Come Pour the Wine

by Cynthia Freeman

  They sat silent for a long moment.

  “Okay … now what did you call me for?”

  “Like I said … I thought it was time—”

  “You didn’t say anything and you didn’t think it was time to meet an old friend. You’ve fallen on your face for the first time and you can’t cope with it … right?”

  God, was it that apparent? Bill ordered another double Scotch and sat stirring it with the swizzle stick.

  “Okay, so you don’t want to answer. Incidentally, booze isn’t going to solve anything. Janet is still going to be running around inside your head tomorrow morning, and being hung over isn’t going to make you feel any happier about it.”

  Taking a deep swallow, he said, “So you know about us?”

  Kit laughed. “What do you think girls talk about? Of course I know. Now listen to me, Bill McNeil. You have a habit of lovin’ and leavin’ ’em when it gets a little too close for comfort. But Janet’s no quick roll in the hay. Janet’s in love with you.”

  “I know. I mean, I think I know … but that’s what bothers me. She’s the only girl I ever felt this way about. But damn it, Kit, even though I’m crazy about her, I still don’t want to get involved—”

  “You mean married.”

  “I’m plain scared, to tell it straight.”

  She didn’t have to ask why, but once and for all she was going to bring it out in the open.

  “Of what?”

  “Losing my freedom, I guess—”

  “And what does freedom mean? Bedding a lady any time you want? Did it ever occur to you that one day you’re going to be old, that even you won’t be able to get it up? Then what? By that time mama will have been long gone and Betsy and Alice will have a whole passel of children and no time for you. You’ll just be old Uncle Bill, brought off the back burner for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Did you ever think about that?”

  He kept silent, then looked up at her. “Sure, I’ve thought about it, and I’d be less than honest to say that marriage hadn’t crossed my mind since I met Janet.”

  “So?”

  “Well, I’ve only known her about two months.”

  “Got nothing to do with it. George Bernard Shaw fell madly in love with a woman he’d seen on a train, and he knew right away that he’d love her forever. And he did. So it happens. Love at first sight.”

  “Okay, okay, that may be true. But I don’t know if I’m in love with Janet or maybe just infatuated. She’s just so different from anyone I’ve ever met. When I’m with her something happens to me. In fact, even when I’m not with her. And damn it, I did miss her today. Badly. I can’t imagine getting through the weekend without her. I’m going to be off the wall by the time Sunday comes.”

  “Now honest injun, Bill, have you ever felt that way about any other girl?”

  “Never …”

  “And you don’t think you’re in love?”

  “I honestly don’t know, Kit.”

  “Because you don’t want to. But what makes you think all women are like your mother? Give us a break, fella.”

  Kit had a point. And it wasn’t only his mother’s example. Betsy and Alice had followed right in mama’s footsteps, clucking and fussing over their children and manipulating their husbands as if they were puppets on a string. Harriet was the only one who made a man feel like a man. She went along with whatever Gordon wanted. Or did she? How had she convinced Gordon to move into that big mausoleum with mama, and did Gordon see it as compromise or capitulation … ? Kit made a lot of sense. He certainly had been conditioned to feeling trapped by women. But understanding this didn’t make him any less trapped.

  “Okay, Kit, what do I do? I really want Janet but I don’t want to get married. I don’t want to belong to anyone again—”

  “I think you’ve got your ass in a sling.”

  “Why? You and Nat have been together for two years.”

  “And that’s what you’d like. To have your cake and eat it too, right? Well, I’m not Janet and she’s not me. Besides, my life has been a little different from hers. I don’t come out of her ball park.”

  “But you love Nat.”

  “More than you know, but like I said, I’m different … been around the block a few times. Besides, they grow them a little different out in Kansas. Janet wouldn’t go for that.”

