Chapter Fourteen

The doorbell rang and she let Dante in. He walked over, put his arms around her, and cuddled her. She pushed him away. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Something terrible.” He gave her a calculating glance.

“You need money?” she guessed.

“I always need money. This is worse.” He smiled.

She played the game. “The woman’s husband was home, or came home. He doesn’t like dancers.”

Dante sank wearily into the armchair. “Everyone likes dancers. People revere us. Come sit on my lap and I’ll tell you the whole, terribly sad tale.” She came and rested on his lap, knowing she shouldn’t, although her head fit so nicely against his chest. “I went with the lady. Her name is Gina. She lives alone near Lincoln Center. She brought me a drink and started to unbutton my shirt. Are you following this? You’re not bored?”

“No,” Laura answered. “I think I’m angry.” She buried her head further into his chest.

He held her, pressing her close. “I couldn’t go into it,” he said at last. “Maybe I became angry, too. So I pushed her away and walked out on her. Not very nice, was it?”

“Oh, good,” Laura said.

“I kept thinking about you. That’s when I started dialing your cell phone. I went home and went to sleep, but I kept waking up and trying you. I felt lonely for you. Isn’t that strange? I wanted to be with you, like now. It was weird. I never thought about anyone else that way before. Then I realized that this was love. I told you the problem was terrible. It is. I’m in love with you. Falling in love isn’t my style, and I don’t know what to do with it. I know I’m going to mess it all up—trust me on that score. But I love you, Laura. I do. I really do.” He was kissing her face and neck and caressing her.

She felt the love pouring out of him, like sunshine on an April day. But she had always felt it rolling off of him. Love was his way, no matter how crazy his behavior was. The love in him was what she responded to. And that love was a generous love, without limits, for the moment he was loving someone.

Dante kissed her and she let him. Let him because she wanted him to. Then he looked at her, a little sad. “So, have I ruined it already? Showed you too much of myself? Told you what a rotten louse I am once too often? I know going off with Gina last night was very trashy of me. But I did it because I saw you were with Richard. I wouldn’t ever do anything like that if thought you were with me—really with me. I won’t make you miserable, as I warned you I would. I might even make you happy. I might even make myself happy—who knows?” Then he held her against him almost crushingly hard.

Laura let him rock and hold her a long, long time. She forgot to think about how mixed up everything was. At long last, she remembered. She pulled away from Dante, and stared at his face—a noble, expressive face, a screen lover sort of visage. “I told Richard last night that I would marry him,” she said.

“Ohhh.” The word emerged as a soft explosion, then Dante smiled. “Of course,” he agreed. “That would be the way. I deserve this, I want you to know. I can’t tell you how many women I’ve dated and then scorned. I thought they were idiots to be so unprotected. This is completely perfect, you see.”

“No,” Laura said. “Dante, I don’t know what to do. You know that I care about you. I honestly do. But I seem to love Richard at the very same time. And he doesn’t love me.”

Dante’s warmth continued to penetrate her body. “He doesn’t love you, but he asked you to marry him?”

“It’s a long story,” she said. “But he thinks I’m pregnant with your child.”

He squinted at her. “Are you pregnant?” he asked.

“Would you marry me if I were pregnant with another man’s child?” she countered.

“I don’t know. It might be fun.” He put his hand on her slim belly. “Maxwell said you’d put on weight.”

“Yes, tell Maxwell I’m pregnant. He’d love it. But I’m not. I’m not pregnant. And I haven’t gained weight.” She put her hand over his.

“I see,” said Dante. “You told Richard you’re going to have my child. Very flattering, I suppose. Anyway, he being the…whatever… that he is, offered to bring the whole shameful affair to a decent conclusion.”

“No,” Laura replied. “I never told him any such thing. Do you imagine I could? I had a nervous stomach for a while. Yes, that’s right. You did make me miserable. Sick to my stomach. Then I got a wee bit crazy from time to time and there was the evidence.”

Dante clasped her hand. “I made you miserable? That’s good news.” He considered. “You spent a lot of time with Richard, didn’t you, while he was collecting his clues to your condition.”

“Yes, we had a so-called business arrangement that resulted in our being officially engaged in front of his family and neighbors.” A grin escaped her.

He smiled too. “How tribal it sounds.”

“But we didn’t become actually engaged until last night. Which I may have intended as a joke on him for feeling superior to pregnant women, but I’m not sure. A pregnant woman doesn’t want to be treated like a child, you know.” She frowned.

