The Attempt (17 page)

7

A
NDREI HAD BEEN CONSTANTLY IN DEMAND
in Berlin. Guests had come calling at all hours, even after midnight. He would brew tea, pour wine, and argue politics, all still in his pajamas. Mimi couldn't stand when people “interfered with Andrei's rest,” but there was no escaping it. In Saint-Laurent, on the other hand, they made it through almost the whole first summer without a single visitor.

Then, as a harbinger of change to come, Nancy Harwood literally appeared on the horizon. An American oil heiress married to drinker and gambler Jack Harwood. A millionairess who divided her time between Paris and the Côte d'Azur and whose scandals filled the gossip columns on a regular basis.

It was eight in the morning. Mimi had just gone for a swim and was stretched out in the sun. Andrei lay on his side, head propped in his hand, smoking a cigarette as he gazed out at the sea. They could track the passing of time by the shadow of Andrei's cane, plunged upright in the sand. The beach and promenade were almost empty. Guests were just waking up in the hotels along the coast. Nothing but open space in every direction. Sailboats were setting out from the port of Saint-Laurent, white birds drowned in a sea of blue, vanishing over the horizon, slowly or quickly, depending on how strong the wind was blowing.

Andrei was speaking, half to Mimi, half to himself. “Rosa
Luxemburg was wrong. I was wrong. Man can't be reduced to his role in the hierarchy of economic relations. The problem lies elsewhere. Money is just a derivative evil. It isn't enough to change the economic order! Whether it's God or the state, we have to abolish the patriarchal apparatus. As we found out in Russia, it can't be destroyed by violence. One power system just replaces the other. We have to declare disobedience to it, ignore it, mentally dissolve it. Stop playing the game!”

Andrei sat up in excitement. “Mimi, I figured it out!”

One of the sailboats was coming toward them. Already it was close enough for them to decipher the name of the boat, spelled out in white against the red hull:
FIREFLY.

“Any farther,” said Andrei, “and it's going to run aground.”

The captain must have realized the same thing, because he dropped anchor and the crew began taking in the sails. Mimi watched the sailors at work, counting three of them on board; then she noticed a female figure dressed in white who had climbed onto the railing and was waving both hands and shouting something.

The idyll was over. Mimi could feel it in her gut. She was ready to pack her things and run away, but Andrei had other plans. She looked at him: shading his eyes with his hand, watching the woman on the railing with curiosity. He was smiling.

“Who could that be?” Mimi asked.

With one swift movement, the woman pulled her dress over her head, tossed it onto the deck, executed a graceful swan dive into the water, and began swimming to shore.

Andrei sat up in anticipation, then propped himself up to a standing position with the help of his cane and walked toward the water's edge. Mimi wondered whether he had known the
Firefly
was coming. It seemed like he and the woman had some kind of arrangement.

“Who is that?” Mimi asked again.

Andrei shrugged and stepped into the water.

The woman was a good swimmer. Within a few minutes, she was wading through the shallows toward Andrei, breathing heavily, but with a smile on her face. She was young, tall, and thin, with a tanned, athletically toned body. Her short brown hair was plastered to her skull. She held out her hand to Andrei. “Nancy. Nancy Harwood. We knew you would be here. You must be Andrei. I read your
Notes from Prison.
Quite remarkable, if I may say so.”

Andrei took her hand and squeezed it affectionately.

From where she sat, Mimi could hear every word. Like every American she had met, this one was very loud.

“We set sail from Saint-Tropez last night,” Nancy said. “And we have a pleasant surprise for you. At least I hope it will be pleasant. Besides that, we have plenty of champagne on board. Will you join us for a glass? Or have you already had breakfast?”

She laughed at her own joke, and just kept laughing and laughing.

Andrei waved to Mimi. “Come here.”

Mimi didn't move. She didn't want to drink champagne with strangers. She wasn't curious about their surprise. She didn't like the woman. There was something dangerous about her. The way she flattered Andrei. And Andrei, who normally couldn't stand flattery, didn't raise a word of objection. From the looks of it, he enjoyed it. Him and his women, Mimi thought angrily to herself.

