by Paloma Meir
“Stop it... Stop talking down to me, Serge!” Her yell ended with a spasm of tears.
“Okay... It’s not fair... you’re right,” I took the shampoo from the wall and applied to it to her hair. I knew her limpness wouldn’t be overcome any time soon, “I wouldn’t want you to live any other way. I want the best for you. This house, this estate whatever you want to call it. The shower, Astrid, everything in your life. I want it to be fit for you, Zelda. I always did, never begrudged you.”
“But if I had nothing, I would have you.” I held her head back, keeping my tone even. I didn’t want to be condescending to her, and I didn’t want her to cry. A delicate balance I could not achieve.
“I don’t know why you think this. Danny...”
She covered my mouth with her hand, shaking free of the hold I had on her. “Please no talk of Danny, this is me and you.”
…
I threw on the suit I had worn five days before. A different man, an easygoing man I had been the last time I wore it. I sensed in an unspecific way that person would be cast away in no more than a few hours. I stuffed my vacation clothes into my bursting computer bag.
“Let’s get going, Zelda,” She walked back into the room, our coffee on a bamboo tray I recognized from a high-end tourist shop down the road from her house, “Good to see you supporting the local shops,” I laughed before looking into her eyes and seeing the tears, “The town must have received a sharp economic spike with you taking up residence here.”
“No more jokes, okay?”
“No more jokes,” I took the tray from her hand, “We’re running late, let me help you. Let’s skip the coffee. Have it with breakfast.”
I led her into her closet, went through her many dresses, commenting on them. The real topic at hand not something that would be productive to discuss. What was done was done.
“I like this one,” I held up the loose white gauzy dress she had worn the day I arrived, “Easy over the bathing suit too. Lots of swimming today, hot day.” I kissed her eyes, the salt of tears on my lips. I did not hug her, for fear of never letting go.
“I think these sunglasses would be nice, highlight your Nordic cheekbones,” I perched them on her delicate nose, “Your mother was Swedish, right? I remember her telling me that as a boy, maybe a false memory. I had quite a crush on her you know?” I smiled, a gentle kiss on her lips, “You look like her, Zelda, just the way you wanted, but better, sensual where she was severe.”
“Please Serge... better to be quiet than this meaningless talk... just hold my hand... don’t let go.”
I did as I was asked, putting my arm around her shoulders, holding her close to me as we walked down the stairs. Her body trembled lightly as we opened the door, a sharp intake of breath as she unsuccessfully tried to control her tears.
“One second Zelda, left something in your room,” I kissed her red tipped nose and turned back up the stairs, “You’re okay for a second?"
She nodded her head. I had not left anything behind because I had not brought anything beyond my bag and myself. I nicked a Plumeria off the potted plant that sat on the flower ledge outside her window and took the t-shirt she had a good time teasing me for over the previous days and left both at the foot of her bed.
I glanced back into her room for no particular reason as I ran out the door. I realized that in my entire life with her, over twenty years I had known her, I had spent no more than a thousand dollars on her. My gifts always personal but inexpensive, less than what Danny would spend on her over a long weekend.
The drive, the walk through the hotel lobby was quiet, no notice of the parrots, or people she found interesting noted. Her hand I held tightly in mine, leading her limp body to the table. Quietly, she sat in her chair not eating, hand still firmly in mine, sweaty from my grip, her soft angel skin radiating into my rather rough hand. Only a sip of coffee taken.
I chatted with the table as if the crying Zelda beside me was fine. Danny played along, but he no longer pretended he was not paying attention to the two of us. He stared directly at her, a concerned look on his face. He didn’t question her, and he didn’t try to 'fix' her. His emotional growth was confirmed in my mind. My decision to leave her, not that there had ever been a choice in the matter, was a good one.
A sickness filled my chest as I glanced at the old fashioned clock above the buffet to see it was time for me to go. “Time for me to go, Zelda.”
I squeezed her gentle hand harder. If she weren’t so numb to her surroundings, I’m sure it would have caused pain. I released my grip and stood with her and spoke words of good-bye to the table. Zelda had been right about my inane conversation. Worthless in any real sense, but in truth always served me well in life. A crutch it would become upon landing back in Los Angeles.
Danny observed me as I spoke. His ocean blue eyes taking notes in his head that he would ruminate over, put the pieces together, eventually letting me know. Buddy, I never needed to know. I wish I had prescience to say at the time.
I put my arm around her as we walked towards the valet stand, ignoring Danny’s request made the first day. Her cries filled the restaurant, her body trembled, closer to me I held her. “If I am everything, and you leave, then you’ll have nothing...” she muttered to herself.
“I don’t want you to go,” she quietly cried at the valet stand as I took off her sunglasses and placed them on the wooden bench beside us.
“You know what’s going to happen? You’ll cry all day and tomorrow you’ll wake up feeling better.” I kissed the nose I would miss.
“I’m never going to feel better.”
