No sooner had he pushed Ninja over to make room than he heard the slam of a car door just outside. It sounded like the door of a taxi, not a Rolls, he thought. Next was the sound of the bolt unlocking and then there she was, inside, preoccupied with securing the night latch. That done, she turned, glanced up, and saw him. For a long moment she remained fixed, eyes to eyes with him. It was as if each thought the other an apparition that would evanesce if a word was spoken. Finally she came up the stairs, and he moved aside to let her by. He believed he understood why she didn’t greet him with an embrace and kiss. A mere embrace and kiss would not suffice.
She dropped her shoulder bag to the floor, plumped a couple of pillows with vigorous slaps and jabs, and sat on the sofa close to its right arm. Nikolai cautioned himself not to do anything she might interpret as assuming. He got up from the steps, came in, and took the chair across from her, as might a visitor who’d just happened to drop by.
“I’ll make some tea,” she said.
Far from what he’d imagined would be their first words. “Not for me, thanks.”
“Perhaps later.”
At least there was going to be a later, Nikolai thought.
“How’ve you been?” she asked casually.
“How about you?”
“Not well,” she admitted matter-of-factly. “Not at all well.”
Nikolai tried a smile. “You look wonderful to me.”
There was a catch in her sigh. “I’ve had the dumps. Ever had the dumps?”
“What are the symptoms?”
“Mopes, fidgets, droops.” She touched the defining concavity between her collarbones. “A huge jam-up of woes right about here that keeps laughter from coming out. Ever had that?”
“It’s been going around.”
“Nothing much one can do for it, I suppose. Just let it run its course. What did you do for yours?”
“Went to the dacha.”
“Oh, so that’s where you were. I had most of the world and then some trying to find you. Even my lost-persons angels were at a loss. Were you at the dacha alone?”
The outfit she had on was new, Nikolai thought. At least he couldn’t recall ever having seen her in it, and surely he would have remembered, because it was such a fierce yellow and the short skirt was so raunchy. He wanted to go over and lick her knees.
“I mean, you weren’t with one of Lev’s libidinous Finns or anyone, were you?”
Nikolai savored her jealousy. He looked away, as though his reply wouldn’t hold up under her scrutiny.
“Don’t be brutal with me, Nickie,” she implored. “I know I deserve it, but please don’t be.” She let her plea hang between them until it had expended most of its fervency. “Are you wondering where I was tonight?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Sure it does. I hope it does.”
“What I meant is, it doesn’t matter because you’re here now.”
“I went to dinner and half a concert at Albert Hall with a school chum, a she, Millicent Millington. I hadn’t spoken to her in years. Thought it might be healthful for me to renew some old ties, although none were ever what one might call a meaningful knot.”
“Half a concert?”
Vivian nodded. “Throughout dinner, and I mean practically every second from appetizer to demitasse, Millie Millie, as we used to call her, couldn’t talk of anything other than her predicament. It was impossible for me to get in a word about you.”
“What was bothering her?” Nikolai asked, merely to maintain verbal momentum.
“About six years ago Millie Millie married splendidly to more than ample money, and she was, so she claimed, exceedingly satisfied with her life until one afternoon last fall when she dallied with a neighbor down in Sussex.”
“And, as it goes, she simultaneously fell out and into love.”
“Right. However, this neighbor happens to also be a wife. By now they’re really into it. They get lost together during the hunts so they can have at it in the hedgerows. Millie Millie spared me none of the details. In fact she was so graphic it was sordid. It was like she’d found God and he has a clitoris.”
“What about her irises? I assume you had a look.”
Vivian had on her magnifying monocle. She fingered it, spun it by its stem. “I’d thought I might,” she said, “but there was no need. Millie Millie was so excited with her switch she was practically walleyed. Anyway, I begged off at intermission, said I had excruciating cramps.”
“Do you?”
“I was fibbing. Have you ever known me to have cramps? Besides, that or whatever has never stopped us.” In her unhalting manner without so much as a breath she ran right into another topic. “I’m sorry about how I behaved in Baden-Baden.”
“I shouldn’t have run out on you.”
“Considering my abysmal behavior, I would have run out on me.” She lowered her eyes a fraction. “In fact, I more or less have.”
“I apologize for leaving you high and dry.”
“High and wet,” she corrected. “No matter, it’s my blame. You can’t have it, not even a smidgen of it. You sacrificed your precious Fabergé things for me and I pissed the money away.”
“Not without warning me that you probably would.”
“Don’t let me off the hook. I was insensitive. I had a long tête-à-tête with my conscience, which if possible is something I normally avoid, and we agree, my conscience and I.I was insensitive.”
He leaned forward to emphasize his words. “Viv, I didn’t take off because you got caught up in a losing streak.”
“What could be worse?”
“I would have left even if you’d won a bundle.”
“That’s worse.” She frowned.
“I was struggling with the future.”
