After the Reunion (5 page)

“It’s perfectly all right,” Annabel said.

She was already in jeans and a sweater from the plane trip, and didn’t bother to unpack anything except the bottle of perfume she’d bought on the plane for Emma. They opened the cold champagne and sat in the kitchen, drinking it and eating sandwiches, happy and cozy together, just like all the old times. Emma had kept coming in and out of her life unexpectedly ever since she’d left Radcliffe after only one year because she wanted to go to the NYU film school and concentrate on movie making. She had lived with Annabel for a while, met some girls and decided to share an apartment with them because she’d never lived on her own like that; gotten bored with it, lived with a boy she thought she was in love with, got scared when he proposed, and came back to Annabel until graduation; and then off to California, because that was where the work was. Annabel kept Emma’s room ready for her, just in case, and was always overjoyed to see her.

“Let me tell you about my glamorous life,” Emma said. “I have to go to the set at five in the morning to tell the trucks where to park and tell the extras where to go. It was freezing cold and snowing all last week, and before that we had mud. Weaselly decided he wanted to use real convicts for extras because they were so real-looking. Ex-cons, I mean. I felt sorry for them because they thought they were going to be in the movies, and all it was for them was eight hours of standing around, and get paid thirty-five dollars and good-bye.”

“Convicts!” Annabel said, alarmed.

“They were okay,” Emma said, calmly. “At least they didn’t make me get out of bed at two in the morning to go buy a pint of gin for the star, who was shacked up in the local motel with his girl friend. I mean, a pint of gin! Talk about gross …”

“You had to do that?” Annabel said, more alarmed.

“I have to pay my dues. I’m aware of it. But I’m twenty-two already, and I’m starting to wonder how long.” Emma grinned, and Annabel realized with a little shock of pride how genuinely beautiful she was: the amused, innocent green eyes, the flawless skin with the faintest gilding of tiny freckles, the mane of auburn hair glinting with gold lights. She was her mother’s daughter all right, with her mother’s spirit too. “I’ve been making everybody I work for give me a letter of recommendation after each job,” Emma said. “And I always make friends with the cameraman and everybody else I can on the set to learn things. My day will come.”

“Soon, I hope,” Annabel said.

“Not too soon to suit me,” Emma said. Sweet Pea jumped into her lap again, and Emma fed her bits of turkey. “So how was Europe, anyway?”

“Hectic. Fun. Some of the clothes were really ugly. But by the time they get popular, in a year or two, people won’t be able to imagine how they lived without them.”

“Did you meet anybody?”

“Any men?”

“Yeah … any men?”

“Well …” Annabel said, and they both laughed.

“Was he cute?”

“I would say he was cute, yes.”

“And …?”

“It was just a date,” Annabel said.

“Like me when I’m working on a movie,” Emma said. “I get a big crush, and then when the movie’s over, it’s over too. We’re still friends, and we run into each other sometimes, but we’re both on to different things.”

“It wasn’t even a crush. It was attraction.” For an instant Annabel felt again that little touch of sadness she had felt after sex with him.

“That’s not so bad,” Emma said consolingly.

“No … but I dread to think how many dates I’ve had in my time. I think in the natural order of things one gets to a saturation point.”

“And then?”

“And then one becomes a serious person,” Annabel said. “One looks seriously for another serious person.”

“You mean you’d go looking for a man who’s straight, single, unattached, terrific, and good enough for you? Oh, my God! There’s nothing like that out there.”

Annabel laughed. “Oh, Emma—do you realize a personality change like that could blight my whole life?”

Chapter Three

Chris’s office was a hermetically sealed place of peace and luxury in the middle of Manhattan, so high up she could see for miles. When she had first come to work there she had been a little squeamish about those enormous windows with their low sills, no curtains, and a view—if one wished—of cars the size of gnats. She’d particularly disliked the fact that her eminent position of Managing Editor, putting the magazine together, bore with it a corner office, so she was almost surrounded by air. Once she saw a plane that seemed to be on the same level as her window, and she was not happy about it. But she soon adjusted, and after a while even got to appreciate how pretty it was; the other office buildings all different colors, their windows glittering as they caught the light.