Andrei waved to her again. She would have to go meet this vulgar American woman.

A small dinghy detached itself from the side of the sailboat. There were two people sitting in it: a man, and a woman in a straw hat with a red ribbon. The woman was waving.

“That's the surprise.” Nancy theatrically unfurled a long, tanned arm. “We've brought you your girlfriend.”

“I thought she was still in Canada,” said Andrei, shaking his head in delight. “Why didn't she write?”

“It wouldn't have been a surprise then,” said Nancy.

T
HE MAN AT THE OARS
is Nancy's husband, Jack. He anchors the boat in the sandy shallows, rolls up the legs of his linen summer trousers, and makes his way to shore, in one hand a basket of food, in the other a bucket of ice with three bottles of champagne sticking out of it. As Andrei helps Louise from the boat, she plunks into the water, soaking her skirt up to the waist. She has aged even more in the two years since he last saw her. Her hair now is totally gray, and she has also put on weight. But she laughs, giving Andrei a hug like in the old days, and addresses him as “boy.”

“So, my boy, how are you doing here?”

Once on shore, she greets Mimi, spreads out her skirt on the sand to dry, and delivers the news that Nancy has bought her a house in Saint-Tropez, a beautiful little villa on a hill overlooking the sea, with a garden and a small patch of vineyard. That means there are no more obstacles to keep her from starting work on her memoirs. She has a place to write now, and finally, too, she'll have her own home. She also has the
resources, since her friends took up a collection, so she can pay Andrei, too. She's counting on him to help with the writing. She's already started sending out letters. There are so many facts to verify, old documents to request.

Nancy and Jack leave them alone to talk in peace. They can entertain themselves just fine. Nancy lies on her stomach, playing with a glass of wine. She has buried it in the sand and circled it with a ring of shells. Jack reads the newspaper, smoking.

Nobody paid any attention to Mimi. Louise had always looked right through her. In Berlin, she had treated her as nothing but an appendage of Andrei, someone who had to be counted only when setting the table. Louise didn't take any of Andrei's lovers seriously. She classified them all either as pampered princesses or secretaries, which in her experience were even worse. But she couldn't be jealous of them. She had known Andrei too long for that. His lovers were interchangeable.

Mimi could sense all of this, which was why she didn't like Louise. She wasn't Andrei's lover, she was his wife, whether or not they had a paper saying so. Andrei belonged to her, and even Louise had to accept that.

Nancy finishes her drink and sits up. She crawls over to Jack on her knees, wraps her long arms around his neck, and gives him a kiss on the ear.

Jack bristles. “You're covered in sand.”

She sticks out her chest. “Then clean me.”

“Oh, stop it. Why don't you put some clothes on.”

Nancy turns away, dejected.

“So where are we going for lunch?” Jack yawns.

8

I
T WAS A LONG DAY.
By the time they finally got home, around sunup, Mimi felt several years older. She was tired, dirty, and filled with tears she had been holding in.

It started with lunch on the terrace at the Hotel Imperial (the white-coated waiters pretended not to notice Mimi's old summer dress, in which she had run to the beach that morning) and ended with an exhausting trek from bar to bar.

The more they drank, the darker Jack turned, and at three o'clock in the morning, at the Blind Dog bistro, with the electric fans spinning lazily on the ceiling, he flung himself on Nancy. He would have beaten her to a pulp if Andrei hadn't stepped in. The only other people there besides them were a couple of prostitutes with their pimps, and they weren't about to get involved. They were used to scenes like that.

