Chapter Seventeen

Friday she didn’t have to call Dante for reassurance, but in the afternoon he called her, making certain everything was still all right. Since it was, he brushed her off, and she wondered for the rest of the afternoon whether something had changed between them.

That night she met his parents and sister. If she didn’t love them yet as she did the Decters, at least she felt comfortable with them. They made an effort to welcome her, to express their approval of the marriage. She was grateful.

The Mercuri apartment was solidly elegant and both of Dante’s parents were attractive and youthful looking. His sister, younger than he, was pretty but shy. Mr. Mercuri tried too hard to be clever, but Laura could easily forgive him that. Laura was quite amazed to enjoy herself.

She was in love with Dante, and he was very real to her that night, so much plain fun to be with. They were pleased with one another and let go of the fear.

He brought her back to her building, where they stood outside. “I’m getting fed up sleeping without my woman beside me,” he complained.

Her palms began to sweat inside her gloves, but when Laura said if Dante wanted to stay, that would be fine, he shied away from her. He said he knew he was being stupid, but they might as well wait one more week until they were married. She thought he was being sweet, but he seemed embarrassed.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” he said.

“I know,” she told him. He looked at her resentfully, disgusted. They had to make up in the cold, their noses dripping, because he refused to come upstairs.

Saturday morning, the telephone rang. It was Richard, checking up on her, making sure everything was going all right. Laura couldn’t believe that she had seen him only days before, had been in love with him only days before, so completely had he slipped her mind. She gulped, but invited him to attend her wedding next Saturday—along with Elise, of course.

He hesitated then explained that he and Elise intended to go to Palm Beach that weekend. She wondered if he was telling the truth.

“I want to bring you back the earrings and necklace,” she told him then. The watch his parents had given her was sitting on her bureau, also slated for return.

Richard wouldn’t hear of it. Those were meant for her, he insisted.

“No, they were intended for your wife,” she corrected.

He wanted her to have those things and reminded her of their friendship. “Laura, darn you, that reminds me. You never cashed that other check. Will you please do that? You’re messing up my bookkeeping.” He was actually annoyed.

“Don’t you get it yet, Richard? I’m not going to cash that check and I never intended to. So you can wait forever for your checkbook to balance out or you can face this one small fact.”

“Take it and save me the trouble of a wedding gift. As a wedding penalty though, I’m sending a painting of mine that you’ll have to rush to put on the wall when Uncle Richard visits. I can’t believe you’re getting married, Laura. I keep thinking… But you are, I guess, so God bless you. Be happy.” He said good-bye and hung up, leaving Laura to weep.

The phone rang once more and she thought Richard might be calling back, but it was her parents. They hadn’t been able to reach her last night; where had she been? She hadn’t done anything foolish, had she? Did she want to come home? For a short visit at least? Well, they were planning on coming to New York next month, so for goodness sake, she mustn’t entangle herself in something her father would have to bail her out of again.

Laura said quietly that they had no need to come to the City at all, that she was perfectly all right. She didn’t tell them that she was getting married on Saturday. She didn’t see the point.

That whole week, Dante was in Rochester with Maxwell and three members of the Company. They were giving a series of workshops and some matinee performances for high school students. Laura missed Dante violently, but was glad of having these last minutes of her single life to herself. They spoke on the telephone every day. On Friday, Dante said he was “nervous.”‘ Laura said she was too.

While he was still away, she moved some things into his apartment, her new home, and bought some linen and a set of silverware and glasses at Bed Bath & Beyond. She almost didn’t do it because something in her denied that she was getting married this week, but even that part conceded that Dante could use the housewares anyway.

He didn’t return until early Saturday—five short hours before the wedding. He called, then rushed over to see her before going to his parents to change. He looked tired. “Why are you so tired?” she asked suspiciously.

“We’ve been driving most of the night!” he shouted at her. “What did you think?” That made her cry and feel sick to her stomach.

He hugged her. “I’m exhausted,” he said. “We should have been back hours ago, but it started to snow. I’m beat. We have a performance tonight.”

He pulled her into her bedroom. “Come sleep with me a while. We’ll set the alarm so we don’t miss our wedding.”

They slid into bed fully clothed and in ten minutes, Dante was asleep. He was tucked up around her so she couldn’t leave him if she wanted to, which she didn’t. She lay there warmed by his body, wondering what the rest of their lives would be like. She was grateful for this second opportunity to have a life with a man.

