- Blackmail? What do you mean by that?
- A desperate man is capable of doing anything. Even something nasty.
- You don’t really mean to say that you’d blackmail me in order to force me to stay with you?
- Maybe – he said vaguely.
Suddenly, a detail from Victor’s affair with Tatum Longoria came to her mind. She had also been blackmailing him, threatening to tell her husband everything if Victor left her. This struck her as a similar situation. Some people are really impudent, she thought, and then asked him:
- Are you taking pictures of me naked in your bed?
- Maybe – he said with a smile.
- Are you recording my sighs and moans?
- Maybe – he repeated.
- And you’d send all of it to my husband to make him realize what kind of a woman he married?
- Maybe – he said, but without the vagueness in his voice. He sounded very confident.
She came home that day literally shattered by her new insight on Donald Cooper. As always, no one was home – the kids were in some night club as usual, and Victor had told her earlier that he would be home late due to a business dinner. However, she was welcomed by the phone ringing. When she picked it up, she heard a female voice on the other side:
- Is this the Nash residence?
- Yes, it is – Donna answered. That voice seemed familiar to her.
- Are you the wife of Victor Nash?
- Yes, I am – she was confused. Now she was absolutely sure that it was the same voice she had heard a few months ago. – And who is this?
- Donna, I’m so sorry I haven’t introduced myself. I thought you’d hang up on me because I behaved very rudely and inappropriately towards you. Please, forgive me. I have so many things of my mind. I’m calling from Canada… It’s Madeleine…
- Madeleine? – Donna didn’t recall at first – Madeleine who?
- Oh, for crying out loud, don’t you remember….? The student campus in New York… The condo we shared… Madeleine from Charleston, now Madeleine Trenton. I married Captain Seaborne… Do you remember now?
- Dear God, of course I do. Oh, Madeleine, I’m so glad to hear from you. Tell me, how may I help you?
- I need to speak to Victor. I called his office just now, but I was told that he was at a business meeting – she said in a serious voice, and then she laughed: - You don’t have to worry, I don’t want to steal him away from you. I just need legal advice from him. It’s really important.
- I really don’t know when he’ll get home, but call him tomorrow or leave your number and I’ll make sure he calls you.
- I’ll be in Charleston in a few days, I’m not sure when exactly. Can I contact you when I arrive in New York? I’d really like to see both of you.
- Call us when you get to Virginia. We’ll think of something – Donna responded.
- Thank you, Donna. You’ve been very helpful. Very helpful, indeed. And say hi to Victor for me.
Then she hung up, and left Donna astonished and surprised. She couldn’t come round for a few minutes. She just managed to utter: “Well, well… Seems that Madeleine Trenton still remembers her old flame. She never forgot her Lord. How could she? They spent months together, I witnessed it. I saw with my own eyes how passionate their relationship was. What am I to do now? Looks like I’m really the scapegoat in all of this. Enough is enough! I have to talk to Victor. I’ll tell him everything!”
She decided: no matter what, she’ll never let herself be overwhelmed by desperation. Her soul isn’t a floor rag to be wantonly trampled by everyone! She won’t take it anymore! She has to claim back her pride! Whatever happens, she’ll tell Victor that she cheated on him with Donald Cooper tomorrow morning.
However, when that moment came, she got cold feet. She kept silent about everything. Everything! She just told him that Madeleine Trenton had called him the night before, much to his surprise.
* * *
Madeleine Trenton was the last thing on Victor’s mind. He had other, much bigger and more important things to worry about. He wanted to know who Donna’s Butterfly belongs to now. He wanted to know that immediately and unconditionally.
When he decided to end his marital drowsiness and insanity that threatened to have a tragic outcome, he didn’t seek advice from anyone. Like a drug addict that’s slowly coming to his senses, realizing where his addiction is going to take him, Victor was eager to keep finding the real truth every single day: how he fell for Donna’s tricks, how he was naïve enough to be used for other people’s plans, and how Donna, his Sugar, turned her back on him unexpectedly, finding consolation in the arms of another man.
