The Girl in the Comfortable Quiet

by Susan Ward

  I stare up at her, bathed in that Linda-can-fix-anything aura, wanting to believe her, but I can feel that something is very wrong and it is only going to go more wrong from here.

  All smooth out? How do you smooth out your husband no longer wanting to be with you?

  ~~~

  The hotel room door opens and I shove my tissue into my robe pocket. I look at the clock. 11 a.m.

  “Where the hell have you been all night, Neil?”

  He sinks down on a chair across from me, and takes a cigarette from his pocket. He doesn’t look at me. “I went to a party.”

  “Until 11 a.m.?”

  He looks up at me, his cheek twitching. “I went for a walk after I left. I needed to clear my head. And sober up before I came back here.”

  Was he drunk last night? Was that what was happening in the restaurant, why he behaved so bizarrely? I don’t remember. I’m not sure.

  “Is everything packed up, Chrissie? Are you ready to leave? I rescheduled the plane. We can still get the fuck out of here today.”

  I tense. Really, Neil? That’s how you want to play this?

  I stare at him with wounded and angry eyes. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me where you were last night.”

  He stomps out his cigarette. “Does it even matter anymore?”

  My face flushes. My body chills. “I thought it did. But maybe not.”

  His eyes start to flash. He stands up.

  “I’m grabbing my gear. I’m going. You do whatever you decide to do, Chrissie.”

  I watch him, stunned, as he packs up. He leaves without so much as one look back at me. I hear the suite door slam.

  Oh shit.

  The morning slips into afternoon. I’m still curled on the sofa in the sitting room. Lourdes has packed everything up. She’s waiting in the nursery for me to tell her what we’re going to do. But I don’t know what we’re doing. Too much is running through me. I can’t think enough to get from here to there. I can’t even think enough to call someone to book a plane for us to Santa Barbara.

  Fuck, Neil just left us here.

  I hear a knock on the door. Sniffling, I climb from the couch. Maybe Neil came back. Maybe he’s ready to tell me what’s going on with him.

  I open the door. Alan is standing in the hallway dressed in the type of clothes he wears to travel. Soft jeans, loafers, a loose silk shirt, dark sunglasses and a hat.

  “Everyone has cut out for the States, Chrissie. Why are you still here?”

  I step into the room. Alan follows me. I don’t look at him. “Neil and I got our schedules fouled up. I thought I was traveling back with him. I’m not. I was about to call someone to arrange a flight for us.”

  I sink down on the couch.

  Alan stares. “Are you packed?”

  I nod.

  “Get dressed, Chrissie. You’ll travel back to California with me.”

  Oh no. That’s all I need. To kick up whatever this is going on with Neil by traveling alone with Alan.

  “Really, that’s not necessary, Alan. But thank you.”

  “Get dressed now or I will carry you from this room dressed in your robe.” Firm. Imperative. “I’m not leaving you stranded in the UK to travel back home by yourself with a nanny and a toddler.”

  I glare at him, angry, though I’m not sure why. “Jesus Christ, Alan. I’m not in the mood for your theatrics today. I’m a grown woman. I can get from London to Santa Barbara on my own. You make it sound like my husband just dumped me in the wilds of Africa or something.”

  Oh fuck—dumped me—why did I say that?

  His gaze grows sharper and my face burns.

  He moves through my suite to the nursery door. “Is everything packed? Are you two ready to travel?” he says to Lourdes.

  “We are ready, Señor Alan.”

  I roll my eyes. Two people on earth he lets call him “Alan”—me and my housekeeper. God, Alan is frustrating, he makes no sense, and I’m not strong enough to be alone with him in a private plane for fourteen hours.

  He comes back and stares down at me. “I don’t have time for bullshit today. Get up. Get dressed. We’re leaving.”

  I stand. “Fine.”

  I go into my room, close the door, and put on the unspectacular outfit I left out to wear today before Lourdes packed. Loose jeans. T-shirt. An old, oversized cardigan sweater. And my UGG slippers.

  I run the brush through my hair and shove it in my tote. I brush my teeth and toss the brush into the trash. I grab my purse and exit the bedroom.

  My eyes widen. Alan has everyone waiting to go, the luggage is gone, and he’s sitting there as if he’s anxious to leave.

  “You ready?”

  I nod. God, this is humiliating. Everything going to hell with Neil in an obvious, public way so that I can’t pretend that things are fine between us anymore. Alan seeing it. Alan being Alan in his own weird way. Taking charge of me and everything, because I can’t do either. Like in New York. Like always. Like today…definitely a new Chrissie low moment.

  I reach to take Kaley from Lourdes, but Alan takes her instead. Oh crap. Doesn’t Alan ever think about the optics of things? Marching out of this hotel through a horde of press, carrying Kaley and with me in tow. Great fucking idea.

  The tabloids are going to love this.

  As we wait for the elevator, Alan asks, “Do you have sunglasses and a brush in your purse?”

  I nod.

  “Put the glasses on. You don’t want anyone seeing your eyes today, beautiful though they are. And try to do something with your hair.”