The telephone rang after an hour and a half of this. Dante’s parents wanted to know where he was—was the wedding on or off? Dante returned to consciousness and told them it was still on, definitely, and that he’d be over with the bride in an hour. He put the phone away and reached for Laura.

They kissed several times. “I like that,” he said. “Do we have to wait for tonight?”

“Yes,” Laura answered. “It prevents the groom from changing his mind.”

“I would think that it would make him much more enthusiastic.” He got out of bed and looked at himself in the mirror. “If you thought of your future seriously, you would marry Richard instead,” he told her. “Life won’t be easy for the two of us, and I don’t know if I’ll ever have very much money. In fact, if I had it, I’d spend it almost at once. So, shall I call my mother back and tell her not to bother?”

“Why? So you can get a few hours’ sleep before tonight’s performance?”

“Maxwell wants to take us all out after—if you want to go. You ought to get to know everyone better, if you’re going to work with them. But if you’ll be running off with Richard, say so now.” He had picked up her hairbrush and was neatening his hair with concentration.

She grabbed the brush away from him. “What’s all this about Richard?” she demanded.

“Have you stopped sleeping with him, or what?” He pulled the brush back and went on with his grooming. A fierce glow of anger was rising from his face, but he behaved as if he were unaware of it.

“You don’t think that,” she cried out in anguish.

“Yes, I’ve thought about it. It’s the only thing that makes any sense. You were tired of him, so you agreed to have me when I told you I’d come unglued over you.” He threw the brush down and sat on the bed, searching for his shoes.

She began to flail at him, she was so unutterably infuriated. She punched him wildly on the chest. He caught her arms and pulled her strongly onto his lap. He held her close. “I’m doing my best to screw it up,” he whispered. “Stay with me, Laura. I swear, it’ll pass. But tell me the truth about Richard. Do me that favor. I’ll get over it.”

“The truth is no,” she responded forcefully. “The truth is this—I haven’t slept with a man since I left my husband. I mean Shetley.” She twisted her body so she could face him. “Are you laughing at me?”

But he wasn’t laughing. His face was totally serious. He held her. “Only for love, Laura? Never for social advantage, money, work, lust—out of loneliness? You’re one of a kind.” He stroked her hair. “You ought to have a husband as pure as that—not me. There are lots worse than me, I know that. Sleeping alone doesn’t frighten me. But I’m a sort of worldly person, not a saint like you.”

“I’m not a saint.” Her eyes were downcast. “I’ve wanted to. But I never felt I could go to bed with a man I couldn’t have a lifetime with. You think something’s wrong with me, don’t you?”

“I’m crazy about you. But you do amaze me.”

“I shouldn’t have told you.” She tried to squirm away from him.

“It’s much easier to listen to that than the other kind of stories, believe me. The human grocery lists, complete with prices and expiration dates.” He mused a moment. “Come along,” he said. “Are you ready to go?”

She brought her dress and accessories in a small suitcase and changed in Dante’s parents’ room. She wore a dark rose silk frock, totally simple, with heels dyed to match. Her hair went up in a twist and she added makeup.

Mrs. Mercuri came to check on her, and Laura began to cry—carefully, away from the silk. She reached for the tissues. “I don’t think I can.” Laura sobbed. “I can’t do this.”

Mrs. Mercuri wouldn’t take her seriously. “Of course you can,” she said. “You’ll feel much better in a minute.”

“No.” Laura had made up her mind not to go through with the wedding. “I’ll feel worse. Please tell your son and then send everyone home. I’m not getting married.”

“Don’t be silly, Laura. It’s only nerves.” The older woman tried to pat Laura, but Laura pulled back, wild. Mrs. Mercuri left the room.

Laura sat on the bed with a box of tissues, resolved not to move until all the guests were gone from the apartment. She knew what she wanted now—to be left alone. If Dante never forgave her, that was simply too bad. Not to be helped. For once, no one was going to push her this way or that. What had made her think she had wanted to marry him to begin with? He was completely the sort of man she ought to stay away from.

Dante came in. His shirt was half unbuttoned and he had his shoes in his hand. He sat on the bed next to Laura, and not saying a word, started putting on his shoes. Then, he began speaking to her. “I knew this would happen. Look, I’m wearing a white dress shirt. I don’t think I’ve worn one since my high school graduation.” He struggled with the stiff, freshly polished shoes. “I don’t know where I’m going to go once I’m dressed though. I can’t get drunk since I have a performance in a few hours.” He looked at Laura.

