“It looked like great stuff,” he said cautiously as he watched her as they lay by the pool. And there had been something about Steven's face that had reminded him of Leslie when she left him. But Adrian looked perfectly happy as she lay by the pool. She had a book in her hands, and she was holding it upside down as she felt her heart ache, thinking of Steven.
THE WEEK THAT STEVEN MOVED OUT, ADRIAN FELT as though she were in a dream. She got up, she went to work, she went home at night, and every night when she got there, she expected to find him. He would have come to his senses by then. He'd be mortified, apologetic, aghast at what he'd done, and they'd both laugh and go upstairs to bed and make up, and ten years hence he would tell their child how absurd he had been when she told him she was having a baby.
But when she got home at night, he wasn't there. He never called. And she sat on the floor of her living room at night, trying to read, or pretending to shuffle papers.
She had thought about buying new furniture as soon as he left. But she decided not to, in case he came back, which she still thought he would. And what was the point of having two sets of furniture for one apartment?
She kept the answering machine on most of the time, but she listened to the calls when they came in.They were never Steven, but usually friends, or her office, and lately more often than not it was Zelda. But Adrian didn't feel like talking to her either. Her only concession to keeping her life afloat was going to work and coming home. She felt like a robot getting up and going to work every day, and then coming home, making herself something to eat, and going back for the eleven o'clock news. She felt as though she were on an endless treadmill. There was a blind look of pain in her eyes day after day, and it hurt Zelda to see her like that, but even she couldn't help her. She still couldn't believe what Steven had done, or that he really meant it. But when Adrian tried to call him, his secretary always said he was away, and Adrian wasn't sure if he was or not. There was still that panicky feeling of what would happen to her if she really needed him, but she didn't for the moment, and she knew she just had to sit tight until he came to his senses.
It was Friday of the Fourth of July weekend when she ran into Bill Thigpen at the Safeway again. She had just finished the late news, and she had realized that she had nothing in the house for the next day, and she was off for the whole weekend. He was juggling two carts, and they were filled with charcoal, two dozen steaks, several packages of hot dogs and some ground meat, buns, rolls, and an assortment of things that looked as though he was preparing a picnic.
“Hi,” he said as they collided in the aisle where he was picking up two huge containers of ketchup. “I haven't seen you all week,” he teased, and he realized as he saw her that he had missed her. There was something so fresh and appealing about her face that he liked just looking at her, and the intensity of her smile always warmed him. “How's the news?”
“The same. Wars, earthquakes, explosions, tidal waves, the usual stuff. How are things on A Life?” The thought that he was involved with a soap opera still amused her.
“Same as the news …wars …tidal waves …earthquakes …explosions …divorce …illegitimacy …murder …the usual happy stuff. Maybe we're both really in the same business.”
She smiled at him then. “Yours sounds like more fun.”
“It is …sometimes …” He had been lonely since Sylvia left the show, but he had to admit that it was stupid. She had been fun to be with from time to time, and they had provided each other with something comfortable and easy. But the truth was that she didn't really improve the quality of his life, nor he hers, and she was better off with her clothing manufacturer in New Jersey. She had sent a postcard to the cast after she'd left, rhapsodizing about the house Stanley had just bought her. And looking back, he felt foolish now, for being with her. He felt that way now about most of the women he'd gone out with. And he had decided to turn over a new leaf, to get involved only with women who really meant something to him, but the trouble was that most of the women he met just didn't. He met a lot of actresses through his work, a lot of women who just wanted to get laid in exchange for a great part, or an opportunity to appear on his show. They considered it a fair exchange, and the attitude was hardly conducive to high romance. As a result, he hadn't been out with anyone in over a month, and he didn't really miss it. He missed having someone to talk to late at night, someone to bounce his ideas off for the show, someone to share his joys and sorrows with. But he hadn't had that with Sylvia anyway. In fact, he hadn't had that since Leslie.
“Are you coming to the barbecue tomorrow night?” he asked Adrian hopefully. He liked chatting with her, and he was curious about her husband. She had told him he was in advertising, but to Bill he looked more like an actor. But he hadn't seen him in almost two weeks, since he'd loaded all their furniture into a van and removed it. “The Fourth of July barbecue at our apartment complex is my biggest annual culinary moment. You really shouldn't miss it.” He waved at the things in his cart and grinned at her. “I do it every year, previously by popular demand, nowadays out of habit. But I make a great steak.” He smiled again. “Did you come last year?” He couldn't remember seeing them, although he knew he would have. He wouldn't have forgotten a girl who looked like her, or maybe he had just been distracted.
But she shook her head. “We usually go away. I think last year we were in La Jolla.”
“Are you going away again?” He looked disappointed.
She shook her head. “No …I …Steven …my husband is out of town again. In Chicago.” The words came out awkwardly, and Bill looked surprised.
“Over the Fourth of July? That's a bummer. What are you doing while he's gone?” He wasn't being fresh, he was just being friendly. They had enjoyed chatting by the pool several times. And he knew she was married, and he understood that.
“Nothing much,” she said vaguely, looking nervous.
“Come to the barbecue, then. I'll fix you a famous steak a la Thigpen.” She smiled at the look on his face, he looked so eager, and she really liked him.
“I …I'm having dinner with friends.” She smiled, but her eyes were sad again and he saw it. “Maybe next year.”
He nodded, and noticed the clock on the wall behind her. It was twelve-thirty at night, and they were chatting as though it were ten in the morning. “I guess I ought to get the rest of my stuff,” he said regretfully. “Come by if you change your mind. Bring your friends. I've got enough for an army.”
“I'll try.” But she had no intention of going to the barbecue as she shopped for the rest of her groceries. She remembered seeing a sign-up sheet in her mail weeks before, but she had thrown it out. She had other things on her mind at that point, and she didn't regret it. The last thing she wanted was to hang around a bunch of lonely singles at the complex. She had her own life to lead, and she was not interested in cultivating new relationships, or dating. She was married, and all she had to do was wait for Steven to come to his senses. It was just a matter of time, she was sure of it. And when he came back, they could concentrate on having the baby. In the meantime, she had put that on a back burner too. She hardly ever thought of it. She had made her decision and gone ahead with the pregnancy, but now she put it out of her head as much as possible. And it was still easy to ignore for the moment, except for an occasional moment of queasiness, and an increased appetite the rest of the time, and some fatigue, she could just about forget that she was pregnant. Nothing showed, and she was only three months pregnant. And all she needed to think about was her work, and waiting for Steven. When he left, at first, she had told herself that it was all over, that he would never come back, and if he did, their relationship would be permanently damaged. But in the past two weeks, she had managed to convince herself that it was a temporary lapse, a moment of insanity in the otherwise healthy life of their marriage. She refused to believe that the fact that he never called, that he wouldn't take her calls whenever she called him, and that she hadn't heard from him since he'd removed everything he owned from their condo was a sign that he felt the marriage was truly over.