  ~~~

  The sound of landing gear touching ground startles me. I jerk awake. Shit, how long have I been sleeping?

  I look out the window. We’re in Santa Barbara. Alan didn’t just take me back to California, he made a detour to bring me home.

  I quickly take in the scene of the plane’s interior. Lourdes is sitting in the seat beside me. Where’s Kaley? I turn to see Alan lying on a long bench seat with her tucked beside him.

  They are smiling and laughing, talking about something and my daughter gives every appearance that the flight was uneventful with her. Second shock in five minutes. It looks like Alan enjoyed the flight as well. He looks almost like happy Alan.

  I watch for a moment, my throat convulsing. The door opens. The steps are put down. I unbuckle and stand.

  I cross the plane to them. “I’m sorry I slept so long and wasn’t any help. Was she OK?”

  Alan stares at Kaley. “Tell your mum how you were.”

  Kaley stares up with her giant dark eyes. “I didn’t do good listening.”

  I can’t breathe. I’m numb. I can’t imagine how many times Alan had to say that to her for it to have happened, but fuck, she just mumbled with an accent.

  Alan bites back a smile. “And why were you not doing good listening?”

  “I was kicking Alan’s plane.”

  My heart stops. I need to get out of here quickly. It feels like my life is careening out of control, events beyond my will, and I don’t want that shock and confrontation, not today.

  Everything speeds up around me, and before I know it, I’m standing by the waiting Town Car, preparing to leave.

  I turn, standing between the car and open door of the plane, hoping to say something appropriate to Alan given everything he’s done, but I lose my words.

  My gaze locks with his. His eyes are potently intense, but they are also gentle and worried. He looks like he has something he wants to say to me.

  I drag my gaze away and, as fast as I can, I drop onto the leather seat and the door is quickly closed.

  ~~~

  The car hasn’t even stopped before Neil is out the front door. I anxiously look at him through the window and let out the air trapped in my lungs. I can tell by the way he’s staring at me, the expression on his face. He’s happy I’m home.

  He opens the car door and pulls me from the seat, holding me off the ground tightly against his
body.

  He paints kisses across my face. “I’m sorry,” he whispers anxiously. “I’m sorry, Chrissie.”

  He sets me on my feet. I stare up at him. “I’m sorry, too.”

  A ragged breath shudders from him. He holds my face in his hands. “I’ve had Ernie clear my calendar for six months. We need to slow things down, baby. Everything will be good again if I can slow things down and be here with you.”

  Tears burn my lids. “I think so, too.”

  He takes Kaley from the car and kisses her. “Did you miss Daddy?”

  She nods. He hugs her tightly and then balances her on his hip. He drapes an arm around my shoulder and guides me toward the front door.

  My heart stills.

  There in the open doorway…

  What the hell is Andy Despensa doing here?

  ~~~

  The house is filled with the smothering silence of tension and unspoken angry words. For three months the main level of the house has been mine and Kaley’s. Neil sleeps one floor below. And I don’t give a fuck where Andy is. Anywhere in this house is too close.

