The Kiss (8 page)

“I guess me too,” he said philosophically. There was nothing he couldn't say to Isabelle. “I suppose if Cindy had been warmer than my parents, I wouldn't have known how to deal with it in those days. I was twenty-two when we got married, and I think part of me has been frozen for years.” It was only when he had begun talking to her four years before that so much had become clear to him, and so many of his views had changed. He had been drawn to Isabelle's warmth and light like a moth to flame, and in some ways, she had kept him alive ever since. But the contrast between her and his wife had made him feel even more distant from Cindy after so many years. He could see now how vastly separate and distant they were, and had been for so long.

“I wonder how different it would have been if we had known then, when we married them, all that we know now.”

“I'd never marry Cindy if I met her today,” Bill said without hesitation. “I can't talk to her, never could.

She hates talking about feelings, has no need for real conversation, in fact she detests it. All she's interested in is a marriage that looks good, what lies beneath it is of absolutely no interest to her. I hate to make her sound so shallow, and she has some wonderful qualities, but I've been married to a stranger for thirty years.”

“And you're willing to stay that way for another thirty?” she questioned him.

“It looks that way, doesn't it?” he said honestly, but lately he'd been wondering why himself. But divorce would have been a serious handicap for him. Keeping a low profile, and his nose clean, was essential to him. No president or presidential candidate would want to be associated with him, if Cindy ever made things rough, and he had long since suspected she would. She was not about to let go of a good thing. The last thing Cindy wanted was a divorce. She liked the status quo. “Aren't you ready to do the same thing? To stay in a loveless marriage for the rest of your life?” Bill questioned her. He knew the answer without asking her. They had discussed it before.

“I have no choice.”

“We all have choices, if we're brave enough to take them. But you and I have a lot to lose. My career would be impacted if Cindy and I split up now. And you have a desperately sick child. I understand why we're both doing what we're doing. I can explain it. But in spite of that, sometimes I think we're both fools. If we really had any courage, and believed in our ideals, we'd get the hell out of Dodge. And I don't think either of us ever will.” It was not a judgment he
was making of her, or himself, it was a simple statement of fact as he saw it.

“I suspect you're right,” she said, sounding sad.

“I just hope we don't regret it one day. Life is short. My parents died in their sixties, and I'm not sure they ever enjoyed their life. They just did what they thought they had to, and what they should. I want more than that. I just haven't figured out how.”

“I don't let myself think about it,” Isabelle said honestly. “I made a choice twenty years ago, and I've stood by it.”

“That's noble of you,” he said, taking her hand in his as they sat in the car, “but they don't give prizes for that. In the end, no one's watching, no one cares. No one's going to pin a medal on us one day for being brave.”

“What are you saying?”

“I'm not sure. I get tired sometimes of all the reasons I give myself for the way I live. I'm not even sure I believe my own bullshit anymore. To be honest with you, Isabelle, when I see you, and talk to you, I wonder what the hell we're both doing.”

“With each other?” She sounded frightened and wondered if he was telling her he wouldn't see her anymore. As she looked at him, her eyes were wide.

“No, with everyone else. You and I are the only ones who make sense. I've never been able to talk to anyone the way I talk to you. Isn't that the way it's supposed to be?”

She nodded, thinking of all that he had said. “It is now, but I wouldn't have understood it at twenty-one when I got married. All I knew then was to do what I
was told. Gordon was just like my father. He told me when to get up, when to go to bed, what to say, what to do, what to think. I think I found it comforting then. I never realized I had a choice, and there were other ways to live.”

“And now?”

“I still don't have choices, Bill. You know that. What choice do I have?”

“Whichever you want. That's the point. We both talk about the high price of changing our lives. What about the high price of staying in them as they are? Do you ever think of that?”

“I try not to,” she said honestly. “I'm there for Teddy's sake, and Sophie's, whether they recognize it or not.”

