Let Me Whisper in Your Ear (26 page)

“Eat your soup, honey. It will make you feel better.”

“I want to
do
something. Something fun,” he insisted.

Great. Now she had to play another endless game. Her mind was atrophying from disuse.

“Tell you what,” said Nancy resignedly, as she went to the toy cupboard. “You finish all your soup and then I'll play the Casper the Friendly Ghost game with you.”

It was Brian's favorite.

102

Saturday, January 22

J
ADE'S MOM HAD
called to ask if Laura could reschedule their tutoring session for Saturday afternoon, rather than in the morning. Laura agreed, putting the time to good use, getting boxes at the grocery store and packing up her books and pictures before she left to go uptown.

Jade had gone to a birthday party and was wired after two hours of sugar. She couldn't concentrate on her math problems, so Laura switched to African-American
Jeopardy!

“When he was young he was teased because his mother wasn't married when he was born. In 1971, he organized Operation PUSH, an organization that fights for equality for all. He has tried to win the Democratic nomination for president of the United States, but you may know him for his Rainbow Coalition.”

“Who is
Jesse Jackson!
” yelled Jade.

“Ssshh, Jade. You don't have to shout. But you're right.”

“Another one, Laura. Let's do another one.” Jade was obviously enjoying herself.

“Okay,” agreed Laura, flipping through her cards. “Here's one. He started his baseball career in the Negro Leagues, at the time when black players were not allowed to play with whites. But he ended up playing for the New York Giants and the New York Mets. He got to be known as the ‘Say, Hey Kid.'”

Jade frowned. She did not know the answer.

“Who is
Willie Mays?
” Laura supplied the question.

Jade became uncharacteristically sullen.

Laura checked her watch. Still more than an hour until Myra came to pick Jade up. She could see that they weren't going to get anywhere today with schoolwork.

“Hey, want to go on a field trip?” Laura suggested.

Jade perked up. “What sort of field trip?”

Laura thought fast. “How about we take a walk around your neighborhood and you can give me a tour?”

“You mean I'll be a tour guide?” asked Jade with some excitement.

“Yep. Want to?”

They donned their parkas, scarves and gloves and Jade led the way from the East Harlem Tutorial building to the dingy block outside. Remnants of snow at the sidewalk's edge were crusted with black soot. Litter was strewn carelessly on the path before them. A police car rushed by, siren blaring.

Some tour.

They walked west on 106th Street, Jade reciting who she knew that lived in some of the tired apartment buildings and flaking brownstones. A mangy-looking mixed-breed dog wandered alone and without a collar. Laura steered Jade to the other side of the street.

As they neared Lexington Avenue, Laura thought they should turn back.

“Let's just go to Central Park,” urged Jade. “Then we can turn around.”

They walked along the next block, Laura feeling relieved that the neighborhood was noticeably better. Before they reached Park Avenue, they came to a big red-brick church crowned with three giant arches.
ST. CECILIA'S
, announced one of the signs out front.
PARROQUIA STA. CECILIA
, trumpeted another. Laura read the two sentences—one in English, the other in Spanish—inscribed below the cross on the signs:
HOW GOOD GOD HAS BEEN
! and ¡
QUE BUENO HA SIDO DIOS
!

“Want to go inside?” Jade offered. “Mom and me go here sometimes.”

“Mom and I,” Laura corrected instinctively, as they pulled open the heavy front door, passing by a homeless man muttering to himself as he sat beneath one of the arches.

Just about a dozen people sat scattered through the pews. Though she was ashamed at how long it had been since she had attended Mass, Laura recognized immediately that the priest at the altar was well into the celebration of the Eucharist. Moving quietly up the aisle, Jade and Laura easily found an empty pew and knelt along with the other worshippers.

Laura felt soothed listening to the congregation make their rhythmic responses as the priest snapped the large white wafer into bite-sized pieces.

“Cordero de Dios, que quitas el pecado del mundo, ten piedad de nosotros.”

“Cordero de Dios, que quitas el pecado del mundo, ten piedad de nosotros.”

