Farewell, Dorothy Parker (21 page)

Chapter 23

“Is tonight the night?” Mrs. Parker asked.

Violet was getting ready for her third date with Michael. And though the second date had been as romantic as she had hoped, she didn’t think she was ready to take the next step and invite him into her bed. After all, she had jumped into her relationship with Carl too soon after her divorce from Andrew. Maybe it was wise to take things slowly this time around, especially since she was in a state of near constant anxiety over the custody case, despite her assurances to Delaney.

“I think it might be best to wait,” she said.

“Didn’t you enjoy your last date with him?”

Violet looked at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a silky green tank top and lean black jeans. Their last date had been at a fancy waterside restaurant on the Long Island Sound, and tonight they would be going to a local pub, where a friend of Michael’s was playing in a band. She held a pair of dangly earrings against her face and decided they were too glittery. She put them back and pulled out her favorite hoops.

“It was wonderful,” she said. And it was. Violet hadn’t meant to compare him to her exes, but she couldn’t help it, especially since he came out so far ahead. Unlike Carl, who expected her to be the mommy and take care of all the details, Michael had gone ahead and made reservations. And unlike Andrew, who was so cheap he never wanted to eat anyplace more expensive than Applebee’s, Michael had selected an elegant spot.

It had been a mild evening, so they dined on the deck overlooking the water. She hadn’t meant to spend so much of the evening talking about Delaney, but Michael was deeply moved by all the girl had been through.

“Was she able to go to her parents’ funeral?” he had asked.

Violet shook her head, “She was still in the hospital. When she recovered, I asked if she wanted to visit the cemetery, but she just rolled her eyes. The therapist said I shouldn’t push it, so I didn’t.”

“She’ll let you know when she’s ready,” he said.

“I think she’s moving in that direction,” Violet said. “She brought it up the other day—wanted to know if they were buried side by side, and if someone was taking care of the graves. That was the first time she ever asked about it.”

“Every step must feel so significant.”

Later, she opened up to him about the phone call from Sandra and her custody worries, and he tried to quell her fears.

“Judges aren’t stupid,” he had said. “I bet yours will see the incident for what it was—one isolated event that wasn’t even especially traumatic.”

Violet shook her head. “The Webers’ lawyer is an animal,” she said. “He’s going to sink his teeth into this and not let go.”

“Even so,” Michael said, “the judge will be able to see the whole picture once your own lawyer has a chance to weigh in. You need to have a little faith.”

“I know,” she said. “But I’m petrified. There’s so much at stake.”

He reached out and took her hand. “I’m so glad she has you.”

It was the single moment from the date she replayed most in her head. This guy had a real heart, and the way it made Violet feel was as exhilarating as it was frightening. She was falling too hard too fast. Tonight she would try to keep a level head and slow this train down.

Dorothy Parker rose from the side chair and sat on Violet’s bed as if testing it out. “I think you should invite him up here.”

“Forget it,” Violet said. “I’m not ready.”

“Of course you are. Just tell yourself you deserve some fun.”

“I appreciate the thought.”

“Won’t you even consider sleeping with him tonight?” Mrs. Parker asked.

“I told you. I’ve decided to wait.”

“Well, don’t wait too long. Playing hard to get only works to a point. Men enjoy a challenge, but they look at dating as an investment. If it’s not going to pay off, they take their business elsewhere.”

“And I thought you were a romantic,” Violet said.

“The space between romance and pragmatism is exactly where a girl can get herself in trouble,” Mrs. Parker said.

Violet sighed. She knew Michael wouldn’t cut and run if she didn’t put out tonight. Still, he was a man, and he wasn’t going to wait forever. If his patience was running out, would she sense it? Or would he just stop calling and move on to someone more ready for a relationship?

Her nervousness seemed to have a direct line to her bladder, and she excused herself to the bathroom. Almost immediately the doorbell rang. Violet cursed her timing, rushed through her business, washed her hands, and ran down the stairs.

“You look beautiful,” Michael said, when she opened the door.

He did, too, in a light green oxford shirt and jeans. Violet smiled.

“People will assume we’re intentionally coordinated,” she said, indicating their almost-matching outfits.

“Do we care?” he asked.

“We do not,” she answered.

“Then let’s go.”

Violet hesitated. There was something she was forgetting, wasn’t there? Something she absolutely had to do before she left.

She went through a mental checklist. Perfume, cell phone, earrings
…Then she remembered. Dorothy Parker was still loose on the second floor. That was a disaster waiting to happen.

“Just give me one second,” she said to Michael, and dashed up the stairs.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, when she walked into her bedroom, “but I have to close the book now.” She looked around. “Mrs. Parker? Where are you?”

Her mentor had gone invisible.

“Are you hiding from me? Don’t be childish.”

No response.

“Fine,” Violet said. “Be that way. But I don’t have time for this now. I’m going to close the book.”

She took a step toward the dresser, where the Algonquin guest book lay open, and stopped. There was a hot tingling in her feet so severe she couldn’t move another inch.

Oh no, she thought. No!

Violet looked around. There had to be something she could do to prevent Dorothy Parker from taking over her body.

The heat moved up her legs. “I know why you’re doing this,” she said out loud. “But I’m not ready. Please, Mrs. Parker!”

The sensation continued to rise, and Violet called on all her strength. She
had
to close the book! But it was no use. The tingly feeling spread throughout her torso. When it hit her soul, the nausea overwhelmed her and Violet collapsed on the bed. The misery was so intense she would have done anything to end it.

Stop, she thought. I can’t take this. Oh, dear God.

But the sickness kept mounting until it seized Violet’s consciousness and the room went dark.