She understood what he meant. She’d also done some struggling with it, wondering what they’d do when he got called back to Russia. Would she go with him? Would he want her to? Wouldn’t their love be different there? She’d have to join up, wouldn’t she? Become a Communist, pretend she disliked owning things? She’d have to get used to not having money coursing through her life. It was almost unimaginable. One of her beliefs was that thoughts were energy and whatever was thought of enough would become circumstance. On that basis she’d put this personal Armageddon out of mind.
“The future, you say?”
“It was giving me a very bad time.”
“Well, it’s still there.”
“But I believe I can handle it now,” Nikolai told her.
“You think you can change me?”
“I don’t want any changes.”
Relief alleviated the tension in her cheeks, and her mouth softened. “You shouldn’t have to suffer even my venial sinning,” she said. “Hell, lover, I want to be good for you, not just to you.”
Her words were his. He remembered for the impact of comparison how vacant and dispirited he’d felt when he was away from her. He thought of how possibly he’d solved all their divergences in Prague. He glanced at the newspapers on the table, her many red-ink scratchings on the lists of racing entries. “Been winning?” he asked.
“I haven’t been betting, just picking. My bookmakers must think I’ve gone blind. Gareth has been trying desperately to get in touch with me. The other day he was at my door. I didn’t answer. No use tempting myself. Strangely, I seem to do better when all I do is pick.” Her expression clouded with consternation. She raised her chin to clear it away. “Actually I’m trying to wean myself out of horse-playing altogether.”
“Why should you?”
“Well …” She seemed unsure of which reason to give. “It recently occurred to me that financially demonstrating confidence in the swiftness of a handsome beast in the flesh was one thing, but there was no reason other than greed to put such faith in mere names and statistics. Besides, I don’t lose well.”
“But you’re big to admit it.”
She laughed heartily. “My woes seem to be giving way,�
� she said. She sprang up, went past Nikolai and on into the bedroom.
Nikolai decided he shouldn’t follow her. He heard the bedcovers being turned down, pillows being piled in place, a drawer being slid open, things in the drawer being pushed aside to make room for her bedside clock, the drawer being closed. He heard her enter the bathroom. There was the squeak of the handle for the hot as she turned it, water hitting the bowl of the sink, the soap dish being slightly disturbed, a soundless interval while she dried. Nikolai imagined her seeing herself happier in the mirror. He would, he vowed, always be generous with whatever made her happy. She was humming a part of Borodin’s Nocturne for String Orchestra from Quartet No. 2 when the telephone rang. She answered it in the bedroom. As sharp as Nikolai’s hearing was, he couldn’t make out what she was saying. A couple of trills of laughter pierced out. Nikolai told himself he shouldn’t be possessive of her laughter.
She returned. “That was Archer. I told him you were back. He was happy to hear it.”
“My pal Archer.”
She didn’t resume her place on the sofa. Rather, she half leaned, half sat on the arm of it with the forward edge of the arm supporting her just below her buttocks. Her weight was on one foot. Her other foot was crossed over, its instep gracefully elongated. She seemed unaware that her pelvis was so pronounced. “You are back, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I mean for good back.”
“Or whatever.”
“I haven’t turned you into a cynic, have I? I hope not. One of the numerous qualities I love about you is your brooding optimism.”
“Has Archer been around much?”
“He calls often to check on my emotional barometer. Archer’s been sweet, really. Just now he wanted to know if my mood was up to playing poker at his club. He offered to stake me. When I told him you were here he knew it was out of the question.”
“Why not enjoy yourself?”
“I fully intend to.”
She went to him, parted his legs with her knees so she could stand closer. With both hands, as though his head were a crucible, she tilted his face up. The kiss was long. It made her lower abdomen feel as if it weighed a ton and took away her legs and her breath. To regain a rhythm to her breathing she finally removed her tongue and lips, straightened up. His arms were around her hips and buttocks, holding, his palms curved to match her sides. His cheek and ear were pressed against her middle, and she wondered if he could hear the arousal in her. While they remained like that, confirming reunion, she gazed around the room and admitted the difference his presence had brought to her place. There was renewed value in everything, not only the Lavery landscape above the mantel, but, as well, the mundane, such as the brass umbrella rack in the corner on the landing. There was even beauty in the spent potted primrose on the stand by the window, which last week in full flower, all blue and pink, hadn’t been able to reach her appreciation. “I love you so, Nickie,” she said to the top of his head, and she was pleased that he allowed her words independence, that he didn’t automatically match them aloud. She thought with her want that she would like it if he carried her in, as he’d done the very first time they’d loved. As though he heard her mind, he stood and took her up. Her willingness made her seem weightless. She lost both her pumps on the way.
Their loving was greedy and generous and lasting, and afterward they both fell into a deep, good sleep. They were awakened by what sounded like a sack of potatoes being flung against the bedroom door. It took them a moment to realize it was Ninja. Neglected, yellow-eyed Ninja. They heard him get a good running start and again throw himself at the door panel.
