Chapter Seven

On Tuesday morning she called in sick again. Since she was taking one day, she might as well take two. In the four years she had been at Papp and Rollins, she had taken very few sick days. Usually she pushed herself too hard—in everything she did.

Laura repeated part of the schedule of the day before. She sketched and went to class. But then she went to the health club and came home and changed. She put on something her mother had sent her, just right for her height and coloring, just right for her dancer’s body, a deep-coral jersey dress that revealed her slender hips and the soft swells of her bosom. The fabric was cut to show off some of the delicately tinted flesh of her upper chest.

Unusual for her, she put on makeup—lipstick and eye shadow, blusher and mascara. She added gold earrings and a gold chain her parents had given her. She put on a ruby-chipped cocktail ring inherited from her Aunt Judith. She couldn’t bring herself to wear heels, though—which threw her spine out—she claimed, but put on coral dancers’ slippers.

She peeked in the mirror at the results. The vision of a beautiful young woman frightened her. Where was Laura? To top off the new Laura, she threw on a light fur cape that was a hand-me-down from her mother. Did she look too dressed up? Richard wouldn’t recognize her. She looked more like someone such as Elise, than someone like herself.

She ran out of the apartment before she could decide to change back into her jeans. She hailed a taxi. Richard had offered to pick up Laura, but in her usual style, she had demurred. She felt sure he had business to discuss and that this wasn’t simply a social occasion.

She went into the restaurant on East 50th and peered around for him. She told the maître d’ that she was waiting for Mr. Decter and he brought her to a table in the back room where Richard sat, already waiting. He stood when she approached. His eyebrows shot straight up at the sight of her.

“All my denim was in the laundry,” she told him once she had seated herself.

“Oh, I didn’t expect denim. I just didn’t expect—this.” In fact, “this” seemed to have thrown him off-guard rather a bit.

Laura looked at Richard. He was handsome tonight, dressed in an expensive brown suit of a soft wool material. She felt quite happy to be dressed up and on a date. No, this wasn’t a date. But she could enjoy herself anyway.

Richard ordered a martini and Laura ordered tomato juice. “Do you feel better?” Richard asked her.

“Marvelous. I didn’t go to work today either. I may never go again. It’s such fun living without bondage.”

“I can appreciate that fact,” Richard agreed.

“May I please have a bloody Mary?” Laura asked the waiter when he returned.

“Those things have alcohol in them,” Richard pointed out.

“I know.” She drank her tomato juice, then picked up the drink as soon as the waiter brought it. She toasted Richard. “To every artist who ever had to pay his or her own rent,” she said. She swallowed, barely tasting the alcohol. Getting a little intoxicated might be fun. “Should I order another one?”

“Let’s have dinner instead.”

She didn’t want it to seem as if she had anything to celebrate, so she agreed. But when they ordered dinner, she called for another bloody Mary to go with it. Richard’s eyebrows elevated. “Stop raising your eyebrows at me,” she ordered. She wondered when he would bring up the reason for their meeting. He didn’t.

The second drink made her somewhat incautious. “How’s Elise?”

“Blooming. How’s Dante?” He hadn’t particularly liked her question, she could tell.

“He’s… well, he is what he is, God bless him.” She stuck her fork into her baked potato, then smiled over at Richard. “I’m having a good time,” she told him in unsober seriousness.

They finished dinner and Richard paid the check. “Do I go home now, or are you going to invite me up to your apartment?” she asked. “To see your paintings,” she added. Then she quickly added, “Oh, you live with Elise.” Then she blushed.

“I don’t live with Elise,” he said sternly. “What gave you that idea?”

“Well… it’s not unusual.” She met his look and pretended she wasn’t the slightest bit embarrassed.

They went outside. Laura didn’t see a free cab in sight. “Let’s walk across Central Park South,” she suggested.

“How do you know where I live?” He was suspicious.

“You sent me that check and that note.”

“Oh yes.” He relaxed. She frowned at him and he smiled. “I’m sorry.” That made her laugh at him.

They walked to Madison, then headed uptown, looking in store windows. “This is the most sinful part of town,” she said. “More sinful than any street with hookers on it. These places make you want to have lots and lots of money. Let’s look in Steuben. Glass pieces at those prices are strictly immoral.”

They strolled to the traffic light. Laura very nearly took Richard’s hand. She must still be drunk. She very nearly took his hand and leaned her head against his shoulder. What in the world was she coming to lately? At least she could tuck her hand under his elbow. To cross the street, after all.

Her hand rose toward his arm. From a short distance away, a voice called out her name. “Laura…” The voice sounded surprised. Laura was startled by the interruption. She looked around. She felt at once that she was certainly losing her sanity. Her hand shot up the rest of the way and gripped Richard’s elbow tightly. The lovely dinner she had just consumed lurched and turned inside her stomach. Her legs weren’t entirely sufficient to the support of her body. Shetley faced her. How handsome he was, after all this time.

“Oh my goodness, what are you doing in New York?” she asked as if it were her cousin Jody in front of her.