“Cordero de Dios, que quitas el pecado del mundo, danos la paz.”

Laura felt satisfied as she mentally translated the Spanish words.

“Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world, grant us peace.”

“Cordero de Dios.”

103

A
MOVIE AND
a good Italian dinner. To Laura, it was a perfect Saturday night date. If it was with the right person.

“Let me help you move your stuff in tomorrow,” Matthew urged as they lingered over espresso.

Laura agreed readily, more for the opportunity just to be with him than for the physical assistance. “We better watch out, though,” she said with a laugh, “or we're going to get sick of one another.”

“Not on my end, I won't. You're good for me, Laura.” Matthew gazed at her lovely face framed with the soft golden hair that glowed by the light of the candle in the center of the table. He was well aware of the fact that he hadn't taken a Valium all day. Breezily, he handed the waiter his American Express card.

“Ready?”

“Um-hmm.”

The night was unseasonably warm for late January and they strolled, hand in hand, past glittering Lincoln Center, the Marc Chagall murals adorning the Metropolitan Opera House. How lucky they were to have all this around them!

Impulsively, Laura turned to Matthew. “Want to see my new apartment?”

His contented face spread into a wide smile. “I'm dying to.”

They held hands as they strolled out of the park and made their way to Laura's elegant new address.

Matthew whistled softly through his teeth as they got off the elevator and walked directly into the large foyer. A chandelier with a hundred gleaming crystal prisms lit their way to the living room.

Illuminated by the beautiful wall sconces and porcelain lamps all carefully set on timers, the rich red and blue hues of the sweeping Persian carpet covered most of the parquet floor. A carved red Oriental screen dominated one wall, a Matisse cutout hung on another. Plush furniture was expertly arranged throughout the room.

“Jesus,” Matthew whispered. “The night of the party, it was so crowded in here, I really didn't get a chance to take this all in.”

“Unbelievable, isn't it?” asked Laura. “And so not-me.”

“Maybe you'll get used to it?” Matthew offered.

“I don't know.” Laura shrugged uncertainly. “But I do know one thing I wouldn't change.”

She took his hand and led him to the windows and, together, they gazed at the jeweled skyline.

It was the first night Laura spent in her new home. She wasn't afraid at all.

104

Sunday, January 23

W
HEN
F
RANCHESKA ARRIVED
early Sunday afternoon, Laura and Matthew had already made two trips back and forth from Laura's old apartment. They were unpacking books onto the library shelves when the doorman announced that Miss Lamb was coming up.

As Laura introduced her best friend to Matthew, he studied Francheska's face with puzzlement.

“You look familiar,” he said slowly. “Have we met somewhere?”

“I don't think so.” Francheska smiled. “I think that I would remember you. It's so nice to meet you, Matthew. Laura has told me a lot about you.”

Matthew suddenly realized that Francheska was struggling under a heavy load, so he took the video monitor from Francheska's arms. “Here, I'm sorry, let me take that for you. Where do you want it?”

“All our computer stuff is going into the library,” called Laura as Matthew went down the hallway.

“He's cute,” Francheska whispered when Matthew was out of earshot. “How's it going between you two?”

“So well, I can't believe it.”

They heard Matthew's footsteps approaching.

“Well, I've got to go,” said Francheska, heading to the door. “I'm going to leave you two alone.” She winked at Laura.

“Don't be ridiculous, Francheska. Stay,” urged Laura. Matthew seconded it earnestly.

“No, really, I have things to do. It was great meeting you, Matthew. Talk to you later, Laura.” And she was gone.

They went back to the library to finish unpacking. “I know her face from somewhere. Francheska Lamb,” he mused, coming up empty.

“She used to model,” Laura suggested. “Maybe you saw her in some ad or something.”

“Yeah, maybe that's it.”

105

T
AKING ADVANTAGE OF
the unusually warm January afternoon, Roger Chiocchi decided to take his six-year-old daughter Catherine to Central Park for a little exercise. As they left the apartment, he grabbed a Frisbee from Catherine's toy box.

