The Gilder (22 page)

Zoe’s sharp intake of breath seemed to suck all the air from the room, leaving only silence. Marina held her own breath, as she had countless nights long ago, waiting for the sound of her baby girl’s next breath. And then it came in a whisper.

“You never told him? He didn’t know about me?” Each word was torn from her lips, sucked into the silence.

“Sweetie, it was complicated... .”

“How complicated can it be?” Zoe wrenched her hands from Marina’s. Her voice rose to a mock falsetto. “Hi, honey, I’m home. Guess what? We’re having a baby!”

“Zoe, it wasn’t like that.” Marina’s words were firm.

“Well, what the fuck was it like then?” The note of hysteria remained in Zoe’s voice.

“That’s enough, Zoe!” Marina moved back, putting a little distance between them.

“No, Mom, it’s not fucking enough. You
stole
those years from me.
Five years!
I could have had a father, I could have had some memories.” The hysteria turned back onto itself and into sobbing.

Marina looked at her daughter as if her love could wrap her, cradle her, protecting her from the truth. She softened her voice.

“No, Zoe, you couldn’t have.”

“Why not?”

Marina looked away.

“Because he was married. He had another life. He had a wife.”

“You screwed around with a married man?” Zoe’s face twisted in disgust.

“We were only together that one time. We were good friends. We got confused. I only wish it could have been different. . . for you.”

“Why couldn’t you tell him? Maybe he
would
have wanted to be with me. Maybe he would have left his wife for us.”

“No, he wouldn’t have. There was no question of that. His wife wanted children, but couldn’t have them. It would have hurt her too much to know about you.”

“So what?”

“I didn’t want to hurt her. I cared about her.”

“Why?”

Marina looked down at her hands and then into Zoe’s eyes. “Because his wife was Sarah.”

“Sarah! Your best friend Sarah?”

Marina nodded.

“Mom, that’s disgusting!” Zoe began to cry again. “How could you do that?”

Marina wasn’t sure if Zoe meant, “How could you do that to Sarah?” or “How could you do that to me?” She couldn’t tell her that Thomas had taken advantage of her or that she was drunk, or have Zoe think that her conception was sordid in any way. “Like I said, Zoe, it’s complicated. Thomas and I were friends, we worked together, and maybe we had more feeling for each other than we thought. We just got carried away one day... .” She didn’t think Zoe would want to get any closer to the topic of sex than that.

Zoe sniffed and wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. “But you still could have told him about me.”

“I tried, really I did, but I was young and afraid, and ...”

Zoe stood up and shouted, “So it was easier to lie, and you’ve lied and lied and lied to me all these years! You’re a horrible person and I hate you!” She turned and ran from the room, pounded up the stairs, and slammed her door.

Marina slumped on the couch. She
had
tried. She was certain she had. She’d gone to Thomas’s studio to ask for his help—and found out more than she wanted to know about his relationship with the contessa. She had wanted to be honest with Sarah but just couldn’t find a way into the truth. It wasn’t that she didn’t care. God knows, she’d agonized about what to do from the very first moment she knew she was pregnant and through the entire first year of Zoe’s life. It was over Zoe’s first birthday cake that she had the realization there was no going back. She was leaning over the cake, encouraging Zoe to blow on the candles, when she looked into her daughter’s eyes and recognized that she alone was responsible for Zoe’s well-being, for protecting her from harm, and that going back would only hurt them both. Now she wasn’t so sure. Zoe was in pain beyond anything Marina could have imagined.

The phone rang somewhere near Marina’s ear, jolting her from sleep. She felt for it, her hand patting the bedside table, almost knocking her water glass over.

Lydia’s voice was soft in her ear. “Sorry to wake you. I just wanted to let you know that Zoe’s here.”

“What? How?” Marina pushed herself up on one elbow and looked at the clock, which blinked six eleven into the dark room.

“Evidently Sasha let her in a couple of hours ago.”

“How did she get there?”

“I assume she walked.”

“In the dark? My God, what was she thinking?”

“I really don’t think she was thinking very clearly. She was pretty upset. But she’s okay now. June gave her half a sleeping pill. I hope you don’t mind, but she wouldn’t let us call you and we needed to get her calmed down. She’s asleep now.”

