Illusions of Love (15 page)

Jenny smiled.

“You certainly know the right thing to say to a lady.”

He took her by the arm and before she knew it they were sitting side by side in the taxi.

At Mamma Leone’s the maitre d’ showed them to a quiet table. Their enormous meal went almost untouched. Course after course went back after just a few bites. Jenny knew Martin was as impatient as she was for them to be alone. Neither of them ordered dessert. Jenny felt as if she were poised at the top of a roller coaster.

Outside in the cab Martin said, “There’s a place on Ninety-fourth that plays marvelous music. Would you like to go?”

“If you like,” Jenny said, looking down.

Martin hesitated.

“Well, actually I’d prefer my place.”

“So would I,” Jenny said honestly. She was happy that Martin hadn’t suggested her apartment, since her landlady acted like a warden: no men, no booze, no loud noises, no animals, no fun.

As they entered Martin’s building, Jenny was conscious only of the pressure of his warm hand on hers. She didn’t notice the doorman or the click of their footsteps across the marble hall. She moved as if in a dream.

When they got upstairs she snapped back to reality and looked around her. Martin’s apartment surprised her. The room was in total disarray.

There were newspapers strewn around the floor, a stale cup of coffee and a bagel sitting on the coffee table, ashtrays full of butts.

Living with a drunken mother who had no sense of order, Jenny had grown up with an abhorrence of clutter. For a swift moment she was annoyed that he hadn’t bothered to tidy up, knowing he was going to bring her home, but then she decided he was just hopelessly messy.

Martin went to the refrigerator, took out a bottle of champagne, and brought it back with two glasses. He pried the cork off gently, but the fluid still spurted up like a geyser. Quickly he filled her glass.

She watched as the bubbles danced, then looked up at him. Taking the glass from her, he placed it on the table and took her in his arms. He kissed her gently, then with more urgency. She thought that if this was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up. When he sensed her response, he leaned over and turned off the

lamp and in the darkened room he stood for a moment with his hands cupping her face. Then he took her into his arms and kissed her passionately.

Without speaking he unbuttoned the back of her dress and slowly removed her clothing. Jenny heard herself gasp as he picked her up and laid her on the couch. Soon he was beside her, holding her, caressing her, exploring her body as gently as possible. Lying beneath him, feeling him inside her, the pain soon became a joy. And for him, it was a moment of surprising sweetness, different from any other he’d known .

For a long time afterwards he continued to hold her. No one had ever evoked the passion and the fire that Jenny ignited. For the first time since the war he felt whole again.

“Oh, Jenny,” he whispered, ‘you’re simply wonderful. “

And she felt wonderful. But she knew the next day was Sunday and she would have to face her priest. Without a word she slipped out of bed and started to dress.

Martin was totally taken off balance.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

Without looking at him she answered, “My landlady will notice if I don’t go home.”

“Please don’t go.” Even as he spoke, he was surprised by his words.

He’d never asked a girl to stay. But then he’d never met anyone who affected him like Jenny McCoy. He only knew that he wanted her to be with him in a way he had never wanted another human being.

“Please stay, Jenny.”

She picked up her satin slip and put it on. Martin watched her in the light from the table lamp. She seemed so small and fragile.

“I can’t stay, Martin.”

Martin got out of bed, walked over to her, and tried to take her in his arms, but Jenny backed away.

“What’s wrong’ Jenny

“I feel terrible. I guess I’m ashamed. I must have made a fool out of myself.”

He took her gently by the arms.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Yes, I do. A lady doesn’t act the way I have tonight.

Where I come from, they’d call me a bitch in heat. “

“For God’s sake, don’t say that, Jenny! Don’t do this to yourself.

Wanting to share with someone isn’t wrong. It’s the most natural thing in the world. Don’t cheapen what happened between us. “

Jenny’s problem was that she didn’t see the act of love as a beautiful and wonderful thing. She had been conditioned to think that any woman who gave herself to a man outside of marriage was a slut. For the moment she couldn’t face her sense of guilt, and Martin’s very presence deepened her remorse. With no further explanation, she finished dressing.

