Toxic Bachelors-Danielle Steel

[Dalyia]

22






THE WEEKEND IN LAS VEGAS WAS FABULOUS, AND Maggie loved everything about it. The shows, the shops, the lights, the gambling, the people, and even the title fight. In the end, he had bought a dress for her and a little fur jacket, and she had worn them to the fight. She had won five hundred dollars on the slot machines on a fifty-dollar investment of her own money, and she was thrilled. Flying back to New York, on his plane, she sat there feeling like a princess, as Adam smiled at her with pleasure.
“I'm glad you had fun.” He loved spoiling her, being with her, and showing her off. She had looked absolutely gorgeous in the new dress and fur jacket.
“I had a ball,” she confirmed again, and thanked him profusely.
They were about to land at JFK when for no reason in particular she brought up New Year's Eve, and said it would be fun to spend it in Las Vegas. She had loved it. She fit right into his world, instead of complaining about it like his mother.
“Yeah, maybe sometime,” he said vaguely.
“What about this year?” she asked, looking excited. She knew he went often, and he had the plane, so they could go anywhere they wanted, which was a new concept for her. She felt like a bird with giant wings.
“I can't,” he said, looking out the window, and then, like Charlie, he knew he had to tell her. He had to sooner or later, and the time was now. “I go away with Charlie every year, the day after Christmas.”
“You mean, like a guy thing, a hunting trip or something?” She looked disappointed.
“Yeah, sort of like that.” He was going to leave it at that for now, but she wouldn't.
“Where do you go?”
“St. Barts, on Charlie's boat.” Maggie stared at him in outrage.
“To the Caribbean? On a yacht? Are you kidding?”
“No, I'm not kidding. He hates Christmas. He goes down a week before I do. And I come after I have Christmas with the kids. We do it every year.”
“Yeah, and what? Screw every bimbo in the Caribbean?”
“Previously, yes. Now, no. I have you.” He said calmly. He didn't want a fight with her. Nor was he willing to change his plans. His trips with Charlie were a tradition that meant a lot to him.
“And you're not asking me to come with you?” she said, looking as though she was about to throw something at him. But fortunately for him, nothing suitable was at hand.
“Maggie, I can't. It's Charlie's trip, and he'll be alone. It's a guy thing.”
“Like hell it is. I know what guys do when they're alone. All the same shit you did till you met me.”
“Charlie's not like that. He's very proper. And he has a girlfriend now too.”
“Is she going?” Maggie asked suspiciously, as Adam shook his head in response.
“No, she's not. It's just the two of us.”
“For how long?”
“Two weeks.” He winced at her expression.
“Two weeks? You think I'm just going to sit here, while you go off picking up women for two weeks? If you think that, you're crazy.”
“Don't threaten me,” he said, looking angry. “I know you're upset, but I can't help it. I can't let Charlie down. And I can't just ask Charlie if you can come. It would be weird for him, and he expects me to come alone.”
“Great, then have a terrific New Year's Eve, kissing him. Maybe that's what this is really all about. Is he gay?”
“Oh, for chrissake. We're friends. We travel together twice a year. I'm sorry it happens to be over New Year's Eve, but I didn't know you were coming. I'm sorry.”
“And next year will be different?”
“Maybe. I don't know. I'm not making promises now for a year from now. Let's see where this goes.” He tried to sound calmer than he was. Just listening to her, he was getting a headache. A bad one.
“I'll tell you where it's going. It's going right down the tubes, if you think you're going to dump me for holidays, and go off on trips with your buddies. If you don't want to spend holidays with me, fine, but then you can take your goddamn rule book about dating and shove it you know where. Because people in relationships spend holidays together, and especially New Year's Eve.”
“Thank you for the information.” He was holding his head by then and she ignored him. She was furious with him. “Look, we just had a nice time in Las Vegas, let's not spoil it. I want you to meet my kids next week. I love you. I want this to work. I just have to go away for a couple of weeks. Can't you relax about it and be nice?”
“Nice people always get fucked over. And you don't have to go. You want to. What did Charlie's girlfriend say about it?”
“I have no idea,” he said grimly.
“I'll bet she's not happy about it either.”
The battle about not spending New Year's Eve together raged between them throughout the week. Maggie managed to put it aside long enough to meet Adam's children the following weekend, and after some initial cautious exploratory moves, they decided they loved her, and she was crazy about them. Adam was thrilled. The four of them went skating together, Maggie took Amanda shopping for a Christmas present for her father. They explained to her all about Chanukah. She even showed Amanda how to do her makeup, baked cookies with Jacob, and gave him tips about girls. They thought she was the best thing since sliced bread, she was young enough to have fun with them, and old enough to be someone they looked up to. Adam had expected some resistance to her, and got none. The three were fast friends when Amanda and Jacob left. And then the war began again. The cease-fire only lasted through the weekend.
Charlie had dinner with Carole twice after the debutante ball, and a decided chill had settled in between them. She didn't say anything about it initially, and then finally the second time she saw him, she asked him if he had changed his plans. He shook his head.
“Carole, I can't.” She nodded and said nothing. He had wanted to spend the night with her, but didn't have the courage to ask her, and went back to his place instead. He had the distinct impression that if he left for Christmas, their romance would be over when he got back. She particularly didn't understand what he was doing, since he was going alone for the first week, over Christmas. As far as she was concerned, there was no reason for him to go before the twenty-sixth, when he could have gone with Adam. He stopped trying to explain it to her, and decided to deal with it when he got back. If she was still speaking to him by then.
Adam called him in the office the day before Charlie was leaving town. Charlie was in a mad rush trying to finish everything on his desk. And Adam said his office was just as bad.
“All my clients fall apart at this time of year. If their marriage has been lousy, they decide to get divorced. If their mistresses have been cranky, they get knocked up. If their kids are crazy, they wind up in jail. If a singer hates her contract, she tears it up. And half my athletes get drunk over the holidays and go out and rape someone. It's a lot of fun. I really love it this time of year.” Adam sounded beyond stressed.
“Me too.” Charlie laughed. In spite of Carole's reaction to it, he was looking forward to their trip. “I assume despite everything you just described, everything is still on track. You're still coming, right?” It was always good to check. And much to his surprise, there was a pause. It had been a rhetorical question, but suddenly he heard something in Adam's voice.
“I'm having a hell of a time with Maggie,” he admitted. “She thinks we're going to be cruising the Caribbean picking up everything in sight, with our dicks hanging overboard. She's not too pleased.” Charlie laughed at his description, and then sobered quickly. “She didn't voice it quite that way, but Carole is pretty upset too. She thought we'd be spending Christmas together, and I told her I don't do Christmas. I was hoping she'd understand, but she doesn't. This could be a deal-breaker for her.” But he wasn't willing to be forced into staying home. If she couldn't live with it, then that was that. He wanted her to accept him as he was, warts and all. And one of his warts was that he was phobic about the holidays ever since his parents' death, and worse yet since Ellen's.
“I'm sorry to hear it,” Adam said sadly. “I'm worried that Maggie feels that way too. It's a shame that they can't just let it go, but holidays are a big deal to some people. There's something about holidays and women, if you don't do it right, they fire you.”
“Apparently,” Charlie said, sounding annoyed. But he was upset about Carole too. It had taken a big bite out of them ever since he told her. And he was planning to be gone for three weeks, which was a long time for her to stay upset with him. Particularly since they'd only just gotten back together. They didn't need another major bump in the road, and they'd already hit one. He was almost sure the relationship wouldn't survive another. He hated to lose her. He was afraid he would. But not enough to stay. His phobia was as powerful as her need for him to stay home with her.
“And to complicate matters further at my end, my kids just met Maggie this weekend, and they were crazy about her. To tell you the truth, Charlie, I hate to piss her off.” More than that, he hated to hurt her, and this would. A lot.
“What are you saying? That you can't come?” Charlie was shocked.
“I don't know. Maybe times have changed. For both of us. Me, in any case.” He wasn't sure how committed to Carole Charlie was at this point. It was hard to tell. And he suspected Charlie wasn't sure himself. He and Maggie were living together and further along.
“Let me think about it. I'll call you back.”
“Call me on my cell phone. I'll be out at meetings all afternoon. Believe it or not, all joking aside, I actually do have to bail one of my clients out of jail.”
“Lucky you! I'll get back to you,” Charlie said, and hung up.
It was nearly five o'clock when Charlie got back to Adam, and both men sounded strained. Adam had had a nightmarish afternoon, juggling both client and press. And Charlie was trying to chase elephants off his desk at year end. But beyond that, he was worried about Carole. He had paid close attention to what Adam said. Times had changed. And if he wanted more than he'd had in his life until then, he had to change too. He felt like he was leaping off a cliff. Hopefully, not into cement. That remained to be seen.
“Okay,” Charlie said, as though he were about to suggest they both jump out of a plane without parachutes. “Let's do it.”
“Do what?” Adam sounded confused, and there was a lot of noise where he was. He was still at the jail, trying to keep the press at bay. It sounded like the birdhouse at the zoo. “Why don't you bring Maggie to the boat? I like her. You love her. She loves you. We'll have fun. What the hell. Your relationship may not survive if you don't.” He didn't want to be responsible for that. He could tell that Adam had his back to the wall, and maybe even wanted her along. “If you want to bring her, you can. It's up to you. I'm inviting Carole too.”
“Charlie, you're a hero.” Adam hadn't wanted to ask him, but he wanted to bring her. “You're a prince. I'll tell her tonight. What about you?”
“I'm probably crazy, and I'm not sure we're there yet, either of us. But I'm going to invite Carole too. I would have liked it better if she could let me do this. But if she can't, or she doesn't, I think it will be a big loss for me. Maybe bigger than I think.” They had invested something in the relationship, honesty, truth, courage, love, hope, and he wasn't willing to cash it in. Not yet. And leaving her over the holidays might force him to, whether he liked it or not.
“Holy shit,” Adam said, laughing. “What's happening to us?”
“I'm afraid to think,” Charlie said wanly.
“Yeah, me too. Scary stuff, bro. But you're a real mensch to do this. At least we won't have to worry about getting laid, or depend on the natives for help.”
“I'm not sure I would say that to Maggie if I were you.” Charlie laughed.
“No shit. When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Have a good trip. I'll see you on the twenty-sixth. We'll see you on the twenty-sixth. And by the way, I'll give Carole a ride down there on the plane, if she wants. Give her my number, and tell her to call me.”
“I will. Thanks,” Charlie said.
“No, thank you.”
They hung up then, and Charlie sat staring into space for a minute. Adam was right. Times had changed.
Charlie left his office at five-thirty, took a cab to the center, and got there at six, just as Carole was closing her office. She was surprised to see him, and wondered if something was wrong. Something else. There was a lot wrong lately. Christmas. New Year. Him away for three weeks. It had put a damper on her holidays. He hadn't even seen her tree.
“Hi, Charlie. What's up?” She looked tired. It had been a long day.
“I came to say good-bye,” he said as he walked in.
“When are you going?”
“Tomorrow.” She nodded. What else was there to say? She knew it would be over by the time he returned. For her anyway, if not for him. She felt as strongly about this as he had about her lying about her name. If you were in a relationship, as far as she was concerned, you spent the holidays together. He didn't see it that way. They didn't even exist for him. And maybe neither did she. She needed someone emotionally available, not someone who couldn't allow himself to feel anything, because it hurt too much. Life hurt too much, but was to be lived. Together, hopefully.