This good job had been an accident. When she’d still been working as a copy editor she had gone to a publishing party and met Bill Cameron, the financier who owned a lot of magazines, one of which was the new one he was going to start,
Fashion and Entertainment
. They were both quick-witted, and liked each other immediately. She knew he was about fifty, that he was married to his second wife, who was much younger, and that they had two small children. She thought he was very attractive; burly and dynamic, with bright blue eyes that missed nothing, thick gray hair, and, despite his expensively tailored suit, the manner of an old street fighter. She also knew right away he was very intelligent, even an intellectual, which she appreciated. He brought her another glass of wine, although people were trying to get his attention and talk to him, and then he asked her why she was wasting her time when she could be working for him.

The second glass of wine had made her brave, so she laughed merrily and said she didn’t know. The next thing she knew she
was
working for him, in a difficult job that she really liked, and she realized he had been right: she
had
been wasting her time before.

Cameron owned other properties besides magazines, in other cities besides New York, so she didn’t run into him often, but every time she did he made a point of having lunch with her, or a drink, and he always made her feel appreciated and special. He would ask her about her life, and although she never told him anything he shouldn’t know, she felt that he was sympathetic and that he cared, even if it was just for the hour or two they were together. He was pleased with her work, and with his quick decision to hire her. He told her he always went by his first instincts, that they were usually right, and that she ought to be more assertive. It interested her that a man, especially her boss, was telling her to be more assertive. Most men, especially those his age, were made nervous by women who seemed too pushy. But Cameron (she never thought of him as Mr. Cameron, and she couldn’t bring herself to think of him as Bill) seemed to have so much confidence that no one could make him nervous.

Chris realized that if she had been someone else, if she hadn’t been so totally in love with Alexander, or if Alexander didn’t exist at all, that she might have been attracted to this man. But she was safe, so they could be friends. And whenever she thought that, she was amused at her presumption; because a fifty-year-old man who was married to a beautiful (she’d seen the photo on his desk), much younger woman, in a second marriage (which were said to be the happy ones), after what she’d heard was an unpleasant first one, certainly wasn’t going to be chasing
her
.

She gathered the work she had to take home, said goodnight to the few people who were still finishing up, and emerged into the crowded chaos of the midtown streets below. She was grateful it was neither raining nor snowing, since it was impossible to get a taxi at this hour. She began to walk uptown, glancing around but not really looking seriously for a cab, because she knew it was good to get the exercise. When she’d first started this job she’d had virtuous intentions of walking to work and arriving at the office glowing with health. But somehow she was always late and in a rush, so she took a taxi downtown, or a bus if there were no taxis; and then at the end of the day when she was tired was when she had to walk.

She remembered how when she had come back to live in New York the streets had seemed full of room for everyone. Now they were an obstacle course full of angry, hostile, even lunatic people. She could hardly wait to get home. A few blocks away from the apartment she began to have the warm, safe, happy feeling she always had when she knew she was going to see Alexander. Even if she got home first, it was the same feeling, like a golden glow that filled her and suffused the very atmosphere around her. Home from the wars. Safe with her love. Alexander … even the most ordinary things he did—sitting there reading the newspaper, watching the news on television, mixing a drink—were romantic to her. She would be embarrassed if people knew how absolutely besotted with love she was. And home too would be their son, Nicholas, fourteen now; a brilliant, lovely, handsome boy, not a man yet, still a shy kid, hanging around in a pack with the other boys from school, trying for two days to get up the courage to ask a girl for a date, and only if it was absolutely necessary to have a date at all. That made her a bit concerned, until she saw that most of the other boys his age were the same way. The girls they’d been so comfortable with when they were all little were suddenly scary.

The other boys’ mothers weren’t at all concerned that they were afraid of girls. It was said to be a natural phase.

But the other boys didn’t have a homosexual father.