If Victor ever felt disgusted by something surrounding him, something that was part of his everyday life, it was snooping around Donna’s intimacy. Since the time she had confided in him about the things she had gone through as a thirteen year old girl, he moderately encouraged her to share every new trauma with him with the intention of helping her to slowly put that awful incident behind. He eventually realized that he had no right to reproach her, that he only did her harm by doing that; in fact, it was obvious to him that mutual love is the single solution for all of Donna’s problems and predicaments. But now that their mutual love was put into question, when it was melting as quickly as snow in the warm spring sun, nothing could stop him anymore to carry out his plan – to find out who he was sharing Donna’s Butterfly with.
His male intuition was on the right track: he was absolutely sure that Donna was seeing another man. There was a perfect order and punctuality in her leaving and returning home. She would always leave at quarter past four, and return after ten. On those days – on Mondays, and occasionally Thursdays – she always wore the same perfume, she was always more gentle and compliant towards him, probably because she was afraid that he could ask her the question of her whereabouts on Mondays and Thursdays.
The fact is that she always made an excuse for her outings – first it was an appointment at the hairdresser’s, then a coffee with her friends, after that a theatre night, and finally a business meeting – but those excuses were too transparent and naïve for Victor not to see through them. However, he didn’t want to do anything until he personally confirmed his suspicion. That’s why he decided to stalk Donna on a Monday or a Thursday to see what she was up to, although he found it repulsive and sickening.
He decided on the first Monday in June. He prepared a made-up story for Donna in advance: he told her that he had to attend a court hearing in Rochester. He said that he would stay there for at least two days and that he needed clean underwear. She had no objections. Although he carefully observed her face, he didn’t see anything that would tell him she was glad he would be gone for two days. However, not to raise any doubts, he called the local hotel and reserved a room, informing the receptionist that he was going to stay there until Tuesday morning, maybe even until Wednesday.
On Monday, at four in the morning, he went to his car and pretended that he was on his way to Rochester, saying that the alleged court hearing was at noon. However, Victor drove the car to the underground garage; he parked his Mercedes and got into a blue BMW which he had rented two days ago at Hertz, and drove to his office. He didn’t answer his phone calls, and he told his assistants not to connect him with anyone because, as he said, he had to compose two appeals and he needed to be absolutely concentrated. He knew that Donna rarely called his office, so he was positive that it wouldn’t happen today; however, in order to secure his mission completely, he instructed his assistants to tell Donna that he still didn’t come back from Rochester in case she did call.
He closed the office at three, and gave his assistants the afternoon off. Then he sat in his BMW, parked the car near his house on Fifth Avenue, and waited until 15 minutes past four. Donna drove the car from the garage as expected, but she seemed pretty nervous. She headed south. He followed her at short distance, careful not to be seen or not to be stopped by the car lights at the least desira
ble moment.
After twenty minutes, Donna was on the road towards Atlantic City. When she reached Hearst, she turned to a side road and entered a paved yard with a big, two-story house surrounded by pinewood trees and a huge green lawn. A Jeep Cherokee with New York license plates was already parked in the yard. A man in a sweatshirt opened the door, but Victor couldn’t recognize his face due to distance and because he was still in a moving car.
He slowly parked near the house, turned off the engine and started waiting.
Two hours went by, then two more, but he couldn’t see any movement in the house. It was nearly eight when the door suddenly opened and revealed Donna who seemed to be in a hurry. That same man came out right after her and grabbed her by the hand, as if he wanted to stop her from leaving. She wrested out of his grip, but still remained at the door. They seemed to have a fiery discussion; Victor saw them both gesticulating, but there was no way he could see what was going on. However, Donna got back in the house soon after. Nothing was going on for a while, and then Donna appeared at the front door around ten, accompanied by the same man. Victor couldn’t recognize his face again because the streetlights were blurry and dim. He only saw the stranger kissing her gently good-bye, and then escorting her to her car. After that, Donna was on the road to New York.