[Dalyia]

“Have a good trip,” she said, as she stuck a fat file into a drawer.
“You too,” he said quietly.
“Me too what?” She didn't get his drift. She was too tired to play games with him.
“You have a good trip too.”
“I'm not going anywhere.” She stood up straight and looked at him.
“Yes, you are, or at least I hope you are … or I hope you will.…” He stumbled over his own words as she stared at him. “If you're willing, I'd love you to come down with Adam and Maggie on the twenty-sixth. He's flying down then. And he's bringing her. We worked it out today.”
“And you want me to come too?” She looked stunned as she smiled at him. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, I am.” Perhaps even more so than he wanted to be. “I'd love you to come down, Carole. Will you?” he asked, looking at her. “I hope you can get away.”
“I'll try. And I hope you know I wasn't trying to shove my way into your trip. I just wanted you to be here over Christmas, and leave on the twenty-sixth with him.”
“I know. I can't do that. Not yet anyway. Maybe one day. But if you can do it, we can have two weeks together there.” It sounded fantastic to her, and even to him now. It was a great idea. He was glad Adam had called him.
“I don't think I can stay for more than a week. I'll see.”
“Whatever you can do,” he said, and then kissed her. She looked at him longingly and kissed him. And then they took a cab back to her place, and spent the night together before he left the next day. He even saw her tree.
When Adam got home that night, he handed Maggie a credit card. She was sitting over her law books and didn't look up when he came in. He dropped the credit card on the desk.
“What's that for?” she asked, without looking up. She was still angry at him over the trip. Their weekend with his kids had only been a brief respite from open warfare. Now they were back to the cold war.
“You need to go shopping,” he said, as he took off his tie and threw it on a chair.
“What for? I don't use your credit cards. You know that.” She threw it back at him, and he caught it, and stood holding it.
“You need to use it this time.” He set it down next to her again.
“Why?”
“Because you need a lot of stuff. You know, bathing suits, wraparounds, sandals, girl stuff, what do I know? You figure it out.”
“Figure what out?” She still didn't get it.
“What you need for the trip.”
“What trip? Where are we going?” She wondered if he was taking her to Vegas again, as a consolation prize.
“We're going to St. Barts on Charlie's boat.” He said it as though reminding her, and she stared at him.
“No, you're going to St. Barts on Charlie's boat. I'm not. Remember?”
“He called today and invited you too,” he said gently, and she stared at him and put her pen down.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, I am. So is he. I told him I didn't want to upset you, and I don't think he wants to upset Carole either. He's going to invite her too.”
“Oh my God! Oh my God! OH MY GOD!!” She kissed him and ran screaming around the room and then jumped into his arms, as he laughed at her.
“Does that do the trick?” He could see that it did. And then some.
“Are you kidding? Oh my God! I'm going on a yacht with you to the Caribbean! Yes yes yes YES!” And then she turned to him with a grateful look. “Adam, I love you. I'd have loved you anyway, but I was so hurt.”
“I know,” he said, kissing her again.
“I really love you,” she said, clinging to him. “I hope you know that.”
“Yeah, baby…me too.…” And then he kissed her. Come December 26, they'd be off to the Caribbean.

[Dalyia]