“Are you sure that is why you're there? Are you sure of that?” he asked, watching her intently. He had never been this forceful with her, and Isabelle was surprised. She wondered what had changed. It was as though he was no longer satisfied with his life, or hers. “Are you sure you're not there because you're too scared to do anything else? Because I am. I think I'm too goddamn scared to just throw all the cards up in the air and walk out. Someone might actually think I'm human and less than perfect, and even that I have real needs. Imagine that.”

“Are you telling me you're going to leave her?” Isabelle was stunned. In all the years they had talked to each other, he had always said he'd never break up his marriage, and so had she.

“I'm saying, or at least I think I am, that I wish I had the guts to leave her.” And then he decided to take a
big step. Even if she was furious and walked off, he had to say it, because it was what he felt. And it meant too much to him to ignore. “Just for your sake, I wish you had the guts to leave him. It kills me to listen to you when I call, you sound like a prisoner in that house, you're being starved and deprived and disregarded and disrespected, and you have been for years. It makes me want to come over and kidnap you, and Teddy, anything to get you away from him and that house. Gordon doesn't deserve you, Isabelle, any more than Cindy deserves me. And what's more, they never did. Both of them have been getting away with murder for years. I wish life were simpler than it is. But it's not. It's goddamn complicated for both of us. I just wish it weren't. I wish we could both start all over again.”

“So do I,” she said quietly. “But we can't. You know that as well as I do.” Isabelle loved the idea of his getting out of his marriage. But in truth, she knew it would be disastrous for him. And so did he. “If Cindy creates a scandal, your entire political life will come down around your ears. You've spent thirty years building that. Are you really willing to give that up? For freedom? Are you so sure? For your ideals? And then what will you do? And I? Gordon told me a long time ago that if I ever left him, he would see to it that I starve in the street. I inherited nothing. It all went to my brother. And when he died, in an accident, it went to his sons. I am completely dependent on Gordon. I cannot afford to walk away from him. I couldn't provide for my son. I couldn't get him the medical assistance he needs. It costs a fortune, and as little as
Gordon may care for me or Teddy, he pays for absolutely everything he needs without blinking an eye. What would you suggest, Bill? That I subject Teddy to abject poverty, on a whim, or leave him behind? No, it's impossible and you know it. Besides, Teddy wouldn't survive the upheaval and the change. And it's all very noble to think of leaving Gordon because he appears not to love me. But love is a luxury in my life. It's one neither Teddy nor I can afford.” It was a hard thing to say, and to live with, but for her it was true. She was dependent on Gordon to provide the very best she could for her son. But it broke Bill's heart to see her willingness to live like that, although he had done virtually the same thing. They were both so willing to settle for what they had. And at such a high price to themselves.

“I guess we just have to make the best of it,” Bill said quietly, as they pulled up in front of the restaurant he'd chosen for lunch. It was Italian, and immensely popular, and once again very chic. “Maybe you're right. Maybe we don't have a choice, although I hate to believe that.” But in her case, he could see no way out, although he found it hard to believe that the French courts would allow Gordon to starve her and their sick child, but maybe she was right, and they would.

“If I leave him,” Isabelle said, looking unhappy, “it would be the most selfish thing I could ever do. Gordon wouldn't give me a penny more than he had to, and I wouldn't be able to make Teddy as comfortable as he is. I would be doing it strictly for myself, and how could I do that to him? The balance is already precarious enough for him as it is.”

“You can't do it,” Bill said simply. “I don't mean to taunt you. I think I get greedy when I spend time with you. I see what life could be, and has never been for either of us.”

“Maybe it's only like this between us because all we have are phone calls, and a few hours together every few months. Maybe if we had married each other, it wouldn't be like this.”

“Do you really believe that?” he asked, looking her straight in the eye.

She hesitated for a long time, and then silently shook her head. “No, I don't. But we'll never know. We can't even allow ourselves to think of it,” she said, closing a door in her head.

“Is dreaming about it another luxury we can't afford, like love?” he asked, looking unhappy.