Victor still sat there, feeling as if a train with a hundred wagons crossed over him. A huge void opened inside of him, something like a deep crack after an earthquake, ruthlessly swallowing all of his hopes, all of his thoughts about a brighter future. That damned void, from which not even cries of desperation could be heard, was threatening to pull him down completely and to rip his heart out from his still breathing chest. He suddenly felt terrible coldness, thinking: “Dear God, if these are my final moments, let death come to me swiftly and painlessly!”
When he recovered from the initial shock which almost nailed him to the car seat, Victor lit his first cigarette in a long time and vigorously blew the smoke into the windshield. Oh, how painful this was to him. No previous pain had ever torn apart his insides like this one, nothing hurt him so badly like the cognition that Donna and her Butterfly weren’t only his anymore. There was something terrible in that cognition: it made him shiver like a defenseless chick in the nest; he helplessly stared into the night, rigid with desperation and unbearable anxiety. Suddenly, he started talking to himself:
“What are you going to do, Victor?”
“I have to make a decision.”
“What decision?”
“Am I going to fight for Sugar, or let her go.”
“Will you fight, then?”
He raised his eyes to the sky. He looked pretty irritated and depressed. And lost. Lost in this awful place and this awful moment, face to face with a pessimistic reality, on the verge of losing his wife, of losing everything that accompanied a harmonious marriage. Completely lost – without love, without friends, lost in his own eyes. Now every problem, every trouble he had had before seemed so petty and insignificant compared to the things he saw tonight. His Sugar is cheating on him!
Will you fight for her, rang and echoed in his head like the thunder of a thousand footsteps on a thin metal surface. Will you fight for her?
“I’ll fight for my Sugar to the last breath”, he said half aloud. “But, I don’t know how… How?”
A familiar voice was speaking from the inside of him: “Remember your youth, Lord. Remember your university days. It would be good for you to remember that nothing was unsolvable for you back then…”
He cheered up a bit. He felt that this conversation with himself was giving him strength and faith in the future. He pulled out a cell phone out of his pocket and typed his home number. Winston answered the call.
- Hey son, can I speak to your mom?
- Mom’s not back yet.
- OK, just tell her I’ve called and I’m on my way home because the trial has been postponed.
Then he typed another number – the home number of his best man Stacey, who worked for the police. Luckily for him, Stacey was the one who answered.
- Stacey, can you do me a favor as a policeman?
- And why wouldn’t I? – Stacey said jokingly.
- Because this is a personal matter.
- If I don’t have to tell you with whom my boss had dinner last night, or, God forbid, who he sleeps with, everything should be fine – Stacey was joking again.
- You have to find me the owner of Jeep Cherokee that ran over my cat… And please, don’t call my home number, call my cell phone. I can’t wait to hear your voice – Victor said and proceded to dictate the number on the license plate.
The phone rang again after less than five minutes. It was Stacey, who whimsically said:
- No doubt about it: your cat was run over by a Donald Cooper. The car is registered to him. Want me to tell you some more information on the vehicle and the owner?
- No, thanks – Victor replied and hung up. He was silent in thought for a few moments, and then looked at himself in the rearview mirror, stating the naked truth, and then a harsh rebuke to himself: - So, it’s Donald Cooper! I could’ve suspected it! Stacey told me the truth long time ago: “Lord, you’re a fool. A common, naïve fool.” And he wasn’t mistaken.
He lit a new cigarette and started the engine, but remained in the same spot as if he was thinking about something as clear as dawn. Now he could add more attributes to his concept of truth – fatal and humiliating.
* * *
Victor didn't undertake anything specific in the next few days. He was only incessantly thinking about what to do next – should he really fight for Donna, as he had decided earlier, or to simply let her go. When he thought about his pride, which was really hurt by her actions, his desire to fight was bleak and questionable. But, when he thought about love, marriage and everything it had brought him, he swiftly changed his opinion – he wanted to fight, regardless of the suspense and difficulty.