THE ARGUMENT BETWEEN SYLVIA AND GRAY, OVER HIS seeing her children, continued until nearly Christmas. He was staying at his studio now nearly every night, and she wasn't pressing him to stay at her apartment. She was too angry at him. She understood that he had “issues,” but as far as she was concerned, he was taking it too far. He wasn't even trying to deal with them. Gilbert was arriving in two days. And Emily the day after. And Gray had dug his heels in. He was not going to meet them.
“If you're that upset about it, then go to counseling,” Sylvia had shouted at him in the course of their last fight. They were having them nearly daily. It was a hot topic, for both of them. “What's the point of reading all those goddamn self-help books, if you're not willing to help yourself?”
“I am helping myself. I'm respecting my boundaries, and so should you,” he said grimly. “I know my limitations. Families freak me out.”
“You don't even know mine.”
“And I don't want to!” he had shouted, and stormed out.
Sylvia was profoundly depressed over what had happened, and the position Gray had taken. It had been going on for nearly a month, and had taken a toll on the relationship. The joy that they had shared in discovering each other had all but disappeared. And when Gilbert arrived two days before Christmas, she hadn't seen Gray in two days. She tried to explain it to her son, when he asked about him, but it sounded nuts even to her. As she had pointed out to Gray, people their age were supposed to be saner than that, but apparently he wasn't, and was making no attempt whatsoever to get his neuroses in check. He was reveling in them. Like a pig in slop.
The only good thing about it, for him, was that he was so upset, it was driving him to paint more. He hadn't stopped painting in weeks, and had finished two paintings since Thanksgiving, which was fast for him. His dealer was thrilled. The new work was great. He had always said that he did his best work when he was unhappy. And he was proving it. He was miserable without her. He couldn't sleep. So he painted. Constantly. Day and night.
He was hard at work late one night, after their most recent argument, when his bell rang. He thought it was Sylvia, come to drive her point home one more time, and without asking who it was, he hit the buzzer and let her up. He left the door to his apartment open, and braced himself for another round as he stared at the canvas, frowning. It was almost becoming a game between them. She begged him to see her kids. He said no. Then she blew her top. And so did he. It had become a vicious cycle. She refused to let go, and he refused to give in.
He heard the door open, and looked up, expecting to see her, and saw a wraithlike young man looking at him instead. “I'm sorry… the door was open…I didn't mean to interrupt. You're Gray Hawk, aren't you?”
“Yes, I am.” Gray looked startled. Whoever the young man was, he looked sick. His hair was thin and short, his face looked like a cadaver's, and his eyes were sunk deep into his head. His skin was concrete colored. He looked like he had cancer, or something just as bad. Gray had no idea what he was doing there, or who he was. “Who are you?” He wanted to ask him what he was doing in his apartment, but he had left the door open so it was his own fault that there was a stranger standing there.
The man hesitated for a moment and stood where he was. “I'm Boy,” he said softly, as though he didn't have the strength to say more.
“Boy?” Gray said, looking blank. It took a moment to register, and then he looked like he'd been shot. He went almost as pale himself, as he stood rooted to the spot. “Boy? Oh my God.” He had thought about him, but not seen him in so long. He was the Navajo baby his parents had adopted twenty-five years before and named Boy. Gray walked slowly toward him and then stood in front of him, as tears rolled slowly down his cheeks. They had never been close. There were twenty-five years between them, but he was a ghost from a piece of history that had haunted Gray all his life, and still did. It was at the root of his battle with Sylvia now. He wondered for a moment if it was a hallucination. Boy looked like the Ghost of Christmas Past. Gray put his arms around him then and just held him as they cried. They were crying for what might have been, what had been, and all the insanity that they had experienced separately but in the same place and for the same reasons. “What are you doing here?” he finally managed to choke out. Gray had never even tried to see him, and probably wouldn't if he hadn't been standing there.
“I wanted to see you,” he said simply. “I'm sick.” Gray could see that. His whole being was almost translucent, as though he were disappearing and filled with light.
“What kind of sick?” Gray asked sadly. Just seeing him brought it all back.
“I have AIDS. I'm dying.” Gray didn't ask him how he had gotten it. It was none of his business.
“I'm sorry,” he said, and meant it. His heart went out to him as they looked at each other. “Do you live here? In New York? How did you find me?”
“I looked you up. You're in the phone book. I live in L.A.” He didn't waste time telling Gray about his life. “I just wanted to see you… once… you're the reason why I came here. I'm going back tomorrow.”
“On Christmas?” It seemed like a sad time to travel.
“I'm in treatment. I have to get back. I know this sounds stupid, but I just wanted to say good-bye.” The real tragedy was that they had never said hello. The last time he had seen Boy, he was a child. And then once at their parents' funeral. Gray had never seen him again, nor wanted to. Gray had spent a lifetime closing the door on the past, and now this man had put a foot in it, and was keeping the door open, and shoving it wider, with his deep sunken eyes.
“Are you all right? Do you need anything?” Maybe he needed money. Gray didn't have much. But the young man shook his head.
“No. I'm fine.”
“Are you hungry?” Gray felt as though he should do something for him, and then asked him if he wanted to go out.
“That would be nice. I'm staying at a hotel nearby. Maybe we could go out for a sandwich or something?”
Gray went to get his coat, and a few minutes later they were outside, walking toward a nearby deli. He bought him a pastrami sandwich and a Coke. It was all he wanted. Gray had a cup of coffee and a bagel, and slowly they began talking about the past, as they each knew it. It had been different for Boy, their parents had been older then, they didn't move around as much, but were just as crazy. He had gone back to live on the reservation after they died, then to Albuquerque, and finally L.A. He volunteered that he had been a prostitute at sixteen. His life had been a nightmare. And nothing their parents had done before that had helped. It amazed Gray that Boy was still alive. Looking at him, it was hard to make sense of any of it, and the memories came flooding back. They scarcely knew each other, but they cried for each other and held hands. Boy kissed his fingertips, and looked into his eyes.
“I don't know why, but I just had to see you. I think I wanted to know that one person on this earth will remember me when I'm gone.”
“I always did, even though you were only a kid the last time I saw you.” He had only been a name to him, and now he was a face, a soul, a heart, one more person to lose and to cry for. He didn't want it, but it had come to him, like a gift. This man had come three thousand miles to see him to say good-bye. “I'll remember you,” Gray said softly, engraving him on his memory as he looked at him, and as he did, he knew that one day he would paint him, and he said as much to Boy.
“I'd like that,” he said to Gray. “Then people will see me forever. I'm not afraid to die,” he added. “I don't want to, but I think it will be fine. Do you believe in Heaven?”
“I don't know what I believe in,” Gray said honestly. “Maybe nothing. Or God. But for me, it's kind of free-form.”
“I believe in Heaven, and in people meeting each other again.”
“I hope not.” Gray laughed. “There are a lot of people I've known that I don't want to meet again, like our parents.” If you could call them that.
“Are you happy?” Boy asked him. Everything about him was surreal and ethereal and transparent. Just being there with him was like being in a dream. He didn't know how to respond to Boy's question. He had been happy, until lately. He had been miserable for the past month, over all the bullshit with Sylvia. He told Boy about it.
“Why are you afraid to meet them?”
“What if they don't like me? What if I don't like them? Then she'll hate me. What if we like each other and I get attached to them, and then we break up? Then I never see them again, or I see them but I don't see her. What if they're a couple of spoiled little shits and they make trouble for us? It's all so fucking complicated, I don't need the headache.”
“What have you got without the headache? What would your life be like without her? You'll lose her if you don't see them. She loves them. And it sounds like she loves you.”
“I love her too. But I don't love her children, and I don't want to.”
“Do you love me?” he asked then, and Gray was suddenly reminded of the Little Prince in the Saint-Exupéry book, who dies at the end of the book. And not knowing why he said it, he answered him. He was honest, as though they had been friends and brothers for years.
“Yes, I do. I didn't love you until tonight. I didn't know you. I didn't want to know you,” he said honestly. “I was afraid to. But now I do. Love you, I mean.” He hadn't wanted to know him for all those years, or even see him. He had been afraid of the pain of caring about him, or having a family. All Gray knew was that families hurt, and disappointed you. But Boy wasn't disappointing, he had come to see Gray, as a gesture of pure love for him. It was the gift of love no one in his family had ever given him. It was both painful and beautiful, as only love could be.
“Why do you love me? Because I'm dying?” Boy's eyes were haunting as they bored into Gray's.
“No, because you're my family,” Gray said in a choked voice as tears rolled down his cheeks and wouldn't stop. The floodgates of his heart had opened totally. “You're all I have left.” It felt good to say it. The two men held hands across the table.
“I'll be gone soon,” Boy said matter-of-factly. “And then she'll be all you have left. And her children. They're all you've got. And me.” It wasn't much, and Gray knew it. He didn't have much to show for fifty years on the planet. As crazy as they were, his parents had more. Three kids they'd adopted and made a mess of, but they tried at least, to the best of their limited abilities. They had each other. And all the people they touched as they roamed the world. Even Gray's paintings, and the agony that had inspired them, were somehow an outcropping of the two people who had adopted him and Boy. They had done a lot. More than Gray had ever thought or admitted. He saw that now. His parents had been crazy and limited, but at least they tried, even as messed up as they were. And Boy had tried too. Enough to come and see him. In comparison, Gray felt he had done far less with his emotional life, until Sylvia, and now he was limiting that too, and hurting her because he was scared. Terrified in fact.
“I love you, Boy,” Gray whispered as they sat holding hands across the table. He didn't care who saw them or what they thought. Suddenly he was no longer afraid of everything that had frightened him for so long. Boy was the final living symbol of the family Gray had run from for years.
“I love you too,” Boy said. He looked exhausted when they finally got up, and cold. He was shivering, and Gray gave him his coat. It was his best one. He had grabbed it on the way out, but it seemed a fitting gesture for the dying brother he had never known. He wished he had gone to see him before that, but he hadn't. It had never occurred to him, or in fact it had, and he had run from the idea. He realized now that he had run from so much, and all of it to avoid life, and getting hurt again. His family had become the symbol of all he feared. Boy was slowly lifting the fear from him.
“Why don't you stay with me tonight?” Gray offered. “I'll sleep on the couch.”
“I can stay at the hotel,” Boy said, but Gray didn't want him to. They went to pick up his things and went back to Gray's place. He said he had to leave by nine in the morning to catch his plane.
“I'll wake you up,” Gray promised as he tucked him gently into bed and kissed him on the forehead. He felt almost as though Boy were his son. Boy thanked him and was asleep before Gray closed the door.

[Dalyia]

