This wasn't the place to examine the contents; she could do that at home. She finished putting the disinfectants into the cabinet, firmly closed the door, and bidding Didi a quick farewell headed out of the sitting room onto the landing.
If Garrison came in now, she thought, she wouldn't be able to tell a lie worth a damn. The pleasure at her discovery was written all over her face. She tucked the envelopes into her coat and hurried down the stairs, keeping her eye on the front door as she descended; but the good fortune which had delivered the envelopes into her hands held. She opened the door a few inches, checking to see if there were any photographers out there, and finding that the ram was still pelting down and the sidewalk deserted, slipped out and down the steps, thoroughly pleased with herself.
I have to make room here for the briefest of digressions on the inevitable and probably inexhaustible subject of my invert sister. The last I wrote of her she'd come into my room flushed with success, having read Sister Mary-Elizabeth's poem to her beloved, and had her proposal of marriage accepted. A few hours ago she came back with details of the arrangements.
"No excuses," she said to me. "You have to be there."
"I've never been to a lesbian wedding," I said, "I wouldn't know what to do."
"Be happy for me."
"I am."
"I want you to dance and get drunk and make a sentimental speech about our childhood."
"Oh what? You and Daddy in the dressing room?"
She gave me a fierce look. Maybe it's some remnant of an atavistic power lodged in her, but when she gets fierce she looks rabid.
"Has Alice ever seen you angry?" I asked her.
"Once or twice."
"No. I mean really angry. Crazy-angry. I-could-tear-your-heart-out-and-eat-it angry."
"Hm… no."
"Shouldn't she be warned, before you tie the knot? I mean, you can be a terror."
"So can she. She's the only girl in a family of eight."
"She has seven brothers?"
"Seven brothers. And they treat her very respectfully."
"Rich family?"
"White trash. Two of the brothers are in jail. The father's an alcoholic. Beer for breakfast."
"Are you sure she's not just after you for your money?" I said. Marietta glowered. "Jesus, I'm just asking. I don't want to see you hurt."
"If you're so suspicious, then you come and meet her. Meet them all."
"You know I can't do that."
"Why not? And don't tell me you're working."
"But that's the truth. I am. Morning, noon and night."
"This is a damn sight more important than your book. This is the woman I love and adore and idolize."
"Hm. Love, adore and idolize, huh? She must be good in bed."
"She's the best, Eddie. I mean, the very best. She eats me out like she'd just invented it. I scream so loud the trailer shakes."
"She lives in a trailer? Are you sure you're doing the right thing?"
Marietta picked at her front tooth, which she always does when she's uneasy. "Most of the time," she replied.
"But…?"
"But what?"
"No. You tell me. Most of the time's enough?"
"Okay, smartass. When you met Chiyojo were you absolutely certain-not even a breath of doubt-that she was the one?"
"Absolutely."
"You had an affair with her brother," she reminded me lightly.
"So?"
"So how certain could you be about marrying a woman when you were screwing her brother?"
"That was different. He was…" r
"A transvestite."
"No. He was an actor." She rolled her eyes. "How did we get into this?" I said.
"You were trying to talk me out of marrying Alice."
"No I wasn't. I really wasn't. I was observing that… I don't know what I was observing. Never mind."
Marietta came over to me and took hold of my hand. "You know, you're very good for me," she said.
"I am?"
"You make me question things. You make me think twice."
"I don't know if that's such a good thing. Sometimes I wish I hadn't thought twice so many times, if you see what I mean. I might have done more with my life."
"I think Alice is the one, Eddie."
"Then marry her, for God's sake."
She squeezed my hand hard. "I really want you to meet her first. I want your opinion. It means a lot to me."
"So maybe you should bring her here," I said. Marietta looked doubtful. "She's going to see this place eventually. And I think we'd both have a better idea of whether it was going to work out once we saw how she responded."
"You mean: tell her everything?"
"Not everything. Nobody could handle everything. Just enough to see whether she's ready for the truth."
"Hm. Would you help me?"
"Like how?"
"Keep Cesaria from scaring her."
"I can't stop her if she wants to do something. Nobody could. Not even Dad."
"But you'd do your best."
"Yes. I'll be the voice of reason, if that makes any difference."
"You'd tell Cesaria you suggested it?"
I sighed. "If I must" I said.
"Then that's settled. I'll go talk to Alice now."
"Just give me a little warning. So I can organize myself."
"I'm excited."
"Oh Lord. I don't like the sound of that."
Of course I'm regretting it. Who wouldn't? The best it can be is a fiasco. But what else was I going to do? This obviously isn't some overnight romance. Marietta feels something profound for this woman. I can see it in her eyes. I can hear it in her voice. And it would be hypocritical of me to be writing with such enthusiasm about the grand-if stymied-passion between Rachel and Galilee and at the same time turn a blind eye to something that's happening right in front of me.
Anyway, I've agreed. The woman will come to us and we'll see what we'll see.
Meanwhile, I have a story to tell.
The Central Park apartment was deserted when Rachel got back from her expedition to the Trump Tower. Even so, she didn't sit down at the dining room table and open the two envelopes she'd found, just in case somebody were to walk in on her. She went to her bedroom, where she locked the door and drew the drapes. Only then did she sit cross-legged on the bed to examine her booty.
In the less bulky of the two envelopes she found the letters and the photographs. Danny was quite the eroticist, to judge by what he'd written. His concern that if these letters had fallen into the wrong hands they might be used to besmirch Margie was well founded. There were dates and times and locations here; there were heated reminiscences of deeds done and boastful promises of how much more intricate it was going to get next time. Nor was any of this put in a roundabout way. "We're going to have to start fucking in a soundproof room," he said in one of the letters, "the way you like to shout. I'm sitting here hard as
a rock thinking about you yelling your head off, and me just sliding in and out, long strokes, the way you like. There isn 't a thing I wouldn 't do for you, you know that? When we 're together I feel as though the rest of the world can just go to hell-we don't need anybody but each other. I wish I could have been a baby, sometimes, and drunk the milk from your beautiful tits. Or been born out of you. Fuck, I know that sounds twisted, but you said we shouldn 't be afraid of any of the things we feel, right? I'd like to fuck you so deep I get lost inside you, and you 'd carry me around for a while, like I was your baby. Then when you wanted me out and giving you the nasty you 'd just open your legs and out I'd come, all ready to service you."