In the beginning, he was seriously tempted to start everything blandly, gradually and heedfully. However, because his intellect was ruled by the heart and his hurt male vanity instead of being governed by a restrained man ready for generosity, forgiveness and forgetting, he soon realized that there was no point in putting on an act of a great do-gooder. He said to himself:
“Maybe Victor Nash was too foolish when he was young, but that doesn’t mean he stayed that way!” Regardless of recent events, he wanted to talk to Donna seriously, but not in a quarrelsome and rude manner. He simply wanted to disarm her at the beginning, he wanted his first words to make her to realize that they were both driven into a corner.
He decided on Thursday because the children usually weren’t home that day, and his parents had practically moved to Florida. He didn’t exclude the possibility of a fierce argument, shouting, crying, cursing… He was ready for everything. He just asked himself whether the things he was planning to say – and he wanted to say a lot of things – could be articulated in a single breath and resolutely.
Everything went on as usual, except Victor was already home at three, and Donna started getting ready for her meeting just before four. When she put on her make-up, got dressed and was just about to leave the house, he laid aside the newspaper he was reading next to the sofa on which he was sitting. He calmly asked:
- Going out, as usual?
- Yes – she replied casually, suspecting nothing. – I’m meeting my friends for coffee and I don’t know when I’m going to return.
- Whenever that may be, you’ll find the divorce papers on the table.
She paused and winced. She looked at him below the eye in disbelief and asked:
- What do you mean, divorce?
- Our divorce.
- You’re obviously enjoying this – Donna said and approached him.
- If someone should file for divorce, that would be me. Have you forgotten your affair with Tatum Longoria?
Victor smiled, trying to suppress the sudden wave of bitterness brought upon by Donna
’s remark.
- You lecture me on morality without being moral yourself.
- Now you’re insulting me – she jumped, stomping her feet on the floor.
- And you’ve been executing some will of your own for months, probably thinking that it’s the best response to my adultery – Victor said, still trying to retain calmness and composure.
- I’m not ready for an argument with you because I’m in a hurry and I don’t have time for pointless conversation and nonsense. Just tell me what you mean when you say that I’m as immoral as you and that I’m executing some will of my own.
- I’m talking about your regular outings on Mondays and Thursdays! Your lies about hairdressers, theatres and movies! Your non-existing coffees with non-existing friends! And finally, I’m talking about you cheating on me for months.
She lowered her eyes for a moment; they moved once and calmed down under her eyelids. He saw severe discomfort on her face, a terrible spasm that distorted her lips and shriveled her chin like a wilted flower.
- You’re crazy! – she said, grabbing the nearest chair and sitting opposite him – Oh, God, why am I even listening to you?!
- You’re right. Why are you listening me? Why?
- Because I want to hear some more nonsense and lies.
Victor propped up on his elbows and leaned towards her, saying:
- Oh no, my dear! Lord has seen and lived through enough in his life to let an eloquent lady fool him. I’ve swallowed enough bitter pills to not mistake them for candy. You see, when I decided to have this talk today, I said to myself: “Maybe Victor Nash was too foolish when he was young, but that doesn’t mean he stayed that way.”
- I’d be very thankful if you’d explain this highly intellectual thought to me – Donna sarcastically said, but in a slightly shivering voice that didn’t resemble her usual, confident tone.
Victor noticed that immediately and realized that she was slowly breaking down. Slowly, but securely! He knew that it was time for him to be harsh and unrelenting.
- Of course I’ll explain it to you. You think I’m stupid enough not to know the difference between truth and lies? Every man has his own opinion about the truth, as he does about a woman. I interpret it in many ways. In the last few days, I’ve added another two meanings to my interpretation of truth – fatal and humiliating. I haven’t made this up by myself: I just took them over from you, from back when you found out I was cheating on you with Tatum Longoria…
The Lover from Fifth Avenue (The Greatest Love Stories) Page 8