“I wish you wouldn’t feel this way. I wish there was something I could say that would tell you how wonderful I think you are.”

Jenny scarcely heard as she watched Martin dress.

It was three in the morning when Martin told the cab to pull up in front of the brownstone where she lived. When she saw that Martin was about to get out with her she said, “Thank you, Martin, but I prefer to go in alone.”

“Of course. I understand,” he said, kissing her.

“I’ll call tomorrow.”

She merely nodded and ran inside. She felt a wave of loneliness sweep over her as she started up the stairs. To her horror she met her neighbour, who was taking his dog out for a walk. He looked at her as though he could see the colour of her underwear. Her face turned crimson when he said, “Hello there. How did Cinderella make out at the ball tonight?”

She mumbled something under her breath and fumbled for her keys in her purse. Once inside she leaned against the door and angrily wiped away her tears. She ripped off her dress and sat on the edge of the bed, blowing her nose and wiping her eyes. Oh God, how can I go to mass this morning-] She went to the bathroom and let the water run in the tub. She lathered herself with a lavender-scented soap, then lay back and thought back over the evening. A million

contradicting emotions cluttered her mind. In spite of her self, she was suddenly frightened Martin wouldn’t call her again, especially after the way she’d acted.

Jenny got out of the tub and dried. herself with a towel. Then she put on her nightgown and got into bed. Soon her eyes closed and she fell asleep. Two hours later she woke with a start, terrified she might have slept through early mass.

Quickly, she jumped out of bed, ran to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, slipped into a sweater and a wool skirt, and hurried down the hall.

She was breathless by the time she ran up the steps of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. She went through agony realizing she couldn’t stand in the line waiting for communion. Even if she had gone to confession, she wouldn’t have been able to participate; her sin had occurred after twelve that night. Kneeling, she watched the priest as he took the wafer and placed it on the tongue of the first parishioner. She was filled with her own need for redemption.

Stealthily she walked down the aisle and out of the cathedral.

Sighing, she walked along the street until she found a coffee shop a few blocks away where she ordered tea and toast. She tried reading the Sunday paper but found that she could not concentrate. Martin Roth filled her thoughts. Purgatory and salvation seemed to weigh in the balance as she visualized him lying in his bed, his thick black hair in disarray, his blue eyes shut in sleep. In her fantasy she saw him getting out of bed, showering, having coffee. She pictured him deciding to go out, leaving the apartment. Leaving the bed unmade, coffee cup un washed.

Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? There would be another penance to pay at confession when she would have to admit that she was still filled with lust and passion.

She got up, leaving much of the toast and tea untouched, paid the check, and walked for hours before returning to her apartment.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she stared out the window.

God, how lonely Sundays were, particularly this Sunday. Martin had aroused feelings that she had never known. If this wasn’t love, she wondered what the pain of the real thing would be like. How could anyone stand it? Damn him. He had penetrated all the protective walls she’d erected since coming to New York.

Desperate to speak to someone, she tried several of her girlfriends, but they were out. She even called Dominic but again there was no answer. Close to tears, she realized that Martin hadn’t even tried to call. Except for the morning she had been home all day. Jenny felt abandoned, used. How was she going to face the rest of this evening alone? She sighed deeply and decided that even sitting in a darkened movie theatre would be better. Slowly, she got up, took her purse, and locked the door behind her.

The moment Martin got to his apartment he put down his golf clubs and phoned Jenny. The line was busy. He kept trying every few minutes, but whoever she was talking to was certainly long-winded. When he finally rang through, Jenny was only a few feet down the hall, but by the time she reached her apartment and grabbed up the receiver, the caller had hung up. had to be Martin, it simply had to be. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she debated whether or not to call him. At the very same moment, Martin was thinking: Damn, first it’s busy, then no answer.

She must have gone out for the evening. Well, he was going to do the same thing.