And then, just like that, she felt fine. Better than fine. The nausea had compressed itself into a small tangible mass in her belly that fed
her strength. Violet rose feeling powerful and determined, pulsing with animal sexuality. Why had she even bothered to fight it? This feeling was better than any drug she had experienced or could even imagine.

And she wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass.

She looked in the mirror. Usually, Violet fought hard to deny her own beauty, but there it was. Her skin was soft and glowing. Her hair shone like satin. And her eyes had a sensual fire no man could possibly resist.

She took her time straightening the bedroom and shutting off all the lights except for one small lamp, which she dimmed by throwing a sheer blouse over it. Then she stepped out of her clothes and opened her lingerie drawer. She dug to the bottom for the red lace teddy she had received as a gift for her bridal shower. She wore it on her honeymoon and never took it out again, as she found it simply too embarrasing.

She slipped it on and admired herself in the mirror again. That beautiful man would be helpless. She fluffed her hair and called out to him, “Michael! Can you come up here?”

“Everything okay?” he yelled.

“I need you.”

She heard him bound up the stairs.

“In here!” she called.

When he reached the door of her room, she was at the dressing table putting on perfume, acting as if she hadn’t expected him. She turned to face him, arching her back.

“Why, hello there,” she said, and could barely believe how sultry she sounded. She rose so he could get a full view.

His eyes went wide and his jaw went slack. He looked her up and down.

“You,” he said, “are full of surprises.”

“Come a little closer,” she said. “I won’t bite. Not too hard, anyway.”

He moved in and took her in his arms. They kissed, and the sensation was beyond anything she had ever felt. It wasn’t just heat, it was fire—hungry fire. She wanted him with everything she had—her mouth, her flesh, her center, her soul.

His erection pressed against her, and she knew she had him. Not that there was ever any doubt.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” he asked.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been surer of anything,” she said.

They rolled onto the bed, panting as they yanked at fabric and pulled off clothes. This wasn’t just sex. It was every god of love and desire. It was Eros and Aphrodite. It was life and breath, earth and fire, flesh and blood, and the ending of all great stories. He touched her. She touched him. They joined. They panted. They held on to each other as if they might otherwise die. Was sex really supposed to be this good? It had never been before.

But it was. It was. It truly was. Hallelujah.

And then it was morning.

Violet awoke foggy and confused. When she opened her eyes, she felt as disoriented as she did when the lights came on after a particularly intense movie, and the world created by the film director abruptly ended. By comparison, real life always looked soiled, squalid, and too brightly lit. Indeed, on this morning her room was practically repulsive to her, with a beige water stain on the ceiling, smudges on the windows, clothes thrown in unaesthetic heaps, and a distinct wet spot on the sheet.

Then she noticed Dorothy Parker in the side chair reading a book, and it all came back to her. God, what had she done?

Violet felt the other side of the bed. Empty. She sat up and looked around.

“What the hell?” she said.

“He’s downstairs, making you breakfast,” Mrs. Parker said, without looking up. She turned a page in her book.

Violet fell back onto the pillow. “I could kill you.”

“Not likely.”

“That was—”

“Sublime,” Mrs. Parker said dreamily.

“Horrible.”

“Oh, come, now. Surely you enjoyed that.”

“How could you!”

“My dear, it was time. If you hadn’t slept with him last night, who knows what would have happened with this relationship.”

“It wasn’t your call!”

“A Freudian would insist you wanted it to happen,” said Mrs. Parker.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? You left the book open…in your
bedroom.
”

“Don’t twist this around,” said Violet.

“I don’t see why you’re so displeased. I did you a favor.”

Violet got out of bed and grabbed her robe, which she put on furiously. “You did
yourself
a favor!” she said, her finger in Dorothy Parker’s face.

“Don’t point, my dear. It’s impolite.”

“Impolite! You want to talk about impolite? How about taking over your host’s body and fucking her boyfriend? How’s that for impolite?”

“I didn’t fuck him, Ms. Epps. You did.”

“With you orchestrating the whole thing!”

“Don’t raise your voice,” Mrs. Parker said. “He’s right downstairs.”

Violet sat on the edge of her bed. “I can’t even face him.”

“Don’t be silly. He had a marvelous time. He’ll want to see you again. And again and again.”

Violet covered her eyes with her hands. “What am I going to do?”

“Go downstairs and have breakfast. Then maybe fuck him again if he’s up for it. I promise I’ll stay out of it this time.”

Violet looked up. “You’ll stay out of it forever.”

“Don’t get dramatic.”

“Dramatic? Try furious.”

“Have a heart, my dear. I’ve been dead for decades. Do you have any idea what it’s like to go that long without sex? And when would I ever get another chance?”

“So you admit it was selfish! You didn’t do it for
me.
You did it for
you.
”

“I did it for both of us.”

“One thing is for certain. You’ll never do it again. I’m going to close the book and return it to the Algonquin!”

“Don’t be so hasty, my dear.”

“I should have done it sooner. Then I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Mess? There is no mess, silly child. Change the sheets and you’ll be as good as new.”

Violet started to pace. Mrs. Parker had ruined everything. This relationship had been so promising, and now…now it was destroyed. Instead of moving forward in comfortable steps, it had leapt forward to a place she wasn’t nearly ready for. Not only that, but the woman he slept with last night—the woman he would want to see again—was someone else entirely.

“I have to go downstairs now and tell Michael I can never see him again,” Violet said.

“Don’t be absurd.”

“I’m humiliated!”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of. I’m sure he thinks you’re one of the best lovers he’s ever had.”

“He thinks I’m a wild woman who puts on a slutty red teddy and throws herself at him!”