by C. S. Lakin
Millie collapsed into the overstuffed chair in the dining room. The brisk air and the volleyball game left her winded and drained. She wasn’t used to so much exercise. Not to mention all that overt hostility. The others gathered around the huge spread of food overflowing the banquet table, including dozens more liquor bottles, caviar, canapés, and a three-layer chocolate cake. She was too tired to be irritated. Once more, Dick had made her look like an idiot and once more she said nothing. She decided to punish herself by skipping lunch. She watched Davis talking to Cynthia in a far corner, both of them sipping drinks and not happy, from what she could tell. Della sat by a window, smoking something that did not smell like tobacco.
Millie watched Jonathan follow Lila around the table as he put food on his plate. Lila all but ignored him. Millie tried to figure this weekend out. Why did Lila invite them all? No one seemed to be having a good time except Lila and her friend Peter. She knew Dick only pretended he was having fun. So much for a relaxing vacation.
Millie noticed a gradual change in the atmosphere of the room as the group drank a substantial amount of liquor at Lila’s urging. The talking and laughing grew louder. The guys were now sharing Della’s pot and the smell pervaded the room. Dick managed to put himself in the center of attention once more, telling stupid jokes, trying to make Lila laugh. The jokes all had the same theme—they were hostile to women. Didn’t Dick realize he was giving himself away?
She felt a pang of pity for him; he was always the low man on the totem pole, always vying for attention. Her pity turned inward. If she hadn’t been so desperate for attention herself, she wouldn’t have married him. She knew when she got pregnant she was making a big mistake, but she really wanted a baby. And she had been afraid Dick would pressure her into an abortion, which was unthinkable. That’s why she took him back to Wisconsin—to meet her stern, religious Belgian-Catholic parents. Millie’s father, in his classic way, demanded to know Dick’s intentions—in front of all her relatives at a family gathering. Millie remembered Dick’s face as he nearly choked on Aunt Edna’s potato salad. Before their week on the farm ended, they were officially engaged. Although he never mentioned over the ensuing fifteen years the way she had “trapped” him, Millie guessed the source of his deep resentment stemmed from the consequences of that trip. No matter how hard she tried to make him happy, that resentment spilled out, erasing any attempt at intimacy.
Lila sat in the seat next to Millie. “Well, just like the good old days, right, Mil?”
Millie questioned Lila with her eyes.
“Same old Dick. Same old malicious jokes, even. The organizer. The planner. He picked the right career, wouldn’t you say?”
Millie shrugged. “Lila, can I ask you something?”
“Shoot away.”
“Remember we used to talk late at night in the dorms—dreaming about making it big and both of us laughing, knowing we were nothings. Unattractive, with no family money to help us along. Remember? Yet, you did it. You defied all the odds and made it.”
Lila put her hand on Millie’s shoulder. Her breath reeked of gin. “You want to know something, Mil? I never tried to ‘make it.’ I was ‘made.’ A bunch of money-grubbing slime buckets turned me into a product they could sell and paid me obscene amounts of money. I fell into it.”
“You’re saying it was just luck?”
“Oh no, I had to work like hell. I had to push and shove and backstab all along the way.” Lila laughed. “You’ve gotta be a wolf to survive. In my business, they eat you alive.”
“It doesn’t sound like you’re happy.”
Lila looked at the people milling around the room. “No one’s happy in this life. Or in this room.” She paused. “Except maybe him.” She pointed at Davis. “And he only thinks he’s happy.”
The conversation was making Millie more depressed than ever.
“You know, Mil,” Lila continued, “When we were in college, I thought I was the luckiest girl in the whole world. Getting to star in a play, being admired and respected by my peers. Falling in love with the most handsome boy in school. Having you for a close friend.”
When Lila stopped talking, guilt welled up in Millie’s heart. “I really wasn’t a very good friend, Lila—”
“No, you weren’t.” Anger spilled from Lila’s voice. “It took me a lot of years to realize the truth.”
