Five Women (45 page)

said.

“Me?”

“I have to go now,” Felicity said.

“I
hate
that woman,” she said to Gara on the phone. “I hate her, I hate her.”

“You don't have to take her calls if they upset you,” Gara said.

“Yes, I do. She could make trouble.”

Now she had to deal with Jason, finally. There was no question of letting him touch her now that she was in love with Eben. She almost recoiled at the thought. Felicity agreed to meet Jason at their lunchtime apartment. She had already told him she had left Russell, and when she got there he knew right away that another bad thing was going to happen.

“Jason, we have to stop seeing each other,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because we're not on the same turf anymore. I've left my husband and you're still with your wife.”

“You know I can't leave my wife.”

“I don't want you to. I'm leaving you. I hope we can always be friends, and of course we'll continue to work together whenever you need me, unless you don't want to.”

“How did my little love slave get so cold?”

“I want another life without either of you. I felt guilty and bad and dirty. Now I feel good about myself.”

“I knew you would leave me if you ever left him,” Jason said sadly.

Felicity let him kiss her goodbye and hug her, and she felt sad too, but not really. Then she left the apartment and went back to the office.

The next day Jason sent her flowers and a note at work. He had never sent her flowers or written to her in all the years they had been seeing each other.
I'll always care
, the note said.
Love, Mr. Master.

Master, Felicity thought. Ugh. Who was I then, what kind of fool? But she did like the flowers, and she knew she loved Jason in a way, and always would, as an old friend who had been so important in her life during the time she had needed him. After so long of course she was fond of him, but if she never saw him again she wouldn't mind at all.

The marriage counselor had done no good, and now the divorce mediation was proceeding. Felicity felt uneasy continuing to waste so much money on a hotel, so she went out with a broker to look for an apartment to rent. She had been living with Russell for so long in their townhouse, which they owned, that she hadn't realized how expensive rent in New York City had become, and everything she could afford on her salary seemed small and claustrophobic. Finally she found a cozy little one-bedroom apartment on the East Side, near Eben's, for more than she felt she should really spend, but it was on a one-year lease, which she knew was all she would need. She was able to rationalize the unexpected expense by reminding herself that she had left a millionaire and his luxurious lifestyle, and their beautiful townhouse that she had decorated and that she sometimes missed very much, and she deserved to live in a decent apartment, in a decent neighborhood, to make up for what she had lost.

Russell, of course, would not give her a penny at this point, until the court made him do it, and he had not let her take any of the furniture, not even things she had paid for herself. She sneaked away half the dishes and half the silver when she was taking her clothes.

“You abandoned me,” he told her. “Don't think you have any chance of getting the house.”

“I don't want the house. I want money for my share of it.”

“You want what?”

“After all these years of marriage . . .”

“I paid for the house. Your share is zilch. You should have waited for me to die, Baby, till death do us part, and then you would have had it all.”

Only the good die young, she thought, but she didn't say anything because she couldn't afford to antagonize him at this stage in their negotiations.

Eben called her four times a day, advising, consoling, encouraging, monitoring her progress, offering friendship and love. It made her feel safe to have him so close to her and on her side.

“My husband has turned into the angry businessman now,” Felicity told him. “He's talking tough, and no one does it better than Russell does.”

“Husbands on the verge of a divorce always try to starve their soon-to-be-ex-wives out,” Eben said. “He'll have to give you something eventually. Don't give up and don't let him cheat you of what you deserve.”

“I just want to be free of him,” Felicity said. “I've wasted so many years of my life.”

“I want you to be free, too, but I want you to stand up to him. I care about you.”

“I know.”

She did not tell him that she didn't care about her house anymore because he had offered her his.

Eben came to see her new apartment when her bed arrived, and brought food and wine, and they had sex for the first time in her own place, and while she was glad he was there it also seemed strange. She had thought she would like to be independent to do what she wanted, but it was oddly like a date, and when he left in the morning she felt hollow. When he invited her to come to his apartment the next night, the way she always did, Felicity was somehow relieved. She had made her little apartment look very sweet, with her own imprimatur, but she didn't feel comfortable there yet, and she wondered if she ever would, because it was only an interim refuge. She felt comfortable at Eben's, in his apartment in the city and his house in the country. She felt comfortable with him, not with herself.

Chapter Thirty-eight

W
HEN
G
ARA WAS BEING SEATED
at their table at Yellowbird she saw Kathryn walking over from the bar to join her, with her glass in her hand. Kathryn had recently switched from wine to vodka on the rocks, because she had heard that vodka was less fattening, something about the sugar content, and because after quite a few she had less of a hangover. Tonight Gara could see that she had already had quite a few. It was interesting about Kathryn; she drank more than any of the other women in their group but insisted she hardly drank at all and said she got drunk on one drink, when of course the others could count and sometimes did. She said she worried about drinking because her father had been an alcoholic, and that was why she claimed to be very careful.