“Certainly not,” Dante agreed with alacrity. “Any fellow who feels superior to a pregnant woman, well… He’s not the sort she ought to marry, at any rate.” They smiled sadly at one another. “Oh, damn it,” he said. “You’re going to marry this guy, when I’m the one who loves you. I’m the one you’re close to. Damn it, Laura, you’re nearly as crazy as I am. Let’s stop it. Let’s be in love with one another and enjoy it. Laura, let me love you. I need to love you. If you don’t let me love you now, I may never have another chance to really love a woman again.”

He put his arms around her violently, and she felt the dampness of his tears begin to come through her shirt. He wept without inhibition and didn’t let her go. His sobs vibrated through her. Finally, he stopped and his breathing quieted. He looked at her through red eyes, sniffling.

“Shall I get you a tissue?” she asked.

“No, don’t get up ever. I like you here. I’d probably prefer you in bed, but I like you here.” He smiled when she blushed. “I’m too honest about everything. That’s my whole problem. People back away from you when you’re too honest. Women want to go to bed with me for my looks, I guess. But my personality…? No, come to think of it, they love that too.

“See, I’m talking about myself again. About how great I am and how women love me. Do you hate to listen to that? Most women do. But I do it anyway. And I don’t want to be that way with you. Saying things so you’ll feel hurt and I’ll feel built up. I don’t know if I can help myself though. I love you because you’re vulnerable, but I wish you had more of a shell around you so I wouldn’t be likely to injure you. No, but it’s you who are hurting me. You’re marrying another man. As a joke.” He kept touching her, hugging her, rocking her as he talked.

She continued to let him hold her, caress her. She was more at home with Dante than she had been with anyone in her whole life. She kept thinking guiltily of Richard, but that did her no good. She reminded herself of her moral principles, but that didn’t cause her to leap off of Dante’s lap, either.

She held his hands and they talked to one another with their touch. They played very innocently, but teasingly too. Neither seemed to want to spark the explosiveness of a deeper desire. She was aching for them to do so; it was only a matter of time.

“I didn’t tell you about seeing my ex-husband,” she said. “He was with his wife. He was awful.”

“Was he fat and balding?”

“Shetley?” She was amazed. “Never.”

“Too bad. I don’t like hearing about all these other men.” He kissed her ear.

“All right,” she said.

“No, tell me everything. I want to know everything about you. I want to devour you.” He bit her fingers.

“Ouch.” She pulled her hand back. “I was a very pretty child and my mother dressed me like a doll. She played with me and we had good times. She was the little girl and I was her sort of imaginary companion. It wasn’t right, maybe, but it wasn’t so bad, either.”

“We’ll be nice like that. Two little children.” He took her hand back and kissed the delicate fingers.

“My father didn’t like having little children like us in the house. So we had to be very serious for Daddy. We giggled behind his back though. He was strict and we giggled. I wish my father had loved me really. I mean, actually loved me, not only saying he did.” She took Dante’s hand and pressed it against her face.

“You ought to have lived in my household, if you want to have suffered misery,” Dante said. “My household was tops for miserable. That’s where I got all my experience in it. My father’s a drunk. I told you that. He treated my mother and me pretty mean most of the time, but he wasn’t too bad with my sister, Iris. I learned a lot from him about being hurtful.”

They clung together. “Am I crushing you?” she asked.

“No, you’re pretty light for a pregnant lady.” She poked him in the ribs. “I love you,” he told her. “Why haven’t you told me that you love me too?”

“Because I’m engaged to another man,” she answered.

“I thought you’d forgotten him by now.” He half-closed his eyes. “I kept thinking about you, all night long. That never happened to me before. I liked thinking about you, but it was scary, also. Thinking about you still is scary. Everything in me feels like loving you, except something that wants to run away from it. Don’t love another man though, Laura. I don’t think that would be too helpful to this relationship.”

Laura laughed. This was the nicest she had felt ever, or in a long, long time. And she trusted Dante. That was the crazy part. She felt now that he would be good to her. But they were too late. She had this whole thing with Richard for one important thing. And only a few hours ago she had said to him, “Dante and I have nothing between us.”

They didn’t have much between them now, in fact, only the thin layers of the clothing that they wore. Dante kissed her face while his hand stroked her thigh. His emotion had become a much more serious one, intensely sexual. His mouth went down her neck; his hands moved to unbutton her top button. She let him. She fitted her body even closer against his. “Don’t say no to me,” he whispered. “Love me.”

