Winning is Everything (39 page)

79 

Convinced they’d never tasted better pasta, Gary and Nora sat at an inside table at the Hostia restaurant in Cervinia and gobbled up their lasagne as they went through a bottle and a half of red wine.

Most of the other patrons sat outside on the large patio, basking in the unseasonable sun. Nora and Gary, though, figured they’d had enough sunshine for several summers.

“You saved my life.” Nora raised her glass of wine and clicked Gary’s. “We skied into Italy for lasagne, a perfectly simple excursion, and suddenly found ourselves in the middle of a grade-B thriller; and I played the perils of Pauline and you played John Wayne.”

“It was nothing.” Gary waved a chivalrous hand in the air.

“Yes it was,” Nora insisted. “I never would have made it down that miserable mountain without you. Honest. I’m afraid now I’m all yours, Gary. You know what they say—once you’ve saved someone’s life, they become your responsibility forever!”

“I accept.” Gary shrugged, nonchalant. “Surely you didn’t think I was going to leave you alone up there. I’m no dummy. I’d never forsake any woman who has your talent for getting her employees raises of fifty dollars a week!”

“Of course”—Nora played along with the understatement—”it’s a good thing I didn’t tell you I’d left word with Olympus that if anything were to happen to me, they should give you my job.”

“Now
you tell me? Why didn’t I know that on the slope? Let’s go back!”

“Let’s drink our wine and get back to Zermatt,” said Nora. “At least the trails in Switzerland are marked.”

Gary reached under the table and took Nora’s hand. “Hi …” he said as his fingers meshed with hers. He held on to her tightly and squeezed hard. She squeezed back and smiled at him.

The electric connection was obvious to them both. The near-disastrous ski experience had suddenly snapped something between them, escalating their mutual bond and moving them, in the past hour, from dear friends to lovers.

Nora could see the passionate difference in Gary’s eyes.

“I wasn’t too much of a coward back there, was I?” she asked.

“Not
too
much,” Gary told her, at least half in jest.

“You!” Nora beamed. “You were the one! So brave! And when did you become such a good athlete?”

“Wasn’t as if I had a choice,” said Gary. “I think I already told you, my dad was a professional baseball player. All the while I grew up, I was pressured into being a good athlete too, playing all kinds of sports. For years, after my Dad got himself killed in that car accident—drunk while driving—people would come up to me and say, ‘I knew your old man; he was a great athlete.’ I guess I just felt compelled to become an accomplished athlete too.”

Nora put her hand on Gary’s lap. “Dear Gary …” she said softly.

“Strange thing was,” Gary said upon reflection, “it took years of hearing what a fine athlete my father was before I realized people were saying it mainly because there really wasn’t very much else could be said in the bozo’s favor!”

Nora looked at Gary with an understanding smile.

“I don’t mean to get unnecessarily sentimental,” he said, “but I want you to know what a difference you’ve made in my life. After my mom died of cancer while I was in college, I figured that’s it for
family.
Ever since meeting you, though, I’ve felt I’ve something to hold on to again, a new sense of family.”

Nora’s eyes filled with tears. “Forgive me,” she said. “I’ve always been a sucker for sentiment.”

“One pot of espresso!” said Gary with a slap to the table, “before we travel back into Switzerland. I can hardly wait for the pristine comfort of our little hotel room.”

They never made it to dinner.

They had lain down in their room to rest when Nora turned and kissed Gary, thanking him once again for saving her life. In that instant, Gary knew that the one thing they were not going to do was take a nap.

What was most surprising to Gary, who’d spent so many years avoiding actual confrontation with sexual activity, was how naturally their affair flowed. And once Nora was certain he was at ease, she was able to orchestrate their lovemaking, step by step. Gary hardly minded. Nora had been his mentor since they’d met, dispensing tips on everything from how to order from a French menu to how to spot the future bestseller; so it made perfect sense she should be the one to lead him, wisely and carefully unveiling the euphoria revealed through genuine love-making.

