The China Doll (6 page)

"You suck."

"I know." Emily looked at her watch. "I’ve
got to get out of here soon to pick up Hellie, but tell me what
you’ve done so far."

"Well," Jessie said, crossing her legs on her
chair, "we’re spending the next couple of weeks on the House of
Atreus."

"That is so cool," Emily said jealously.

"Maybe, but so far we’ve spent the last
couple of classes on Tantalus. Boring! But Bobby started giving me
a preview of the Pelops stuff, and that’s cool. I’m really into the
stuff with Hippolyta and her father—"

"Who?"

"Hippolyta, Pelops’ wife."

"No, it’s Hippodameia."

"No, Smarty Pants," Jessie said with a
satisfied laugh, "it’s Hippolyta. That’s what Bobby said."

"Bobby got it wrong, then. It’s Hippodameia,
I promise you."

"I looked it up on Wikipedia. It’s
Hippolyta."

"You know that they sometimes get that stuff
wrong on the web, right?" Just then the alarm on Emily’s phone went
off. "Damn, I’ve got to go."

"Alright, kiss Hellie for me, and I’ll send
you an email tomorrow with what I need, okay?"

"You got it," Emily said. She kissed Jessie
on the cheek, then ran out. All the way to the daycare, she shook
her head. It was Hippodameia.

The matter of Pelops’ wife bothered Emily
that day and the next. She and Miranda were supposed to be heads
down working on the brochure for the company in Europe, but Emily
couldn’t concentrate. "Okay, what’s up?" Miranda finally asked.

Emily waved her pen in Miranda’s direction.
"How would you like to meet me at the BPL in an hour and a half and
we can continue this there?"

"Oh, my God, yes!"

Emily told Miranda that she needed an hour at
the library before they could meet. While Emily ran to catch the
train Miranda packed up her stuff and walked downstairs to the
café, just to get a little more coffee. She was drinking a lot of
coffee these days.

Miranda found herself humming along to
Solitude
by Billie Holiday. She closed her eyes. She’d
downloaded this after Michael had gone. She rubbed her neck again,
and was again abruptly called back to reality to place her
order.

She walked out, still humming to herself. She
smiled. It was a good kind of sad. She rubbed her neck again as she
walked to the train station, but stopped once she was on the
train.

She found Emily sitting in the library café.
Miranda looked around. "Nope, sorry. Too loud. We’re going to the
restaurant—we’re getting tea."

"You're getting tea," Emily grumbled. "I
don’t think they’ve got soymilk here."

After they were seated, Emily made a face.
"Oh my, how properly, pretentiously British we are today!"

Miranda snapped her fingers. "That’s what I
wanted to tell you!" She scurried through her bag until she found
the piece of paper she was looking for. "Here we go. Did you know
that
Camelot
is coming to Boston next week?"

She handed Emily the little postcard. "Oh,
neat!" Emily said softly. "I love this musical."

"Me too," Miranda said dreamily. "You want to
come with me?"

Emily looked over the postcard. "Who else are
you bringing with you?"

Miranda smiled. "I might have mentioned it to
Alex."

"Strictly as an investor’s perk, right?"

"Emily—"

"Yeah, I think three would be a crowd," Emily
said as she handed back the card.

Miranda strummed her fingers on the table.
"If you brought Mitch—"

"It would sort of be like a double-date,
right?" Miranda didn’t reply. "Sorry, I think Mitch is a little bit
too preoccupied to tear himself away from his job right now. Maybe
in...three years? And maybe by then you’ll have another date."

"Maybe not. He asked me to marry him."

"What?" Emily gasped. "When?"

"A few weeks ago."

"What did you say?"

"I said I needed time to think about it."

"Have you thought about it?"

"Still thinking."

"If I came to this thing, would you say
no?"

"I’m not Jessie."

"Just let me know what I need to do." Emily
sighed. "I’m sorry. Do you want to talk? And by talk, I mean, you
do the talking, I do the listening and try not to say anything too
poisonous when you finally ask for my opinion?"

"Oh, I’ve got Zainab for that," Miranda said
brightly.

Emily was about to say something when Miranda
gasped. Her face turned white and her eyes widened. "It’s him," she
whispered. "He’s right there by the fountain." She pointed to the
window behind Emily.

