Fairytales (11 page)

They sat silently. “I don’t know, Victoria, I just don’t know.”

“Then until you do, we’ll pretend just for tonight … tomorrow will be time enough for decisions. Now, darling, change the record to something more gay. ‘Clair de Lune’ is only lovely when you’re happy … then fix a drink while I fix dinner, and later I’ll love you as though there were going to be no tomorrow.”

Dominic and his oldest son watched from the windows of the airport as Catherine and the children descended the landing steps, then walked excitedly toward the building. Gina Maria saw her father and she waved furiously, calling out to the others, “There’s Papa and Dom.” She began to run so that she was the first in Dominic’s arms. “Papa … Papa, I’m so glad to see you. I missed you.”

Dominic held and kissed the little girl so tenderly, so lovingly. How good she felt in his arms. God, how much he had missed her. One by one, the older boys held Papa by the shoulders and Vincente’s arms were around Dominic’s waist. The excitement at seeing him was overwhelming, as Catherine stood to one side and observed. The thought entered her mind at this moment, how much they loved him, almost more than her, it seemed. A peculiar kind of resentment mingled with jealousy rankled within her that for all her devotion, her being there when they came home from school, plus the millions of other attentions she gave them, they prized Dominic as though he were some kind of a god. The thing she found so difficult to understand was him being away so much of the time, when did they have the opportunity to develop such fatherly affection? The whole thing was simply a puzzle to her. But she stood by, smiling as though she were enjoying the fatherly demonstration. Finally, Dominic said, “Let me look at all of you,” as they clustered around him. “I can’t believe it, you’ve all changed so this summer … Gina Maria, you’re a young lady.” He laughed at the sight of them. By God, they were handsome kids, so lean and tanned and healthy looking.

If nothing else, that was something to be damned proud of. Then the laughter ended as he looked at Catherine smiling at him.

“Dominic, darlin’, you look simply wonderful … seems a little celibacy hasn’t done you too much harm. You’re just as handsome as ever … I’m happy to be home, Dominic.” He thought, well, here we go again, it’s starting all over, with the little southern subtleties. She reached up, wanting to kiss him on the lips, but he turned his cheek. She disregarded the rebuff and continued as though she had not noticed. No matter … she’d be bigger than him. He was still licking his wounds, but he’d get over it just as soon as they got back to the business of being a family again. She turned her attention to Dom and kissed him. “Let me look at you … I swear you’re lookin’ more like my Daddy every day. How was school, sugar?”

For Christ’s sake, why did she have to call him by that ridiculous name. “It was okay, Mama … fine.”

“I’m glad to hear that… my goodness, Dom, I did miss you, but thanks for sending the cards … not as often as I would’a liked, but considerin’ how busy you must have been, I was grateful for the few. Now, let’s all get started. I think it’s time we went home.”

And home for Catherine had never seemed quite so sweet. She walked from room to room savoring the joys and beauty of all her past efforts. It had been a long and tedious job, furnishing this place, but it paid off. It was her … the way she wanted it, not some decorator. The few she had tried threw up their hands in despair, leaving her with her drapes down. She fought with them, saying in no uncertain terms, “This is my house and it’s gonna reflect my personality” … And it did! The colors were vibrant. The gold damask silk paper ran rampant on the walls. The marquetry, heavy with bronze ormolu, was in abundance. The Sevres, the urns, the Capo-di-Monte, the candelabras, the Dresdens, the paintings, the statues sitting regally on their pedestals and the crystal fixtures. Catherine’s house had enough to stock an antique store. It was a never-ending project that went on … and on … and on. As her eyes wandered about, she knew the dining room chairs could stand recovering although they had been done last year, but what with the wear they received … oh, well, it would be fun, why have to have reasons for everything. She hurried into the kitchen to see Stella. In Italian, Catherine said, “Stella, we’ll have something very special tonight. Remember, this is our homecoming and I want everything just perfect.
Perfetto.”

“Si, Signora.
You had a good time with your Mama, huh?”

“Oh, yes, Stella … but there’s nothing like home.”

“Si, Signora.”

“Stella, how was Mr. Rossi while I was away?”

“He was fine,
Signora.”

“That makes me happy … Stella, did he have dinner home every night?”

“No,
Signora
…”

“I don’t mean every night, but was he home often?”

Stella hesitated. She, too, was Sicilian and it took one to know one and she knew Signora was pumping her, but with her allegiance a little more toward the Signore, she answered,
“Si, Signora,
he was here often except when he was away for business.”

“Was he away often … on business, I mean?”