Gara certainly couldn't blame her if she wanted to anesthetize herself. The strenuous daily workout with her trainer followed by the daily aerobics class, the hours of tennis, the energetic walking, vigorous sports all day brought up her endorphins, and the alcohol did whatever it did afterward. She knew Kathryn was carrying grief from her past—Kathryn had told her bits and pieces in a totally matter-of-fact way—but Kathryn always insisted the past didn't matter and you couldn't dwell on it or ever feel sorry for yourself. But it was Gara's nature, and her profession, to wonder about Kathryn, how she had so much strength to deal with what had been a brutal childhood, and to enjoy life so much. Sometimes she wondered if Kathryn was really so happy, or if she had locked herself off emotionally since earliest childhood just to survive. She wondered about Kathryn's doomed marriages to the wrong men. Kathryn said they had just happened. But Gara knew nothing “just happened.” There was something tough about Kathryn, but whether it was the nature of a survivor or the bravado of a woman in deep pain was a question Gara often asked herself. One day soon she was going to try to find out more.

“Well, we're the first, as usual,” Kathryn said cheerfully. Her skin and hair were glowing, and she was wearing her new thin white wool Chanel suit, which was the suit of the year that spring, and hers was the original.

“How beautiful and elegant you look,” Gara said.

“Thank you. You should buy one. It would look good on you.”

Gara smiled. “I forgot to buy anything new this spring and now I probably won't bother.”

“If you're not nice to yourself, who will be?” Kathryn said.

“That's true,” Gara said. “Maybe I will. The copy.”

“Not the copy! You're not a copy. So where is the rest of our group?”

“Well, Eve left a message she has a business dinner and won't be coming, and you know Felicity, we're lucky to get a glimpse of her these days, but she promised to come and she'll probably bring Eben.”

Since her separation from Russell Felicity was able to do whatever she wanted, but she was still careful when she and Eben were in public together, never went out with him alone, and usually stayed home with him, because she didn't want to exacerbate the situation while she was negotiating her divorce.

“What do you think is going to happen with those two?” Kathryn asked.

“I don't know,” Gara said. “I've always had my reservations about this relationship because it happened so quickly and conveniently, but I want it to succeed so much that I also sort of believe in it. It would be so good to see Felicity settled and happy. She would be one of the fortunate ones who was able to change her life after she thought she never could. Eve is still upset, by the way.”

“Eve?” Kathryn sipped her drink. “He never liked Eve. She should give up and find someone else. It wouldn't be hard for her, she's so pretty.”

“You think Eve is pretty?” Gara said. That was a strange and mild description of Eve that would better suit anyone else.

“Don't you?”

“Well, dramatic-looking, interesting, attractive, but hardly pretty. She's much too angry for that.”

“I don't look at people's inner lives the way you do,” Kathryn said. She held up her empty glass to the waiter. “Give me another vodka. The good kind, from Russia, made from potatoes. I always forget the name.”

That's not the only thing she's forgotten, Gara thought. She ordered a glass of white wine.

Billie Holiday was singing scratchily on the sound system, her voice full of such pathos it made Gara nostalgic for things she didn't even know about. Billie Redmond came over to their table, eagle eyed, to make sure she wasn't wasting a table for four on only two. She was looking sexy in tight jeans and cowboy boots and a lace shirt, and a belt with a huge silver serpent on the buckle.

“Are the others coming?” she asked, by way of hello.

“Absolutely,” Kathryn said.

“I was just wondering, Billie, were you named after Billie Holiday?” Gara asked.

“I don't know. Nobody ever mentioned it.”

“How is Little Billie doing?” Kathryn asked. “It still feels strange here in Yellowbird without him.”

“For me, too. But he's annoyingly happy in his new life as an ordinary kid. Not that he'll ever be ordinary. He's much too smart.”

“Little Billie is a very special little boy,” Gara said. “I miss him.” But she was glad he was out of there.

“He doesn't miss us at all,” Billie said. “Kids break your heart, but they don't know it, and we can't tell them, because they're supposed to break your heart. He's also my greatest joy. Try the okra. It's new.” She moved on.

“Tell me more about your life growing up,” Gara said to Kathryn.

Kathryn shrugged. “I don't remember much. It's like I wasn't there, but I know it was happening to me. There are big gaps. I don't want to remember, to tell you the truth. The murder, well, there were so many accounts in the papers that weren't the way it was, and then I just blocked things out of my mind, I guess, so sometimes I wondered which was right, my memory or the newspapers. My mother wouldn't talk about it for years. And you know, I was married, I was very young, I had two babies, I was overworked, so I feel as if I missed most of it.”

“What about your childhood, before that?”

“Well, I was away most of the time. I was in boarding school. I remember the teachers. I respected them and liked them. I really don't remember my childhood, except I know it was full of fear because my father was so violent and abusive.”

“You mean, before you went away . . . ?”

“Yes. Before. And during and after. I know I came home for vacations from boarding school to spend time with my family in that madhouse we lived in, but I just don't recall. I had fun with my friends, I remember that.”

“Do you know why your mother sent you away? Was it to rescue you?”

Kathryn shrugged and took another swallow of her drink. “I suppose so. My father finally slugged me. I guess he was changing the way he thought about me.”