“I think so. If we ask for more than we have now, or try to take it, we'll only hurt each other in the end. I think we just have to be grateful for what we have, and not ask for more. You're the dearest friend I have in the world, and I love you for it. Bill, you know that. Don't let's spoil it by wanting more.” She had felt the same pull he had since the night before. It was so wonderful being together, walking, talking, laughing, dancing, sharing waffles and croissants. But then what? What would happen when they went home? She wasn't going to allow Bill to do anything foolish, even if he wanted to, she knew that the rest was something they couldn't have. Just as he would, she would have loved it, but she was willing to accept knowing that it wasn't theirs to have. But Bill looked stubborn as he looked at her, before the driver opened the car door.

“I want more,” he said bluntly, and suddenly she laughed.

“Well, you can't have it. You're being a spoiled brat.”

“I feel alive for the first time in years.” He looked it too. And so did she. She felt as if she had dropped ten years since the day before.

“It was the bangers at breakfast. I think they went to your head.” She had decided that the only way to handle it was to refuse to take him seriously, but she was startled by all that he had said. “Maybe we can promise to meet here once a year, for a few days like this. Maybe that will be enough.” It was all she could think of in lieu of a life with him.

“You know as well as I do that it's not enough,” he said stubbornly.

“What do you suggest? That we run away to Brazil? Bill, be serious. Think of what you're saying. Don't be crazy. And don't expect me to be crazy with you. I can't.” He knew her well enough to know that she would never jeopardize her child, that was the crux of it for her. But he wasn't sure she'd ever have left Gordon anyway. She was too proper to do anything as outrageous as that. And even though he was rotten to her, she was incredibly loyal to him.

“You can't like taking his abuse.”

“I don't. And it's not. He has simply removed himself from me.”

“He abandoned you emotionally years ago. What's left, other than the fact that he pays Teddy's bills?”

“That's enough. It's all I need.”

“That's insane. You're forty-one years old. You need more than that.”

“I don't even think about it anymore,” she said firmly, trying to resist all that she felt for him.

“Then you should.”

“I think you need a drink, and a nap. Maybe sedation.” She had never seen or heard him like this. It touched her, but there was nothing she could do about any of it. And she knew it. In another day, she had to go back, two days at most. All she could do was enjoy the time they had, and not spoil it by wanting more. But suddenly he was refusing to see that, and he seemed to want to jeopardize everything by wanting too much. “You have to be sensible now.”

“Why?” he asked her as they got out of the car.

“You know why. Because like it or not, we have no choice. You're only torturing yourself. Or me at least. You have a right to get free if you want to, and maybe you should. But my situation is more complicated than that. Teddy's life depends on what Gordon provides for him.” And she couldn't afford the uncertainty of counting on someone else, not even Bill. Gordon was the boy's father, and owed at least that much to him.

“He'd have to be a monster to withdraw that from you.” She didn't comment for a moment and then looked Bill in the eye again, and spoke clearly and firmly so he would know she meant what she said.

“I'm not going to put it to the test. I can't.”

“I understand,” he said quietly, and followed her into the restaurant. He didn't speak again until they
sat down. “I'm sorry I brought it up. I didn't mean to upset you. It's just that none of this makes sense. We're both living with people who make us unhappy, and when we're together, it feels so right.” Suddenly he wanted to risk it all for her.

“Maybe it feels right because we're not really together. Maybe we'd make each other as unhappy as they do. We don't know.” Everything that had been unspoken between them was now suddenly out in the open, and in some ways it was a relief. They had been hiding behind their friendship, and suddenly he was making it clear that he wanted more. But she was making it just as clear that it was impossible for her, no matter what she felt for him. There was far more at stake than that. And she wasn't going to throw Teddy's life or health away for the dream of a romance. She was far too sensible for that. No matter how much she cared about Bill, and admired him, her son came first. And he respected her for that, he always had, and always would.

“I accept what you're saying, Isabelle,” he said clearly, as they sat at a table under an umbrella, protecting them from the June sun. “I would never jeopardize Teddy's health. But I want you to know how much I care about you. I won't put you or your son at risk. In fact I'd like to help you with him if I can. But I'm not willing to pretend I don't give a damn, or that I don't want more. I want you to know that.”