“It's beautiful, Mother, thank you.” She didn't explain the impossibility of it to her, and her mother seemed not to care. They had found a fabulous designer sale at I. Magnin.
“It's amazing what you find out here,” she said, totally unaware of Page's expression.
“Isn't it though,” she said coolly. It was almost as though the reason for their trip had been forgotten.
Page made dinner for them again that night, but Brad didn't come home or call. She made an excuse for him, but later she found Andy looking forlorn and sat down on her bed to talk to him. Having her own mother there made her nervous and edgy.
“You and Dad are mad at each other again, huh?”
“Not really,” she lied, she just couldn't cope with telling him about that too. Allyson was enough for the moment. “He's just busy.”
“No he's not. I heard you shouting at him …and he yelled at you …”
“Moms and dads do that sometimes, sweetheart.” She kissed the top of his head and fought back tears as she held him.
“You didn't use to.” And then, “Bjorn said his mom and dad used to fight a lot, and then his mom left. She went to England, and now he hardly ever sees her.”
“That's different,” though she was no longer sure why. In truth, it wasn't very different. “Does he miss her a lot?” She felt sorry for him. It had to be particularly hard on a child like him, with limited understanding.
“No,” Andy said honestly, “he said she was mean to him. He likes his dad a lot better. I like his dad too,” he volunteered, “he's nice.” She nodded, and then he looked up at her with tears in his eyes, and she almost panicked. “Is Daddy going to leave and go to England?”
“Of course not,” she said, relieved that he hadn't asked her how she felt about Trygve. “Why would he go to England?”
“I don't know. That's what Bjorn said his mom did. Do you think he'd leave us though?” She wanted to say more, but knew she couldn't. It was just too much for him, too much for all of them at the moment.
“I don't think so.” It was the first time she had ever lied to him, but she knew she had to.
And when she put him to bed, her mother asked her if she'd mind making her a cup of peppermint tea, and taking some camomile and a bottle of Evian to her sister.
“Not at all,” she said, smiling to herself. They were so predictable …the wicked stepmother and sister …and she, as always, was playing the role of Cinderella.
CHAPTER 12
The rest of the week was much the same. Page continued to spend her days at the hospital while Andy was in school, while her mother and sister did the rounds of the boutiques and department stores in San Francisco. They cruised through Hermes, Chanel, Tiffany, Cartier, Saks, and did a fair amount of damage at I. Magnin. They had their hair done at Mr. Lee, lunch at Trader Vic's, Postrio, and the restaurant at the top of Neiman-Marcus. And about every other day, they began their day with a five-minute visit to Allie.
After the first time, Alexis said she felt her cold coming on again, and didn't want to cause Allyson complications, so she waited in the lobby. But Page's mother bravely went upstairs, and would stand chatting with Page at Allie's bedside, for roughly four or five minutes. Mostly, she talked about what they were going to do that day, and tried to talk Page into going with them. And at the end of the week, she insisted she take Page and Brad out to dinner.
Page tried to broach it to him one of the rare times she saw him that week. It was Friday afternoon by then, and she was beginning to wonder when Alexis and her mother were going to leave, their presence had worn thin right from the beginning. And Brad was using the opportunity of their being there to disappear now on a daily basis. He hadn't been home for dinner once all week, coming home way past midnight and leaving early in the morning before they got up. And one night, he had stayed away all night without calling.
“She wants to take us to dinner somewhere,” Page explained, trying not to lose her temper, or confront him for the nights he had spent out without calling. “To tell you the truth, I'm not sure I could stand it.”
“She seems all right this time,” he said calmly.
“Really?” Page snapped at him. “When did you figure that out? In the four seconds it took you to hang up their bags, or the ten minutes you haven't spent with them since then. How the hell do you know how she is? I haven't even seen you since Sunday.”
“Oh for chrissake …stop it. What do you expect me to do? Baby-sit your mother? She came here to see Allie.” Which was something he was doing less and less too, with the excuse that he was busy.
“She did not come here to see Allie,” Page said unpleasantly. “She came here to see Chanel, Hermes, and Cartier. And they've had a lovely visit.”
“Maybe you should have gone with them,” he snapped back at her, “you might be in a better mood. And God knows, you might look a little more like your sister.” He was sorry the moment he said the words, but there was nothing he could do to unsay them.
She laughed bitterly at him. “There isn't a single real piece or part left on my sister's face or body, and if what you wanted is that piece of plastic nothing, then be my guest.” She raged at him, but she was hurt by his comment. She had spent three weeks at Allie's bedside, and she knew she looked a mess, but she didn't have the time, or the energy, or the heart, to look any different. She didn't care how she looked right now. All she wanted was for Allie to wake up from her coma.
In the end, Brad agreed to go to dinner with them on Saturday, and they went into the city, and had dinner at the Fairmont, at Mason's. Page had pulled her thick blond hair straight back, in a ponytail, and worn a plain black dress, and no makeup. She looked the way she felt, bleak, unhappy, and Alexis, on the other hand, was wearing a white silk Givenchy dress which showed off her rail-thin figure, and the deep décolletage showed off her implants nicely.
“You look terrific,” Brad said pleasantly, and she smiled at him. But there was no seduction there, no interest on her part. She was interested in how she looked, and what she wore, and very little else. And her husband understood that. There was no woman there, just a form and a beautifully made-up face with perfect features.
Alexis and her mother were talking about staying another week, and at the mere mention of it, Page looked frantic. She had already waited on them for seven days, and brought them camomile, mint tea, Evian, cold packs, hot packs, breakfast, lunch, dinner, fresh sheets, more pillows, and she had had to go out and buy an electric blanket for her mother. They did not answer the phone, pour themselves so much as a glass of water, they couldn't figure out how to work the TV's in their rooms, and neither of them was comfortable with Andy. As usual, they were totally useless.
They had seen Allyson a total of three times in a week, all told for probably less than fifteen minutes. It was exactly as Page had predicted it would be to Trygve.
“I think you should go home after the weekend,” Page said firmly, and her mother looked horrified at the suggestion.
“We couldn't possibly leave you alone with Allyson,” she insisted, and for once, Page was speechless.
Brad was pleasant to both of them, and particularly Alexis, who said very little to any of them.
And once they were back at home again, and the sitter had left, Brad told Page quietly that he was going out for the rest of the evening.
“At eleven o'clock?” She looked startled, but she shouldn't have. He hadn't been there all week, and this seemed to be his style now. In the past three weeks, the entire fabric of their marriage had unraveled. She just looked at him and nodded.