“And . . . ?”

“Then it would have been dangerous.”

“So do you think that was why your mother killed him?”

“No,” Kathryn said. “It was something to do with the other woman. I don't remember. My mother said shooting him was an accident, so I believe her.”

“Do you think he deserved it?” Gara asked mildly.

“Oh sure. I don't like to say anybody deserves to die, but none of us were sorry about it.”

“It's interesting.”

“It would be for me, too, and I'd like to remember, but I can't.”

“Did you ever go for therapy?” Gara asked.

“No, I have no use for shrinks. You're the only shrink I know and put up with, but that's because we're friends and I'm not your patient.”

Her tone was light, but there was anger beneath it, and Gara knew it was time to back off, for now. She wondered if Kathryn was really blocking all these memories as she claimed, or just didn't want to relive them by talking about them. Either was possible, and either would make sense. When Gara was first in practice it had been widely believed that traumas should be unearthed and dealt with, that the pain should be ferreted out and felt again, like a kind of root canal without anesthetic, and then the patient would be free. Now there were theories that said it was unnecessary, that you could simply go on and live your life. Gara believed this was valid, and faster, and less debilitating. It was obviously what Kathryn believed.

“The one thing I regret in my whole life is what happened to my son,” Kathryn said. “My last husband betraying him in that way. I'll never get over that, and neither will my son, I'm afraid. The money I got him didn't help him inside. Poor Jim Daniel. Sometimes I know he's lost to me.” Surprisingly for Kathryn, who never showed emotion because she considered it weak and boring and embarrassing, her eyes filled with tears.

Gara knew the story. Kathryn had told them all one night. They sometimes reminisced about their lives, even when it hurt. In their friendship, between the laughter they shared, and the banter, always came the revelations.

“I have a picture in my mind of Jim Daniel as a little boy,” Kathryn said. She was in control again, the tears forced back. Now she only sounded nostalgic. “With his little cowboy boots about three inches long, and his toy gun, and his cowboy hat sliding down over his eyes, and that bewildered look on his face as if things kept happening to him and he couldn't figure out any of them. And then for that awful thing to happen to him . . . I feel so responsible, I can't help it, I just do.”

“Of course you do,” Gara said. “But it wasn't your fault. Just keep remembering that.”

Felicity came in then, looking exhausted but happy, her hair loose. In her short, tight black dress Gara couldn't help noticing Felicity had lost a lot of weight, and she had been slim to begin with. She remembered when she had been in love and never needed to eat. “Hi!” Felicity said, grinning, and sat down next to Gara.

“Where's your boyfriend?” Kathryn asked.

“Shh. He's not my boyfriend. He'll be here any minute. Should I order wine by the glass or do we want a bottle?”

“A bottle,” Gara said. She told the waiter with a gesture. He knew what kind of wine they liked at the moment and brought it right away.

“Have I got news for you,” Felicity said. “My husband has a girlfriend already. In my house, in my bed, her clothes in my closet.”

“How do you know?” Kathryn asked.

“He wanted me to come over there to discuss getting back together again. Russell is always trying to get me back because he doesn't want to pay any alimony, but I went over to the house because I missed it and I thought maybe if I tried to be friends with him he'd be less intransigent. Well, I went upstairs to the bedroom and there were some of her clothes where mine used to be. And there was a
blonde hair
in the bed.”

“You looked in the bed?” Gara said.

“The bedspread wasn't on. You bet I did. My husband, who is so critical of my friendships with white people, so sanctimonious, has a white girlfriend.”

“Maybe it was a blonde weave,” Gara said.

“Girl, I know the difference between a hair and a weave.” They all laughed. “I was really annoyed and jealous that he's replaced me already,” Felicity said.

“But you have a boyfriend.”

“That's true.”

“And Russell is still trying to get you back.”

“That's true too. I feel sorry for her.”

Eben Mars came in, in a T-shirt and jacket and chinos, and pretended surprise to see them. “Well, look who's here,” he said.

“Eben!” Felicity said, pretending the same surprise.

“May I sit down?”

“Of course.” He sat next to Felicity.

“You promise Eve isn't coming,” he said to all of them.

“That's what she said. Unless she drops by later, looking for us,” Gara said.

“Oh, no!” Felicity said.

“Did I ever tell you I love your friend Felicity?” Eben stage-whispered to Gara. “That she's a wonderful person and she's changed my life?”

Felicity beamed. “And he's changed mine,” she said.

“That's what I'm here for,” Eben said. “That's what friends are for, isn't it? Aren't you helping her, too?” He looked from Gara to Kathryn and back to Felicity.

They nodded, because they weren't sure what it was that they were supposed to be doing. Complicity, secrecy, a listening ear, a beach house; yes, that was all part of it. But Eben's use of the word “friend” in reference to himself rang a little warning bell in Gara's mind. People in love were also supposed to be friends, she knew, but somehow it made him seem detached, even altruistic, a man with a mission. Gara didn't know why she felt that way, but she did, and she didn't like it.