Gray painted all night. He did sketches of him, dozens of them, so he wouldn't forget every detail of his face, and laid down the foundation for a painting. He felt as though it were a race against death. He never went to bed all night, and he woke Boy at eight and made him scrambled eggs. Boy ate about half, and drank some juice, and then said he had to leave. He was taking a cab to the airport, but Gray said he'd go with him. Boy just smiled, and then they left. He had to be there at ten for an eleven o'clock flight.
They stood close together after Boy checked in, and then they called the flight. Boy looked panicked for a moment, and then Gray reached out and pulled him into his powerful arms, and held him there while they both cried. They were tears not only for the present but for their lost past, and all the opportunities they'd missed, that they had tried to recapture in a single night. They had done well, both of them.
“It's going to be all right,” Gray said, but they both knew it wouldn't, unless Boy's theories about Heaven were right. “I love you, Boy. Call me.”
“I will.” But he might not, Gray knew. This could be the last moment, the last time, the last touch. And now that Gray had opened his heart to him, it would all hurt so much. So much too much. But it was a clean hurt this time. The clean sharp sword of loss. It was like severing a limb surgically, instead of having it torn off.
“I love you!” Gray called after him as he boarded the plane. He said it again and again so Boy would hear it, and when he reached the door to the plane, Boy turned and smiled. He waved, and then he was gone. The Little Prince had vanished, as Gray stood watching the place where he had been, and cried.
Gray walked around the airport for a long time. He needed to think, and to catch his breath. All he could think of now was Boy and the things he had said. What if he had never existed, if Gray had never seen him again? If he hadn't come all this way to see him. He seemed like a messenger from God.
It was noon when Gray finally called Sylvia on his cell phone. He hadn't talked to her in two days. And he hadn't slept all night.
“I'm at the airport,” he said, sounding gruff.
“So am I.” She sounded surprised. “Where are you?” He told her what terminal, and she said she was at the international terminal picking Emily up. It was Christmas Eve. “Is something wrong?” Yes. No. It had been. Now it was fine. It wasn't fine. It never had been, but at least he was now. He felt whole for the first time in his life. “What are you doing at the airport?” She was suddenly worried that he was leaving to go somewhere. Everything between them had totally fallen apart.
“I was seeing my brother off.”
“Your brother? You don't have a brother.” And then she remembered, but it sounded crazy to her, and it was.
“Boy. We'll talk about it. Where are you?” She told him again, and he hung up.
She saw him walking across the terminal toward her, and he looked a mess. He was wearing an old sweater and jeans, and a jacket that should have been thrown out years before. Boy had left in his good coat. Gray wanted him to have it. He looked like a madman, or an artist, and he looked as though he hadn't combed his hair in days. And then suddenly he had his arms around her and they were crying and he was telling her he loved her. He was still holding her when Emily walked out of customs with a big grin as soon as she saw her mother.
Sylvia introduced them, and Gray looked nervous, but shook her hand with a cautious smile. He asked her how the flight was, and picked up her bag. They walked through the airport with Gray's arm around Sylvia's shoulder, and Emily holding her mother's hand. They went back to the apartment, where Gray met Gilbert, and Sylvia fixed them all lunch. Gray helped her cook dinner that night, and he told her about Boy in bed that night. They talked for hours, and the next morning, they all exchanged gifts. He had nothing for her, but Sylvia didn't care. The children thought him eccentric but nice. And much to his own surprise, he liked them. Boy was right.
They called Gray on Christmas night. Boy was gone. The friend who called said he was sending Gray his journal and a few things. The next morning, Sylvia and her children left for Vermont. Gray went with them, and he walked out into the snow one afternoon at dusk, and stood looking at the mountains. He could feel Boy near him, and hear his voice. Then quietly, he walked back to the house where Sylvia was waiting. She was standing on the porch, watching him and smiling. That night, as he stood outside with her, he looked at the sky, saw the stars, thought of Boy, and the Little Prince.
“He's up there somewhere,” he said sadly. She nodded. They put their arms around each other, and walked back into the house.

[Dalyia]

24





CAROLE, MAGGIE, AND ADAM FLEW DOWN TO ST. Barts on Adam's plane. It was the first time either of them had met Carole, and it was a little awkward at first, but by the time they landed in St. Barts, Carole and Maggie were fast friends. They were as different as two women could get. But while Adam slept, Carole talked about the center and the children she met there, and Maggie talked about her early life, the time she'd spent in foster care, her pre-law classes, her job, and how lucky she was to be with Adam. Carole loved her long before they got off the plane. She was genuine and honest, kind, and incredibly bright. It was impossible not to like her, and Maggie felt the same way about Carole. They had even giggled conspiratorially about how furious they had each been that Charlie and Adam had wanted to go off on their own over the holidays, and how grateful they were that they hadn't.
“I was really pissed!” Maggie confessed in a whisper, as Carole laughed.
“So was I… actually, I was more hurt. Charlie says he doesn't do Christmas. That's really sad.” They talked about his lost family then, and how close the three men were. Maggie was glad they had finally met. She knew they had broken up for a while, but she didn't tell Carole. And then she talked about spending Christmas Day with Adam's kids. It had been great. They were taking them skiing in January over a long weekend. They had covered all the bases by the time Adam woke up, just before they landed.
“What have you two been cooking up?” he asked with a yawn.
“Nothing,” Maggie volunteered with a guilty grin, and then she said she hoped she didn't get seasick. She had never been on a boat before. Carole had. She had been on lots of them, though mostly sailboats. Maggie was amazed at how down-to-earth she was, since Adam had told her who she was. He was struck by Carole's beauty, her gentleness and kindness. How normal she was. Charlie had done it right this time. Adam just hoped he didn't blow it, or chicken out. It was going to be fun being a foursome for a change. It was a major difference in their lives.
Gray had called him just before they left. He was on his way to Vermont, and said he had met Sylvia's kids. Everything was fine. Adam had no idea how it had happened, but Gray had said he would tell him about it over lunch when he got back.
Charlie was waiting for them at the airport with two crew members and the captain, and he already had a tan. He looked happy and relaxed, and thrilled to see Carole. When they got there, Maggie couldn't believe the boat. She walked from one end to the other, looking at everything, talking to crew members, asking questions, and she said she felt like Cinderella all over again when she saw their cabin. She said it was going to be like a honeymoon, and Adam gave her a dark look.
“Oh, relax,” she teased him. “I don't want to get married. I just want to stay on this boat forever. Maybe I should marry Charlie,” she said, jokingly.
“He's too old,” Adam said as he pulled her onto the bed with him. They didn't go back on deck for several hours, and when they did, Charlie and Carole were relaxing. Carole looked totally at home. She had brought the perfect wardrobe of white jeans and shorts, little cotton skirts and blouses, she even had deck shoes, which Maggie checked out, and was impressed. She had brought a lot of really dressy stuff, along with bikinis, and shorts, but Carole assured her she looked great. She was so young and pretty and had such a great figure, she could have worn garbage bags and looked terrific. Her style was completely different from Carole's, but in her own way, she was exotic and sexy, and her look had toned down a lot in her months with Adam. What she had bought wasn't expensive, but she'd paid for it herself.
They went to their cabins before dinner to change, after a quick swim, and then came back up to have drinks on the aft deck as they always did. Adam had tequila, Charlie a martini, and the girls both had wine. They were leaving for St. Kitts the next day, but not until the girls had a chance to do a little shopping in the port, as Charlie had promised. That night they went dancing. Everyone came back exhausted and happy, and slept late the next day.
They had breakfast together, and then Charlie and Adam went windsurfing while Carole and Maggie went shopping. Maggie didn't buy much, and Carole bought pareos at Hermès to wear on the trip. She offered to lend some to Maggie. By the time they left port late that afternoon, all four felt as though they had been traveling together forever. The only dark cloud on the horizon was that Maggie got seasick on the way to St. Kitts, and Charlie had her lie down on deck. She was still a little green when they anchored just outside the port. But she was fine at dinner, and they all watched the sunset together. Everything was perfect day after day, and their only complaint was that the trip went too fast. It always did. Before they knew it, it was the last day, the last night, the last swim, the last dance. They spent their last night on the boat, and Charlie teased Maggie about getting seasick, but she'd been a lot better for the last two days. Adam had even taught her how to sail. Charlie had taught Carole to windsurf, she was strong enough to do it, Maggie wasn't. They all hated to see the trip end.
Carole had only been able to stay a week, and Adam and Maggie had to go back too. His clients were complaining, and Maggie had to get back to work. They all did, except Charlie, who was staying on. He had been quiet for the last two days. Carole had noticed it, but didn't say anything until the last night, after Maggie and Adam had gone to bed.
“Are you okay?” she asked him quietly, as they sat in deck chairs in the moonlight and he smoked a cigar. They were at anchor that night, instead of in port. Charlie always preferred it, and it was more peaceful on the water than having people walk by all night on the quay. Carole preferred it too. She'd had a wonderful time with him and the others.
“I'm fine,” he said, looking out at the water, the lord of his domain. She could see why he loved being on the boat. Everything about the Blue Moon was perfect, from their cabins to the food, and the impeccably trained crew. It was a life one could easily adjust to, it seemed a million miles away from real life and all its problems. It was a life of being constantly and totally pampered.
“I've had a wonderful time,” she said with a lazy smile. It was the most relaxing week she'd spent in years, and she loved being with him. Even more than she had expected to. He was the perfect companion, perfect lover, perfect friend. He glanced over at her through his cigar smoke, looked at her strangely, and worried her again. He looked as though he had something on his mind.
“I'm glad you like the boat,” he said with a pensive expression.
“Who wouldn't?”
“Some don't. Poor Maggie, she got so seasick.”
“She got used to it in the end.” Carole stuck up for her new friend. She was looking forward to seeing her again, and she was sure she would. Maggie wanted to come up to the center to see what they did. She said she wanted to be an advocate for children when she graduated from law school, which was years away.
“You're a good sailor,” Charlie commented. “And a good windsurfer.” She had learned quickly, and she'd gone scuba diving with him several times, and snorkeling with Adam. They had all taken full advantage of the comforts and delights of his boat.
“I used to love sailing as a kid,” she said, looking wistful, she hated to leave him the next day. It had been so nice sharing a cabin with him, waking up with him in the morning, and cuddling up to him at night. She was going to miss that when she went home. For her, it had been one of the great advantages of conjugal life. She hated sleeping alone, and in good times had enjoyed the constant companionship of marriage. Charlie had seemed to enjoy sleeping with her too, and didn't appear to mind the intrusion in his cabin. “When are you coming back?” Carole asked, smiling at him. She thought he was staying for another week.
“I don't know,” he said, looking vague. He seemed troubled, and then glanced back at Carole. He'd been thinking about them all week. She was so perfect in so many ways, she had the right breeding, right background, she was intelligent and fun to be with, gracious, thoughtful, nice to his friends, and made him laugh. He loved making love to her, in fact there was nothing about her he didn't like, which scared him to death. The most terrifying thing about her was that there was no fatal flaw. There had always been one that he could use as an escape hatch. But not this time. He was worried that in the end, he wouldn't want to settle down. And then everyone would get hurt, they always did. He had finally met a woman he didn't want to hurt, nor did he want to be hurt by her. There seemed to be no avoiding it if you got close. He didn't know what to do about it.
“Something's bothering you,” Carole said gently, wanting to know what it was.
He hesitated for a long time and then nodded. He was always honest with her.
“I've been thinking a lot about us.” The way he said it sounded like a death knell, and she was frightened the moment she saw his face. He looked tortured.
“What about?”
He smiled through the cigar smoke again. He didn't want to worry her unduly, but he was concerned. “I keep wondering what two commitment phobics like us are doing together. Someone could get hurt.”
“Not if we're careful of each other's wounds and scars,” and she was. She knew the things that upset him now. Sometimes he just needed space. He had been alone all his life. At times she sensed that he wanted to be alone, and had left the cabin, or left him to his own devices on deck. She tried to be sensitive to his needs.
“What if I never want to get married?” he asked her honestly. He wasn't sure he did. Maybe it was too late. He was almost forty-seven, he wasn't sure he could make the adjustment anymore. After a lifetime of searching for the perfect woman, now that he seemed to have found her, he wondered if he was the right man. Maybe not. He was coming to that conclusion.
“I've been married,” she said calmly. “It wasn't so great.” She smiled sadly.
“You should have children one day.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I have children where I work. Sometimes I think that's enough. When I got divorced, I told myself I'd never get married again. I'm not pushing for marriage, Charlie. I'm happy the way things are.”
“You shouldn't be. You need more,” he said, feeling guilty. He didn't know if he was the man to give it to her, and if he wasn't, he felt he owed it to her to let her go. He had been thinking about it a lot. The great escape. One way or another, in the end, it always came to that.
“Why don't you let me decide what I need? If I have a problem, I'll tell you. For now, I don't.”
“And then what? We break each other's heart later? It's dangerous to just let things drift along.”
“What are you saying, Charlie?” Listening to him, she was scared to death. She was getting more attached to him by the hour, especially after the last week of living with him. He could easily become a habit. And what he was saying was panicking her. He sounded like he was about to bail.
“I don't know,” he said as he put his cigar out in the ashtray. “I don't know what I'm saying. Let's go to bed.” When they did, he made love to her, and they both fell asleep without discussing the matter further.
The next morning came too soon. They had to be up at six, and Charlie was asleep when she got out of bed. She took a shower, and was dressed when he woke up. He lay in bed, looking at her for a long time. For a terrible moment she had the feeling that she was seeing him for the last time. She hadn't done anything wrong on the trip, or been too clingy or too attached. She had just allowed life to take its course. But the look of fear in his eyes was unmistakable, and guilt and regret. Ominous signs.
Charlie got up to see them off. He put on shorts and a T-shirt, and stood on deck watching as they lowered the tender to take them into port. He was going to Anguilla that day, after they left. He kissed Carole before she got into the tender, and looked into her eyes. She had the feeling he was saying more to her than just good-bye. She hadn't pressed him about when he was coming home. She thought it was better not to, and she was right. She had the feeling that he was poised at the edge of a terrifying abyss.
He patted Adam on the shoulder and gave him a hug, and then he kissed Maggie on both cheeks. She apologized for getting seasick. They thanked him, and he waved as they got off.
Carole turned to watch him from the tender as it sped away. She had the terrible feeling, as he waved at them from the deck, that she'd never see him again. She put on her dark glasses as they pulled into the port so no one would see her cry.