  I wait for the fax machine to finish doing its thing. Fuck, it’s spitting out page after page today. Beep. I take the sheets. It’s for me. What the hell is this? Why would Patricia fax me this many publicity appearances to do for Neil?

  No, no, no. Not doing it. I walk toward the door for the lower level. The phone rings. I grab the cordless in the living room.

  “Hello?”

  There’s a pause. “Chrissie, is this not a good time? You sound busy. I can call back later.” It’s Alan.

  “No, I’m fine. What do you need?” I keep reading the fax.

  “I need you to do one more concert, Chrissie. LA in June. BBC is filming for a documentary. I want you in it with me. You are part of the band. Part of my history. An important part. Do this for me.”

  I moisten my suddenly dry lips, still reading. “I’ll do it. Have someone fax me the details.”

  He laughs. “Not a no. I was prepared to argue longer with you.”

  I click off the phone and go in search of Neil. I find him downstairs, thankfully alone, lying on a couch in the studio listening to music. I switch it off.

  He opens his eyes and looks up at me.

  “I want Andy out of this house,” I say and then cringe. Those weren’t the words in my head.

  Neil’s eyes flash. “I want Alan Manzone out of my life. That one isn’t going to happen either.”

  I flush. Why am I arguing with him? It’s almost survivable if we don’t argue.

  “Patricia faxed this to me,” I say, handing him the sheets. “She wants me to do more press interviews for you.”

  Neil grimaces, inspecting the list. “I know how you hate this. But it’s important, Chrissie.”

  “No, it’s all right. I’ll do it.”

  Neil tosses down the papers and closes his eyes.

  “Alan called,” I announce abruptly.

  Neil’s eyes flash open and grow opaque. “What did he want this time?”

  I search his face trying to discern his reaction, but I don’t see anything. Emotionally blank.

  “He wants me to do the LA concert of the US leg. The BBC or something is filming. It’s the same week as some of the press hops Patricia wants me to do.” I pause. There’s no reaction, so I say, “I told him I’d do it.”

  Neil nods. He says nothing but every nerve inside me is frayed and raw.

  I run up the stairs and I just want away from him. There is something different in how Neil is not arguing with me. A painful feeling of indifference.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  June 1998

  I hurry through the house, trying to find Neil.

  I should have been on the road hours ago. I hate driving in LA traffic after dark and Kaley’s sleep schedule is going to get shot to hell. But it’s been impossible to get everything done without help watching the baby.

  OK, Neil. Where are you hiding from me this time?

  Kitchen, nope. Family room, silent and empty for a change. Living room, no one. How does Neil disappear in this damn house so well? He’s probably with Andy.

  I feel my anger stir. Nothing has been normal in this house since Neil allowed Andy to move in. Note to self: figure out a way to get Neil to kick Andy out as quickly as possible.

  In the very least, Neil should explain why, after years of animosity, they are friends again out of thin air. And the years haven’t improved my opinion of Andy. For some reason he still puts my nerves on edge and remains at the top of my list of people to lose in your life.

  Why does Neil like him?

  I frown, shaking my head. It was almost better back when Neil used to bring half the mob from the road home with him. No, Chrissie. It was better. I liked those people. I will never like Andy, and since he’s moved in there’s been nothing but tension here. He has a way of making me feel like the outsider in my own home and I don’t like it.

  Thinking of Andy fills me with agitation and Kaley starts to fret in my arms. I gently pat her back trying to keep her quiet until I can hand her off to Neil.

  “It’s OK,” I say soothingly. “You can play with Daddy while Mommy finishes packing.”

  “No! Don’t wanna!” Loud. Obstinate.

  The look that flashes in her giant brown eyes makes me laugh, though it probably shouldn’t. I bite my lower lip and frown at her. She frowns back.

  “Hey, kid. Cut me a break. I’m having a rotten day here.”

  I kiss her on the cheek and she takes it as an opportunity to grab a fistful of my hair. She gives it a sharp tug. Wincing and trying to work free my curls from her clutches, I cut across the room and then open the door to the stairs to the floor below.

  From the landing, I shout, “Neil, are you down there?”

  I listen, trying to pick up sound. Nope, nothing. Where the hell are they?