He kissed her palms and then, finally, her mouth. He kissed her for a long, long time. She moved against him. He pulled back somewhat. “So,” he said, leaving it to her. “Shall we go into the bedroom?” His gaze burned into her with a desire deeper than mere flesh.

Laura closed her eyes. Their making love didn’t seem right. But it didn’t seem wrong. The phone rang. Oh yes, she thought. It must be Richard.

Dante pulled away from her as if he had been shot. A bitter look came over his face. He pushed his hair back and took his arms away from Laura. “It’s one of your husbands,” he spat out. His eyes turned cloudy. He put his fist in front of his mouth and stared at her.

Laura got up and answered the telephone. They had both been right. The caller was Richard. She spoke to him in monosyllables. He had enjoyed a wonderful afternoon with the boys. She wanted to say, ‘Excuse me, Richard. I’m in love with you sometimes, but not right now.’ She suffered a dreadful feeling at not being what she thought, hoped, she was.

She tried to remember Richard’s kiss, his face, his voice, all the things she loved in him, his kind gentleness. But she couldn’t remember him very clearly. She felt Dante all over her body. Her heart tingled with Dante’s love. “Dante is here now,” she told Richard evenly.

“I see,” said Richard. “Then you won’t have time for dinner with me.”

“I want to talk to you soon, Richard. I have to talk to you. Nothing is the way you think it is. Can I see you tomorrow?”

She thought, suddenly, with a wild anguish, that she would lose them both. And, as Dante had said about himself, she would deserve it.

“Yes, tomorrow will be all right, Laura. I’ll call you at work.” They hung up. Her mind was shredded by a terrible guilt. She was such an instantly disloyal, unreliable person.

Dante had stood up. He was pulling himself together, tucking in his shirt, trying to shake the wrinkles out of his pants. Laura’s heart sank. “You aren’t leaving now, are you?” she whispered forlornly.

“I thought you might want me to go,” he replied.

“No.” Her eyes smarted with tears.

He smiled. “All right,” he said. “But I don’t want to make you nervous, either. You can sketch me in the nude or we can go out and have dinner. It’s your choice. But I warn you, I have a marvelous body and very little money.”

“Oh, I have money,” she said. “And I owe you a dinner, anyway.”

“No.” He stopped her. “I didn’t mean that you should buy me dinner. That’s the sort of thing that gets to be a habit with me, you see, and I don’t want that. I want to be careful with you, Laura. Will you help me?” She nodded, her eyes large and tender.

They put on their coats and embraced once again. He kissed her very hard and pulled her against him. “When you want to make love, you will let me know?” he asked, releasing her.

They had dinner at an Italian restaurant a few blocks away. “I’m Italian, you know,” Dante told her.

“Maxwell said that you’re a Lithuanian Jew.” She squinted her eyes in puzzlement.

“Yes, I told him that because he’s a Polish Jew. So we’d be landsmen. Since I’m blond, I can be either Italian or Jewish, I guess. Does that make you sick, my tricking him to use him?”

“No, you’re a good dancer,” Laura said.

“I’m good now, but I’m going to be great.” He looked at her to make sure she believed what he was saying. “You and I will dance together everywhere in the world. We’ll found a new system. We’ll dance on our noses. People will pay a lot of money to see that. Speaking of money, only one of us can have a glass of wine, and you’re pregnant.” Laura laughed, but when he ordered a club soda and asked her what she wanted to drink, she felt a little bit happier to realize he’d only been teasing.

As they finished eating, Laura went into a few of the details of her long-ago marriage. She watched Dante carefully to see if he wanted to hear, and he seemed to. “Was he a lot like me, do you think?” he asked her, worriedly.

“No, he was nothing like you. He was dishonest. That made him a gross person. In retrospect, that upset me more than anything. I felt so insulted to have married a man who wasn’t the soul of refinement.” She smiled ruefully.

“That explains Richard, doesn’t it? He’s so damn refined.” Dante glared at her for a minute, thinking of Richard.

“Is that it?” she asked weakly.

“I’m not refined, if that’s what you’re after,” he almost shouted.

“You’re refined,” she told him. “But don’t worry. I know what else you are.”

“What else am I?” He was defiant and curious, both.

She paused to think. “Oh, you’re an awfully fine person. You’re an awfully special person.” She started to shake. “If you and I could… But I don’t know.” Since they were in a restaurant, she stopped herself from bursting into tears.