[Dalyia]

25



LIFE MOVED INTO HIGH GEAR FOR ADAM AND MAGGIE when they got back. He had three new clients, his kids said they wanted to see him more often, especially now that they knew Maggie, and his father had a heart attack. Life. He was out of the hospital in a week, and his mother was on the phone to him ten times a day. Why wasn't he coming to see them more often? Didn't he care about his father? What was wrong with him? His brother was there every day. Adam pointed out in a tone of exasperation that his brother lived four blocks away.
Maggie was just as crazed. She was studying for finals, had two papers to write for her classes, and was working her ass off at Pier 92. Adam told her she needed to get a better job. But the tips were great. And for the first two weeks they were back, she had the flu.
She still had it and couldn't shake it, when she went back to work anyway. She couldn't lose any more days, or they'd fire her. She was still at work one afternoon, when Adam came home from the office, and found a note that the cleaning woman had quit. The apartment was a mess. He knew how tired Maggie was, so he decided to take out the garbage and do the dishes before she got back. He emptied the wastebasket in her bathroom into a big plastic bag, and just as he was about to tie a knot in it, something caught his eye. It was a bright blue stick. He had seen them before, but not in a while. A long while. He stopped what he was doing, gingerly fished it out, and stared at it in disbelief. He sat down on the toilet and stared at it, before throwing it back in and then tied the knot, but when he did, his face was grim. He looked like a tornado when Maggie got home. She went straight to bed, saying she felt like shit.
“I'll bet you do,” he said under his breath. He had cleaned the entire apartment, and was vacuuming when she got home.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he whizzed through the room.
“The maid quit.”
“You don't have to do that. I'll do it.”
“Really? When?” He was furious with her.
“Later. I just got home from work. For chrissake, Adam, why are you running around like a rocket ship with a burr up its ass?”
“I'm cleaning the house!” he said through clenched teeth.
“Why?” And then suddenly he turned to her with fury on his face.
“Because if I don't, I may kill someone, and I don't want it to be you.”
“What are you so pissed off at?” She had had a terrible day at work and she felt sick.
“I'm pissed at you. That's what I'm pissed at.”
“What the hell did I do? I didn't tell the maid to quit.”
“When were you going to tell me you were pregnant? Why were you saving that little piece of news? For chrissake, Maggie, I found your pregnancy test in the garbage, and it was positive, for God's sake!” He was out of his mind with rage. “When did that happen?”
“On Yom Kippur, I think,” she said softly. They had been careful ever since. It was the only time they hadn't been. Since then, without knowing it, they had been locking the barn door after the horse escaped, or got in, or something like that.
“Oh, great,” he said, tossing the vacuum down at his feet. “On Yom Kippur. My mother was right. I should have gone to synagogue, and I never should have called you.” He threw himself into a chair as she started to cry.
“That's mean.”
“It's meaner for you to be pregnant and not tell me. When were you going to tell me, for God's sake?”
“I just found out this morning. I didn't want you to get mad. I was going to tell you tonight.”
And then suddenly he looked at her and realized what she had said. “Yom Kippur? Are you kidding? Yom Kippur was in September. This is January, for chrissake. Do you mean Chanukah?” She wasn't Jewish, she obviously had her holidays mixed up.
“No, Yom Kippur. It had to be that first weekend when I came over. It was the only time we weren't careful.”
“Wonderful. Did you notice that you didn't get your period for the last three months?”
“I thought I was nervous. I've always missed it a lot. Once I didn't get it for six months.”
“Were you pregnant?”
“No. I've never been pregnant till now.” She looked devastated.
“Terrific. A first. We just don't need this headache, Maggie. And when you get an abortion, you'll be crying and whacked-out for the next six months.” He had been through it all before, too many times. He didn't want to go through it with her, or with anyone ever again. And then he looked at her darkly, with suspicion on his face. “Are you trying to trap me into marrying you? Because that's not going to work.”
She jumped off their bed then, and stood glaring at him. “I'm not trying to trap you! I never asked you to marry me, and I won't now. I got pregnant. This is your fault too, not just mine.”
“How the hell could you not know you were pregnant for three months?” It was unbelievable. “You can't even get an abortion at this point. Not easily anyway, it's a big deal after three months.”
“Well, then I'll deal with it. And I wasn't trying to marry you!”
“Good! Because I won't!” he shouted at her, and with that she stormed into the bathroom, and slammed the door in his face.
She was in there for two hours, and when she came out, he was in bed, watching TV, and didn't say a word to her. Neither of them had had dinner. She had thrown up when she was in the bathroom, crying on her own.
“Is that why you got sick on the boat?” he asked without looking at her.
“Maybe. I kind of wondered, and when I got sick when we got back, I thought maybe it was. That's why I did the test.”
“At least you didn't wait another six months. I want you to see a doctor,” he said, finally looking at her. She looked a mess. He could see that she'd been crying, her eyes were red, and her face was pale. “Do you have a doctor?”
“I got a name from a girl at work,” she sniffed.
“I don't want you seeing some quack. I'll get a name tomorrow.”
“And then what?” she asked, sounding scared.
“We'll see what he says.”
“What if it's too late for an abortion?”
“Then we'll talk about it. I may have to kill you in that case.” He was only kidding, he had calmed down a little, but she burst into tears again. “Come on, Maggie…please… I'm not going to kill you. But I'm upset.”
“So am I,” she said, sobbing. “It's my baby too.” He groaned then, and flopped down on the bed.
“This is not a baby, Maggie. Please. It's a pregnancy, that's all it is right now.” He didn't even want to say the word “fetus,” let alone “baby.”
“What do you think that leads to?” she said, blowing her nose in a tissue.
“I know what it leads to. That's what I'm upset about. Just get some sleep. We'll talk about it in the morning,” he said, as he clicked off the TV and turned off the light on his side of the bed. It was early, but he wanted to sleep. He needed the escape. This was the last thing he needed. This happened to his clients, not to him.
“Adam?” She spoke softly just as he closed his eyes.
“What?”
“Do you hate me?”
“Of course not. I love you. I'm just upset. This was not a good idea.”
“What wasn't?”
“Getting pregnant.”
“I know. I'm sorry. Do you want me to leave?” He looked at her then, and felt sorry for her. This was going to be hard on her too, especially after three months. He knew there were doctors who did it, but it was a much bigger deal than if you caught it right away.
“No, I don't want you to leave. I just want to deal with this, as soon as we can.” She nodded her head.
“Do you really think I'll be a mess for six months?” She sounded worried. This was scary for her too. More than for him. He hated the inconvenience, she had to deal with it, either way. It was traumatic for her.
“I hope not,” he answered her question. “Just go to sleep.”
She tossed and turned all night, and when he woke up in the morning, she was in the bathroom and he could hear her getting sick. He stood outside the bathroom door, wincing. It sounded rough.
“Shit,” he said out loud and went to shower and shave. She came out ten minutes later. He had kept his bathroom door open so he could see her when she did. She looked green. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I'm great.”
He made her tea and toast when he was dressed, told her he'd call her from the office, and kissed her before he left. And then he thought of something terrifying on the way to work. She was Catholic. What if she refused to have an abortion? Now that really would be a mess. What would he tell his kids? Or his parents? It didn't bear thinking. He made the necessary calls as soon as he got to the office, and called her at work at noon. He gave her the names of two doctors, in case one was too busy to see her, and told her to try and see one of them as soon as she could. She called both that day, used his name as he had told her to do, and got an appointment for the following afternoon. Adam offered to go with her, but she said she could handle it alone. At least she was being decent about it. But they hardly talked to each other that night. They were both too stressed.
The following night, after her appointment, she was in the apartment when he got home. It was her day off, and she was doing homework when he walked in.
“How did it go?”
“It went fine.” She didn't look up at him.
“How fine? What did he say?”
“He said it's a little late, but they can say that my mental health is at stake if I threaten suicide or something like that.”
“When are you doing it, then?” He sounded relieved, and there was a long pause as she looked up at him with huge eyes in a pale face. She didn't look well.
“I'm not.” It took a long moment for it register, and he stared at her.
“Say that again.”
“I'm not having an abortion,” she said carefully, and he could see from the look on her face that she meant it.
“What are you going to do about it? Give it away?” That was a lot more complicated and took a lot more explaining, but he was willing to do that too, if she preferred. She was Catholic after all.
“I'm having the baby. And I'm keeping it. I love you. I love your baby. I saw it on a sonogram. It's moving. It was sucking its thumb. I'm three and a half months pregnant. Sixteen weeks, the way they figure it, and I'm not giving it away.”
“Oh my God,” he said, letting himself fall into the nearest chair. “This is insane. You're keeping it? I'm not going to marry you. You know that, don't you? If that's what you think is going to happen, you're crazy. I'm never getting married again, to you or anyone else, with or without a baby.”
“I wouldn't marry you anyway,” she said, sitting up very straight in her chair. “I don't need you to marry me. I can take care of myself.” She always had before. Although she was terrified now, but she wouldn't admit it to him. She had spent the whole afternoon figuring out how she was going to pay for it. She was determined not to take anything from Adam. She had to do this herself. Even if she had to quit her job, give up school, and go on welfare. She wanted nothing from him.
“What are my kids going to think?” he said, with a look of panic. “How are we going to explain that to them?”
“I don't know. We should have thought of that on Yom Kippur.”
“Oh for God's sake, all I was thinking about on Yom Kippur was how much I hate my mother. I wasn't thinking about a baby.”
“Maybe it was meant to be,” she said, trying to be philosophical about it, but Adam didn't want to hear it.

