Leap Year (11 page)

“No. What are you going to do with it?”

“Give it to me,” said Solange. She held out her hand.

Anton gave her the postcard. She smiled at it, and then she spat, quite neatly, onto it. “You too,” she said, holding it out for him.

“No,” said Anton.

“Spit,” commanded Solange.

Anton complied.

Solange rubbed their spittle together with her finger, all the while making low, guttural noises in her throat. Then she ripped the postcard into tiny pieces, which she divided into two piles. She gave half of them to Anton. “Here,” she said. “Bon appetit, my love.”

“No,” said Anton, but he knew it was futile. He watched Solange and did as she did: He put the moist fragments of card into his mouth and chewed them. Their eyes were locked. Solange was smiling. She leaned forward and kissed her husband. Chewed paper and tongue mingled in their mouths.

Lyle Wallace was sad to be losing Kate. Though their acquaintance had been short—a little less than a week—it had been long enough for Lyle to grow fond of his ward. In fact, he found he preferred her to his own Kate, who seemed by comparison rather a dull child. On the morning of her departure, he awoke with a sullen heart.

He bathed Kate and carefully dressed her in the party dress she had been wearing on her arrival.

“Guess who you’re going to see today?” he asked her as he unpinned the name tag from her frilly chest.

“Who?” wondered Kate.

“Your mom and dad,” said Lyle. “They’re back from their vacation.”

“They went on vacation?”

“Yeah. Remember, I told you: They asked me to take care of you while they went on vacation.”

“Where did they go?” asked Kate.

“Portugal,” said Lyle.

“Did Gregory and Heath go too?”

“I don’t think so,” said Lyle. “But maybe.”

In the car Kate seemed preoccupied. She stared out the window at the traffic stalled all around them.

“Are you going to miss me?” Lyle asked.

Kate looked over at him. “Why?” she said.

“Well, we’ll probably never see each other again.”

“Oh,” said Kate. She played with the clasp of her seat belt.

“Keep it buckled,” Lyle said.

“Maybe if they go on vacation again, you’ll take care of me,” Kate said.

Lyle looked down at her and smiled. “Maybe,” he said.

Sonia was waiting for them in the lobby.

“Finally,” she said to Lyle. “They’re foaming at the bit. Talk about uptight New Yorkers.”

“Well, here she is,” said Lyle.

Sonia knelt down and smoothed Kate’s hair. “Hi, Kate,” she said. “How was Disneyland?”

“Good,” said Kate.

“You look so pretty. Are you ready to see your mom and dad? They want to see you!”

Kate didn’t answer. She was looking over Sonia’s shoulder, down the long hall, to where Loren stood in Sonia’s office, looking out the window. She started running toward her mom. She was halfway down the hall before Lyle realized she didn’t see the glass wall. He didn’t know how he knew it, he just suddenly knew—it was in the way she ran. Kate ran like you run when you want to run as fast as you can so that nothing can stop you, and that’s how Lyle ran after her.

At first Sonia didn’t realize what he was doing. She thought Lyle had freaked out and tried to grab him, but only managed to rip his shirt. Then she understood what was happening and tried to scream. She could see Loren at the other end of the hall trying to scream, too. But everything was quiet.

When Kate was a few feet from the wall, Lyle sensed that he wouldn’t catch up with her. He hadn’t tackled anyone in five years, but suddenly that’s what he was doing: He dove forward, sailing through the air, his large body surprisingly agile. He remembered it perfectly; he knew just what to do. He grabbed Kate from behind, curled his body around hers, and, shielding both their faces, somersaulted into the glass.

G
REGORY FLEW TO
L
OS
Angeles and took a taxi to the hospital. He arrived to find Loren sleeping, watched over by David and Kate.

“Hi,” he said.

David stood up, and they shook hands.

“Hi, Kate,” said Gregory.

“Hi,” said Kate. “I was kidnapped. I didn’t see the glass wall but Lyle saved me, only the wall crashed on Mom. She’s going to have plastic surgery!”

“Wow,” said Gregory.

Kate was glad to see Gregory. She had a lot to talk about, and her dad had been a distracted audience. “Being kidnapped was fun,” she continued. “I went to Disneyland and learned how to swim under water, with a mask. When Mom gets better, we’re going back to Disneyland. Mickey Mouse isn’t really Mickey Mouse. He’s just an actor dressed up as Mickey.”

