“Do you regret the past, Kezia?” But he looked up with horror at the reaction in her eyes. He had said the wrong thing again. Lord, it was hard to talk to the girl. Crucifixion over lunch.
“If you are referring to Lucas, Edward, of course I don’t regret it. He’s the only decent thing that’s happened to me in the last ten or twenty, or maybe even thirty years. What I regret is the revocation. There’s nothing I can do about it now. There’s nothing anyone can do. You can’t appeal a revocation of parole. It’s totally pointless.”
“I see. I didn’t realize you were still that involved in this … this problem. I thought that after …”
She cut him off, with a look of extreme aggravation.
“You thought wrong. And just so you don’t die of the shock if you see it in the papers, I’m going back out there shortly.”
“What in God’s name for?” He was speaking to her sotto voce so no one would hear, but Kezia was speaking in her normal voice.
“To visit him, obviously. And I told you, I don’t want to discuss it. And do you know something, Edward? I’m finding this entire subject inappropriate with you, and this lunch unbearably boring. As a matter of fact, darling, I think I’ve about had it.” Her voice was rising to an unpleasant timbre, and Edward could feel himself squirm inside the starch in his collar. He was hating every minute of it. She drained her glass, looked around the room for a minute, and then looked back at him strangely.
“Kezia, are you all right? You looked rather pale for a moment.” He looked terribly worried.
“No, really, I’m fine.”
“Shall I have them get you a cab?”
“Yes, maybe I ought to go. To tell you the truth, it’s a hell of a strain. That bitch from Women’s Wear has been watching us since we sat down, and all of a sudden I feel like the whole goddamn place is watching me to see what kind of shape I’m in. It’s all I can do not to stand up and tell them all to go fuck themselves.”
Edward blanched. “No, Kezia. I don’t think you ought to do that.”
“Oh hell, darling, why not? For a laugh?”
She was playing with him again, and so cruelly. Why? Why did she have to do that to him? Didn’t she know that he cared? That it tore him apart to see her this way … that he was not made merely of white shirts and dark suits … that someone lived inside the elegant tailoring, a heart … a body … a man. Tears burned his eyes and there was a gruffness in his voice as he quietly stood and took Kezia’s arm. He looked different now, and she sensed it too. The games were over.
“Kezia, you’re leaving now.” She could hardly hear his words, but she could have read his tone from across the room. She was being dismissed like a naughty child.
“Are you very angry?” She whispered it to him as he helped her into her mink. She was frightened now. She had only wanted to play … wanted to … hurt. They both knew it.
“No. Only very sorry. For you.” He guided her toward the door, keeping a firm grip on her elbow. She was going to have no chance to misbehave between the table and the door. The fun was over. And she felt oddly submissive at his side. He cast a few frosty smiles left and right as they made their way out. He didn’t want anyone to think there was trouble, and Kezia looked dreadful.
They stood for a moment at the cloakroom while he waited for the girl to retrieve his coat and homburg.
“Edward, I …” She had started to cry now and held tightly to his arm.
“Kezia, not here.” Enough was enough. He couldn’t bear it anymore.
She swept the tears away with one hand gloved in black suede, and tried out a wintry smile.
“Where are you going from here? Home to lie down, I hope.” And get hold of yourself. He didn’t say it, but it was in his eyes, as he settled the homburg into place.
“Actually, I was going to show up at the Arthritis Ball meeting today. But I don’t know if I’m up to it.”
“I don’t think you are.”
“Yes. But I haven’t been there in so long.” And now there’s Tiffany’s place to fill as the local socialite lush…. Motherfucking old bags. Oh God, what if she said … what if … what if…. She felt a rush of heat follow the wave of pale green and wondered if she was going to faint or throw up. That would make a story for WWD.
Edward took charge of her elbow again and led her out to the street. The cold air seemed to restore her. She took a deep breath and felt better.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch you do this to yourself? And for … for …” Her eyes sought his but he couldn’t stop himself anymore. “For nothing. For that … that no one. Kezia, for God’s sake, stop now. Write to him, tell him you don’t want to see him again. Tell him….”
Her words stopped him cold. “Are you telling me this is a choice?” She stood still, watching him.
“What do you mean?” He felt ice trickle slowly down his back.
“You know exactly what I mean. Is this a choice, Edward? Your friendship or his love?”
No, little girl, my love or his. But he couldn’t say that to her.
“Because if that’s what you’re saying … then I’m saying goodbye.” She held out her arm before he could answer and stopped a cab that was passing. It came to a screeching halt just beyond the canopy.
“No, Kezia, I …”
“See you soon, darling.” She pecked at his cheek before he could regain his composure and slipped quickly into the cab. Before he knew it she was gone. Gone. “… then I’m saying goodbye.” How could she? And so heartlessly, without any emotion in her eyes.
But what he didn’t know was that she couldn’t give up Luke. Not for anyone. Not even for him. Luke was her route to escape from the world that had haunted her. Luke had shown her the way out; now she had to stick with him. She couldn’t turn back. Not even for Edward. And alone in the cab, she wanted to die. She had done it. She had killed him. Killed Edward. It was like killing her father … like killing Tiffany again. Why did someone always have to get mutilated, Kezia wondered as she drove uptown, fighting back sobs. And why Edward? Why him? He only had her, and she knew it. But maybe it had to be. She couldn’t leave Luke, and if it was a question of loyalty … Edward could take it. He was so sturdy. He would always weather what had to be borne. He was good about those things. He understood.
Kezia did not know that he would spend the rest of the day walking, looking into faces, looking at women, and thinking of her.
The cab drew up outside the Fifth Avenue address Kezia had given. She was right on time for the meeting. The committee would be beginning to gather. She thought of their faces as she paid the driver the fare…. All those faces … and mink coats … and sapphires … and emeralds … and … she felt a wave of panic sweep over her. The lunch with Edward had left her drained, and she didn’t feel able to cope. She paused for a moment before going inside the building. And then she knew. She couldn’t go in. The prying eyes at La Grenouille had been bad enough. But at least they had to keep their distance. The women on the committee didn’t, and they’d be all over her in an instant, with snide questions and sneering asides. And of course they had all seen the newspaper photographs of her collapsing in court, and read every word of the story. It was simply too much to handle.
The snow crunched beneath her feet as she walked to the corner to hail another cab and go home. She wanted to flee. She had unthinkingly walked back into the insanity of her life before Luke. And even for a day it unnerved her. From cab to cab, from luncheon to meeting to nowhere to nothing to drink to drank to drunk. She wondered what in God’s name she was doing.