  Bill looked down into his drink. “Well,” he finally said, “let’s see how things develop. Maybe if I have time to get used to the idea—”

  “Listen, if you have to brainwash yourself it won’t work. Be a nice fellow and break it off now … for Janet’s sake. It won’t be easy for her, but nothing lasts forever. I’m the expert on that. There’s nothing like a good man to help mend a broken heart, so set her free and let her find someone who does care for her … Now, let’s have one for the road and call it quits. I’ve got to be rested come morning. That’s my day with my special guy.” …

  If Bill was confused and unhappy on Friday night, Saturday certainly hadn’t been any better. He roamed the spots they had visited the week before, but without Janet there was no fun, no real pleasure. He called Charles to see if he and Carol were free for dinner, but they were busy and so he stayed home, remembering the dinner Janet had fixed last Saturday. After ordering out for Chinese food, he found he had no appetite for it and threw it into the sink to let the disposal gobble it up.

  He went back into the living room and poured himself a stiff drink. As he sat on the sofa Kit’s words kept coming back to him. “There’s nothing like a good man to …” Well, a man needs a woman too, he thought, but the idea of falling in love with Janet, of marrying her … He tossed back his drink and poured another. Kit was wrong about one thing. Booze helped … damned right it did. Didn’t have to think, didn’t have to feel. With a half-empty bottle at his side he passed out on the living room sofa.

  When he awoke on Sunday morning it was ten-thirty. His head felt like a balloon and every muscle in his body ached. Wow, he’d really tied one on last night … never did that before, never had to.

  When he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, his eyes were bloodshot and the lids puffy. He looked like he felt, which was plain lousy. He’d better shape up and get himself together, he thought, opening the medicine chest and reaching for a bottle of eyedrops. He had to drive out to Long Island to see his mother for a few hours, then go to the airport and pick up Janet at six-thirty. The way he felt now he wondered if he could make it through the next six minutes.

  By the time he had showered and shaved he was beginning to think he might survive after all. He poured himself a mug of coffee, brought it into the living room and sat down. The room was a mess. Records were strewn about and there was a large wet stain on the rug where his glass had broken. It must have fallen out of his hand when he’d passed out. The ashtray was bulging with cigarette butts. A wonder he hadn’t set the place on fire. Don’t drink while driving. Don’t smoke while drunk … don’t fall for a girl, you could go all the way … Well, he wasn’t going to. That’s how it came out in the light of day. He was crazy about Janet but not in love … not enough, anyway, to give up his life … yes, damn it, his freedom. He’d never cheat on her, he’d be as loving and caring as he was capable of and he’d be the best friend she’d ever had—and lover, if she’d let him. There would be nothing he wouldn’t do for her, except marry her. Some people stayed in love for twenty years and never got married. And maybe, just maybe he could get Janet to feel that way. Oh, to hell with it. Don’t try to second-guess life. Pour the wine and enjoy it while you can …

  No man, whether husband or lover, had been as happy as Bill when he saw Janet walking down the landing steps.

  During the drive back to Manhattan they talked about how they had spent the weekend. Both stretched the truth a little, he more than she. Loneliness was never mentioned, but now it didn’t matter. They’d soon be snug and together. No pillow for her, no booze for him.

  As soon as they stepped into the elevator in hi
s building his lips were on hers. He carried her down the hall to his apartment, kicked the door closed behind them and put her down on his bed. This was where she wanted to be, Janet thought as she held him against her, where she needed to be. This was no childhood fantasy but what her life was really about.

  Their desire had been heightened by the separation and they made love eagerly, quickly. As Bill lay spent on top of her they spoke in hushed, contented voices, then made love again, more unhurried now, until Janet arched her back to receive him and they met each other with a surpassing urgency….

  Bill loved her, she thought as she lay beside him, his arm hugging her to him. She was as sure of that as that the world was round. She knew by the way he had loved her tonight. The words left unsaid were unimportant. They were spoken through his touch and the honest outpouring of his feelings….

  Bill’s feelings were not quite as tranquil. He had made love as never quite before, but the intensity of her lovemaking made him vaguely uneasy. Trying to dismiss his thoughts he said lightly, “This is getting to be a boring question, but what would you like to do? I mean for dinner?”

