After the Reunion (6 page)

She glanced at her watch and began to pack up her papers from the office. “Let’s go to bed,” she said.

In bed with Alexander, she lay with her head on his shoulder. He had his arm around her. She ran her fingers lightly across his chest, then down his body, pretending to be casual, hoping he would get aroused. It gave her such pleasure just to touch him, how could he not like being stroked? “I love you, do you know that?” she said.

“I love you, too,” he said. He kissed the top of her head, two quick little kisses, as one would kiss a cute child. Then he reached up and turned off the light beside him. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Sleep well.”

“I’m not tired,” she said. She sounded petulant, and that terrified her.

“Close your eyes and you will be,” Alexander said. He was already curled up comfortably, his back to her, in case she had any more ideas of getting at him.

She had to say something, quickly before he was really asleep. “It’s been a long time since we made love,” she said.

“It’s not been long,” he said. Chris knew then that he knew exactly how long it had been, just as she did.

“Could we talk about it?” She tried to sound calm and reassuring, hiding how frightened she was. At least she didn’t sound petulant anymore. “We’ve always been able to talk about things.”

“I’m just tired,” he said.

She sat up and touched him gently on the shoulder. “Please, Alexander. I don’t know what you’re thinking, and it scares me.”

He turned around then and faced her, and the look in his eyes broke her heart. “I don’t really understand it myself,” he said. “I’ve thought about it a lot. I know you’ve felt left out, and I’ve tried …” He sighed, a deep, heavy sigh of pain. She knew whatever he was going to tell her would not be a lie, and she could hardly catch her breath for the fear of what it would be. “I can’t sleep with anybody anymore,” he said. “Not numbers, not you; nobody at all. It’s as if I’ve turned off my sexuality.”

“When did this happen?”

“Look,” he said, “I want you to know, first of all, that I love you more than I ever did, and that you and Nicholas are the most important things in my life. I think maybe this has something to do with love. I know that whenever I did something secretly, you knew—not exactly when, but you sensed it. I didn’t want to be that way; meaningless sex with strangers, hurting you, and I felt guilty and hated myself afterward. And then one day I was with a number and I couldn’t go through with it. I wasn’t attracted at all. I couldn’t wait to get away from him. And after that …”

She waited, numb. “After that, what?”

“I don’t know what I am anymore,” Alexander said. “I’m not gay, I’m not straight. I seem to have no physical desires.”

“Can’t I help?”

“No.” He reached over quickly and gathered her into his arms, holding her tightly. “Chris, I didn’t mean that to sound as heartless as it did. I’m sorry. What I mean was that
of course
I hoped you could help me, but it’s all my fault. None of this has anything to do with you.”

“Maybe it’s a phase,” she said.

He smiled, but his eyes were sad. “I hope so. I’ll kill myself if it isn’t.”

“Don’t you dare kill yourself!” she said in horror. “I’d rather have you this way than not at all.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I am. Look, maybe we could go to a marriage counselor, or a sex therapist—privately, of course. I’m sure nothing is alien to them. It’s not supposed to take long either. A few sessions … you talk about it …”

“I couldn’t do that,” Alexander said quickly. The muscle in his jaw twitched.

“Nobody would know,” Chris pleaded.

“I would know.”

“Maybe it’s a phase,” she said again, finally.

After she turned off the light they lay there for a long time sleeplessly. Her eyes grew accustomed to the dark and she could see that Alexander was staring at the ceiling. He looked so sad and she felt so sorry for him that she forgot to feel sorry for herself. She reached over and took his hand, and they lay there, side by side, and then he slid his hand from hers and turned over, away from her, and slipped into sleep. He had finally gotten it out, and now it would be better for him. At least now she understood.

They had been through worse things. Well, perhaps not worse, but different. They loved each other. She had always waited, and somehow things had always worked out eventually. She had to believe that again.