Dante stared at her. “You actually might love me,” he said in surprise. “You actually might see something good in me. Tell me. You couldn’t marry him, could you, if I was the one who you actually loved?”

“But what if I loved both of you?”

“I don’t believe you can. I don’t believe it. I’ve never seen it done and I’ve seen a few attempts.” He turned away from her. “If you think you love both of us, marry him then. That’s all right. You don’t need me if he’ll do all the same.” He took a swallow of soda and gave it a deeply annoyed glance. “If you have any extra money with you, I will order some wine,” he added abruptly.

“Please don’t,” she said. “Please don’t feel hurt. I don’t want to hurt you.”

They left the restaurant and walked to Dante’s new place on Thirty-seventh and Lex, a walk-up with a narrow hallway. The one-bedroom apartment was freshly painted, but the only furniture was a bed, a table and one chair, and a chest of drawers. A radio sat on the floor. “I forgot the sketch you gave me,” he said. “I want to have it framed and hang it up. Don’t let me forget it next time.”

He sat on the bed, but she sat on the chair. “I can turn on some music,” he said. “I want to dance with you.”

“How?” she asked nervously.

“If you’re frightened—I understand, you haven’t made up your mind—I’m not depressed about that yet—if you’re frightened, we can each dance alone, and not together.” He turned the radio to a station playing an indifferent sort of jazz.

They stretched easily to the music until soon they were dancing. The music slowed into something beautiful and soon they were no longer dancing separately. They danced together now, the same as Laura’s vision when she had seen Dante on stage. This time she was the woman dancing with him. Their souls were joined eternally. He lifted her; she twined her body about his. They didn’t need to know what steps were next.

The music ended; the announcer came on. Dante switched off the radio. He was breathing heavily; they both were. Neither spoke. He ran cold water in the sink and brought a glass to share with her. “Do you want to live with me?” he asked. “In this apartment? It’s so empty that we could make something of it together. My life is sort of that way too. Oh, yes, you’re an old-fashioned girl. It has to be marriage. All right. I’m not frightened. Will you break your engagement and marry me?”

Even if he wasn’t frightened, she was. She sat on the bed. She had a lot of reasons why marrying Richard instead would be easier, or to nor marry at all, a more sensible decision. But to marry Dante? “All because you couldn’t sleep last night?” she asked.

“I won’t be able to sleep tonight, either. I see, you think this is all too ‘sudden.’ Say what you like, that this isn’t real, that it doesn’t matter what we feel at this moment, or what our bodies say. It’s real. You know that, that I couldn’t be like this with you tonight if our love wasn’t going to last. I suppose that sounds impossible. But that’s what I believe.

“I believe I fell in love with you without knowing it. Or in a minute. Or while looking at another woman I knew couldn’t please me. And falling in love with you changed me. So that I don’t have to be the way that I was. If you’ll have me. That’s what I believe. The only way I have to show that to you is with my body. But you don’t want that yet. So I can only tell you.” He switched the radio back on and sat down in the chair.

“I’m going to go,” Laura said at last, standing. “I have to go to work in the morning. You won’t do anything desperate in the meantime?” She wasn’t sure what that might include.

“Like run to another woman?” he suggested. “Go to Melissa, or whoever else answers the telephone?” Laura stared at Dante, hating him for that possibility. He came up to her and put his arms around her. “I told you. I don’t have to be like that anymore. I can’t. But don’t make me wait too long, Laura. Sometimes I get so depressed.”

“Will you call me if you get depressed?” There the realization was again—she wanted to take care of him.

“All right. And I’ll give you my new cell number, too. You call me the minute you discover you love me.” He found a pencil and wrote his number in large, heavy strokes.

She was about to walk down the stairs when he called her back. They hadn’t kissed good-bye, but now he had to, or he couldn’t let her go—but he couldn’t let her go if he kissed her. He kissed her, then let her go. She almost didn’t go though, but then she did. She glanced back at him and their eyes met. She faltered, wanting to run back to him. She forced herself away.

Leaving him started the uproar in her brain worse than ever. She was right to want him; she was wrong. Marrying him would be disaster; it would be glorious. He was lying because he couldn’t tell truth from fiction (she could?).

And behind her musing was the thought: He’s going to disappoint me, exactly the way Shetley did. Yet at the same time, she knew she was closer to Dante now than she had been in six months of living with Shetley and walking on eggshells so he wouldn’t stop loving her.