At eight o’clock, Gary, no longer a virgin, called room service to order dinner. They were both too exhausted to even think about dressing to go out to a restaurant. They were also so pleased to have made so successful an emotional leap in their relationship, they cared only to spend time enjoying their newfound attraction.

They spent an idyllic evening together, making love until the early hours of the morning. The only distraction to the entire incredible experience was the recurring stabbing and squeezing pain Nora felt from time to time in the small of her back.

At the end of the week, on Sunday, Gary and Nora flew back to New York, and it wasn’t until they were standing on the long line waiting to push their luggage through customs for inspection that they wondered what they were going to do with their newfound romance.

What would he tell his friends? How would the powers that be at Olympus feel about having a couple of pigeons cooing over one another in their very own story department?

They talked about it and agreed it wasn’t going to be easy. Their age difference, his previous sexual confusion, their employer-employee relationship, all seemed to work against their being able to announce to the world their new status.

“We’ll work it out … somehow,” Gary assured Nora.

“I sure hope so,” said Nora. “I know it’s paranoid and crazy, but ever since things clicked several days ago, I can’t help thinking people are staring at us.”

“It’s your imagination,” said Gary.

“I know,” Nora agreed. “Still … I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you I’m just a tad anxious about our age difference. All the time we were in Zermatt, I kept expecting someone to walk up and ask me, ‘Are you dating, or adopting?’”

“Listen, kiddo,” said Gary with an apologetic shrug, “I never said it was going to be easy.”

Nora grabbed the handle to lift the suitcase off the platform, and a spasm of pain, like nails down a long blackboard, enveloped her lower back. For a moment she thought she might black out.

It was in the taxi ride back to the city that Gary and Nora agreed she would have to go in to work late the following morning. She would first have to make a stop at her doctor’s office.

80 

Nora sat alone in the waiting room of the doctor’s office, thumbing through
Better Health
magazine. When Dr. Zuckerman walked in, she looked up at him. “I know …” She closed the magazine. “You haven’t found a thing. I’m healthy enough to swim the English Channel.”

“I’m
not healthy enough to swim the English Channel,” said the doctor.

“So what is it?” asked Nora. “And if you tell me you still don’t know, I swear I’ll never watch
Dr. Kildare
again!”

“Your tests are not all back yet,” Zuckerman said as he took a seat. “So it’s still too soon to be jumping to any foolish conclusions.”

“Now, listen to me,” said Nora. “This latest attack has been going on for days.”

“Nora …” said Dr. Zuckerman, and Nora knew from the way he’d said her name, things were not well.

“How bad?” she asked.

“Glomerulonephritis.”

“English, Dr. Zuckerman!” said Nora. “I never learned pig latin.”

“Goodpasture’s syndrome,” said the doctor. “Your kidneys are shrinking.”

Nora heard the words but refused to accept them. “Like violets, you mean?”

“Something like that.”

“So, what happens now? You put me in the hospital and cut me open and ruin my sex life for the next six months?”

“Wish it were that simple,” said Zuckerman.

Nora looked down at the floor. “You mean I really am in trouble?”

The doctor answered her at once. “No … of course not. We have plenty of options. Thousands of people are functioning quite well year after year with ailments similar to yours.”

“And the others?” Nora asked rhetorically.

“Who the hell knows?” The doctor shrugged. “The point is, we’re learning more about these organs every day. Every day, another clinic is announcing another miracle drug. You have no reason not to be optimistic.”

“Optimistic?” Nora protested. “I thought I kind of needed my kidneys—for plumbing or something.”

“As I said, Nora, we’re making incredible progress. No reason you shouldn’t live to a ripe old age. We of course have some more tests to conduct—”

“Of course!”

“And then we have to see how well your body responds to the medical therapy I’ll be putting you on.”

“Is this really happening to me?” Nora asked aloud quietly as she stood and walked to the window.