“You know what I’m going to do?” I wasn’t breaking up inside any less than her, but I remained calm, my voice even.
“What?”
“When the plane takes off, I’ll go into the bathroom and cry all the way home because manly men like me do not cry in front of other people. Okay?” A smile filled her red and swollen face. She had never looked more beautiful to me.
“You’re very salty, Zelda. The car will be here soon. Is there anything else left on your list?”
“I’ll make a new list.”
“That would be cheating.” I held her tightly in my arms.
“I’m going to go say good-bye to Danny okay? Are you okay here for a second?” The valet arrived with the rental Jeep far too soon.
“Thanks Danny. I don’t know what else to say.” I turned to Danny, who was standing maybe six feet away mentally hovering over Zelda and myself.
“Could you drop my car off at my parent’s house? I was going to spend the day on the computer figuring out how to pack up my life without going back, but it looks like I’ll be having to care for her all day.” He handed his car keys to me and said a little too jubilantly for my liking.
“You’re really going to do this?” I willed him to say no, but it was not to be.
“This is where I live now.”
“Cool.” I stared at him for a moment incredulous he didn’t see that not only was I leaving, but that this was the end of us. Buddies, no more, paths diverging. The end. I hugged him hard, wished him all the happiness, and peace I could. Letting go, I nodded my head and closed that chapter of my life.
“I’m leaving now, Zelda.” I sat her down on a bench and kneeled before, taking her hand in mine.
“Please don’t go,” she cried, her voice hoarse, garbled.
My heart broke open as I held her face in my hands, kissing the tears away, ignoring the valet who grunted a reminder of the waiting car. All my light words, a farce, never had I spoken what she wanted to hear, never a declaration. I willed the coward in me away.
“I met you when you were eight, and you were already gone, taken, claimed...” I whispered in her ear, feeling Danny’s eyes boring into me, my words surprising me, “I love you with an adult’s mind and a teenager’s heart, and I always have...” I paused unable to process the truth, the depth of it all, “But this is what you want, this has always been what you w
anted... He won’t ever hurt you again, Zelda. I have to go... don’t worry about me. I’ll always have everything because you’ll always be with me.”
I abruptly stood up, turned toward the car, gathering my sense of self that felt like it was flying apart. To the Jeep I walked, not looking back. The lesson of the Greek myths strong in my mind.
To the airport, on to the plane I went, staring out the window not thinking a thought for the five hour flight. Landed, picked up Danny’s dusty car in the parking lot. I dropped it off with his very agitated mother. My blank mind reassuring her everything was well. Danny was safe, his life on track.
In a haze I ended up back at home, and in a haze I woke up the next day. To work I went, and to work I never left. And that’s the way it was for a little less than five years.
BOOK FOUR
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Ease up, buddy,” I said through gritted teeth to the valet who pulled my car around, “The scratch on the door? From you carelessly opening it into the wall?” I was frothing mad and felt like spittle was shooting from mouth. It wasn’t, but it did feel that way “To fix it is more than you make in a month, maybe two.”
“Senor...” He held up hands backing away, “Very sorry, let me call my manager...”
“You think I have time for that? Do you know how much my time is worth?” I slowed myself down. Berating service workers was becoming a habit I noticed. A habit that woke me up, but a tiny part of me recognized it as wrong. A part of me the size of an atom.
“Sir... Please let me get my manager...”
“Do you not get it...?” My thought and the anger that fed itself in a starved mania, faded away as the backside and long legs under a short white skirt drifted by. A man in a uniform with arms full of shopping bags trailed behind the svelte figure.
“Here, park it," I dug into the pocket of my bespoke suit, off the rack, even the racks of Barney’s was no longer good enough for me, “Don’t dent it this time. You hear me?”
My eyes met the valet's. I could see the fear I liked to produce in others was present, but also the slight upturn of his lips suggested he thought I was mad or more likely on drugs considering all this was taking place in the heart of West Hollywood.
“Si senor.”
“Tough day in court," I handed him a fifty I retrieved from my wallet, “Didn’t mean to take it out on you, buddy.” The friendly shoulder pat offered was received with a recoil.
Best I could do. I ran down the sidewalk, past the restaurants with outdoor seating I had just dined at with the wife of a partner at my firm, looking for the slim white-attired figure. The one with a familiarity I couldn't place.
The hand, the delicate hand I saw through the crowd of well-dressed tourists and film executives. My heart pounded in my chest. I could feel the blood circulating in my body as I caught up to her.
Into a small sparsely decorated white boutique she walked. So many questions filled my mind, but the one I wanted to ask her most, the one that rang through my head? Why are the boutiques you like so severe, empty, always a lack of music like a museum.
I stood by the front mindlessly picking up sweaters from a pile on a stark white minimalist table. My eyes followed her every move, the flick of her hand as she pursued the dress rack.