Emily turned around. She didn’t see anyone.
"Sweetie, no one’s there," she said softly.

Miranda shook her head, her eyes still
fixated on the fountain. "No, I saw him. He was there."

"You saw who?"

"Michael," Miranda whispered. "He was right
there." She threw down her napkin and ran out through the
restaurant and into the courtyard. She turned around in all
different directions. He wasn’t there. Hadn’t she seen him go
toward the doors leading to the McKim Building? She ran into that
building and into the reading room. "Michael?" she called out.
Several people turned in her direction, but she ignored them.

Her heart was racing. She ran to the
reference desks at the opposite ends. She ran to the stairs. She
ran down and then out. "Michael!" she called out. She closed her
eyes. She hadn’t imagined it. He was there. "Michael," she said
softly. "Michael." But he didn’t come.

She went back to restaurant and sat down. She
sipped her tea even though it was cold and didn’t look at
Emily.

"Are you alright?" Emily asked at last.

"I’m fine, Em. Everything’s fine," Miranda
said vacantly.

"He wasn’t here." Emily swallowed. "Didn’t
Richard say he was still in Europe?"

"Of course. He’s still in Europe," Miranda
repeated. She was waiting for her heart to stop beating so
fast.

"We were just talking about Alex," Emily said
gently. "I think Michael...still...I think you still think about
him." Miranda didn’t say anything. "I think that’s why you thought
you saw him."

Miranda smiled, tears in her eyes. "Of
course. He’s not here. He’s away. He’s gone. He’s not coming back."
She looked up at Emily. "So it’s time to move on now, isn’t it?"
Emily didn’t say anything, but she took Miranda’s hand and kept it
there while she sobbed quietly.

Jessie got home at nine. As soon as she
opened the door, she found Zainab standing in the front hall,
zipping up a bag. She had her jacket and shoes on. "Hey," Jessie
said, closing the door. "Where’s Miranda?"

"I think she’s having dinner with Alex."

"One day I’ll understand her taste in
men."

"Just accept that it’s not for us to
understand and then you’ll feel better."

Jessie smiled. "Yeah, I guess." She gestured
to the bags. "What’s going on?"

Zainab smiled, then shrugged. "I thought I’d
just bring a couple of things to Emily’s place. She can use the
adult company."

Jessie looked at the floor. There were three
other bags next to Zainab. "Yeah," she said slowly. "And of course
doing it at night would be better than, say, on your way to work or
after work. Oh, wait, right, this would be a perfect time if you
were planning on staying there tonight."

Zainab walked past Jessie to get her keys and
squeezed her arms. "Emily gets lonely sometimes."

"I think I know how that feels," Jessie said
quietly.

Zainab smiled. "Come on Jess, you don’t need
a babysitter anymore. Miranda’s here, too."

"I don’t need a babysitter, but I do need my
friend. And that’s a lousy word to describe our relationship, but
it’s the best I could think of."

"We’re going to be friends no matter where I
sleep."

"But now we’re kind of family," Jessie said
with a pleading smile. "I kind of like that."

Zainab smiled sadly. "As much as you like
anything, right?"

"I like you maybe a little more than
that."

"Jess, I love you too," Zainab said, touching
her arm again. "But there’s got to be more for me if I’m going to
be your roommate here."

"Oh, God, what did my idiot cousin do?"

"Richard doesn’t usually do idiot things,
Jess. That’s part of the problem."

They heard the door close. Jessie sighed with
relief. Zainab turned around and saw Richard in the doorway.
Richard looked at the bags, then looked at Zainab as if he’d been
reproached. Zainab took a deep breath. Jessie stepped back. "I
think I need to call Emily and tell her about my date with
Bobby."

"Who’s Bobby?" Zainab asked, but Jessie had
already scurried halfway up the stairs at that point.

Zainab turned back to Richard. "Bobby?"

He shook his head. "No idea." He stood up
straight. "And right now, I don’t care."

"You always care, Richard. It’s one of the
things I love about you."

"Fine, then. I care about you more."

"Maybe you shouldn’t," Zainab said quietly.
"I know all the pressure you’re under right now."

