The Tolling of Mercedes Bell: A Novel (45 page)

H
is fine blue pinstriped shirt hung on him like a sack, the collar too loose around his neck to support a necktie. But Jack enjoyed donning his fine clothes now more than ever. He examined the blue of the stripe and picked out lapis cufflinks from his jewelry case. He pulled on starched khakis that were now so baggy he had to cinch up his belt to keep them on, and his belt needed another hole. Unconcerned, he slid his feet into polished loafers.

Despite the brilliant summer sunshine, he was cold, so he retrieved a cashmere sweater from the shelf and pulled it on. The effort made him light-headed, and he slumped in the boudoir chair that Mercedes had moved into their closet for this purpose. Many accommodations had been made throughout the house, starting with handrails and a sturdy bench chair in the oversized shower stall.

He had managed to groom himself after a fashion and put on cologne. He got up unsteadily, and put on his Cartier watch and his new diamond ring. He had bought it on one of his recent forays into
the city, which Mercedes knew nothing about. He saw no reason to tell her since they disagreed about whether he should be driving. The ring sparkled and made him smile. Once again, he could have whatever he wanted.

He had the house to himself. He had discharged the nurse the previous week, after demonstrating his independence. He could count his many pills and take them on schedule; he could feed himself again. But being able to dress properly was by far his favorite accomplishment following those many dark weeks.

Mercedes was at work and Germaine was away at summer camp. The day was at his command. No one was aware of his intention to drive to his office for the first time since he’d gone to the hospital. He gathered up his wallet and keys and put on a sport coat. He looked into a full-length mirror. The man who returned his gaze startled him. His were the hollow cheeks, long thinning hair, and the confused eyes of a stranger. He stepped closer to scrutinize the face. Then he summoned his most charming smile and lightly rearranged his hair with his hands.

M
ERCEDES WAS BUSY FACT-CHECKING
a legal brief for federal court. Now that Jack was beginning to recover his mental faculties, she was able to sleep better and concentrate on her work. The harder the work, the happier she was—anything to keep her mind off the situation at home or the news she was facing. Tomorrow was the red-letter day on which she would get the results of the second HIV test. At least Germaine was out of town. She would have a few weeks to adjust to the bad news before her daughter’s watchful eyes were on her again.

The secretaries were congregated in the kitchen when she went there to refill her water glass. One was reporting that her neighbor’s husband had just been diagnosed with AIDS. He’d received a blood
transfusion after surgery a few years earlier, before the blood banks were testing their inventory or their donors for HIV. After two years of declining health and much illness, he had just learned the truth. All the neighbors were in an uproar about it, she said, and were prohibiting their children from playing with the sick man’s daughter. To make matters worse, the young girl was being ostracized at school.

“But that’s so unkind,” Louise said. “The poor child hasn’t done anything.”

“Easy for you to say,” Lorraine replied. “Your kids are grown and gone. I wouldn’t want mine playing with anyone whose parent has AIDS. Nobody really knows how it’s transmitted. Why take a chance?”

“But they do know,” Louise contradicted. “It’s from an exchange of body fluids, right? And not a casual one either. How could a little girl get it from her father?”

A look went around the table.

“Yes, we all know how that works,” Lorraine cut her off, with a disparaging expression on her face. “It’s disgusting!”

Mercedes filled her glass. None of them knew her circumstances. Lorraine’s was the type of thinking that Germaine would be up against as soon as word got out. Unsuspecting, Louise’s eyes met Mercedes’s, and she smiled. She and Mercedes were like-minded about most things.

Mercedes was glad she’d kept Jack’s condition buttoned up, and wondered how much longer she could do it, now that he was getting about. As soon as people began to see him in public, the jig would be up.

W
HEN SHE DROVE UP THEIR
street toward the house that evening, she saw from half a block away that the garage door was standing
open and Jack’s black car was parked half in and half out of it at a bizarre angle. Jack had been driving. She would have to find his keys and hide them before she went to bed that night. She wondered what catastrophe awaited her inside the house, or which version of Jack would greet her, if he greeted her at all. Before facing the madness, she stopped for a moment in their courtyard to commune with Athena, who was serene as always.