Catherine was such a serious little soul, he reflected, as he held her small hand tightly in his. She needed to get out and run around more, laugh and play outside like he did when he was kid. Of course, he hadn't grown up in the city.

They crossed Central Park West and entered the park at Women's Gate, the 72nd Street entrance. Many other parents had the same idea he'd had. The park was crowded with families, Parego strollers and leashed dogs.

“Let's go see if we can find an empty spot where we can throw our Frisbee,” Roger encouraged. The little girl followed along gamely. They finally reached an open place where the ground looked reasonably dry.

Roger demonstrated for his daughter the flick of the wrist that would make the plastic disc fly through the air. But Catherine was better at running after the Frisbee than throwing it. Undaunted, he kept trying until, gradually, Catherine started to get the hang of it.

“Okay, sweetheart,” called Roger as he backed up several yards. “I'll throw it to you and see if you can catch it.”

He sailed the Frisbee toward his daughter and would forever curse himself for misjudging and flinging it too hard. The yellow disc sailed over Catherine's head and flew deep into a thick bramble.

“I'll get it, Daddy,” called Catherine eagerly as she ran to find the downed Frisbee.

“Wait, honey. Let me get it. There are thorns in those bushes.”

But the child ignored her father's command. Reaching the bushes before him, she got down on her knees to search for her toy.

Roger would never forget his child's scream as she found a booted human foot.

106

H
ER APARTMENT WAS
quiet and still. But as Francheska entered, she noticed uneasily that the hallway closet was ajar. She could have sworn she had closed it after she took out her coat when she left to go to Laura's.

She switched on the lamps in the living room. Everything was as she had left it.

Francheska went to the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of orange juice. Stopping by the bar to lace the drink with a little vodka, she headed for the bedroom.

The closet doors were open there, too.

Leonard had been here.

Her heart pounded. She hadn't heard from him since she announced she was leaving, nor had she called him. She didn't want to see him, didn't want to lose her resolve.

She wondered if he had noticed that some of her clothes were missing. If he had, he must have been surprised, because she knew he didn't think that she was really going through with it. But she was, she thought with satisfaction. She was finally doing it and she was proud of herself.

The front buzzer rang. She didn't answer, but walked back into the living room and waited.

She heard the key enter the lock, watched as the doorknob twisted, and waited to speak as the door slowly opened.

“Hello, Len.”

He was caught unawares, a startled expression on his face.

“Where have you been? I've been looking for you.”

Francheska pulled a cigarette out from the pack she had left on the table, lit it and exhaled slowly. “I don't have to tell you where I go or what I do anymore, Len.”

“Oh, baby, put out that cigarette. You know it's not good for you or for those great looks of yours. Come on, now. Haven't we gone far enough with all this?”

As he approached her, Francheska smugly noticed that Leonard's hand was shaking. Good, he was upset. She was glad that he was hurting, too.

She took another draw on her cigarette. “If you really want to know, I started moving into my new apartment today.”

Leonard's eyes widened, but then he caught himself and laughed meanly. “Sure, Francheska. And where are you getting the money to pay for this new place?”

“I'm moving in with Laura. Moving into Gwyneth Gilpatric's apartment. And as you know, Gwyneth's place makes this one look like a dump.”

Leonard's rugged face darkened with rage. He moved toward her, spitting his words. “No one treats me like this and gets away with it, Francheska. No one, especially not you. You are mine. You are going to regret this. I swear you will.”

Francheska watched as a vein at Leonard's temple pulsated, and she listened to his angry voice as he delivered his final vicious blow.

“Go ahead, Francheska. Go ahead and try it out there. But you'll come crawling back, I know you will. Because you'll always be someone's ‘other' woman. You're not the type that men want to marry. And guess what, sweetheart? You won't always be so beautiful. I know what you're going to look like in ten or twelve years. I can tell from your bone structure. I've seen it dozens of times. Your face will fall,” he hissed. “In fact, I've already noticed that pretty neck of yours getting thicker.”