By the time Jenny summoned up the courage to call his number, he was in the elevator. It must nofhave been him after all, she decided.

Monday night Martin worked in his office until eleven o’clock, sending out for sandwiches and coffee. By the time he came up for air, he realized it was too late to call Jenny.

On Tuesday he called Elmo Cosmetics only to be told that she had gone to upstate New York and that they didn’t think she’d be back until late. Martin called her every half

hour from six to nine-thirty, but got no answer. Dammit, she must have gone out on the town again, he thought sullenly. She seems to live a very social life.

Jenny arrived home at nine-forty just ten minutes after Martin had hung up for the last time.

That night she slept badly. Why hadn’t he called? Face it, Jenny, you were a one-night stand. She was hurt, but she vowed not to call him under any circumstances. She’d made a fool of herself once, that was enough. More than enough. Oh, if only she had clung to the teachings of the Church, she would still have her virginity and her pride. Well, if she ever went beyond a casual date with another man, she would make him suffer as she was doing now.

On Wednesday Martin was out of town negotiating a new account, and he became so involved with the client, he didn’t get home till midnight.

Dammit, too late. He set his alarm for six. He was going to reach Jenny if it killed him. At six-fifteen, Jenny picked up the ringing phone.

“Hello?”

Trying to keep his voice even, he said, “Hello is right … do you know I’ve been trying to get you since Sunday night?”

Jenny’s hand began to shake. All those dreadful things she had thought.

“I’m so sorry but did you call my office?”

“Yes, I did.”

“I didn’t get any messages.”

“I didn’t leave any since every time I called you at home you never answered. I just thought maybe you’d be too busy to return my calls.”

“Oh, Martin, I wasn’t all that busy. In fact, I wasn’t busy at all. If only you had left a message.”

Martin was about to tell her how jealous he’d been.

“I guess it was pretty foolish not to leave a message,” he said.

“Are we still friends?”

She laughed nervously.

“Still friends.”

“In that case, I’d like to take you to dinner tonight.”

“I’d love that, too, but it will have to be a short evening.”

“Why?”

“I have to go to Albany to work with a department store buyer.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.”

“Can we make it six?”

“Sure.”

Jenny smiled as she hung up the phone.

At dinner they talked about the office, the weather, the food. It was as if they each felt too vulnerable to explore their real feelings.

When they finished coffee Jenny looked at her watch and said apologetically, “I hate to end the evening, but it’s almost nine.”

“Can’t we even go out for a walk?” he said, annoyed.

“Well, I did say it was going to be an early evening. I really have to work on my presentation.”

“Oh, sure. Well, what are you doing Saturday night?”

She hesitated.

“I’ll be in Bar Harbor this weekend.”

“Bar Harbor! That’s a summer resort. What would they do with make-up there?”

She smiled.

“Buy it. That’s just the market we want to go after.”

He couldn’t believe what she was saying. Maybe God was punishing him for having lied to his mother when she asked if he was involved with anyone. Or maybe he was taking too much for granted, expecting her to be at his beck and call.

“Do you really have to go? I mean, this weekend?” he asked, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice.

“Of course I do, Martin. It’s my job. And my career is as important to me as yours is to you.”

“So when did you say you were leaving?”

“I’m taking the six-thirty flight tomorrow.”

He sighed.

“Oh … well, I’ll drive you to the airport.”

“You’re very sweet.”

“That’s me. Used to be an Eagle Scout, youngest in the troop, and if you ever stay around long enough I’ll show you my good-conduct medals.”

Jenny heard the pique in his voice, but she didn’t know what to do.

The next day she worked longer than expected

with a cosmetic buyer from Macy’s, and by the time the session was over she was a complete wreck. When she looked at her watch she was terrified that Martin would have gotten impatient and given up waiting for her.

She got to the street just in time to see Martin driving off. He must have been around the block a dozen times, since it was the height of the rush hour and no parking was permitted Anxiously glancing at her watch, she prayed that he hadn’t given up and gone home. After what seemed an eternity she recognized his car inching back down the block.