An Ocean Apart (40 page)

Chapter
  
TWENTY-FIVE

As the taxi edged forward in the solid Park Avenue traffic, Jennifer glanced at her watch. Five to seven already, and the restaurant was still another twelve blocks away. There was no way she was going to make it in the next five minutes. She leaned sideways, feeling the dampness of her shirt becoming unstuck from the dirty plastic of the seat due to the overpowering humidity outside and the lack of air-conditioning within, and looked past the driver to see the jam stretching up as far as Grand Central. She pushed herself forward in the seat and knocked on the partition glass. The driver reached back and slid it to one side.

“Ye, leddy?” he said in an accent that gave Jennifer little confidence in his ability to find the Empire State Building, let alone the Ocean Floor restaurant.

“Can't you cut across to Lexington or Third and try going up there? This is hopeless.”

The driver smiled at her and nodded in agreement, at the same time holding up his hands and slapping them down hard against the orange acrylic steering-wheel cover.

“Yez, hopless!” he said, and remained where he was.

Jennifer stared at the back of his head, waiting for him to spin the steering wheel and make an attempt to cut off to the right, but he seemed happy to sit and wait for the traffic to start moving again, rocking his head from side to side in time to the strangled tones of the Middle Eastern singer that blared from his stereo.

She turned and looked around her in every direction to see if there was another taxi free anywhere nearby, but every one had its light off. Anyway, it would probably be out of the frying pan into the fire. She pushed her hair back off her forehead, feeling the dampness of it clammy on her hand, then, picking up her handbag, she took out her mobile phone and dialled Alex's number. It was engaged. She turned it off and threw it back into her handbag, and leaned forward once more to the open partition glass.

“Can't you at least turn on the air-conditioning?” she said angrily.

It was seven o'clock. Alex would be there by now. He was never late. She knew that, and that was why she had left the office in good time so that she could be there before him. But now it had been a full twenty-five minutes that she had been stuck in this taxi. She rolled down the window, only to be hit by a blast of air that was as hot as a hair-dryer and which only exacerbated her present discomfort. She rolled it up again and sat back to wait.

She hadn't seen him since the tennis party. He had left a message on the answerphone at the apartment, saying that he'd had to go to Dallas after all. “Unavoidable” was the word he had used. What was new? It was always unavoidable as far as Alex was concerned. Not that it mattered much. She had been working every hour that God had given her on the Tarvy's contract, so they probably wouldn't have seen much of each other at any rate. She shook her head. The bloody contract. Nothing she had produced so far gave her overwhelming confidence that they would secure it. Maybe Russ had been right. Maybe they were trying to bite off more than they could chew.

For no apparent reason, the traffic suddenly began to move again, and the driver turned and grinned, obviously thinking that theirs was now a well-bonded relationship following their brief but mutually misunderstood exchange of words.

“Ye, leddy, we move now!” He nodded contentedly and slowly the car began to roll forward up Park.

By the time they made it to the Ocean Floor, the time was edging towards twenty past seven. Having paid her budding linguist, Jennifer jumped out of the taxi and ran across the sidewalk into the restaurant.

The place was only half-full, with the consequence that she was greeted by three white-aproned waiters, obviously eager for any passing trade that they could muster. At that point, she spied Alex sitting over at a table in the corner of the room, laughing as he talked into his mobile phone. She cut a path through her welcoming committee, leaving them with frowns of resigned disappointment on their faces.

Seeing her approach, Alex quickly pressed the “end” button on the phone and tucked it away in the inside pocket of his jacket.

“Sorry I'm late, darling,” she said, slinging her handbag over the back of the chair. “The traffic was lousy.”

Alex got up and reached over the table and gave her a peck on the cheek.

“You looked happy just then on the phone,” she said, pulling out the chair and sitting down. “Do I take it that all went well in Dallas, then?”

