So what would have been missing in a life lived like that? Certainly not love, as Marie was soon to tell me. Certainly not comfort. There would have been no ignominy in my return to normal.
What would have been missing? The mythical dream house without walls or firm foundation. The thrill of awakening in an unknown country, the exhilaration of an endless setting forth. Surprise. The allure of the unexplored. And finally, love, at its sharpest instant, the moment when it fuses with desire.
Much would have been missing.
But not everything.
THIRTEEN
REBECCA RETURNED to Old Salsbury the following day just as she’d said she would. It was a Saturday, but I wasn’t at home when she called. Neither was Marie. It was Peter who answered, then later gave me the message.
“A woman called,” he said. “She asked for you. She left her name and number.”
He’d written it down on a small square of white paper, which he handed to me dutifully.
I glanced at the paper, pretending that I didn’t recognize the name he’d written in large block letters beside the number: REBECCA.
“Did she say what she wanted?” I asked casually.
Peter shook his head. “She just wanted you to call her back, I guess.” He shrugged and darted away.
A few seconds later, as I sat at my desk, dialing Rebecca’s number, I saw his lean body as it darted across the backyard and disappeared around a tall, nearly leafless tree.
She answered immediately.
“It’s me,” I said.
“Yes, hi,” Rebecca said. “I just wanted to let you know that I’d gotten back to town.”
“Was it a worthwhile trip?”
“Yes.” Her voice seemed to tighten somewhat. “There were some new developments.”
“I’m surprised to hear that. I thought you already knew everything.”
“Sometimes it’s just a question of one thing leading to another.”
“Well, what did you …”
“Not now,” Rebecca interrupted quickly. “We’d planned to meet today. Can you make it in the evening? Say, around seven?”
“All right.”
“Okay, see you then,” Rebecca said as she hung up.
I held the receiver for a moment, almost as if it were her hand. I felt it cool, then let it go, and walked out into the backyard and stood beside the covered pool.
Peter was poised on the other side. He smiled a moment, then lifted his arms until his fingers touched. He held himself suspended in that position for a moment, pretending he was about to dive onto the broad black tarpaulin that stretched across the now empty pool.
“Good form,” I said. “You look like a real pro.”
He seemed pleased by my attention. “They’re teaching us at school,” he said. Then he ran over to me, his blond head bobbing left and right.
“What if there were water in the pool,” he said, “and one time I started to drown?”
“I’d come in after you.”
“What if there were sharks in the water?”
“I’d come in after you,” I repeated.
He smiled broadly, then dashed away again, this time around the far corner of the house.
Marie returned an hour later. She looked tired as she got out of the car and headed toward the house. From my place in the den, I could see her move wearily up the stairs that led to the kitchen and disappear inside the house. I expected her to join me, but she never did, and so, after a time, I went to look for her. She was not in her office, so I went upstairs.
I found her in our bedroom, lying faceup on her side of the bed, her arms folded neatly over her chest. She’d kicked off her shoes, but otherwise she remained in the same formal business clothes she’d worn to New Haven earlier in the day. A bright shaft of light fell over her from the parted curtains, and I could see small bits of dust floating weightlessly in the flooding light.
“How’d it go?” I asked.
She did not open her eyes. “Not great. They didn’t like some of the designs.”
“They never like them in the beginning,” I told her. “They have to be critical at the first presentation; otherwise they feel like they’re being led by the nose.”
Marie took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I’m tired,” she said.
“It was a long day,” I said, “the drive alone, you know?”
She opened her eyes and gazed at me softly. “Let’s go out to dinner tonight, Steve,” she said, almost plaintively, as if asking a favor, “just you and me.” She smiled. “We could use a night out, don’t you think?”
It was a simple request, not much asked nor expected, and yet I couldn’t grant it. Rebecca would be waiting for me at her cottage. It was to her that I had to go.
I shook my head. “I can’t, Marie,” I said. “I have to go into the office.”
Her eyes narrowed. “On a Saturday night?”
“It’s the final meeting on that library,” I said. “I have to finish the designs.”
She looked at me doubtfully. “On a Saturday night?” she said again.
“I’m supposed to be at the office by seven,” I told her. “Wally’s coming in, along with a few guys from the drafting department. We’re going to work through the night if we have to.”
Her eyes lingered on me a moment, then she turned away and closed them again. “You’d better start getting ready then,” she said. “It’s almost six.”
I walked over to the bed and sat down beside her. “I have a little time,” I said.
She didn’t answer, but only continued to lie stiffly beside me.
I touched her cheek with the side of my hand.
She drew her face away instantly. “No, no,” she said, a little brusquely, “I want to rest.”
I stood up and walked into the adjoining bathroom. Once there, I showered and dressed myself. Marie was still lying on the bed when I came back into the bedroom. She didn’t stir as I left her, didn’t so much as open her eyes.
Peter was in the family room when I got downstairs.
“Why are you all dressed up?” he asked, as I stepped in to say good-bye.
“I have to go into the office,” I said.
“When will you be back?”
“Not until late. There’s a lot to do.”
He smiled jokingly. “So I guess I shouldn’t wait up for you, huh?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so.” I waved good-bye, then headed outside.
I’d already backed the car nearly halfway toward the street when I glanced back toward the house. I could see the gray eye of the television as it glowed dimly toward me from the shaded window of the family room. It gave me the eerie sense of being watched, and so I let my eyes retreat from it, drifting upward, along a wall of brick and mortar, until our bedroom came into view and I saw Marie standing at the window, watching me from afar. For a single, delicate moment, we stared mutely at each other, two faces peering outward, it seemed to me, from two different worlds. Then, her eyes still gazing at me with the same penetrating force, she lifted her arms very gracefully, like the wingspread of a great bird, grasped the separate edges of the bedroom curtains, and slowly drew them together. They were still weaving slightly as I let the car drift on down the driveway and out into the street.
“Hi, Steve,” Rebecca said as she opened the door. She stepped aside to let me pass.
I took a chair not far from the window. Outside, I could see the still gray surface of the lake. It looked like a sheet of slate.
Rebecca took the chair opposite me, so that we faced each other directly, as if we were about to begin some kind of intensely demanding game.