both been avoiding their own circles lately. Their tragedies had set them apart, and made them feel awkward even with their closest friends. They had isolated themselves, and now they had each found a partner in their isolation. It was far easier than being with the people who knew them when they were married. It was like starting with a clean slate, even though they had shared their stories. But their old friends' pity was sometimes hard to take.
Mark went back to his place half an hour later. He had brought some work home from the office. But they met up again at the pool later that afternoon. Mark had bought himself a new coffee machine, and Jimmy had finished unpacking by then. He had put up half a dozen pictures of Maggie in key locations. Oddly enough, it made him feel less lonely if he could see her face. Sometimes, late at night, he was terrified he'd forget how she looked.
“Did you get your work done?” Jimmy asked Mark comfortably from a lounge chair.
The Cottage Page 8
