“Are you eating here?” Faith asked as she checked the fridge. She had steaks for all of them.
“No, I'm going out. I think you should too.” Alex looked like he was in no mood to take her anywhere, and Faith didn't mind cooking for him. She'd been doing it for twenty-six years, and no matter how unfair Zoe thought that was, Faith had no problem with it. “Why doesn't he take you to the movies?” She was right, they hadn't been in months, and seldom went, not more than a few times a year. But Alex didn't like going to the movies, and he was tired most of the time when he came home.
“You're worrying too much. First you think I'm having an affair, then you think Dad doesn't take me out enough. Why don't you think about something else?” She was organizing dinner while she spoke.
“I think you should have an affair with Brad,” Zoe whispered to her, and then gave her a hug and went upstairs. Faith shook her head as she put the steaks under the grill, and smiled to herself, looking amused. Zoe was a great kid. And it was a totally insane idea.
11
THE WEEKEND FLEW PAST WITH ZOE AND HER FRIENDS flitting in and out of the house. Faith cooked meals for them, paid for pizzas and cabs, changed beds and washed towels, helped pick out clothes and French-braided hair, and waited up at night for her to come home. She was relieved when Zoe took a train to the party in Connecticut, instead of driving, and that night Zoe came home at three A.M.
Faith felt as though she were running interference, because in the chaos and the noise and the mess, Alex got increasingly nervous, and he and Zoe were constantly at each other's throats. He hated her music and her language, the boys who dropped by, the mess they all left, and the way her friends dressed. He thought they looked like homeless people, and the music they listened to was obscene, which in fact, some of it was. But Faith was used to it, and tolerant of all the fashions and foibles of eighteen-year-olds. More than once during the Christmas vacation, Zoe declared her mother “extremely cool.”
Ellie called from Saint Moritz on Monday night, and Zoe was out, but Faith was relieved to know that all was well. She was having a fabulous time skiing, had met lots of people, and she said that Geoffrey's family was being extremely nice to her. She sounded happy, but much to Faith's relief, not madly in love. Listening to her talk about everything she was doing, Faith decided that maybe Alex had been right, and it had been worth making the sacrifice of letting her stay over there. She was having an exceptionally good time, more so than she would have had in New York.
“You were right,” Faith said to him graciously that night over dinner. “She's having a ball.”
“I usually am right,” he said without hesitation. “I'm right about your going to school too. It's going to be a colossal mistake.” Faith didn't want to discuss it with him. She didn't want to have a fight with him, but he didn't back off as he looked at her. “Have you come to your senses about that yet, Faith?” She didn't know why he'd brought it up now, but it made her feel anxious. She was taking the LSAT in a little over a week, and still felt guilty, concealing it from him.
“No, Alex, I haven't. I'm starting in three weeks.” She had paid the tuition out of her own money. Her mother left her a little when she died the year before. All of Jack's had gone to his widow, and he'd left his insurance money to her as well. She had taken it all with her when she'd disappeared. She'd left a box of his favorite possessions for Faith, and taken the rest.
“You'll regret it,” Alex continued, as Faith tried valiantly to change the subject, and failed. “You may even flunk the first term.”
“I really don't want to discuss this with you,” she said bluntly, finally, and he stopped talking to her for the rest of the meal. And afterward, he went upstairs to read. She was discouraged about it while she did the dishes, and after she finished clearing up, she sent Brad an e-mail.
“For heaven's sake,” he said when he answered only minutes later, as usual he was at his desk, when the signal came that he had mail. “What is he talking about? You had better grades in school than Jack and I did. You graduated Barnard magna cum laude. Doesn't he know who you are? I flunked the bar the first time I tried to pass it. I'll lay you odds you pass it the first time. Why doesn't he get off your back? Just tell him to fuck off the next time he says it,” Brad said, sounding irritated. “I believe in you, Fred. Now you believe in you too. Love, Brad.”
“I guess he's still mad about my going back to school,” Faith replied. “I was hoping he'd be over that by now.” It reminded her of all the things Zoe had said. She hadn't told Brad that Zoe had accused her of being in love with him, and thought she should be, if she wasn't yet. She wasn't sure he'd have been amused. And it was as far from the truth as you could get. She loved him as a friend, just as he loved her. But it was hard for a girl Zoe's age to understand. The beauties of platonic friendship. At her age, it was all about sex.
“I'm tired of Alex picking on you,” Brad said when he responded again. “How can you live with that without getting worn down?”
“I'm used to it. He doesn't mean it. That's just the way he is,” she defended Alex in her next e-mail.
But at Brad's end, things weren't all smooth sailing these days either. The holidays seemed to bring out the worst in everyone. Particularly Pam. She was going from one party to another, and she wanted Brad to go with her, and he was too busy in the office, nor did he care about the social events she loved. He had long since told her that he'd prefer she went with one of her friends. But at certain times of year, she insisted that he go with her. Particularly during the opening of the social season in September, and at Christmas. Pam was going to cocktails and dinners and dances, benefits and openings and holiday parties. He couldn't begin to keep her social calendar straight, nor did he want to. He was doing things that were far more important to him. He had a short trial the week before Christmas, which ruled out everything else for him. But it created enormous tension between them. Pam was not amused.
“For God's sake, can't you get your paralegals to do the prep work? Do you have to do everything yourself?” He had just told her he couldn't go out again that night. He had been in the office till two A.M. the night before—it was an escape for him—one he loved.
“I can't leave this kind of work in the hands of someone else, Pam, and you know that.”
“Why not? I do. I go to court too. My paralegals and my assistant do half the work.”
“You're not trying to get kids off from murder charges. There's a difference. There are lives in the balance here.”
“As a matter of fact, you're right, Brad. Ours. I'm sick and tired of your never being around.” She was fuming, as she paced in front of him in a blue sequined evening gown. She looked stately and beautiful, and the look in her eyes would have terrified most men, but not Brad. He was used to her, and her tantrums. They no longer impressed him as they once had. Although they were fearsome to watch at times.
“I thought we came to an understanding about this years ago,” he said, looking exasperated.
“You said you'd come to at least some of the events, if they were important to me.”
“But not when I'm preparing a trial. I can't. Simple as that.” He refused to be intimidated by her. She had been doing it, or trying to, for a long time.
“Why the hell not? What about your little bleeding-heart girlfriend? Doesn't she expect you to go out with her once in a while?” Brad was shocked by what she'd just said, and narrowed his eyes at her.
“What was that? What are you talking about?” He looked mystified.
“I saw one of your e-mails to her the other day, about what a gentle soul she is, and something about going to church with her. Since when have you been religious? What is she? A nun?”