Millie was afraid to ask. “What truth?”
“That I wasn’t ever really happy. Like Davis, I only thought I was.”
Before Millie had a chance to respond, Lila stood up and yanked on her arm. “Come, Mil. No party-pooping allowed. No dieting either. Let’s stuff our faces. And then we can play dress-up. I’ve got just the thing for you.”
Chapter 14
Della, stoned and drunk, reached for the couch. She fell back into the cushions, almost landing on Millie, and surveyed the room that, only hours ago, had been clean and elegant. Now, dishes littered the table tops and ashtrays overflowed with cigarette butts. The remaining food lay strewn across the table in a colorful mess. Lila and her guests had made a sizable dent in the liquor supply.
Della’s gaze followed Lila dancing to a slow ballad, hanging loosely on Peter’s steady arm. Across the room, Davis, Dick, and Jon watched outtakes from Lila’s show on the screen. Lila’s stereophonic voice boomed as the men bellowed with laughter. Cynthia had long since retired to her room to read, but Davis hadn’t noticed. Della watched, amused, when Cynthia tried to tell him she was leaving. He just waved her off like a fly. Della could tell her feelings were hurt, but Cynthia didn’t say a word. So polite, such good manners. Della grunted. How did he fall for such a boring Goody Two-Shoes?
Della’s head spun. She tried to light a cigarette, but couldn’t get the match to strike. She dropped the unlit smoke into her lap. Her stomach churned with continual pain.
Millie reached over and touched her arm. “Are you okay, Della? Do you want me to get you something? Some water?”
“No thanks. Probably something I ate.” Or didn’t eat.
Millie sat in silence. Della looked at the men watching the tape. “I can’t believe you’ve stayed with him all these years.”
“It hasn’t been so bad,” Millie said.
Della laughed. “And that’s all right for you?”
“It’s better than being alone. And I have my girls.”
“How old?”
“Sally’s fourteen and Debby’s seven.”
“So, you must have gotten pregnant right after graduation.”
“Before.” She didn’t offer to explain why. “What about you? Did you ever marry?”
“Are you kidding? But I always wanted kids. Even though I knew I wouldn’t make a good mother.”
Millie bit her lip. “It’s hard, it really is. I love my kids to death and I worry sick over them. But I don’t know how to handle them. I’m not that great a parent.”
“But at least you were willing to commit. I didn’t even get that far.”
“You still could.”
Della shook her head. “Millie, I’ve had four abortions. The last one butchered me.” Her voice caught in her throat. She forced back tears. “I can’t have kids. Why am I telling you this?”
Millie shrugged. “Because I’m listening?”
“Yeah.” Della managed to light her cigarette and took a long drag. “Well, I thought I’d find someone along the way who really cared, you know? Someone who wouldn’t think of me as just another lay.”
Della gestured to the men. “All these guys are the same, and we all bought the lie—that men would save us from our misery. Well, they don’t—they just compound it.” Della grew sullen and stared out into space.
Millie got up and gathered plates and glasses and took them into the kitchen. Della felt tears fill her eyes as she watched Millie load the dishwasher. Maybe Millie did have a rotten husband, but at least she had children. Two daughters.
A strange emotion washed over Della, one she never expected to feel a
round Millie Ferrol.
Envy.
When Davis finally became aware that Cynthia was no longer in the room, he grabbed his coat and left the house. Della saw him leave, and on impulse, decided to follow him. She hurried back to her room for her coat and scarf and raced after him.
In the cold afternoon light, the ocean looked forbidding and restless. The current pulled at the shore. Huge logs rolled on the ebb tide as it sped through the channel between islands. Della could see the outline of a number of small islands. But the sea was barren of ships, the waves challenging anyone to venture out. Overhead, clouds hung heavy with impending rain. As Della, breathless and weak, followed Davis’s tracks in the sand, intermittent drops splattered her face.