“Ah …
mezzo
…
mezzo, Signora.”

“Ah … I see, half and half. You think he had dinner with his
madre?”

She shrugged her shoulders and turned the palms of her hands up, “I don’t know,
Signora.”

“I
see … well, Stella, make a grocery list of what we need. Prosciutto … do we have everything in the house for the antipasto?”

“Si, Signora.”

“That’s good … now, melons with the prosciutto. I think maybe three large honeydews will be enough … and we need sweet butter, cream and parmesan cheese for the fettuccine … and Stella, we’ll have scaloppine di vitello al Marsala with pine nuts …
Signore
Rossi loves that… so I’ll order veal, olive oil we have, but we need fresh mushrooms, lemons… the Marsala wine we have … parsley and zucchini … you’ll stuff them. Now, let’s see. I think six butter lettuces will be enough for the salad, with olive oil and wine vinegar. Fresh fruit for the centerpiece … and … oh … Stella, do we have cheeses for the dessert?”

“Si, Signora.”

“That’s good … and for the zabaglione … eggs, sugar, the wines we have … so, I think that’s about all.” Catherine took her pencil and pad and went through the pantry shelf by shelf and jotted down things she would order in addition to this evening’s meal.

When she left, Stella began to make the pasta with the little machine Catherine had ordered from Italy and as she turned the handle and listened to the gears mesh, she thought
Mama mia,
if the
Signora
knew that the
Signore
had spent his evenings … more important, his nights in the bed of another woman, oh!
Madonna mia!
Stella cringed, it would be like an explosion … worse than the
bomba atomica.
But her lips were sealed … never would she breathe a word that when she sent his suits to the cleaner, there was the sweet fragrance of perfume completely unfamiliar and different than that of her
Signora’s.
And how much of a detective did she have to be when a man stayed out all night, returning at eight in the morning to change his clothes … and how sophisticated, when she found the bed unused every day.

D
OMINIC SAT IN HIS
swivel chair and stared out of the windows to the view beyond. But today it was lost from his sight. Seeing the children this morning had disturbed him more than he would ever have imagined. In Catherine’s and their absence, he had been able to handle the guilt he felt about his affair with Victoria. Two thousand miles away made the feelings more subdued. However, after seeing them, holding them close to him, and the way they responded to his embraces, he was sick with turpitude, feeling what he had done was reprehensible. His mind was filled with so many regrets and mixed emotions he found it impossible to work. As the day wore on, he became more and more confused, his feelings overlapping. What about Victoria. He still loved her … what about that? There were no simple answers. How could he say he would never see her again? The prospect was too painful and yet if he continued, how would he be able to live with himself and face his children knowing he was committing adultery. And Catherine would expect him to sleep with her and what excuse could he make. O.K., once … twice … three times, he could say he was tired, but not forever. It was the first day in almost three months he hadn’t spoken to Victoria or heard that lovely lilting voice. More than once he’d found his hand on the phone, but just as quickly, he’d said no. He could think of nothing else except the kind of hell she must be going through. Oh, God, what should I do?

He got up, pushed a button which separated the sliding panels of the hidden bar, poured himself a stiff drink and swallowed it in one gulp. Then he paced the length of the large room, no closer to the answer than he was since this morning. He pressed the intercom and told his receptionist he was leaving for the day.

How he got to his car, he couldn’t remember. All he knew was he was driving wherever his instincts directed him. Finally, he brought the car to a halt at Baker’s Beach under the span of the Golden Gate Bridge and there he sat behind the steering wheel gazing out at the blue Pacific. Victoria … Victoria, what do I do, he asked himself. My children are important, I’m responsible for them … I helped give life to them, do I forsake them, in my heart for you … or do I forsake you for them? I don’t think I can have the best of two worlds, not because I’d be the first man in history to have a mistress, but because I’d stand in my own way. It’s me … something in my psyche that somehow holds me back. If only you had been a broad that I slept with, zipped up my pants … said it’s been nice knowing you, it would have been different, but unhappily for me, that’s not the case … I love you. But the more he dwelled on it, he finally came to the realization that no matter how much Victoria meant to him, he would have to live without her. He simply couldn’t play the game, it wasn’t his style. Quickly, he started up the engine and drove to the first pay station he found, got out of the car, then stood in the booth waiting for Victoria to answer as his heart pounded. When he heard her voice he didn’t think he had sufficient strength to tell her, but he steeled himself, saying, “Victoria, how are you, darling?”

She didn’t respond immediately, then answered, “Sad … terribly sad because I know why you’re calling. I can tell from your voice.”