  She laughed. “You’re right. And I’ll give you the same boring answer. You make the decision.”

  “Okay. I had a little time to kill this morning so I went to the deli and loaded up the freezer.”

  Well, well, he was becoming domesticated, she said to herself. The first time she’d been here all he’d had was some wine in the refrigerator and coffee in the cupboard.

  “What did you buy?”

  “I don’t remember. A whole bunch of stuff. Want to see?”

  Smiling, she got out of bed, opened her suitcase and slipped into her robe while he got into his. They went into the kitchen, and when he opened the door to the refrigerator Janet stood back and laughed.

  “How did you get this home, with a moving van?”

  He smiled, rather pleased with himself, and that she approved. “No, hailed a taxi.”

  “Well, in case the Russians land in New Jersey there’s enough food to last for the duration.”

  She viewed the assortment of goodies. A large wheel of Camembert, an enormous wedge of imported Swiss cheese, a ball of Gouda encased in red wax, Cheddar and American cheese. There were pounds of cold cuts, from ham to pastrami, turkey and corned beef. She rummaged through the shelves and found cream cheese and smoked salmon, tubs of potato salad and cole slaw, a jar of kosher dills, a pint of black mammoth olives. In the freezer were pizza, blintzes, bagels, kaiser rolls and English muffins, tins of sardines from every country in the world.

  She took the sardines out and put them into the cupboard, stacking them alongside the two-pound can of Hills Brothers coffee.

  “I take it sardines shouldn’t be frozen,” Bill said sheepishly. “But at least you’ve got to give me an A for effort. I’m just learning.”

  And I’m learning a lot about you, Janet thought. This is a country mile from the Bill of a few months ago. “Suppose you go inside and fix a drink, turn on the stereo and I’ll do what women were supposedly born to do. Get supper.”

  He kissed her and did as she said.

  As Janet came into the living room carrying a large tray, he said, “Here, let me take that.”

  “It’s not heavy,” she said, placing it on the coffee table.

  “That looks beautiful, Janet.”

  “Don’t it just. And it was so taxing,” she said, smiling as he looked at the platter of cold cuts, cheese and bread.

  They talked and laughed, and in the contentment of the mood Bill confided in her about the postcards his friend had mailed for him as a ruse to escape the usual family visit on that first weekend they’d shared.

  She told him about Effie, with all of her well-meaning complaints—eliminating, of course, the part about marriage and children—and about her starry-eyed teen-age cousins whom she hadn’t had the courage to disillusion about the glamor of modeling. Which was an unpleasant reminder that the time had come for her to pack her overnight case and go home. She had to be up at six in the morning.

  Taking the last sip of her wine she stood up and started to remove the tray.

  “Don’t do that now,” Bill said. “We can clean up later. Sit down here next to me.”

  “I wish I could, darling, but the witching hour has come. Tomorrow is blue Monday and we working girls have got to get our rest.”

  He stood up, took her in his arms and kissed her into silence. Or tried to. Between kisses she said, “I’ve got … to … go. It’s … ten—”

  “No, you don’t. Stay … please.”

  “Can’t—”

  “Please …”

  “No, I can’t.”

  He released her gently, took her face in his hands. Almost whispering, he said, “Please, I think you owe it to me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you loused up my whole weekend. You weren’t here.”

  There was an awkward silence as the surprise of his admission hung between them.

  Janet was the first to recover. You loused up my weekend. You weren’t here … The words still rang in her ears as she answered, “Well … how can I make it up to you?”

  “I’ll think of something,” he said, and picked her up in his arms.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ON MONDAY SHE WAS so exhausted that she merely went through the motions of being alive. They hadn’t fallen asleep until after three, and when the alarm clock went off at six she had wanted to throw it out the window. Edna St. Vincent Millay had nothing on her. She was burning her candle not only at both ends, but in the middle. A few more nights like that and she’d have to give up modeling and take up basket weaving.