Marina leaned back against the headboard and stared at the ceiling. “Oh Christ. Did she tell you anything? I was going to call you last night, but quite honestly I didn’t have the energy to talk.”

“She wasn’t making a whole lot of sense. Why don’t you come over here and we can talk.”

Marina pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a flannel shirt over her T-shirt and panties, and headed downstairs, pausing to look in Zoe’s room. It was in its usual state of disarray and she didn’t see any sign of a note. She turned a lamp on in the living room, but saw no sign of a note. Nothing in the kitchen either. She ran her fingers through her hair, then grabbing a clump on either side of her head, she pulled hard until tears came to her eyes. What had she done to Zoe?

By now the sky was light, the grass along the side of the road covered in frost. Marina hoped that Zoe had at least had the good sense to dress warmly. She couldn’t imagine how she had managed to creep out of the house without waking her. The stairs creaked and the back door squeaked, and she was a light sleeper. The evening before, when she’d gone upstairs to try to talk to Zoe, she found that Zoe had wedged her desk chair under the doorknob, and after a round of pleading with her to open the door, Marina had left her alone for the rest of the evening hoping she’d come around.

“So, now what?” Lydia asked, stirring cream into her coffee. She had explained to Marina that, according to Sasha, the girls had decided to make NED scrapbooks, gathering whatever information they could about their nonexistent fathers. Evidently Zoe thought there might be more information about Thomas in some boxes in the attic. Sasha hadn’t known what Zoe found because Marina was giving her a ride home when Zoe went up to the attic.

Marina picked at a muffin while she listened to Lydia, then outlined what had happened with Zoe the previous evening. “I didn’t know what to do, what to say. I guess I never expected her to find out. I’d forgotten about the stuff in the attic. I meant to get rid of it years ago.”

“So she knows that Thomas was married to Sarah, that Sarah was your best friend, and that you never told either of them.”

Marina nodded but didn’t look up from the muffin that was fast becoming a pile of crumbs.

“Did she give any indication of understanding your predicament?” Lydia asked.

“God, no. All she cares about is that I deprived her of having a father. All she sees is that I’ve lied to her over and over and over. The more time that goes by, the more lies she’s going to uncover. Little things that I made up.” Marina put her head in her hands and began to cry. “It’s just going to hurt her again and again.”

Lydia reached over and patted Marina’s hand. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Just wait until she wakes up and you have a chance to talk to her.”

Marina nodded into her hands, then reached for a paper napkin from a stack in the center of the table. She and Lydia had an ongoing debate about the merits of paper napkins versus cloth napkins, with Marina favoring the aesthetics of cloth while Lydia voted for expediency. At this moment Marina was just grateful to have something to blow her nose into.

“I’m going to have to call Josh and cancel my trip. There’s no way I can leave Zoe like this.”

Lydia nodded, but said, “You’ve still got a couple of days before you leave. Why don’t you wait and see how she is when she wakes up?”

“I suppose. But there’s no way I can just go off and leave her like this.”

“Of course not.” Lydia pushed her chair back. “Why don’t we go and check on her. That pill should be wearing off.”

Sasha’s room, although larger than Zoe’s, was in a similar slovenly state. Zoe lay supine on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Zoe, sweetie,” Marina called softly from the doorway, but at the sound of her mother’s voice, Zoe rolled over and pulled the comforter over her head. Lydia gave Marina’s shoulder a squeeze, then closed the door behind her. Marina made her way across the room, not sure what to do or say. She stood beside the bed for a moment, then sat gingerly on the edge. She couldn’t begin to explain her transgression with Thomas all those years ago. The only thing she knew for sure was that she was grateful Zoe was the result, and while she regretted the web of lies she’d woven, she had no idea how to untangle it.

Marina rested her hand on Zoe’s back. “Sweetheart, I know you’re really angry and upset, but you can’t go running off in the night like that. What if something had happened to you?” Marina’s throat tightened at the thought. “I’m sorry I lied to you about Thomas, but it’s much more complicated than you can understand. I was so young and I made some mistakes. And then I didn’t know how to undo them. I wish I’d done things differently, really I do, but ... Zoe, please talk to me.” Marina didn’t know what else to say. When no response was forthcoming, she simply enveloped the mound of bedding in her arms and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Zoe. I love you. Call me when you’re ready to talk.”