But three months went by and nothing changed. It was June, and the evenings were light. They were spending weekends in their country house in Connecticut, inviting friends to come with them, filling the long days with pleasant things. The stars were brilliant at night, the air smelled of fresh green life, and the days of sun left Chris feeling sensual and pulsing with desire. Her ripeness seemed an affront to Alexander’s dry celibacy. He was neither charmed nor attracted, and she wondered if other people could see how she felt. It made her ashamed; and sometimes angry, at herself and even at him. Then she would feel guilty about resenting him for a problem he didn’t know how to solve, and tenderness would rush through her until her eyes filled with tears. He was so kind and thoughtful—and so vulnerable. But his affection for her was playful, never sexual, and she wanted more.

She had discussed it with Annabel, but Annabel’s idea of a solution was not hers. “I think you need a lover,” Annabel had said. “Some charming, marvelous man who makes you feel happy. Nothing serious. Just a fling.”

Chris was annoyed. “You act like it’s nothing. ‘Have a fling,’ like ‘Have dessert.’”

“That’s all it should be,” Annabel said cheerfully. “How about Cameron?”

“My
boss
?”

“Why not? You talk about him enough. He’s married, so he’s safe.”

“He certainly is safe,” Chris said. “He has a young wife.”

“So what? I hear she’s totally vapid. A little of that goes a long way.”

“Forget it,” Chris said.

A lover: what a joke. She would not even allow herself to imagine it.

The sales conference for all the Cameron magazines, including the one Chris worked on, was being held in Scottsdale, Arizona, this year. Chris flew there with several people from her office, all of them looking forward to a change of pace even though it would still be work. There would be meetings and presentations, but also time to sit around the pool, cocktail parties, a barbecue, and, the last night, a banquet. Spouses, roommates, and dates were not allowed. Since part of the sales conference fell on the weekend, Alexander was going to the country as usual, having invited some friends. In a way, Chris was relieved to be away from the tension that had pervaded their lives these past months.

Unpacking in her motel room, she realized she had brought too many clothes, which was out of character for her, but she’d been distracted lately. The motel was a large, sprawling compound in the middle of what seemed to be the desert, surrounded by mountains and ringed with tall palm trees. It had been built to appear to be many small bungalows, although they were really just rooms. Each one had its own patio in back, covered with Astroturf, leading out to real lawn. There were tennis courts, a pool, a Jacuzzi, a poolside bar, and a large main building which housed the meeting rooms as well as two dining rooms. Chris reread her schedule and then went out to find the pool.

She joined a small group of people she knew, and stretched out in a metal chair. It was late in the afternoon, but the sun was warm on her face. Everyone was talking about how the mountain in the distance looked like a camel. She glanced around to see if Cameron was anywhere. She really didn’t expect to see him, and she didn’t. On the other side of the pool she saw his secretary.

When it started to get chilly Chris went to her room to dress for dinner, and the phone rang.

“Chris? Bill Cameron.”

She was surprised, and yet she was not. “Hi,” she said.

“I’m taking a few people to a restaurant near here tonight at eight o’clock,” he said. “I wondered if you’d like to join us.”

She had already planned to have dinner at the hotel with the group from the pool, but she knew they wouldn’t care if she changed her mind. She hoped they wouldn’t be jealous when they found out she had been invited to dinner with the brass. No, they’d think it was a command performance. Besides, she didn’t care what they thought, or what anybody thought, and she never had. “I’d love to,” she said.

Cameron had invited four other people. They drove to a Mexican restaurant that looked like an old mansion, and when he told everyone where to sit he put Chris next to him, which pleased her, because she liked to be near him. She noticed the look of interest and amusement he had when he looked at each of his guests, much the same way he looked at her when they had their lunches or drinks alone together—the good host, the good friend, someone who cared about their futures. They were all executives, like herself; two men and two women. It was a relaxed, totally pleasant evening, and ended later than she’d expected. By the time they got back to the motel it was midnight.

Chris sat on the edge of her bed beside the phone and wondered if it was too late to call Alexander. She didn’t want to wake him up. Besides, she felt so calm and mellow, all alone, away from the object of her desire and her frustration, that all she wanted was to crawl under the covers and fall peacefully asleep. It was a moment in a capsule, out of time, and she wanted it to last. She didn’t call.