“Not really. That was just a social call to, er”—he faltered for a second—“to John. Now listen.” He picked up the menu and made a show studying it. “I didn't know when you were going to arrive, so I've ordered you mussels and swordfish. I hope that's all right?”

“Fine.” She reached forward to pick up her napkin, but was outmanouevred by a waiter who quickly plucked it away from her outstretched hand and, flicking it open, placed it on her lap.

“Good eat!” he said, smiling broadly at Jennifer.

Jennifer watched him turn and walk away. “Does no one speak English in this city any more?”

“What?” Alex asked.

“Oh, nothing,” she sighed, shaking her head. She leaned on the table and cupped her chin on the back of her linked hands. “So Dallas wasn't a success, then?”

“No, not really.” He reached over with the wine bottle and filled her glass. “I mean, I think it'll work out in the long run, but the company we're dealing with seems pretty edgy about the new system. It's just a question of earning their confidence.”

Jennifer nodded slowly, understanding the implications. “Meaning that you're going to have to hold their hand for the time being.”

Alex let out a long sigh. “Yeah, I'm afraid so. I'm heading straight back there after San Francisco.” He glanced around the restaurant to see if there was any sign of their food, then pushed back the sleeve of his shirt and looked at his watch. “I hope they're quick. I can't be too long.” He turned back to Jennifer. “So how's the new contract going?”

Jennifer leaned back in her chair. “We haven't got it yet, Alex. I'm just doing the proposal at the moment, but the problem is that it's completely new ground for me. I'm not really sure if I've hit it quite right so far, but…”

She tailed off, realizing that he wasn't listening. He was looking at his watch again and turning round to see if their food was arriving. At that point, a waiter came backwards through the kitchen doors and headed for their table with two plates held high in his hands.

“Mussels?”

Jennifer nodded and the waiter placed the steaming bowl in front of her.

“I get you finger-bowl, madam—and for you, sir, seafood salad.”

“Thank you.” Alex looked up at the waiter. “Could you see if we can get our second course as quickly as possible? I have a plane to catch.”

With a smile and a bow, the waiter turned briskly on his heel and hurried off back to the kitchen.

“That looks good,” Alex said, picking up his knife and fork. He looked across at Jennifer, who sat staring at him, making no move to start her meal. “What's the matter? Isn't that what you wanted?”

She shook her head slowly. “Alex, how long have we been married?”

Alex had taken a mouthful of salad as she asked the question, and stopped with his fork in his mouth. “Whop?”

Jennifer didn't reply, letting the question sink into Alex's brain. She picked up one of the mussel shells and tilted it back to her mouth.

“What was that supposed to mean?”

“We've been married thirteen years now,” she said quietly, “just in case you've forgotten, but I could bet you that anyone here who just happened to witness how we're acting with each other would think that we've hardly ever met before. I mean, we're like total strangers! What have we talked about so far? Your business and mine.” She leaned over the table towards him. “We have a life together, Alex. Thirteen years' worth of it, for Chrissakes!”

Alex let his knife and fork fall with a clatter to his plate and he raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Come on, Jennifer,” he said in a whisper. “Don't start making a scene here. People will hear.”

“I am not—making—a—scene!” she hissed at him between clenched teeth. She paused to compose herself. “It's just that every time we see each other, we seem to drift further and further apart. We don't seem to have anything in common any more—or do we? What's gone wrong? We did—no, that's not right—we
do
have a really good life together, Alex. You're my best friend. You're my lover, though one might not have thought it of late, and you also happen to be my husband and the father of my child. But nowadays, it seems to be all too much like a … a business arrangement.”

Alex cocked his head to the side and continued to eat his meal. “Well, it was you who chose to go back to work. I didn't make you.”

“Alex, I am not trying to fix blame. I just want for us to be…” Jennifer was interrupted by the waiter, who placed a finger-bowl down in front of her.

“Is our main course on the way?” Alex asked him.

“Yes, sir. On the way.” He turned and left the table, and Jennifer continued. “I just want us to be together more, even if it's only on weekends.”