“Sometimes the initial phases are the toughest to get over,” said the doctor. “Your life is going along fine until, one day, you suddenly have to live by a whole new set of rules. I know it’s not going to be easy, Nora …”

Nora looked out the window, over toward the Sheep Meadow in Central Park. Kids were tossing softballs around the baseball diamond. Slam! What had five minutes ago been a mysterious on-again, off-again nagging muscular ache was suddenly, in the time it takes to hear a medical report, a signal to change your life.

“I have a luncheon appointment,” Nora said coolly as she turned to face the doctor. “When do you need to see me again?”

“Come back Friday,” said Zuckerman. “I’ll also probably be sending you over to New York Hospital next week for a couple more days of tests—so prepare to take some time off from work.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes.” Zuckerman wrote out a prescription on an Rx pad. “Take two of these whenever you get that pinching feeling in your back. It’ll help slow the pain and … hopefully ease the shrinkage.”

Nora walked toward the door. “I guess I’ll see you Friday, then.”

“Right. Tell my receptionist around one. I’ll be less busy then.” “Right.”

“I’m sorry about this, Nora. It’s the last thing in the world I’d—”

“Sure, sure. Hey, cheer up. It might have been something really terrible, like my tonsils, right?”

“Right.” Zuckerman smiled. “Oh … and one other thing. No more alcohol. Cut it out right now.”

Nora stopped in her tracks. “You mean I can’t have a glass of wine at lunch?”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” said Zuckerman emphatically.

“Holy shit …” Nora whistled through her teeth.

“I’m sorry … and no soda, either. Bubbles are murder on your system.”

“Can’t we just trot over to the kidney shop, pick up a pair of spare parts?”

“Someday, perhaps….”

“You’re late!” Gary kissed Nora on the cheek as she scooted over next to him on their banquette at the Russian Tea Room.

“Sorry,” said Nora, smiling as broadly as possible. “Doctor’s office was a zoo.”

“He find out anything?” Gary asked, matter-of-fact.

“Naw …” said Nora. “Gotta go back for more tests, that’s all. Any word from the
Times?”
Gary’s book had been shipped into the stores while they were away.

“Of course not,” said Gary. “I think it’s time we faced facts about the book, Nora. The New York
Times
is not going to review my book. Neither is
Time
or
Newsweek
or any other publication that might help.”

“But they
should
/” Nora insisted. “It’s a fine first book.”

“It’s a small first book, nothing more,” said Gary. “Why the hell should anyone care for a book about the World’s Fair by some neophyte author? The book is a nonseller. There’s going to be no paperback sale, no second printing. Isn’t it about time we stopped expecting more from this project than we’re going to get?”

Nora took Gary’s hand. “Are you terribly disappointed, sweetie?”

“Hey!” Gary snapped his fingers nonchalantly. “I’m a published author, ain’t I? That means I’m doing better than the tens of thousands of shlemiels pounding out manuscripts that will never see the ink on a printing press.”

“I like your spirit.” Nora smiled. “And now that you are a published author, isn’t it about time you got busy and started working on a second effort?”

“Please! Not again.” Gary patted Nora’s hand. “I’ll get to work again, honest I will. For now, won’t you allow me a while to rest on my failure?”

“For now,” said Nora, “let’s have lunch.”

“Good idea. As it happens, I took the liberty of ordering us a bottle of white Bordeaux,” Gary said as he pointed to the open bottle of wine resting in a standing ice bucket at the side of the table.

“Oh … I don’t feel much like drinking,” said Nora.

“Nonsense,” argued Gary. “After having that quack poking who knows what up who knows where all morning, the one thing I just knew you’d be longing for is a few glasses of this robust Château Bouscaut, sixty-four!”

“You’ve learned well,” said Nora with a genuine smile of appreciation.

Gary reached forward, lifted the bottle of wine from the ice bucket, poured some into Nora’s glass, and then refilled his own.