“Pamela and I are on our way to Amsterdam,” he answered, indicating a plain little woman, somewhat older than Laura, who stepped out of the shadows. Pamela had on real jewelry, not like Laura’s. Laura squeezed Richard’s arm even harder. She felt pity for Pamela. If only she had found Shetley with a pretty young thing, she wouldn’t have gotten the message so clearly that his marriage to her had been merely a financial matter in his eyes.

“Is this a vacation?” Laura asked with a forced cheeriness.

“No, I’m doing a couple of buildings there for Letten Industries,” Shetley said in satisfaction.

“That’s nice,” Laura commented. She nodded at the two of them, moving to escape.

“Why don’t you come and have a drink with us?” suggested Shetley.

“Oh, we’re meeting people now,” she told him.

“Are you in the phone book?”

“No,” she lied.

“Give me your number.” He took out a pen and notepad.

“We’ll be in town until Thursday,” Pamela put in. “Why don’t you and your husband have dinner with us?”

Laura stood there and simply smiled.

Shetley appraised Laura and her new “husband.” “You look as if you’re doing well, Laura. I’m glad.”

Laura smiled. She released Richard’s arm. A demon overtook her speech. “I’m not doing well, if it’s money you mean,” she told Shetley. “And this man is not my husband. He’s a business acquaintance.” She smiled in full dignity, serenely. “Good-bye, Shetley. It’s nice to meet you, Pamela. Enjoy Amsterdam.” She recaptured Richard’s arm and pulled him toward 57th Street, leaving Shetley with the uncapped pen still in his hand.

She had a very serious expression on her face, she knew, and Richard kept looking at her without speaking until they reached 58th Street. Laura let go of Richard’s arm then, and she started to laugh. She laughed so hard that her sides ached and Richard stared at her all the while, concerned for her sanity at first, but then breaking into laughter, too.

“You’re a very weird girl,” he told her finally.

People glanced at Laura in passing. Since she was so well-dressed and beautiful, they smiled. Finally Laura stopped laughing, and stood taking in lots of fresh air. She felt calm and happy for no reason. Because she wasn’t Pamela. Because she wasn’t hopelessly in love with Dante.

She took Richard’s arm again. “That was my ex-husband,” she explained.

“I see. That entitles you to be rude then, I guess.” He reached up and took the hand that was holding his arm. He held onto it. He patted it to show he understood.

“He married Pamela for her money. Could you see that? He married me because of my father. We were married six months. That was more than four years ago. It was a mistake, but one I learned a great deal from. Some things that were good to learn—and some things that were bad.”

Richard squeezed her hand, then let it go altogether. He stepped into the street and waved at a cab. Laura climbed in, sank back into the seat, and relaxed. “You deserve better” was all Richard said.

She gazed out the window at the park. She knew she deserved better. That was what she had been waiting for all these years. What she still waited for. But what if she had no better in store for her? What if she had only more years of waiting and loneliness? She must become a dancer; she knew that.

Richard’s apartment was West Side sturdy, furnished more for use than for entertaining. His windows faced south, catching the sun, but he complained about the short winter days. “I have no time to paint, anyway,” he admitted.

Laura could see from his work that he needed just what he said he did—time. An artist, no matter what his or her talent, needs time to develop the skills of the craft. Richard had something—his work had an O’Keefe flavor, Laura thought—but he needed to find out how to use himself with oils and canvas. She gave him her opinion of that.

Laura’s eyes scanned the room, looking for evidence of Elise. “That’s why I’m hoping for money from my grandfather,” Richard said.

“Why not your parents?” She might as well ask herself that very same question.

“They’ve never offered. My grandfather offered once, but I was too proud to accept it. I can’t afford to be proud anymore. The years are going by, and I’m nowhere. I haven’t even begun. I have nothing.” He spoke bitterly.

“You have Elise,” Laura reminded him.

“Elise and I aren’t exactly the perfect couple. I would have thought you’d noticed.” He stopped speaking, then started again. “It’s hard to explain about Elise. She isn’t always the way you must imagine her. Sometimes we have a special magic between us. I try to let that make up for the other times. I think I know what I’m doing in this. It’s not that I’m trapped or blinded by love. But I have some portion of happiness this way.”

He looked at her, asking her to understand and not judge him too harshly. She did understand; she didn’t judge him. No, but she did want to take him into her arms and help him forget the partial happiness he had with Elise. Laura sat there, unmoving. She picked up the mug of tea he had given her.

“Next Sunday will be all right then?” he inquired. He cleared his throat. “And there’s Christmas too. Is that a lot to ask?’

“Christmas will be all right,” she said quietly.

“I have a check for you. It’s for the same amount. Will that be enough?” She nodded and took the check from him, then got up and slipped on her cape. “I’ll take you home now,” he told her.

“No need to,” she assured him.

He rode the elevator down with her and got her a taxi, giving her a twenty-dollar bill for the fare, which she took. They said good night; they both said thank you. Laura rode home silently across the park. When she got to her apartment, she looked at herself in the mirror again. Her transformed appearance no longer surprised her. She tore up his check and burned the scraps in the ashtray.