“What can I say … except that I wish life had been different for us.”

“A little late for that, isn’t it? I understand, in fact I knew last night it was over … you have no other choice, Dominic.”

He wanted to say, You don’t know what this is costing me … giving you up, but the words stuck in his throat.

“Actually,” she went on, “it’s worse for you … You have to live with a woman you no longer want. At least I don’t have that kind of thing to contend with.”

“Victoria, what can I say to you?”

“Nothing. We’ll both go on living, surviving. It just wasn’t meant to be … no woman can compete with seven children. The odds against that are too great … so, darling, I’m going to hang up now. But as a last good-bye … I love you, I always will.”

“And I love you and I always will.”

“Good-bye, Dominic.” He held the silent receiver in his hand for a moment, then replaced it on the hook, leaned against the wall of the small enclosure and wept.

That night at dinner the platters were passed, family style. As Dominic helped himself to the fettuccine, Catherine said, “I swear nobody, but nobody makes pasta like Stella.” There was no answer required as everyone continued to eat. If only she’d keep her mouth shut, Dominic thought. “How beautiful it is to see my whole family assembled together. I think we should all toast our blessin’ and to Papa’s health.”

“Saluté
… Papa.”

“Grazie, mio bambino, grazie.”

As the dinner progressed, Dominic listened to the happy voices of his children as they spoke in Italian just as Catherine wished them to do when in the intimate circle of the family. Much as he loved them and was happy they were all together, he felt uncomfortable and ill at ease. He missed Victoria … he simply couldn’t help himself. He ate almost mechanically, not really knowing or caring what dinner was like. His mind kept wandering off wondering how Victoria was spending this evening alone. He could guess. We’re both alone, he thought, I’m sitting right next to you in that lovely serene room, holding you close.

“Dominic, I planned this dinner especially for you … havin’ Stella make everythin’ you love.”

“I’ll buy you a Ferrari, thanks.” Oh Christ, why couldn’t she leave him alone.

“You enjoying it, Dominic?”

“Yes.”

Finally, with thanks to heaven, dinner had come to an end. The children went their separate ways. For a while Dominic sat at the table alone, drinking his wine. The thought of having to share the bed with Catherine tonight was a little more than he was up to. But after a while, he walked wearily up the marble stairs to their room. He undressed and showered, rubbed himself dry, put on his pajamas, the first he had worn in three months and got into bed, stared up at the ceiling. I suppose the end of an affair is more difficult in the beginning … it’s always that way … the loss of a person is shattering. What he felt was almost as painful as when his father had died … almost … there was that hollow feeling … that void that something was missing which was lost forever … it would take time … just time … tomorrow, it might be a little easier. But my God, Victoria was alive and living not more than ten minutes away … that was almost worse, wasn’t it? He was so deep in his thoughts, he hadn’t heard Catherine come into the room. She was saying something about Mama sending her love, and how hot the weather was and Rosa Ann’s daughter was expectin’ her first child, and that her relatives couldn’t have done more for her and the children.

They thought the twins looked just like him and that Bobby was the spittin’ image of her and that Gina Maria was going to be a positive enchantress, and imagine, Tory going off to Harvard next year when it seemed to all of them that it was only yesterday she had been a bride … and … and … and … and the next thing Dominic knew, Catherine was lying next to him in her black sheer nightgown smelling of perfume, her hair loose and her breathing a little too deep. “Dominic, you don’t know how I’ve missed you,” she said passionately and seductively. How could he go on with this; if only she’d leave him alone. “Didn’t you miss me just a little?” Catherine purred as she moved closer to him and ran her fingers through his hair. After all, someone had to make the first overture, she thought … three months … that was a long time for a man like Dominic. But she was stunned as he said, getting out of bed, “Look, Catherine … nothing has been resolved just because you came home … what is this supposed to be, a reconciliation, a roll in the hay and everything is forgotten … Well, nothing has changed. I’m still the same lying son of a bitch you accused me of being three months ago. I haven’t changed and do you think I’ve forgotten that slap across the face … not for one minute, no … or taking the children and going
home …
back to Dixie … it’s taken me a little longer to get over that and don’t think I’m going to protest if you threaten that you’re going
home
again because frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn. But the next time you pull a stunt like that, you’ll go alone, because those children are as much mine as they are yours and don’t you forget it.
Beggin’ your pardon,
the bed’s all yours.” With that, Dominic hurried from the room, slamming the door behind him, went to the storage closet, grabbed a blanket and pillow, walked quickly down the stairs to his study and locked the door.