“Why don’t we go get some lunch, Kate?” David asked.

“We had lunch,” said Kate.

“We’ll have a snack,” said David. “Then I’ll take you to the hotel, and you can show me how you swim.”

“I need a mask,” said Kate.

“Okay. We’ll stop and get one.”

“How is she?” Gregory asked David. He nodded at Loren.

“She’s okay,” said David. “They won’t know how bad the scarring will be till they remove the stitches. She had seventy-four. She lost a lot of blood, but they gave her a transfusion. I don’t know if she’ll wake up. But listen, I’ll leave you alone.”

“Thanks,” said Gregory. “Where are you staying?”

“The Sheraton Townhouse,” said David. “On Wilshire.”

“I’ll give you a call,” said Gregory.

“Let’s go,” David told Kate. “Say good-bye to Gregory.”

“Bye, Gregory,” said Kate.

Gregory leaned over and kissed Kate. “It’s good to see you again,” he said.

They left. Gregory sat by the bed and watched Loren sleep. Actually there wasn’t much to see: Her face was covered in bandages. He felt he should hold her hand or touch her or something, but he was afraid of hurting her. After about an hour a nurse came in and told him he had to leave, but that he could come back at three o’clock.

Gregory went out and had a Caesar Salad because he liked them and he didn’t order them in New York anymore because of the egg disease. On his way back to the hospital he bought a copy of
HG.
It was an odd choice—Loren wasn’t particularly interested in either houses or gardens, but it was the only happy looking magazine he could find.

Loren was still sleeping. He sat down beside her and waited. Suddenly she said, “I think I’m blind.”

“What?” Gregory asked.

“Gregory?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Oh,” said Loren. “I thought it was David.”

“No,” said Gregory. “It’s me.”

“I think my eye…” She paused while she tried to think of which eye it was. “I think my eye toward you is blind.”

“No,” said Gregory, “it’s just bandaged.”

“I know that,” said Loren. “But underneath—I think it doesn’t see.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” said Gregory. “The doctor said it was fine,” he added, although he had spoken with no doctor.

They sat there for a moment. “Are you here for work?” Loren asked.

“No,” said Gregory. “I’m here to see you.” After a minute Loren said, “If I believed God punished people for behaving badly, I’d believe I was being punished.”

“But you don’t believe that,” Gregory said.

“I don’t believe the God part,” said Loren.

“You see,” said Judith, “I would have been perfectly safe alone.” She and Henry were riding the N train back from Queens. Judith had been invited for dinner with Henry’s family: his daughter Joan and his grandson Kyle. Henry was escorting her back as far as Manhattan; from there on she would venture home via taxi.

“But maybe not,” said Henry.

They were silent for a moment, as the subway crawled across the 59th Street Bridge, awed by the view of Manhattan.

“It’s so beautiful,” Judith said. And Henry, who had never thought the city particularly beautiful, was surprised to find himself nodding in agreement, for he suddenly felt the beauty—it was a palpable, pulsating thing. He kept his eyes on it but moved his hand for Judith’s and was not surprised, when he touched it, to feel it open and clasp his own.

At 59th Street he came through the turnstile behind her, ignoring her orders to cross the platform. He would not leave her, he said, until she was safe in a taxicab. So they stood on Third Avenue, close but not touching, silent, aware of the wonderful tension between them.

“It was nice of you to come so far for dinner,” Henry said.

“You really must stop being so polite,” said Judith. “It’s I who should thank you.”

“Oh,” said Henry, “I’m sorry.”

“And you shouldn’t apologize for being too polite,” said Judith.

Henry was about to apologize for apologizing but stopped himself by laughing. Judith laughed too. They stood there, letting the taxis speed by. And then Judith said, “I should go.”

“Are you sure it’s safe for you to go alone? I could come with you and take the subway back.”

“No,” said Judith. “You’ve already gone far enough out of your way.”

“But being with you…”

“What?” asked Judith.

“Being with you is not going out of my way,” Henry said.

They looked at each other. He has such a beautiful face, Judith thought. It was all she could think. When they kissed, it was just a matter of mutual inclination: No one had to bend down or lean up; they just moved their faces forward.