  When she joined Kit for lunch that day she was greeted with “Wow, you look like you just came out of a wringer.”

  “That’s the way I feel. I can’t wait for today to be over.”

  Kit laughed. “Listen, kid, sex is great, but like anything else, overdose can be hazardous to health.”

  Janet blushed. Even with Kit she felt embarrassed. “What did you do over the weekend?” she asked, anxious to change the subject.

  “Well, on Friday night I had a drink with Bill.”

  “Oh … ? Strange he didn’t mention it—”

  “Nothing strange about it. It wasn’t all that important. I didn’t have anything to do and I was feeling a little restless, so I gave him a call. He’d just gotten home from the airport.”

  “Did he say anything about me?” Janet asked tentatively.

  “Yes. He said he thought you were a terrific lady.”

  “That’s it?”

  “What else did you think he’d say?”

  “I don’t know, Kit … The truth is, when I’m with him I get the feeling he really cares for me … a great deal. Not that he says so in those words, but—”

  “Don’t get hung up on what you want to hear … or think you’re hearing. Guys can be nuts about a girl but have no intention of going beyond an affair. I told you that.”

  “Is that what he said?”

  “No, we didn’t really discuss you all that much.”

  Kit knew that hurt, but not nearly as much as it would hurt when Bill checked out of the affair. She couldn’t just stand by and let Janet build up all kinds of romantic notions about walking down the aisle. If only Janet knew the real story of that long conversation …

  “Listen, baby, take the goodies while they last. Look, we all go through this.” Kit gave a sympathetic shake of her head. “Now, Saturday I’m having a small dinner party, so don’t make any other plans.”

  During the week Janet and Bill had an early dinner, which left him rather out of sorts. By the time they’d finished dinner it was nine o’clock, and since Janet had to be up early the next morning the evening was practically over. He respected Janet’s aversion to love on the run, her feeling that it was somehow sordid and cheap, but he couldn’t help feeling as if he’d been left high and dry, in more ways than one, when he dropped her a
t her hotel. Still, he had to admit when Friday came the waiting had been worth it.

  There was still, though, the matter of Sundays to be settled, and he made a decision. The weekends belonged to him and Janet—mama or no mama. He knew it would be no easy job to break it to his mother but he hadn’t suspected just how hard it would be until he sat across from her in her living room after broaching the subject.

  At first she didn’t seem to comprehend. “You mean it’s just this coming Sunday you won’t be here—”

  “No, mother, I mean from now on I can’t make Sunday a standing day to come to—”

  “Bill, … you can be honest with me. Is there a special girl?”

  “Yes,” he answered, surprised at his courage, then suddenly ashamed that it should take any courage.

  “Oh … and is she your—?”

  “Mistress? No.” He denied it not just for the sake of his mother’s sensibilities … when the time came for them to meet he wanted to spare Janet any possible embarrassment.

  “But she must mean a great deal to you if you prefer her to your very own family. Are you … in love?” She swallowed hard, waiting for the answer.

  “I’m not sure, but I know I like her a great deal, and so will you.”

  “You mean you intend to bring her here?”

  “Yes, I do, mother.”

  Her tone was suddenly adamant as she said, “Bill, I’d prefer that you didn’t.”

  “Well, in that case, I’m afraid I won’t be seeing you very often.”

  She looked at him and suddenly saw a hint of Jason in his determination. Jason was gone. And now Bill too … ? Her voice softened as she said, “Is she a really nice girl? I mean, the sort you would be proud to—”

  “Yes.” Jesus, this was a soap opera.

  “What is her profession?”

  Profession? He wanted to say brain surgeon. “She’s a high-fashion model.”

  Silence, then a clearing of the throat. “Model?”

  “Yes.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a terribly respectable profession to me, dear.”

  “Modeling has changed a lot since the days of the Police Gazette, mother. Take my word for it, she’s not only in a respected profession but she’s one of the best. I wouldn’t worry too much.”