“Laura Pianno, so soft, cashmere. They just arrived from Italy today,” A cheerful voice spoke to me. I looked to see a model-like salesgirl no more than twenty-one, eyeing me in a flirtatious way. I ignored her.
“Omar,“ Zelda turned towards whom I could only assume was her driver, “I think I’m ready. Could you pull the car around?”
“Yes, Ms. Moreau.” He turned and adjusted the bags that threatened to drop from his hand, all of them overstuffed and bursting.
“Are you looking for a gift?” the sales girl spoke in a louder voice that echoed through the cavernous glaring white boutique.
“Yes,” I raised my voice louder than hers. The reverberation through the store felt like a dream. Zelda turned quickly to the sound of my voice, “This one,” I glanced down to find an aqua blue droopy cashmere cardigan in a style that was popular at the time.
“I always liked this color on you, Zelda.” I held up the sweater to show her and handed it to the salesgirl.
“Amex, okay?” I stared at Zelda as she stared at me. A deer of a girl as Danny always claimed.
“$2,250.00,” The sales girl’s voice was lively with what I assumed were thoughts of the large commission she would receive. I handed her the black card I had unconsciously fished out of my pocket.
“Serrrrrrge,” she cooed and glided across the high gloss floor that reminded me of the house in Malibu, “Serge... you can’t get that for me... It’s so...” She stopped an arms reach away from me.
“Expensive?” I held out my arms showing her what I did not know, “I can well afford it. A drop in the bucket, Zelda, a token, not much more to me than a cup of coffee.”
“What are you talking about, Serge?” She laughed as I asked myself the same question.
“I don’t know...” I returned her laugh but mine was shrill. “Coffee, you still drink it right? Still the blood in your veins? Long morning in court, need a little pick me up...”
She tilted her face as if suppressing a giggling fit, her delicate hand on my shoulder. It took everything in me to not put my hand over hers.
“I do still drink it, not usually this late in the day, but I would love to get a cup with you... I think that’s what you were asking?” Her ethereal face she had managed to keep in a semi-serious expression broke open into a smile and laughter, making me feel less awkward in my self-consciousness.
“Yes,” I relaxed my shoulders that were lifted in a tenseness I had not been aware of, “Hey doll,” I yelled out to the salesgirl, “Packed it up, yet?”
“Yes, Mr. Richmond.” She came out from behind the counter with the bag in hand, and the bill on a white leather clipboard.
“Thanks.” I signed my name in the unreadable scrawl, I had perfected over the previous years.
“I put my phone number on the receipt,” She leaned in and quickly whispered in my ear. I felt an anger similar to what I had felt with the valet earlier, and what I had been feeling towards a scattering of people unlucky enough to cross me in real or imagined ways in the previous two or three years.
“Won’t be necessary,” I said through gritted teeth. I didn’t think Zelda would appreciate my newfound and highly satisfying practice of belittling those around me.
“Let’s go, Zelda,” I grabbed her hand as I had done so many times when we were kids as if she couldn’t be trusted to follow on her own and led her to the outdoor café where I had just had lunch.
“Slow down, Serge. I’m in very high heels, not sneakers out for a run... Do you remember when...”
“No, I don’t remember,” I interrupted, “Antoine,” I used my high powered attorney tone of voice to draw the attention of the maître ‘d. I was aware I was showing off. I’ll give myself credit for that bit of self-awareness. “Two, coffees, inside.”
“Mr. Richmond, back so soon, and with another beautiful woman. Where do you find them?” He laughed and tossed his tanned, overly coiffed head back.
Rude thing to say I thought but didn’t say. The fact is it was exactly the image I wished to project to my oldest friend, Ms. Moreau. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was sure I selected this restaurant among the many that littered the shopping district for this reason. Antoine had never before disappointed in his inappropriate, yet charming fawning.
“Just a friend, an old friend Antoine,” I laughed a salacious laugh, offending even myself. Was this my way I wondered? “She’s holding up pretty well though, don’t you think? A little older...” I had no idea what I was saying, so I stopped talking and avoided Zelda’s eyes. We followed Antoine who continued with our rather offensive conversation.
“Well...” Zelda said with a scowl Antoine’s way as we sat down at the corner table facing the bak
ery, “So happy to hear that I’m holding up.” She sat still in her chair looking as if she were accessing me in a way I knew was falling short.
“You’re beautiful, Zelda,” I forced the words with a mumble, unable to look at her for more than a moment. My eyes scanned the desserts inside the glass case.
“Serge... this is strange... so much time. Oh never mind,” She reached inside her purse and took out her phone, “My kids, Serge... Look how big Louisa is. She’s in school, second grade. She goes to Punaho across the island. It's a long drive, but Danny and her love it...” She leaned across the table. I only glanced at the picture.
“Here’s Leilani, she just turned four, and David, my son. So cute... She had dressed him...” I turned my attention to the table next to us, preferring their conversation over ours. Something about production problems in a sci fi film they were shooting.