Richard shrugged. "Jessie, shockingly, seems
to have everything under control. Michael is still gone, and I
haven’t had to bail him out of too many messes since he left. So
I’ve got enough energy to run a small country right now."

Zainab shook her head. "Then I guess you
don’t have a good excuse, do you?"

"Darling, I know I’ve been—"

"Please. I’m not asking for an apology."

"But I owe you one anyway, and I know
it."

"I don’t want one then. It doesn’t matter.
You’re a human being—this is maybe your first opportunity to
appreciate it."

"Then what do you want?"

"More." It was just one word, but it was the
hardest one she’d ever said. "Maybe it’s not fair, but I can’t stay
like this, knowing that this may be all we’ll ever have. It’s nice,
but I don’t want to be someone’s girlfriend or someone’s roommate
for the rest of my life. I want more. I want to look out and see a
future." Richard opened his mouth to speak, but Zainab put up her
hand. "And I’m not mad that you don’t want the same thing. I still
love you Richard, but I don’t think I’m going to get those things
if I keep waiting for you to want them too."

He looked so pained when she was done that
she regretted what she said, but she knew it had to be said. "You
want a family," he said after a moment.

"Yes."

"I’m afraid of that, Zainab. It terrifies
me."

Zainab almost laughed. "You? You’ve been
through so much already. Changing diapers, sending people off to
school—that wouldn’t really be anything compared to what Michael
and Jessie and even Miranda put you through."

"I don’t know how," Richard said simply. "I
want a normal family where those are the only things we’d have to
worry about. But I don’t know how. No one ever showed me. The only
person who could have..." He looked away for a moment. "He
died."

"There are plenty of people who figure it out
by themselves, and most of them do fine."

"I don’t have a very good reason to think
that I’d be one of them," he said. It was the first time Zainab had
ever seen him so vulnerable.

"But I’m here too," Zainab said softly. "I
have a pretty good idea of how you’re supposed to get things
done."

Richard nodded his head. "I know. And that’s
why I think about it at all."

"You do?" Zainab smiled, hopeful, despite
herself.

"Of course I do. God, I’m not a fool. You
think after all this time I don’t have some idea of what you want?
I want to give it to you, I just don’t want to screw it up as badly
as it was for me, for them."

Zainab took Richard’s hand in hers. He lifted
it up and kissed it softly. "What do you want to do then?"

"Please just give me some time. I know," he
said before she could say anything. "You’ve already waited. Just a
little more, I promise."

"What would you do with this time?" she asked
as she wrapped her arms around his waist and put her head on his
chest.

He inhaled. "There’s something I need to sort
out."

It was a late fall evening in 1980 when Alex
arrived at Stephen’s house for a drink. "About time, my friend,"
Stephen said as he led Alex into the living room. "What’s your
pleasure?"

"Oh, the usual," Alex said off-handedly as he
looked around. "Is your dad home?"

Stephen stiffened as he poured their drinks.
"No," he said with forced nonchalance. "He’s out for the weekend,
I’m afraid." He turned and handed Alex his drink. "I’ll be sure to
tell him you said hello."

Alex sipped his drink. He needed the courage.
"Thanks, but it’s actually a little bit more than a hello." He
knocked his drink back. "I wanted to ask him something."

Stephen sat down, barely concealing his
distaste. "About what?"

"A business opportunity," Alex said simply.
"One with amazing profit potential."

"How much are you looking for?" When Alex
said the number Stephen let out a low whistle. "Sorry, I can tell
you right now, Dad doesn’t have that. I don’t have it either. I’d
give it to you myself if I did."

"It was a long shot anyway," Alex said
disappointedly. "But worth asking about."

"I’m sorry, Alex. But please, you don’t want
to owe my father anything."

"I wouldn’t owe him for long."

Stephen shook his head. "He can’t." He looked
at his friend’s fallen face. "But he’s not the only one around here
with deep pockets. Why don’t you just ask Annabelle’s dad?"

"Because he’s my boss, and if this investment
doesn’t work out, I’d like to keep my job."

"Alex, Gerry likes you. I think he’s going to
admire you even more, even if he says no. He won’t fire you just
for asking."

"Then maybe I don’t want to look desperate in
front of him."