“A cat only its mother could love,” Nikolai remarked. He’d never been able to make Ninja purr.
Vivian got up and went out. Ninja went belly-up at the sight of her. She gave him a half-dozen scratchy strokes and fed him a whole eight-ounce can of mackerel. “Are you hungry?” she shouted from the kitchen to Nikolai. His reply sounded as much like yes as it did no, so she made up a tray of things and brought it in.
“What’s the time?” Nikolai asked.
“I ignored the kitchen clock, but I did notice it was dark out. Do you think it’s the same night or the next?” She placed the tray on the floor by the bed and climbed back in under the sheet. “I was having the most extraordinary dream,” she said.
“Was I in it?”
“Off and on. But mainly it starred Millie Millie.”
“Extraordinary, huh?”
“Very.”
“Who knows—perhaps you’d enjoy such a sortie in Sussex.”
“How can you assume I haven’t already?”
“Have you?”
“Are you curious or threatened?”
“Both.”
“I’ve had opportunities,” she said playfully.
“And?”
“Not in this life, darling, nor the next, unless for some lesson we both choose to come back as women.”
“Do you honestly believe that you and I are bound forever?”
“So I’m told.”
“By your angels, I suppose.”
“Aren’t you convinced?”
“They don’t talk to me.”
“You don’t listen.”
“How many times do you think we’ve lived before?”
“Plenty.”
“We just keep coming back?”
“Until we get it right, no mistakes.”
“Then what?”
“Then we go on to some higher plane of existence.”
“Together?”
“Possibly not.”
“This may be the time we get it right,” Nikolai said thoughtfully. “It feels right.”
“Doesn’t it, though.”
“I’m for making a mistake.”
“You!” she chided. She placed her hand on his chest, as close as she could get to his heart. She discerned his heartbeat and thought it a strong, contented thump. “I bought two handsome teak benches for the terrace down in Devon,” she said.
“Used or new?”
“New. But I couldn’t settle on exactly where they should go. I must have moved them around for an hour. As you know, normally I’m not so indecisive.”
“Did you spend much time down there?”
“Only a day and a night. The house and everything seemed to miss you as much as I. I did manage to plant a flat of violas, and I got as far as dressed for fishing but didn’t go. Sat out on the back steps with my waders on like a catatonic. Did you get like that at the dacha?”
An affirmative grunt from Nikolai.
“On the drive back from Devon I had the urge to go to Paris and look up my father.”
“Could you locate him?”
“It would take some doing. Anyway, by the time I got home the urge had left me. At least it was no longer on the surface. Must have been just another acute attack. I’ve had them off and on since I was in my teens.”
Nikolai wondered why her French father didn’t look her up. He couldn’t imagine anyone not wanting to know her.
“We’re going to have four children,” she predicted. “Three girls and a boy. We’ll give them romantic Russian names like Tatiana and Lilya. Naturally the boy will be Nikolai. Nikolai Nikolaievich. Won’t that please you?”
“Why not three boys and a girl?”
“Are you going to insist on three boys?”
“Perhaps.”
“It won’t do you any good. I’ve already put in for three girls.”
“You submitted an application, I suppose.”
“In a way. They’re already waiting to be born.”
“What if I put in a request?”
“Mothers get preference.”
“That’s unfair.”
“Did it ever occur to you that mothering has always been, while fatherhood has only been recently realized?”
“According to whom?”
“Common sense and anthropology. Just a few thousand years ago, no one knew how women be
came pregnant. Fucking wasn’t connected with having babies. Fucking was just fun, something that felt good. Giving birth was mystical, and, I should mention, not so much fun.”
“How long are those teak benches?”
“Six feet.”
“What color are the violas you planted?”
“Mixed.”
“I like best the mauve ones.”
“You would.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I recall your remarking at various times that you think mauve is funereal.”
“Well, it is.”
“I’ve always thought as much.”
“So what you’re implying is that my tastes lean to the morose.”
“Lor, how you Russian blokes carry on.” She rolled onto her side and threw a claiming leg over him. Her crotch pressed his hip. The small of her back was easily within his reach. His hand appreciated there for a while, then went to her buttocks. After several serious squeezes she murmured to the neck skin below his ear: “Carry on.”
They didn’t venture out of the apartment for two and a half days, and then when they did go out it was at three o’clock Tuesday morning. Nearly everyone else was asleep, which made London more agreeable. Arms around they strolled in step to Hyde Park Corner and along Piccadilly on the Green Park side. At St. James’s they gave up Piccadilly for Jermyn Street, where, while looking shop windows, Vivian said that if she had her way all of Nikolai’s shirts would be made to perfect measure for him by Hildetch & Key with his initials engraved on pearl buttons. Nikolai said that he would like to be able to buy Vivian a solid gold comb, not an excuse for a comb but a long, usable, hefty one. Vivian enjoyed that idea, imagined herself sitting somewhere in soft sunlight languorously running gold teeth through her hair.
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