In the kitchen Lydia had cleaned up the table and brewed a fresh pot of coffee.

“Can I make you some eggs? You should eat. You look shattered.”

Marina pulled out a chair and flopped into it. “Shattered. Now there’s a perfect word.”

“I just meant you look tired.”

Marina nodded. “I know you did, but ‘shattered’ is what Zoe’s life is right now. Our life.”

“How’s she doing? Did she talk?”

Marina shook her head, taking the mug Lydia held out. “Now what do I do?”

Lydia sat down with her coffee. “Maybe just leave her alone for now. I’m here all day. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“I just feel so helpless. How can I help her if she won’t talk to me?”

“She needs some time. Leave her here and call me later. You must have so much to do.”

“I do, but it’s all for the trip. If I’m not going ...” Marina shrugged.

“Look, you don’t know how Zoe will be doing a couple of days from now. Just give her another day before you decide anything.”

Marina sat behind the wheel of her car with the motor running, raising her hand every now and then in salute to other mothers picking up their children. Mothers who somehow managed to navigate the murky waters of marriage and relationship without casting their children onto the rocks. If only ... But she stopped herself. She’d spent the last day and a half speculating on paths not taken. If only she’d told Thomas, if only she’d had an abortion, if only she’d told Sarah, if only she’d found a mate, had more children, made a happy family. If only she’d told Zoe the truth in the beginning. Around and around she’d gone until she couldn’t think about it anymore. Finally, desperate to silence her thoughts, she’d put on Patsy Cline at full blast and sung along to the brokenhearted melodies as she clipped and watered every plant in the house. When she’d checked in with Lydia the previous evening, Zoe was still refusing to come out of Sasha’s room, but she’d eaten and Lydia had heard the girls talking.

“So we know she’s not in shock. June just went in to see her and says she looks fine, has good color, but doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now except Sasha and ... she doesn’t want to go home. I’m sorry.”

“That’s no surprise. I’ll be surprised if she ever wants to come home.”

Marina had spoken briefly with June, who reassured her that Zoe was all right, and the three of them had come to a consensus that Zoe would stay another night with the proviso that she went to school in the morning.

Marina’s hand gripped the wheel as she watched for Zoe in the throng of gangly limbs, pimply faces, and shrieking animation. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d waited for Zoe after school. Somewhere along the line, the school bus and extracurricular activities had taken her place. Then she saw her, coat unzipped, no hat, walking toward the bus with Sasha and two other girls. She was laughing. Laughing! Marina scrambled from the car and called out, waving her arm. “Zoe!” All four faces looked in her direction—three with surprise, one with a scowl. The girls gathered rank around Zoe, looking nervously over their shoulders at Marina, who had stopped in front of her car, unsure whether to proceed. After a moment, Sasha broke away from the group and walked over to where Marina was standing, and without preamble said, “Zoe says she will call you tonight.” Then she turned and walked back to her friends.

Marina drove out of the school parking lot, but instead of turning south toward home, she turned north in the direction of Hudson. The sun was low in the sky, just kissing the treetops on the far side of the river, and by the time she reached the city outskirts, it had dissolved into a lavender dusk. Porch lights were just coming on over rickety wooden porches and cracked walkways. As she turned onto the main street, the buildings straightened out, with brick façades and refurbished accents. She looked around in surprise. What was she doing here? She slowed down as she approached Peter’s shop, then put her foot to the accelerator at the sight of the dark windows. What was she thinking? Peter wouldn’t be able to help her. He didn’t even know half her story. She looked at her watch and turned toward home. She’d have a bath, fix a nice dinner, and wait for Zoe to call.

The drive home through the dark soothed Marina’s nerves, and she felt almost peaceful as she walked into the house, but at the sight of the message light flashing, a rush of adrenaline set them on edge again.

Zoe’s voice filled the kitchen. Her voice was hard. “Mom, it’s me. I’m glad you aren’t there. I don’t want to talk to you. I’m staying here at Sasha’s. You should go to Florence because I’m not coming home anytime soon.” There was a pause. “Besides, don’t you think you have something to tell your
good friend
Sarah?”