Wednesday morning, Laura forced herself to go to work. Everyone inquired about her health and she explained that she was somewhere between dead and alive and wavering as to which camp to join. They recommended various remedies and she said she’d try them all—which probably would have killed her.

Wednesday night Laura saw Dante at the Studio. This time she waved, and he nodded with a distant friendliness. Later, she saw his girlfriend doing stretches in the steam room. John called when she arrived home, but she told him she was busy Saturday night. She phoned Lillian who agreed to a Saturday night movie but sounded vague. She then called her mother and explained that she wouldn’t be home for Christmas as usual. And Thanksgiving was out of the question as well. Her mother expressed her disappointment, and Laura felt guilty.

Thursday lunch she went to Bloomingdale’s and bought presents for everyone at home so she could avoid the last-minute shopping rush and could mail them well in advance of the holiday. That killed her leotard money. But her mother would send her some money soon for Christmas. She considered buying Dante a gift, but wisely didn’t. She thought about what she was going to buy Richard. She would like to buy him a cashmere sweater. Or a cat’s-eye ring. Since both were too personal, not to mention expensive, she would go to Rizzoli’s and buy him an art book. Next payday, or the one after that.

Thursday night, Shetley called from the airport. “Can’t you grow up, Laura?” he asked. Then he asked if he could call her next time he was in town without Pamela. She was completely floored by such a proposal.

Friday, Laura bought Roger some filled raspberry candies for no reason. It turned out that Roger didn’t much like that kind, but Laura did. She ate seven and kept sticking her tongue into her teeth, checking for cavities. She called to make a dentist’s appointment.

Saturday, it rained. Laura took two classes. She ran into Lillian on the street and they ducked into a restaurant for coffee and muffins. Lillian talked about a baseball player she was dating. Later, Laura saw a George Clooney film at the AMC. She liked it a lot and smiled all the way through.

Sunday, she went to the club before Richard picked her up. Then she met him outside her building and was silent for most of the ride. Some trees were still calling it autumn despite the drop in temperature. Laura thought about flying home for Christmas, after all. She thought about moving back there for good, living in her parents’ house, and haunting herself like a murder victim.

“Oh that,” her mother would say to the bridge ladies. “Don’t pay any attention to her. It’s just Lorelei. She was murdered by love at age 22. Now she’s a horror, poor darling.”

Richard was speaking, but Laura had missed the first part of it. “What?” she said.

“Never mind.”

For the first time she felt ill-at-ease with her new family. She kept reminding herself what a fake she was. She contrived to do poorly at bridge, not deliberately, but through inattention. Saying good-bye to Grandfather Turner, she cried and put her arms around him.

“Are you and Richard having a fight?” he asked her kindly.

“No,” she sniffled.

“You both seem out of sorts,” he observed.

“I’m not good enough for him.”

“You’re perfect for one another, absolutely perfect.”

In the car, Laura kept peering at Richard to see if he was “out of sorts.” She decided he wasn’t. In fact, he looked pretty pleased with himself. And she decided they weren’t perfect for one another either. They were on different wavelengths—two nice people who happened to be thrown into one another’s company.

“We did it,” Richard said.

“We did what?”

“He made me an offer I can’t refuse.” Richard’s smile burst forth. He was much better looking, Laura noticed, than she had thought to begin with. He turned to her. “Did you hear me?”

“He’s going to give you money, I suppose.” She was glad for him, actually. He had a talent that required nurturing.

Richard became somber. He didn’t say anything for miles and miles. Laura turned away again, trying to figure if she could afford to see both the American Ballet Theatre and the New York City Ballet in the short time before Christmas. She would have more time now since class schedule was going to be disrupted for the holidays.

“By the way,” Richard said. “My check book doesn’t balance. You haven’t deposited those checks I gave you. Have you?”

“I’m very bad with money,” Laura answered. “I don’t know what I’ve done with those checks.”

“Please deposit them, will you? You’re ruining my bookkeeping system.” He was annoyed.

“I don’t see why it should matter to you,” she protested rudely.

“I’m not as careless as you are about money,” he retorted.

“Money. Money. Money. Money. The sun doesn’t even shine in Manhattan anymore because it’s too expensive. Money. Well, did your grandfather say he would support you or not? Out with it?”

That seemed to stop Richard cold again. “Yes,” he began grudgingly. “That is, more or less. I don’t know how to say this to you, Laura, but our plan has sort of backfired.”

“Your plan, you mean.” She made a face at him. “A while ago you said everything had worked out exactly right.”

“Yes and no.” He gave her calculating look, then glanced back at the road. “You see, he said he would support the two of us. After we were married.”

Laura laughed without much humor. “And what did you tell him?” she inquired with some scorn.

“I told him you probably wouldn’t agree to marry me. He said nonsense. That women in love were always glad to marry. And that you were in love. Well, what could I say? That you were in love, but not with me? So, Laura, do you want to do it? Not get married, but just get engaged. I think he would give us some money on that account alone. I would split it with you, certainly. We wouldn’t have to tell Elise or Dante, would we?”