  I whirl around and head for the garage. Well, the cars are still here so Neil is somewhere. Rooftop patio? I maneuver between the vehicles and pause at the glass doors out onto the widow’s walk.

  I stare out. There they are. Lounging in chairs facing the ocean, laughing and drinking again. The sight of them in guy-world isolation together kicks up my irritation, though it shouldn’t since Neil deserves some downtime.

  Jesus Christ, I’m leaving for a week today. Neil should have wanted to spend some time with me. Some time together in bed wouldn’t have hurt our marriage. Jeez, how long has it been since we’ve had sex? Four months? Six? No wonder I feel restless. I need to get laid. A possibility now that Neil is sleeping in my bed again. But no, Neil has spent most of the day with Andy.

  I watch them laugh and it bugs the hell out of me. Jerking open the slider, I step out into cool early evening air. Neither of them notices me until I’m nearly across the patio.

  The laughter stops. Neil smiles up at me.

  “You ready to leave?” he asks and for some reason the way he asks that is even an irritation today.

  I set Kaley in his lap. “No. She won’t let me finish packing.” Then, deliberately playful since I hate the way Andy is staring at me, I tease, “Neil, this is your daughter. Say hello to Kaley. Kaley, this is your father. The two of you play nice while I finish what I’ve got to do.”

  Neil’s eyes twinkle above a pout. “I guess I haven’t been very helpful today. I’m sorry, babe.”

  Babe. Another nails-on-the-chalkboard moment. I despise that endearment, and I’m not even sure why he started using it.

  My eyes widen with exasperation. “Can you keep her entertained for thirty minutes? Just thirty minutes and I can finish everything and we’ll both be out of your hair for a week.”

  “I can do that,” he says, and his words are followed by a sharp prick of distress inside me. The old Neil would have said I don’t want you out of my hair and then taken me to bed. He would have known without me saying it that I’m feeling worried and insecure and completely unloved. He would have said something funny or
lame or sweet. But no, not this stranger.

  I study his face. He looks the same since we finally ended our feud over Andy. But he’s not the same. I don’t know why or what happened to cause this change.

  He kisses Kaley’s pudgy cheek and climbs from the chaise. “Why don’t we walk around the yard while Mommy packs you up?”

  “Thanks,” I say, struggling to get out the word.

  Neil smiles. “Don’t try to load the suitcases in the car yourself. Come and get me when you’re ready.”

  I lean in and put a light kiss on Neil’s lips since I can feel Andy watching us. I hate the suspicion that Andy can see all is not right with my marriage. Worse, that Neil might be telling him things about us.

  I wonder if that is what they are always huddled up talking about, and if Andy knows why everything has been so wrong between me and Neil.

  I step out of our kiss, frantically searching Neil’s expression for things I don’t find. “I love you.”

  “Me, too,” Neil says, dropping a kiss on my nose before he wanders away toward the stairs that lead down to the yard, softly talking to Kaley.

  The expression on Neil’s face as he smiles at our daughter soothes a measure of my unrest. He looks like my Neil when he’s with Kaley. Maybe it’s me making him behave so strangely.

  Without a word to Andy, I head toward the doors into the house. An hour later, no longer distracted by Kaley every five minutes, I think I’m almost ready to head out. I stand in the center of my closet, trying to figure out if I’ve forgotten anything.

  The phone rings, an irritatingly, slightly out of sync echo sounding from each room of the house. Goddamn it. Why do we have a phone in every room?

  I start running my finger along the racks of my shoes. What shoes did I pack? I can’t remember.

  Ring. Ring. Ring. I tense. Crap, I’m already late.

  I hurry into the bedroom and plop on the bed. I grab the phone. “Hello?”

  “Everything all right, Chrissie? You sound upset and out of breath.”

  Alan. “No, everything is not all right. I’m still packing. I should have been on the road hours ago. Now I’ve got to drive to LA in the dark. No one in my house knows how to answer a damn phone and I’ve got only about thirty minutes left before Kaley starts screaming for me again. Oh, and you’re calling me. Which usually means there’s a problem. But I am full up. I can’t take another problem today. What do you want?”