With the roar of the surf, Davis didn’t hear Della call until she was only a few feet behind him. When he turned, she nearly collapsed on him in fatigue. He took her arm and held her until she caught her breath. The biting wind reddened his cheeks and tangled his blond hair. Della found him unbearably attractive. She kept hanging onto his arm.
“Della, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just needed to get some air. I’ve been feeling pretty sick.”
Davis walked beside her, his hands in his pockets. “You really ought to see a doctor.”
“I’ve seen too many. I just need to trade in my body for a new one.”
Davis searched the terrain. “Did you see where Cynthia went? None of the guys noticed her leave the living room.”
“Maybe she’s looking for a way to get home. Another house, someone with a phone.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He studied the criss-crossing footprints by the volleyball court. “No offense, but this weekend is a bust. I thought it would be fun hanging with the old school buddies, but everyone’s changed so much.”
Della only nodded. Jon had been Davis’s best friend in college, but Davis showed disgust with Jon’s egotistic bragging. Dick was even worse. They had thought him really funny in college; he always livened up a gathering. But now his desperation to fit in and be accepted bordered on pathetic. And he was so nasty to Millie. No, these friends didn’t mean anything to him any more—or to Della.
They walked in silence for a while. Davis fell in step alongside her. Her memory was rekindled by his smell, the timbre of his voice, his laugh. She remembered the day she told him about her childhood. About the man her mother had married shortly after her father’s death. How he tormented her, and Della had been too afraid to tell her mother. A mother so desperate to hold onto her husband, she couldn’t hear Della’s cries for help. And how she left home and waitressed at the famous Jewish resorts in the Catskills, where her desire to act on stage bloomed.
Della told him about sneaking into the Saturday night shows and falling in love with the glamour surrounding the famous entertainers who performed there. She had tried to persuade her aunt, the only person she loved, to send her to Hollywood. But her aunt sent her to college instead, hocking her valuables to make the tuition. Davis commented on the radically different lives they had. He never had a dream to act; he only signed up for Thespians for the easy credit. That was the moment he looked at her differently, with compassion—and took her home with him that night.
“So, Della,” Davis said, stopping at the water’s edge, “where do you go from here?”
“I haven’t a clue. If you want the real truth, I have no money. No job. No place to live. My life is a total bust.”
Davis narrowed his eyes. “If you need some money, I’m sure I can swing something. I can help you get on your feet. Get you set up in an apartment, give you a job.”
Della’s mouth fell open. “Why would you want to go to all that trouble? I never did anything for you.”
“Hey, we’re old friends. You can pay me back later. I don’t care.”
“No thanks. I don’t want to be in your debt.”
The truth was, money alone wouldn’t solve her problems. She couldn’t tell Davis how frightened she was at the thought of living alone. All these years she always managed to find someone to stay with—her brother, new acquaintances, people she met in the theater. A spare bedroom in someone’s apartment, house-sitting, taking care of someone’s dog while they traveled. Doing all the menial scut work no one else wanted to do. She couldn’t handle the responsibility of having to pay rent and bills every month, be trapped in one place. She needed to be free to get up and leave at a moment’s notice.
But, despite all she did for these “friends” of hers, they inevitably tired of her; they took her hard work for granted, the ingrates. They’d complain that she was leeching off them, borrowing their cars, eating their food, giving token service in return. Never mind that she sweated blood, putting up with their annoying habits and demands.
Della reconsidered Davis’s offer. No, the strings attached were too enmeshing. Especially if it meant she’d have to work a regular job. Forget it.
Della sped up her pace to keep up with Davis, who had turned back toward Lila’s house. “Davis, where do you think we’d be, you and me, today, if we had stayed together?”
“Della, you know it never would have lasted. I was crazy about you, but we both know the truth. We were in it for the sex.”
His words stung. “Yeah, it was great . . .”
“But it wasn’t enough.”
“It could have grown into something more.”