It was not really something to worry about—Alexander had been a marvelous father—but it was something Chris wondered about from time to time. She was sure Nicholas didn’t know anything of Alexander’s secret life. Kids were so sophisticated these days, but Alexander was extremely careful; so careful in fact that she didn’t even know if he was still doing anything.

She let herself into their apartment and hung up her coat. She saw with joy that Alexander’s coat was already hanging there. “Hello!” she called out.

“Hello!” Alexander called back, from the den. “Where are you?”

“Where are
you
?”

He came out into the foyer to greet her, smiling happily. They hugged each other hello and he picked up her tote bag of papers from the office to carry into the den for her. “This gets heavier every night,” he said. “I bet you didn’t get a cab either.”

“It’s aerobic,” Chris said. She could hear the sound of Nicholas’s new favorite dreadful record album seeping out from behind his closed bedroom door. “Do you believe he’s doing homework with that on?”

“I don’t think he can do homework without it,” Alexander said. He put her bag next to his attaché case on the floor and poured her a glass of wine. They sat together peacefully on the sofa, talking about their day, sipping the wine, eating some
crudités
, finally deciding to turn on the TV and watch the news even though it was always bad. Chris was grateful for her luck in having good help so she didn’t have to sacrifice this time with Alexander to rush around the kitchen cooking dinner. On weekends she still enjoyed making special meals, but then it was a kind of recreational activity. They both liked simple food and were careful about what they ate; Alexander because the fitness craze had finally gotten even to him, and she because she wanted to stay thin. Alexander played squash now, twice a week, at the New York Athletic Club, and was threatening to take up tennis in the summer.

After the news, Mrs. Gormley, their housekeeper, called them in to dinner, and Nicholas appeared. This would be the first summer that Nicholas would be away from them, and Chris knew she would miss him. He’d decided to go with a friend from school to something called The Wilderness Adventure, which as far as Chris could figure out was an adventure in risking your life, with white water rafting and mountain climbing, but he was all excited about it.

“I was thinking,” Chris said, “that even though we have the country house, maybe we should take two weeks off this summer and go to Europe. Someplace not hot, and not full of tourists.”

“How about Australia?” Alexander said. “It’s winter in Australia.”

“Is it cold? I don’t want it to be cold.”

“Japan,” Alexander said. “How would you like to go to Japan?”

“Oh, don’t go without me!” Nicholas said.

“But you’re going to be having a wonderful time,” Chris said encouragingly.

“Japan would be good for me,” Nicholas said. “It would be an educational experience.”

“True,” Alexander said, amused. “Where
don’t
you want to go, so we can go there?”

“I want to go everywhere,” Nicholas said glumly. “Except the country.”

Chris and Alexander laughed. “We like the country,” he said. “We work hard all week, and the weekend house is just right for us. You have the entire summer off from school, so of course you should do something more constructive than hang around up there.”

“I know,” Nicholas said.

“Would you rather not go on a trip?” Chris asked Alexander.

“I want to do whatever you do, you know that. I’m going to take two weeks off anyway. Why don’t we go to a place where this world traveler has already been, so he won’t feel left out? How about the French wine country? It’s hot, but it’s beautiful, and Nicholas hates to drink.”

They all laughed. “You have the wisdom of Solomon,” Chris said.

Plans … they were still making plans. They lived their lives in a haze of pleasure.

After dinner Nicholas went back to his room to finish his homework, and Chris and Alexander went to the den to do what they had come to call theirs. From time to time Chris looked over at Alexander, and once he caught her doing it and gave her a loving smile.
I’ll get him to come to bed early
, she thought.
He won’t be able to say he’s too tired again. Maybe tonight …

It was just like when they had been at college; wondering. She remembered those nights studying at the library together, and herself plotting and yearning to get him to make love to her—probably the only girl in the puritanical Fifties who had
wanted
to lose her virginity, without a thought for the consequences. And now it was happening all over again. She supposed some other married women had to go through this, from time to time; perhaps when their husbands were overworked or worried or had a girlfriend. But what about when your husband was affectionate and warm and kind, but just had no physical desire for you at all?
It’s only been two months
. Maybe they should discuss it.
Two months is a long time …