The next day was spent in meetings. Cameron made a speech. For their lunch break they had a buffet in the main dining room, which was annoying, because everyone was looking longingly at the pool area, where the desert sun was shining brightly. After lunch there were more meetings, and then they were let out at four o’clock, like kids from school, and everyone rushed for their swimsuits and suntan lotion. When Chris walked into her room the phone rang.

Oh, it’s Alexander, she thought.

“Chris? Bill Cameron.”

“I know your voice,” she said.

“Just habit,” he said. “Tonight is the big cookout.”

“I know.”

“Colored lights, waiters dressed in costumes, a mariachi band, a live donkey wearing a hat, big greasy steaks … let’s sneak away.”

She laughed. “It does sound horrendous.”

“Seven o’clock,” he said. “They’ll all be drinking their margaritas. I’ll drive by your room and you jump into the car.”

“Shall I wear a black veil?”

He laughed. “Jeans will be okay. See you at seven.”

After she hung up she realized how excited she was. It was going to be an adventure. There was just enough time to wash her hair. She wondered where they were going. Some dump, probably, where no one would find them. She was glad that she looked well in jeans, and changed her sweater twice before finally deciding on a silk shirt. She hummed along to the music on the radio while she put on her makeup. Then she called Alexander in the country to be sure everything was all right. He said it was, and that he was having drinks on the terrace with his weekend guests.

Chris heard the crunch of tires on the gravel outside her front door. “Oh, then I don’t want to keep you,” she said lightly. “Goodnight … I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Her heart turned over at the deception. What deception? That she hadn’t said she was rushing off to have dinner with someone? Alexander knew she was having breakfasts, lunches, drinks, and dinners with people all this time. What in the world was she feeling guilty about?

As she ran to Cameron’s car she heard the sound of music drifting over from the pool area where the party was in progress. He was alone, and he smiled at her as she slid in beside him. “You look very pretty,” he said.

“Thank you.”

The car sped off down the road into the desert evening. There was soft music on his car radio, too; but something old, from her past, from one of the many college dances she’d never gone to. She glanced at him and realized she was unaccountably nervous. He looked freshly shaved and smelled faintly of lime cologne. His shirt was crisp and white, and he was even wearing a silk scarf knotted around his neck like a cravat. For some reason she found it touching that he’d gone to these preparations for her.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“An oasis.”

It was. Off the highway, in the middle of the desert, with not a shopping mall to be seen; the sky filled with big stars like glittering flowers, the scent of sagebrush rising around them, the mountains dark purple shapes in the distance; a very clean little restaurant surrounded by palm trees. Inside it was cool and dimly lit, with nice leather booths. Cameron ordered a bottle of wine.

“How did you find this place?”

“It’s famous,” he said.

“Oh.” She who had always had a million things to say to this man, or to anyone, couldn’t think of a thing to say. She who had been on only one date in her entire life, except for Alexander, felt like a girl on a date. She busied herself with reading the menu, so he wouldn’t sense how totally at a loss she was.

“What do you think you’re going to have?” he asked comfortably.

“The barbecued chicken,” Chris said, because it was the first thing she saw. She thought if she ate anything at all she would probably choke.

“Cheers,” he said, raising his glass, and drank.

“Cheers.” She sipped the wine.
Did Annabel feel this way when she was starting an adventure
? Of course not; Annabel was never nervous. And besides, Cameron wasn’t one bit interested; she was just somebody who was fun to have dinner with. Well, hardly fun tonight, just sitting here trying not to look at him.

And then she noticed his hands were shaking, just a little.

The young Chris, the one who had been known for her sharp-tongued honesty, would have said: I don’t do this. Do you fool around, and if so, why are you so nervous? Or are the people who
don’t
fool around the ones whose hands shake when they start to think of it? But this adult Chris, who moved smoothly through her world and Alexander’s, never said things like that.

He must think she was boring tonight. He was probably sorry he had thought of this escapade and wished they were back at the party. She couldn’t move; she felt as if she were melting.