[Dalyia]

“This was not meant to be. This was both of us being sloppy.”
“Maybe. But I love you, and even if you leave me right now, I'm having this baby.” She had dug her heels in and she wasn't moving an inch. The sonogram had done it. She was not killing their kid.
“I don't want a baby, Maggie.” He tried to reason with her.
“I'm not sure I do either, but that's what we've got. Or what I've got.” She sounded calm and unhappy. It was a lot to deal with, for both of them.
“I'm going to Vegas this weekend,” he said miserably. “We'll talk about it when I get back. Let's take a break from it till then. Let's both think some more, and maybe you'll change your mind.”
“I won't.” She was a mother lion defending her young.
“Don't be so stubborn.”
“Don't be so mean.” She looked at him sadly.
“I'm not being mean. I'm trying to be a good sport about this, but you're not making it easy. It's mean to have a baby that no one wants. I'm just not prepared to have a baby, Maggie. I don't want to get married again. I don't want a baby. I'm too old.”
“You're just too mean. You'd rather kill it,” she said, bursting into tears, and he wanted to cry himself.
“I'm not mean!” he shouted after her as she ran into the bathroom again, as much to hide from him as to be sick.
The rest of the week was no better. They stayed off the subject, but it hung between them like a nuclear bomb ready to go off. He was relieved to leave for Vegas on Thursday. He needed to get out. He stayed over on Sunday night. He was waiting for her when she got back from work on Monday. He was sitting in a chair with a look of resignation.
“How was your weekend?” she asked, but didn't come over to kiss him. She had been upset all weekend, and wondered if he was cheating on her because he was upset. She hadn't left the apartment, and she had cried herself to sleep every night, thinking that he hated her and would probably leave her and she'd be alone with their baby, and never see him again.
“It was fine. I did a lot of thinking.” Her heart nearly stopped as she waited for him to tell her that she had to move out. She had become an embarrassment to him.
“I think we should get married. You can come out to Vegas with me next week. I have to go back anyway. We'll get married quietly, and that'll be that.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “What do you mean, 'that'll be that'? Then I leave, but the baby is legal?” She had thought of a thousand terrible scenarios, and not one good one. He had.
“No, then we're married, we have the baby, and we live our life. Together. With the baby. Okay? Now are you happy?” He didn't look happy either, but he was trying to do the right thing. “Besides, I love you.”
“ 'Besides,' I love you too, but I'm not going to marry you.” She looked quiet and determined.
“You're not? Why not?” He looked stunned. “I thought that was what you wanted.”
“I never said that. I said I was having the baby. I didn't say I wanted to get married,” she said resolutely as he stared at her.
“You don't want to get married?”
“No, I don't.”
“But what about the baby? Why don't you want to get married?”
“I'm not going to force you to marry me, Adam. And I don't want to get married 'quietly.' When I get married, I want to make a lot of noise. And I want to marry someone who wants to marry me, not someone who has to. Thank you very much, but my answer is no.”
“Please tell me you're joking,” he said, dropping his head into his hands.
“I'm not joking. I'm not asking you for money, and I'm not going to marry you. I'm going to take care of myself.”
“Are you leaving me?” He looked genuinely horrified at the thought.
“Of course not. I love you. Why would I leave you?”
“Because you said I was mean last week.”
“You're mean if you want to kill our baby. But you're not mean if you ask me to marry you. Thank you for that. I just don't want to, and neither do you.”
“Yes, I want to!” he shouted. “I love you. I want to marry you! Now will you do it?” He looked desperate, and she looked calmer by the minute. She had made up her mind, and he could see it too. “You are the stubbornest woman I've ever met.” She smiled at him, and he laughed. “That wasn't a compliment. Oh, for God's sake, Maggie.” He came and put his arms around her and kissed her for the first time in a week. “I love you, please marry me. Let's just get married, have the baby, and try to do it right.”
“If we'd done it right, we would have gotten married, and then had the baby. But you'd never have married me then, so why do it now?”
“Because you're having a baby,” he nearly screamed.
“Well, get over it. I'm not getting married.”
“Shit,” he said, and went and poured himself a shot of tequila, which he downed at one gulp.
“You can't drink. We're pregnant,” she said primly, and he gave her an evil look.
“Very funny. I may become an alcoholic before this is over.”
“Don't,” she said gently. “It'll be okay, Adam. We'll work it out. And you don't have to marry me. Ever.”
“What if I want to marry you someday?” He looked worried.
“Then we'll get married. But you don't want to right now. I know it. You know it. And one day the baby would know it.”
“I won't tell him.”
“You might.” People did things like that sometimes. I had to marry your mother.… She didn't want that for her child. And she didn't want to take advantage of him, even if he was willing to do the right thing.
“Why are you so fucking honorable? Every other woman I've ever known wants me to pay their bills, marry them, get them jobs, and do a million other things for them. You don't want shit from me.”
“That's right. Just your baby. Our baby,” she said proudly.
“Could they see what it is?” he asked with sudden interest. He didn't want this baby, but as long as they were having it, it might be nice to know what it was.
“I'm going back in two weeks for another sonogram. They can tell me then.”
“Can I come?”
“Do you want to?”
“Maybe. We'll see.” He had spent all weekend thinking he was marrying her, and now he was almost disappointed he wasn't. Everything about their life right now was weird.
“What are you going to tell your mother?” Maggie asked him that night at dinner, and he shook his head.
“God knows. At least now she'll have something to really bitch about. I think I'll tell her that I knocked you up on our first date, and you're Catholic, so she won't want me to marry you anyway.”
“How charming.” He leaned across the table, kissed her, and smiled at her.
“Maggie O'Malley, you're crazy to have my baby and not marry me. But I love you. So what the hell. Wait till I tell Charlie and Gray!” He smiled at her, and she laughed as they finished their dinner, and talked about how crazy life was sometimes. Theirs surely was, but they both looked happy that night as they finished the dishes and went to bed. This wasn't what they'd wanted or planned, but they were going to make the best of it, whatever it took.

