“Sarah, it’s understandable that you should feel this way. It’s a terrific experience to star on a TV show, and there’s no question that you were brilliant in the part. Real life is bound to seem unexciting for a while after that.”
“Life was never real for me before this.”
“‘Real?’” His voice had a harder quality. “Nothing about this was real. People in tights playing spiders. Cobwebs made of nylon. Arc lamps and cameras and sound equipment all around you.”
“What happened inside me was real.”
“Listen, what you’re suggesting is not just a delusion. It’s dangerous, Sarah. You may think reality is dull or depressing, but you can’t abandon it.”
“Ed, I’m not losing my mind, for Christ’s sake. I just want to raise my life to a higher level.”
“So do millions of people. They try religion, philosophy, meditation, drugs. TV documentaries are something new, I admit.”
“Are you putting me on now?”
“I’m trying to make you understand that this is crazy, Sarah. You were Spider Girl for a couple of weeks while the program was being made. It was exciting and exhilarating. But it’s over. The media will still call you Spider Girl, and that’s okay so long as you treat it as what it is — just a name. You’re Sarah Jordan and I am Ed Cunningham and I’m telling you now to take something to help you sleep. In the morning I’ll call Harry and ask him to ease up on the interview schedule. Then we’ll fix a time to talk this over. I know I have to bear some responsibility for this, and I’m going to help you all I can. Will you do as I ask, now?”
“Okay. You will fix a time for us to meet?”
“Very soon.”
“You’re not angry that I woke you up?”
“No. I’m glad you thought of me. Sweet dreams.”
“God bless.”
She took a Seconal right away. She felt calmer for talking to him, but she was not convinced that he was right.
As she drifted toward sleep, she drew her knees to her chest, and in a short time she was in the cavity above the web, waiting for the signal thread to vibrate.
Harry Shakespeare’s call woke her at nine-forty-five. He told her he had heard from Ed Cunningham and he understood perfectly that she wanted a break from the press. He had canceled the two appointments set for that morning. There was a fitting at April May’s at two-thirty, and he assumed that was still on (she confirmed that it was), and there was a change of plans anyway for tomorrow because Havelock was ready to mix the sound and he wanted her at NBC. The next engagement after that was the big one. The Today show on Monday morning.
The outfit was totally unexpected. A white silk pantsuit, fitted as close around the hips as anything she had ever worn. A choker, also white, attached to the bodice by eight white silk strands that fanned over the plunge front to give the effect of a cobweb. Silver sequins sewn irregularly on the strands represented dewdrops. The master touch was the cluster of black sequins arranged on the left side of the bodice to give the clear impression of forelegs and palps and a head emerging from under the silk.
She adored it.
April produced sketches of other designs on the spider theme. There were two evening gowns, a night dress and companion negligee and pajamas. They would be made in black and white silk for her to model in the fashion-magazine feature. The pantsuit had been made first, for the Today show. It was agreed she could wear white pop socks and the black slingbacks she had bought for her dinner with Ed. After much consideration it was decided she would not wear a bra under the silk. She waited half an hour while they made some small adjustments, and then she left the salon with the suit wrapped in tissue in a bag. There was a cool breeze when she stepped onto West Thirty-Fourth Street. She decided to walk as far as Fifth Avenue, looking in store windows, savoring her freedom.
On Saturday evening she stayed in her apartment and watched the sixth program (hers) in the Never Fear series. She had not seen them all, but it was soon obvious why it was generally agreed that this was the best. It began with some predictable footage of creatures commonly feared — a snake, a rat, a bat, and a spider. Then Ed was on, explaining that less apparently disturbing creatures and experiences can induce phobias. He talked with that concise manner verging on curtness that she found so stimulating. In a series of short conversations with phobia sufferers, he coaxed some extraordinary information from them as coolly as if they were discussing the weather. He was shown at work with a patient, using the electrical-conductivity test, and then the program switched to Sarah’s interview, and Ed’s voice-over warned the audience that the film included an unscheduled incident.
She watched Ed more than she did herself. Hearing him repeat the questions he had asked her that morning in the lab, she felt the pulse beat in her neck and her lips went dry. She could not remember feeling like this at the time, but she saw now that it was a turning point. His questions were short and businesslike, but through them came the certainty that he cared. She could not have explained it to anyone else, but she knew. And that, more than anything, was why she had responded with confidence and fluency.
She needed him in her life.
The rest of the sequence, Rick Saville’s accident with the case of Tegenariae and the business of recovering them, made no impact on Sarah. It might as well have been a commercial she had seen ten times before. She sat on her bed holding a pillow against her chest, biting the side of her hand as if it might stop the ache of her whole body for this one man in the world who understood her She wanted his love. His touch.
Yet she was terrified of telling him, in case he became the psychiatrist, dismissing it as infatuation. Suddenly the credits were rolling and the phone was ringing. It startled her. She didn’t get calls late in the evening. Of course — it had to be Ed, calling to make sure she was in a better frame of mind after seeing the program. They were entitled to indulge in some mutual congratulation.
In the split second before picking up the phone, she told herself this was not the moment to hammer him with the full force of her feelings. Not over the phone.
“Hi. Who is this?”
“Someone who just watched a superb TV show. Congratulations, Sarah. Terrific!” The voice was not Ed’s.
She felt like hanging up. It was Don Rigden.
“I figured you were sure to be watching, only I didn’t know if you would be home. Aren’t you celebrating? You should be.”
“You make it sound like a first night or something. It was just a TV documentary, Don.”
“Hey, don’t give me that! Starting tonight, you’re in the big leagues. The papers are going to be full of you tomorrow.”
“So what should I do — dance on the roof?”
“What are you doing?”
“As a matter of fact, I’m sitting on my bed, watching television.”
“You’re not even having a party?”
“Does it sound like it?”
“You’re quite alone?”
“What is this — the Inquisition?”
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. If you have company, I’ll hang up. I just thought maybe—”
“Stupid!” said Sarah. “There isn’t anyone with me.” She was not answerable to Don for the company she kept, but she didn’t want him making totally wrong assumptions.
“Really? Listen, I have an idea. You can’t expect to go to sleep after watching yourself on TV? You need to shake the images out of your head. I’m going to pick you up in about a half hour and take you out.”