“I am a happily married woman,” said Judith, when the kiss was completed. “You know that, don’t you?”

“I know that you are a married woman,” said Henry.

“I am a contentedly married woman,” said Judith, as if there were some subtle, complicated hierarchy between loving and being in love.

The day after Loren was released from the hospital she and David and Kate went to Disneyland. The night before their visit, they stayed in a hotel, in two adjacent rooms on the top floor. Kate and Loren slept in one and David slept in the other. Each bedroom had a tiny terrace, from which the turrets of Cinderella’s castle could be seen.

Both David and Loren lay awake in their cool, clean beds, listening to the hum of the a.c., wondering what would happen next. It was as if the cards they had been playing with had been tossed back up into the air and were flurrying all around them.

Though the drapes were drawn, Loren could sense the light growing behind them. She got out of bed. Kate slept in the exact middle of the second king-sized bed. She lay on her stomach, her face smashed into a pool of drool on the pillow. Loren sat down and touched her. She wondered what Kate was dreaming. It’s all so secret, Loren thought, that world inside.

After a while she got up and drew aside a corner of the curtain to see the day. It looked hot and gray—a little greenish at the corners. Or was that the tint of the glass? She opened the sliding doors and stepped out onto the terrace, pulling the door shut behind her.

“Good morning,” someone said. It was David; he was sitting on his terrace, a few feet away.

“Hi,” said Loren. “How long have you been out here?”

“About an hour,” said David. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Neither could I,” said Loren. “What time is it?”

“About six,” said David. He stood up and moved to the railing of his terrace. If they both reached out, they could have touched each other. “So,” he said, “what do you think?”

“About what?”

“Anything,” said David. “If you’ve been awake, you must have been thinking something.”

“I was thinking lots of things.”

“How’s Kate?” asked David.

“She’s sleeping,” said Loren. “She’s dreaming.”

“I want to see her,” said David.

“Wait,” said Loren. “And we’ll wake her up, later.”

“That will be nice.”

Loren smiled. She looked down at the pool, which lay like a turquoise lozenge on the earth.

“Loren?” David said.

“What?”

“What are you going to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you still moving out here with Gregory?”

“No,” said Loren. “I think I’ve left Gregory.”

“Oh,” said David.

“What about you?” Loren asked. “What about you and Heath?”

“I don’t know,” said David. “I think it’s all over, too.”

“That’s too bad,” said Loren.

David shrugged.

For a moment neither of them spoke, and then Loren said, “Do you remember that night we slept together? After Lillian’s party?”

“Of course,” said David.

“I think about that a lot,” said Loren. “Why do you think we did that?”

“I don’t know,” said David. “It was your idea.”

“Do you think it was a bad idea? Do you wish we hadn’t?”

“No,” said David.

“Do you think we loved each other then?”

“I think so,” said David.

Loren looked out at the Magic Kingdom. The sky was getting brighter and bluer. “Listen,” she said, her voice shaking. “I feel like we have this chance, and we can’t blow it. I mean, we have to at least talk about it.”

“About what?”

“About getting back together,” said Loren. “We’ve fucked up. At least I have. And all this, this stuff with Kate and this”—she touched her bandaged cheek—“I think, you know, for Kate’s sake, but also for ours, too, I think, I mean, I’m not sure how you feel, but I’d like to try to make it work again.”

“Do you think we can?” David asked.

Loren didn’t answer. She was looking down at the pool. Suddenly it seemed to come alive. The water began to pitch and roll, with tiny waves spilling out.

“Look,” said Loren, pointing far below them. “It wasn’t doing that a moment ago.”

“Maybe they just turned the filter on,” said David.

“No,” said Loren. “It’s an earthquake. It’s how they start. We’ve got to get downstairs!” She ran into her hotel room to wake Kate.

David ran through his room and out into the hall. He tried to open Loren’s door, but it was locked. He pounded on it. And then he stopped pounding, because he thought he could feel the floor shaking.

H
EATH AND
G
ERARD WERE IN
the penthouse at Barney’s, trying to find something Heath could wear to his opening that night. Several good-looking salesmen were lurking around, trying to make them feel cheap and doltish. They were having more of an effect on Heath; Gerard was impervious to other people’s fucking with his self-image. He was a dancer.