[Dalyia]

26





CHARLIE DIDN'T CALL CAROLE AFTER SHE LEFT HIM ON the boat in St. Barts. She sent him a fax thanking him, but she felt awkward calling him, after the things he'd said the night before she left. She had no idea what conclusions he was coming to, the only thing she was absolutely certain of was that he needed space. She gave him a wide berth. It was all she could do. She grew more frightened every day. It was a full two weeks before he finally called her. She was sitting in her office when the phone rang. He said he was back. But he sounded strange. He asked her if they could meet for lunch the next day.
“That would be wonderful,” she said, trying to sound light-hearted, but she wasn't even fooling herself. He sounded terribly and profoundly upset. He seemed cool and businesslike, and after she'd agreed to meet him for lunch, she wondered if she should cancel. She knew what was coming. He hadn't asked her out to dinner, or said he wanted to see her that night. He wanted to meet her for lunch the next day. Distance. Space. It only meant one thing. He was meeting her to be polite and tell her it was over. The handwriting was on the wall so loud and clear it looked like graffiti. All she could do now was wait.
She didn't even bother to put on makeup the next morning. There was no point. He didn't care anyway. If he loved her, and wanted her, he would have called her from the boat in the past two weeks, or seen her the night before. He hadn't. He might love her, but he didn't want her. All she had to do now was get through the agony of hearing him tell her. She was a wreck by the time he showed up at the center.
“Hi,” he said, standing awkwardly in her office doorway. “How've you been? You look great.” But he was the one who looked great, in a gray business suit with a deep tan. After worrying all night, and lying awake, thinking about him, she looked and felt like shit.
“Where do you want to go for lunch?” She wanted to get it over with, and was sorry now she hadn't called him to cancel. He obviously thought he had to do it in person. He didn't. He could have called her on the phone to dump her. “Do you really want to eat?” she asked, looking discouraged. “Do you want to just talk here?” But he knew as well as she did that there were constant interruptions. Kids walked in, counselors, volunteers. The whole world walked into her office. It was the hub of the wheel.
“Let's go out.” He was being painfully polite and looked strained. She grabbed her coat and followed him out of the building. “Mo's or Sally's?” he asked her. She didn't care. She couldn't eat anyway.
“Whatever you like.” He picked Mo's, it was closer, and they walked down the block in silence. Mo waved at her when they walked in, and Carole tried to smile. Her face felt wooden, her feet felt like cement, and there was a brick in her stomach. She could hardly wait to get it over with, and go back to her office so she could cry in peace.
They sat down at a corner table and they both ordered salads. He didn't look hungry either. “How was the rest of your trip?” she asked politely, and then they spent the next half hour picking around at their salads, and eating little. She felt like she was going to the guillotine.
“I'm sorry if I upset you before you left the boat. I thought about us a lot after you left,” he said. She nodded, waiting for it to happen. She wanted to tell him to hurry up, but just sat staring into space, pretending to listen. She didn't want to hear what he was going to say. She just had to sit there and take it. “There are a lot of reasons why this could work. And a lot of reasons why it couldn't.” She nodded, and wanted to scream. “We come from the same background. We have many of the same interests. We both have a strong philanthropic bent. You also hate my way of life. You want a much simpler lifestyle”—he smiled at her—“although your house is no simpler than mine. I think you like my boat, and you're a good sailor. We're not after each other's money. We both went to Princeton.” He droned on until she thought she was going to die, and finally she looked at him, wanting to put them both out of their agony. It had gone on for long enough.
“Just say it, Charlie. I can take it. I'm a big girl. I've been divorced. Just get it over with, for chrissake.” He looked shocked.
“What do you think I'm saying?”
“That it's over. I get it. You don't have to dress it all up and gift-wrap it for me. You didn't even have to take me to lunch. In fact, I wish you hadn't. You could have called me or sent me an e-mail. 'Get lost.” 'Fuck you.' Something. I can pick up the clues if you give me a hint. You've been hinting for three weeks. So if you're going to dump me, just do it.” It was a relief to spit it out. He was staring at her strangely, as though he didn't know what to say now. She had said it all for him.
“Is it over for you?” He looked deeply unhappy as he waited, and she hesitated, but decided to tell him the truth. She had nothing to lose now.
“No, it's not over for me,” she answered him. “I love you. I like you. I enjoy you. I think you're terrific. I have fun with you. I like talking to you. I love sharing my work with you. I loved being on the boat with you. I like your friends. I even like the smell of your cigars. I love sleeping with you. But that's how I feel. Apparently, that's not how you feel. If that's the way it is, so be it. I'm not going to sit here and try to convince you of something you don't want.”
He sat there and looked at her for a long time. He was looking into her eyes intently, and then he smiled. “Is that what you thought? That I came here today to tell you it's over?”
“Yes. What else was I supposed to think? Before I left the boat, you told me a lot of mumbo jumbo about being worried about us. Then I left and I didn't hear from you for two weeks. You called me yesterday, sounding like the executioner, and invited me to lunch, not dinner. So I guess we've got it pretty well covered. Go for it, Charlie. If you're going to do it, do it.” She wasn't even scared anymore. She could deal with it. She'd survived worse. She'd been reminding herself of that all day.
“That was the conclusion I came to on the boat. If you're going to do it, do it. Stop fooling around. Stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. To hell with the fatal flaw, and getting hurt, and worrying that the person you love is going to die or walk out or turn out to be a lemon. If you're going to do it, do it. And if it's a mess, we'll pick up the pieces later. Together. Carole, will you marry me?” He was looking her right in the eye, and her mouth fell open as she stared at him.
“What?” She looked stunned.
“Will you marry me?” He was smiling at her as tears filled her eyes.
“You're asking me that at Mo's? Now? Here? Why?”
“Because I love you. Maybe that's all that matters in the end. The rest is window dressing.”
“I mean why did you ask me here, at Mo's? Why didn't you take me out to dinner, or see me last night or something? How can you ask me something like that here?” She was laughing through her tears as he took her hands in his across the table.
“I had to see my lawyers last night, for the foundation, and close out our fiscal year. I couldn't do it last night. And I didn't want to wait till tonight. Never mind all that. Will you?”
She sat looking at him for a long time with a broad smile on her face. He was a little crazy. Nice crazy. But crazy. He had absolutely terrified her and convinced her it was over. And instead he wanted to marry her. It was totally nuts. She leaned across the table and kissed him. “You damn near gave me an ulcer. And yes, I'll marry you. I'd love to. When?” She got right down to business, and she was smiling from ear to ear.
“How does June sound? We could honeymoon on the boat. Or any other time you want. I was so damn scared. I was afraid you'd say no.”
“Of course not. June sounds great.” She still couldn't believe he had asked her. It felt like a dream, to both of them.
“It doesn't give you much time to plan a wedding,” he said apologetically, but now that he'd decided, he didn't want to wait too long. It was time.
“I'll work it out,” she said as he paid the check, and they walked slowly back down the street to the center. It wasn't the way she'd expected things to work out at all.
“I love you,” he said as he kissed her, standing right outside the center. People walked by and smiled at them. Tygue walked past them on his way back from lunch, and teased them.
“Having a nice day?” he asked as he opened the door to the center.
“Very,” Carole said, and smiled at him, and then kissed her future husband again before he left to go back downtown. Mission accomplished.