“I don’t think so. We’re too different.”
“Come on, we’re more alike than you want to believe. Maybe I used people, I’ll admit it. But I watched you in school. Borrowing everyone’s notes. Getting girls to do your homework for you. Charming the teachers so they’d give you better grades. Even that whole thing with Lila. Just so you could get everyone to admire you.”
“Hey, that ‘whole thing’ was your idea, remember? You’re the one who suggested Lila play the lead. And it was your idea to have me pretend—”
“—I never made you do it. You wanted to.”
Davis stopped her with his hand. “And I didn’t know at the time you were getting into my best friend’s pants. Face it Della, you used me. There was nothing solid in our relationship.”
Tears filled Della’s eyes. Damn him. Why is he saying all those hurtful things?
“Oh, come on, Del. It was fifteen years ago. We’ve grown up since then. Let’s be friends.” He paused. “I guess Cynthie isn’t out here. She’s probably back at the house. Let’s head back.” He took her arm and led her down the beach.
Della turned to Davis. The sun was beginning to set and the light fading. Della looked into his eyes, searching.
“Why did you come here, to this reunion?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Just wanted to see everyone. Wanted to see Lila, too. I was curious. And, frankly, I hoped I could get her interested in investing in some real estate.”
Della forced a laugh. “And I came to ask her for a job on her staff. Funny. Everyone wants something from Lila. Or thinks she’ll help them out with their problems. And I bet Lila knows it, too. But, maybe that’s how it is when you’re rich. You probably figure everyone’s got a selfish motive in being your friend.”
“It must be hard, having that much fame. Who can you trust?”
“You know,” Della said, softening her voice, “you’re really an okay guy.”
Davis took her arm as they walked. “Thanks.”
“I should have stayed with you . . .”
“It’s all in the past. You can’t bring it all back make it come out differently.”
Della stopped and held his arms. “Davis, I miss you, I really do . . .” She stroked his cheek with her hand, drawing her face close to his.
“Don’t. It worked in school, but it won’t work now.” He pulled back. “I’m happy to help you out—financially—but not this way. I’m sorry.”
Davis pried her fingers from his arm. She pulled away and wiped her face. As they reached the boat dock, cold rain fell from the sky.
“Okay, fo
rget it,” Della said. “I don’t need you. You were right to pick a kid like Cynthia. She’s so young and naive, she’ll never figure you out. Not until it’s too late.”
Della turned and ran through the trees to the castle.
“Della, wait, dammit.”
Lightning cracked and streaked the sky. The rain pounded down in sheets. Davis pulled his coat over his head and started to run. “What a basket case.”
He hoped Cynthie was all right. He never should have taken his darling on this stupid weekend.
Chapter 15
“Intrude!” Lila’s raspy voice showed an edge of irritation, but Peter was used to it. He carefully balanced the tray of pastries and coffee and pushed open the heavy wooden door with his foot. Lila sat curled up in her window seat, her knees tucked up under her pink caftan, exposing matching painted toenails. From the lofty height of her castle turret she commanded a breathtaking view of the islands that lay across the expanse of water like scattered stones. Wind whistled recklessly through the cracks in the walls. The view apparently gave her little joy.
“Here you are, your highness.” Peter spoke with alacrity, setting down the tray beside her feet. “Get it? Your ‘high’-ness?” Peter gestured to emphasize the altitude.
Lila sneered at him. “Making bad jokes is my department. Stick to what you do best.” She bit into a cheese Danish and slurped from her mug. “Ugh. When are you going to learn how to make a decent cup of coffee? Or are you slowly trying to kill me?”
Peter wondered at Lila’s bad mood. Downstairs, the weekend guests were indulging in her hospitality and essentially trashing the house, but she was turning her back on it all. Her anticipation of this reunion puzzled him. Over the past two years, working each day with Lila, he rarely found her this agitated. She was like a race horse in the starting gate, snorting and chomping at the bit.