“She's a whore,” Jack told Andrei as Louise rocked the sobbing Nancy in her massive arms. “And ugly besides. And whose fault is that? Dr. Schrer from Minnesota. Go ahead, ask her, she'll tell you. Stupid bitch! Dumbest millionaire I know. You know what that doctor did to her? He promised to cut off a piece of her nose, then didn't do it. He just left it the way it was. Didn't want to lay a hand on little Nini's schnoz. Little Nini, you know that's what they used to call her at home? Now she's got to live with a nose like a cucumber for the rest of her life, poor girl. Can you imagine? People are dying of hunger and
little Nini's all upset about her nose. What can comfort her now, except champagne and cocaine? Just ask, she'll tell you herself. Little Nini wants to be loved. Admired. But not for her money.” Jack laughed. “As long as you're making eyes at everyone, why don't you just go right ahead and strip?” He reached across the table, grabbed a handful of Nancy's silk dress, and ripped it in half down to her waist. Nancy was too stunned to try to hide her tiny white breasts. She just went on crying while Louise took off her summer scarf and wrapped her up in it.

Andrei ran outside to find a taxi. The
Firefly
was anchored in the harbor. Louise said she could sleep on the boat with Nancy and Jack and sail back to Saint-Tropez with them the next day.

Having reduced Nancy to tears, Jack finally calmed down. He was in a good mood again for the first time since morning. He moved over next to Mimi and pressed up against her, wrapping one hand around her shoulders and resting the other on her thigh.

“Come back to the boat with me,” he whispered. “I'll show you my cabin. Nancy'll sleep like a log. I know her. Your eyes are so . . . blue.”

Andrei came back with a taxi and they all walked out together. Jack kept a tight grip on Mimi's hand; she couldn't get away. He pulled her into the open car, but Andrei didn't notice. He was too busy talking to Louise, who was propping up Nancy.

“Will you stay the night with me and Mimi?” he asked.

“I need to get home,” said Louise.

“That's no problem. You can go back tomorrow by train or boat.”

Nancy shook her head. “Louise is coming with us. Aren't you, Louise darling?”

“I can't leave her alone with him,” said Louise.

“Oh, thank you.” Nancy gave her a hug.

“Nancy, dear, how long do you plan to put up with this? Don't you see how he's humiliating you?”

“He just has these fits.”

“But they're practically every day.”

“Then tell me,” said Nancy. “Tell me what to do. I love Jack. You too, darling Louise. You're my . . . pillar. Pleasure to meet you,” Nancy said, letting go of Louise to give Andrei a hug. “We'll see each other soon. We'll bring Louise for you again, won't we, Louise? But for now, we have to take her with us. Good-bye.” She turned to Mimi. “What was your name again?”

“Emma Stein,” said Mimi, who had finally managed to wrench herself free from Jack. “My name is Emma Stein.” Then, at last, they were gone.

A
NDREI AND
M
IMI WALK HOME
the rest of the way. Andrei doesn't want to go to bed yet, so he sits in the yard and smokes, watching the brightening sky.

“She bought Louise a house,” he says, thinking out loud. “She must be extremely grateful to her. He's a real monster, though. As for her, she's got too much money. Other than that, she's quite nice, don't you think?”

No answer.

“Mimi?”

He hears a sob from the bedroom.

Sighing, Andrei extinguishes his cigarette, gets up, and walks into the dark bedroom. He sits down on the edge of the bed and finds Mimi's smooth, round face with his hand. She jerks away from him.

“What is wrong with you, Mimi? I thought you got over your jealousy and left the green-eyed monster behind in Berlin. Now it lives comfortably on its pension, visiting the zoo with its grandchildren, and has no reason to bother Mimi anymore, does it?”

“Stop,” Mimi blurts. “Everything's ruined.”

“No, it's not.”

“Yes, it is. Now
she
's here and she's going to want you back for herself, you'll see. I don't think I can take it.”

“Of course you can.”

“You don't love me.”

“I do.”

“Then marry me.”

“Mimi, come on. We've been through this before. I thought you understood why I don't believe in marriage.”

“You and your principles!”

“I don't have any principles. I just don't want anyone interfering in our private matters. At least when it comes to this. Mimi, let's keep it just between us, all right?”

“But I want to be your wife. I want Louise to have to accept it. And my family, too.”

“That's all that matters to you.”

“I love you,” says Mimi. “You're my first and only love.”

He strokes her hair, wet with sweat and tears. “Poor Mimi.”