[Dalyia]

27





THINGS SETTLED DOWN TO A DULL ROAR WITH ADAM and Maggie. They decided not to tell his children until the baby showed, which was a couple of months off yet. And they weren't going to tell his mother till after the children knew. Adam wanted to do them the honor of telling them first. It was still going to be hard to explain. And he was sure Rachel would have plenty to say.
He was busy with his clients, but he managed to go to the sonogram with her two weeks later. The baby was healthy, looked fine, and it was a boy. When they watched him moving around, Adam and Maggie cried. She was four months along.
He had to go to Las Vegas the week after that, and he asked her if she wanted to go with him. Coincidentally she had two days off, which worked fine for her. He had been in surprisingly good spirits, given the amount of tension in his life, and he had been a good sport about the baby. Maggie was sleeping a lot, and sick almost every day, but she tried not to complain. It was for a good cause.
The night they flew to Las Vegas, she was feeling slightly better. One of his major musical acts was playing there for two days. But he said he only had time to stay there for two nights, and Maggie had to be back at work anyway.
They flew to Vegas on his plane, and stayed at the Bellagio, which she loved. And much to her delight, Adam said the hotel had given them the Presidential Suite, which had a dining room, conference room, and the biggest bed she'd ever seen. It had a grand piano in the living room, and they got there early enough to spend some time in bed before dinner. The act they had come to see wasn't going on till midnight, and just before they went downstairs for dinner, Adam said he had to do some business in the room. He told her he'd use the conference room, and closed the doors. Two men in suits arrived, and as Adam had asked her to, she showed them into the room. When she opened the conference room doors to let them in, there was an enormous bouquet of red roses on the table, and a bottle of Cristal chilling in a bucket, as Adam smiled at her.
“Come on in, Maggie.” He beckoned her in with the two men, who were smiling too.
“What are you doing?” Something strange was happening, and she didn't know what it was. Everyone seemed to know what was going on except her. “What's going on in here?” She looked around suspiciously. She was dressed for dinner, in a pink dress and high heels. Adam had told her to wear something nice. Everything was getting tight on her, but the baby didn't show yet. Her figure was as good as it had been before, just fuller, and she was spilling out of the top of her dress.
“We're getting married, that's what's happening,” Adam said to her. “I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. And if you give me any trouble, Mary Margaret O'Malley, I'm not letting you out of this room until you do.”
“Are you kidding me?” she asked him, grinning. She was stunned.
“I've never been more serious in my life,” he said as he came to stand next to her proudly. “You're not having that baby without me. This is Judge Rosenstein, and his assistant, Walter. They're here to perform the ceremony. Walter is going to be our witness.”
“We're getting married?” She looked at him with tears in her eyes.
“Yes, we are.”
“Does your mother know?”
“She will tomorrow. I want to tell the kids first.” He had thought of everything and overridden all her objections. She had always wanted to marry him, but not because he thought he should. He had taken it out of her hands now, and it was obvious to her that he wanted to do it too.
The judge performed the ceremony, and Maggie cried as she gave her responses. Adam put a narrow gold band on her finger that he had bought at Tiffany the day before. He had bought one for himself too. And Walter signed the marriage certificate as their witness. By eight o'clock that night, the deed was done. He kissed her as they stood alone in the room. She had only sipped the champagne since she wasn't supposed to drink.
“I love you, Mrs. Weiss,” he said, smiling at her. “I'd have married you sooner or later anyway, even if you weren't pregnant. This just speeded things up.”
“You would?”
“I would,” he said firmly. She was still in shock.
They had dinner at Picasso's, and went to the midnight show, and she looked at her ring about a million times. She loved seeing his too.
He was just drifting off to sleep that night, after he made love to her, when she poked him in the shoulder. He stirred, but was too far gone to fully wake up.
“…Uh?…I love you …” Adam mumbled.
“I love you too.…I just thought of something.”
“… Not now… too tired…tomorrow…”
“I think I should become Jewish. I want to convert.” She was wide awake. He was within milliseconds of sleep, but managed to nod his head.
“… Talk about it tomorrow… love you… 'night…” And then he fell asleep. She lay there next to him, thinking about everything that had happened. It had been the most wonderful night of her life.

[Dalyia]

28





THE NEXT DAY WHEN ADAM CALLED HIS MOTHER, YOU could have heard her from Long Island Sound to the Brooklyn Bridge.
“O'Malley? She's Catholic? Are you trying to kill me? You're a sociopath! You'll give your father another heart attack!” She pulled out all the stops and accused him of everything she could.
“She's planning to convert.” She barely stopped screaming long enough to hear what he said. She told him that he was an utter and complete disgrace.
“Is that where you were going when you walked out on Thanksgiving?” she accused him, and this time he laughed. He wasn't going to let her give him headaches anymore. He had Maggie now, his lover, ally, and best friend.
“As a matter of fact, it was. Best decision I ever made.”
“You're insane. With all the nice Jewish women in the world, you marry a Catholic. I guess I should be grateful you didn't marry one of those schwartze singers you represent. It could have been worse.” For the remark she had just made, and for disrespecting Maggie, he decided to let her know it was worse. She had it coming. And had for forty-two years.
“And, Mom, before I forget. We're having a baby in June.”
“Oh my God!” You could have heard the screams all the way to Nebraska that time. “I just thought you'd want to know the good news. I'll call you soon.”
“I don't even have the heart to tell your father, Adam, it will kill him.”
“I doubt it,” Adam said calmly. “But if you tell him, be sure to wake him up first. Talk to you soon, Mom.” And with that, he hung up.
“What did she say?” Maggie asked, looking worried, as she walked back into the room. They had just gotten back to New York. He had called his kids before his mother, and they were fine. They had said they liked Maggie a lot, and were happy for him.
“She was thrilled,” Adam said with a broad grin of victory. “I told her you were going to convert.”
“Good.”
The three couples met for dinner at Le Cirque a week later. Charlie had invited them, and had given them a clue. He said he had important news.
They all arrived on time, and were ushered to a well-placed table. The three women looked lovely, and everyone was in a good mood. They ordered drinks and chatted for a few minutes, and then Charlie told them that he and Carole were engaged and getting married in June. Everyone was thrilled. And then Adam looked at Maggie with a conspiratorial grin.
“What do you two have up your sleeve?” Charlie had seen them exchange the look.
“We got married last week,” Adam said, beaming at his wife. “And we're having a baby in June.” There was a small roar from the group.
“We've been upstaged!” Charlie said, and laughed. He was pleased for them. Carole and Maggie consulted immediately about the date the baby was due. The wedding was set for two weeks before her due date, so Maggie said she'd be fine. Fat but fine.
“What about our August trip on the Blue Moon?” Gray asked, looking worried, and everybody laughed.
“Works for us,” Charlie said, looking around the group, as all the others nodded their heads.
“Can we bring the baby?” Maggie asked cautiously.
“Bring the baby and a nanny,” Charlie confirmed. “Looks like everybody's on. And Sylvia, I hope you'll come too.” They all agreed it would be a cozy group of six with all their ladies along, different than before, but a lively group nonetheless.
“Oh, and by the way,” Gray said, smiling happily, “I just moved in last week. Now I'm living with Sylvia, not just staying with her. I have a closet, I have a key, my name is on the bell, and I answer the phone.”
“I remember those rules.” Maggie laughed. “Do you have holidays yet? It's not a relationship till you do.” She glanced at Adam, and he winced.
“I just did.” Gray answered her question about holidays. He said he'd gone to Vermont with Sylvia and her children, and celebrated Christmas with them. It had made him nervous once or twice, but he had done fine. Emily and Gilbert had gone back to Europe the week before, and he had promised to go to Italy with them for a week before he and Sylvia went on the Blue Moon. He had assumed Charlie would invite her now, since he'd had Maggie and Carole on the boat over New Year's.
He was hard at work on the portrait of Boy, and moving full steam ahead for his April show. He wanted the portrait of Boy to be the most important piece in the show, but it wasn't for sale. He was planning to hang it in Sylvia's loft, and referred to it as a family portrait. In death, more than he had ever been in life, Boy was his brother. They had found each other at the eleventh hour, thanks to Boy.
“What about you two?” Adam teased him, since everyone else was getting married. “When are you going to tie the knot?”
“Never!” they both said in unison, and everybody laughed again.
“You should do it in Portofino next summer, where you met,” Charlie suggested.
“We're too old to get married,” Sylvia said convincingly. She had just turned fifty, three days after Gray turned fifty-one. “And we don't want babies.”
“That's what I thought too,” Adam said sheepishly, with a grin and a loving glance at Maggie. She'd been feeling better for the past few days.
“No wonder you got seasick on the boat,” Charlie said as he figured it out.
“Yeah, I guess,” Maggie said shyly. “I didn't know then.”
They were a congenial group and toasted each other liberally all evening. As usual, the men drank too much. And given the occasion, the women made no attempt to keep them in control. It was all in good fun. They drank an impressive amount of very fine French wine.
By the time they left each other at the end of the evening, plans were made, dates were set. Everyone had made note of the date of Charlie and Carole's wedding, Maggie had shared her due date, and they were all set for the Blue Moon on August first, as always. Life was sweet. And good times were ahead.