She had stopped crying, but sat there totally confirmed in her resistance, determined and rigid. “I’m not getting married,” she announced. “You can be as amusing as you like, but I’m not getting married.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Dante agreed. “I had too high a vision of myself. Now I can relax and be the moral and mental slob I was meant to be. We had a fantastic moment, Laura. I don’t think I’ll have a greater one. But that’s all right. I knew it was too good to be true.”

She didn’t respond. He buttoned his shirt and looked at her. “You’re awfully beautiful though. Even with your eyes like that. I like the dress too. You would have made me feel very proud. But this is good. I can go back to thinking only about myself. I won’t have to worry about you, or whether I’m doing the right thing for your sake, or anything.”

She didn’t say a word. “Are we ever going to see one another again?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said.

Dante’s mother popped her head in. “Are you dressed yet? Get dressed, Dante.” She closed the door.

“Haven’t you sent everyone home?” asked Laura.

“They might as well eat the food,” said Dante. “My mother made Swedish meatballs. Swedish meat balls. She’s Swedish. My father is half Italian, half French. My father bought a couple of cases of champagne. They’ve been very nice about this.”

“Yes,” said Laura.

“But don’t let that influence you.” He slipped his arm around her.

“No,” she said. She put her head on his shoulder. “I can’t do it,” she said. “I’m too frightened.”

“I know.” He nodded. “I feel that way before I dance in front of an audience. You have to have something to concentrate on to manage through it actually. You wouldn’t want to think about me, would you? Maybe you could think about loving me?”

Dante’s sister opened the door and stuck her head in. “Dante,” she called. “The minister is here. You’re not even dressed. Hurry. Hurry.” She closed the door.

“I’ll never do without you, Laura. I don’t think I’ll even want to dance for the longest time. No, I won’t be able to dance—maybe never.” He stood and tucked his shirt into his pants. “I’ll pay the minister,” he said. “Maybe he wants to stay for something to eat.”

Laura stood and went to the mirror. She unpinned her hair. “I look awful,” she complained. “Dante?”

He came behind her and put his arms around her. They looked in the mirror at the two of them, their faces pale and grim, her eyes red from crying, his red from lack of sleep. “What?” He kissed her neck softly and caressed her.

“I’m all right now. I’m better. We can get married after all. Did you think that we wouldn’t?” She put her hands on his arms.

“I didn’t know,” he answered. He let her go.

“I thought we wouldn’t make it for a minute,” she told him.

“OK, I’m going to finish dressing,” he said. He turned her and kissed her.

Dante’s father opened the door and put his head in. “Dante, damnit, that comes later, kids. Not with the minister waiting.”

Laura felt dizzy during the ceremony, but she kept her eyes fixed on Dante’s face, concentrating on him, not even on her love for him, which was automatic, but on him alone. When she was supposed to say, “I do,” Dante had to cue her, giving her the line in a whisper, not once, but twice. No one seemed much bothered by the lapse; they kissed her and gave her best wishes after, anyway. She wasn’t embarrassed, either, because it had been like a dream to her.

The minister stayed a while and he and Laura had a metaphysical discussion, while Dante was locked into a corner by his father’s boss who was grilling him as to whether he wouldn’t give up the arts for business now that he had responsibilities.

When the minister left, Laura stopped for a short chat with Lillian who could hardly listen to her since she had her eye on a cousin of Dante’s.

Laura found Dante. They held hands. “I have to get out of here,” he said. “Want to go with me?”

He changed into jeans and she dressed again in her navy wool pantsuit. Dante found the rest of the champagne and took three bottles for after the performance. They kissed everyone good-bye and Dante kept glancing at his watch. They took a cab to his apartment.

“I have to take a hot shower,” he said. “I’m a half-hour off schedule. That’s your fault. But you can make up for it. You can take your shower at the same time.”

“You don’t think that’ll ruin your schedule entirely?”

“Come on,” he urged her. “Only a shower.”

They undressed modestly, not touching. “I knew it,” he said. “You’re beautiful. I could have loved you anyway, but I knew you’d be beautiful, and you are.”

“I knew you’d be beautiful too,” she replied. “Because you told me so.”

They went into the bathroom. “Where did I get these towels from?” Dante asked.

“I went shopping,” Laura answered.

“Say…” He grinned. “Marriage is great.” He turned on the water. “Now, remember, only a shower. I want to arrive at the theatre in time to warm up.”

They stood in the hot water together and embraced. She wondered if he was really going to make it to the theatre in time. “I’m not afraid anymore,” Laura whispered. “I think I can be a dancer. And I really believe I can be your wife.”