“Well, you could always give up your job. You don't need to work. I'm successful enough.”

“And how does one measure success, Alex?” Jennifer said, louder than she meant. Alex looked round the restaurant to see if anyone was looking in their direction. “Is it the number of zeroes that's on the paycheck at the end of each month? Or is it how much fun you have with your child, and how much you are involved with his upbringing? Does that count for anything? I mean, right now Jasmine and David seem to be the ones most involved with Benji, especially David, who—”

Alex picked up the napkin from his lap and threw it onto the table, and slapped down his hands hard onto its surface.

“Jennifer, are you comparing my contribution to Benji's upbringing with that of some … unmotivated good-for-nothing who just walked in off the street? Because if so, I resent that! Okay, Jasmine does a lot for Benji, but that's what's she's paid for, but don't start giving me all that crap about this guy David. Anyway, Jasmine works in order that
we
can work, so—come on, you tell me—how much time are
you
spending with Benji, O perfect mother? It cuts both ways. You do realize that, don't you?”

Jennifer finished off the last of the mussels and dipped her fingers into the bowl and wiped her hands on her napkin, then let out a long, resigned sigh.

“Okay … I know … you're right, it does cut both ways. The difference is that I have the whole thing going through my brain all the time. Do you?”

Alex didn't reply, knowing that whatever he said would be taken in the wrong light. The pause was long enough for Jennifer to realize that what she had intended to be a reasoned discussion was now turning into a heated argument. She reached over and put her hand on his.

“I'm sorry, darling, I didn't mean for this to happen. It's just that … well … I just want us to be together more—as a family. I know that might sound like a cliché, but the whole thing seems so hopeless right now!”

The waiter came over and placed their main courses in front of them. Alex glanced at his watch. “Christ, it's eight o'clock. I haven't got time to eat this. I'll have to go, or I'm going to miss the plane.”

Jennifer nodded. “Okay,” she said quietly.

“Are you happy to eat by yourself or do you want to leave it?”

“No, I think I've had my fill. Anyway, I don't know how good this place is. Those mussels tasted a bit strange.”

Alex smiled at her and called back the waiter. “I'm afraid we're going to have to leave. We've run out of time.”

“But you order food!”

“I know, but we have no time to eat it!”

“But you have to pay for food.”

“Fine!” Alex snapped at him. “Just get the check!”

The waiter pulled a long face and stomped off, and Alex and Jennifer looked at each other for a moment before bursting out into fits of subdued laughter.

“You see what I mean?” Jennifer said. “It's catching!”

He bent down and picked up his brief-case, then paused before rising to his feet and looked across at Jennifer. “We'll work it out, darling. I promise you. But it just might take some time, okay?”

Jennifer nodded. “Okay.”

He pushed back his chair. “Come on then. I'll get a couple of cabs.”

The traffic was by this time much lighter, and Alex had no trouble in flagging down two empty taxis. He walked over to Jennifer and made to give her a kiss on the cheek, but she tilted her head round so that his lips came into contact with her mouth.

“I love you, Alex,” she whispered.

He smiled at her. “Yeah, I know. Look, I'll give you a call when I'm back, okay?”

“Sure. Have a good trip.”

He nodded, then turned and walked over to the cab and got in. It sped away from the kerb before he had time to close the door, and Jennifer stood watching until it had crossed over the lights on Park Avenue. Oh, Alex, you could have said it too. Not just “yeah.” She put her hand to her forehead, feeling the first pangs of a headache coming on. It must be the humidity, or maybe just the after-effects of their stupid argument. That's exactly what it was—sheer stupidity, on both their parts. She screwed her eyes tightly shut to try to relieve the pressure building up in her head, and despite the heat she suddenly began to feel cold, with an involuntary shudder at the realization.

“You comin', lady?” the taxi driver called out to her.

Jennifer hugged her arms around her body and walked over to the car and jumped in the back.

“Where to?”