“Here’s to your feeling better real soon,” he said as he lifted his glass into the air for a toast. “To your health!”

Nora looked at Gary. How could she tell this young man whom she loved so much that her wine-tasting days were over?

She couldn’t. She lifted her wineglass and said, “To my health!”

81

Joe Allen’s was packed as usual with its after-theater crowd. The bar was three deep and customers without reservations were waiting up to one hour and a half for tables.

Kip was running around filling orders, delivering bottles of catsup, refilling orders for mugs of beer. As he carried out a tray filled with cheeseburgers and onion rings, he looked over along the wall of the restaurant and saw two young ladies, one of whom reminded him of Ellenor Robinson, the girl he’d known at the World’s Fair, except this girl, while certainly as pretty as Ellenor, was also curvaceously thin.

Kip delivered the late supper to his party of four and then walked over to the two young ladies to take their order. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a …” The pretty girl broke off her order. “Oh, my God, it can’t be!”

Kip lowered his pad and looked down at the young lady. “It’s not
you,
is it?”

“It is!” claimed the young lady. “Ellenor Robinson! Who else in the world could it be if not me?”

“I don’t know,” said Kip. “You look so unlike …
you “

“I am unlike me,” said Ellenor. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“But I thought you went back to Seattle!” said Kip.

“Only for a little while,” said Ellenor. “I just couldn’t stay away from New York!”

“But you look so different …” said Kip.

Ellenor turned in her chair and pointed to her dining companion. “Kip, this is Audrey, my business partner.”

Audrey smiled at Kip and put out her hand. “How d’you do?” he said, and turned back to Ellenor. “I can’t get over this, Ellenor. You look so … incredible.”

“Oh, come on …” Ellenor waved both hands in front of her face.

“No, you do, really. I never would have recognized you!”

“And I’m supposed to take that as a compliment?” asked Ellenor.

“I didn’t mean—”

Ellenor laughed. “I’m just kidding. It’s good to see you.”

“And
you!”
said Kip, finding it strange that he actually meant it. “Hey … we’ll talk later. What would you like to eat?”

The girls asked for hamburgers, and Kip hurried off to hand the chef their order. When he came back out from the kitchen, he stood against the wall of the restaurant and stared at Ellenor. Several times during the next hour he dropped by her table to ask if things were okay, and when he brought them their check, he told both girls he’d be getting off work in an hour or so, and asked if they’d like to meet him somewhere for a drink, as he’d love to catch up with old times.

Ellenor and Audrey both accepted Kip’s invitation and told him to hurry and clear his tables; they’d wait for him around the corner at the bar at Jimmy Ray’s.

Kip left Joe Allen’s a little after two. He walked into the bar at Jimmy Ray’s and saw Audrey sitting on a stool way down at the end.

“Hi!” said Kip as he slid onto an adjoining bar stool. “Where’s Ellenor?”

“She was pooped,” said Audrey. “Shipped herself back to the Village.”

“Too bad,” said Kip, genuinely disappointed.

“Yeah …” Audrey sighed. “She’s been going through a lot of hassles lately … breaking up with her boyfriend and all.”

“But I thought you were
both
going to meet me here,” said Kip. “Isn’t that what we decided?”

“Look, poor kid’s been going through a lot of emotional upheaval of late … last thing Ellenor needs right now is to be vulnerable. She didn’t tell me much about you, but she did say something about not putting herself in a position where she might get hurt again.”

“Hurt? By whom?”

“By you,” said Audrey. “Are you going to buy me a drink, or is the offer now rescinded?”

“What would you like?” Kip signaled to the bartender.

“A black Russian, please. On the rocks.”

Kip ordered the cocktail and a draft beer for himself. Then he turned to Audrey and asked, “Okay … tell me what’s new with Ellenor. I want to know why she looks so great and how come she no longer acts like the small-town girl I knew at the World’s Fair eight thousand years ago.”