In the living room, magazines and newspapers were everywhere, as if scattered by the wind. The day’s mail was partially opened and strewn in a number of places. Envelopes addressed to Soutane & Associates had been tossed around. Papers were on the floor, on the couch, on the telephone table.

“Jack?” she called out.

No answer.

He was not in the bedroom, which was a jumble of sheets and blankets. His bureau drawers were open, as was his jewelry case. The bathroom was a disaster, with towels and clothes littering the floor, whiskers and globs of toothpaste dotting the sink.

She found him out on the deck, resting on a chaise with a highball in his hand.

He noticed his wife, with a start, and nodded. He looked haggard, with dark shadows below his eyes, and his Adam’s apple protruding from his skinny neck.

“You’re all dressed up,” she said, bending over to kiss his forehead politely, “and you went out today.” Confronting him about his driving would serve no purpose. She would simply have to prevent a recurrence. And he definitely wasn’t supposed to drink while on AZT.

He patted the cushion of the chaise next to his, inviting her to sit. “I think we may have found an attorney to take over the practice,” he said. “I surprised Melanie today with a visit.”

Mercedes wondered how Melanie had felt seeing a scarecrow replica of Jack show up at the office unannounced. She sat back, stretched out her legs, and eyed the lush landscape, recalling the moment a few months before when the pheasant had so proudly fanned his plumage for her.

“Well, that’s big news. Who’s the lawyer and how is Melanie?” Jack was ignorant of the frequent communications between the two women, or the depth of Mercedes’s investigations into his practice and his life.

“He’s a sole practitioner that Matthew knows and recommends, so we’re going to proceed. Melanie interviewed for a position in his office and she’s going to work for him. She seemed very happy to see me,” he smiled, “but I couldn’t stay long. I brought the mail home.”

He laid his head back on the cushion and closed his eyes.

Her eyes suddenly fell upon his hand. The enormous diamond glinted in the sunlight.

“Where did you get that ring?” she asked in astonishment.

He sat up with a start, realizing he’d forgotten to take it off before she got home.

“Oh, that. It’s a recent purchase. What the hell, right?” He flashed what would once have been a dazzling smile, his charmer’s smile, but now it flashed from sallow cheeks beneath sunken eyes.

“You bought it for yourself?’ She was dumbfounded.

“I thought it suited me.” He stretched out his hand and admired it.

“What did you buy it with? We’re not exactly flush at the moment. There’s been no income from your practice to speak of, and the disability payments haven’t started.”

“I have my resources,” he said dismissively.

“Evidently so.” She didn’t have the energy for an argument, especially one that was doomed from the start.

His tone was repellent to her, so she left to change out of her work clothes and take further stock of the house. A day of Jack being
home alone was tantamount to a toddler being home alone all day. A giant toddler who thought he could drive, and who felt entitled to any bauble that caught his fancy. Everything he touched was left wherever he felt like dropping it when he was distracted by the next thought or attracted to the next object. The sight of the mess everywhere made her feel even more tired than she already was. Her work would never be done. There would never be any peace.

She pulled on her shorts and a tee shirt and straightened up the closet, then cleared the floor of the bathroom. She ran hot water in the sink to clean it out. His keys were on his bedside table, so she scooped them up and walked out to his car. The interior was a mess. Out of curiosity she opened his glove compartment. There were no bottles of medication in it this time. All those were now out in plain view on his dresser. But, to her surprise, she found Janine Reneau’s checkbook and some of her bills. He must have collected them when he went to the office.

She reparked his car properly so the garage door would close, and locked it. He should be more careful with Janine’s affairs, she thought, and not leave her so exposed. Anyone could have stolen her checkbook that afternoon.

As she walked back into the house, a sense of dread overwhelmed her about the pending test results. Was this how she would be next year?

Out in the living room she pushed Jack’s paperwork into piles and sifted through the day’s unopened mail, which included an envelope on heavy bond paper bearing Matthew Spencer’s business logo. It was addressed to both of them. She poured herself a lemonade and opened the letter. It concerned the valuation of Jack’s accounts. He proposed a meeting of the three of them and provided a list of items he wanted them to bring.

Those items touched on matters she’d not been able to figure out
from the documents she’d examined, including Janine Reneau’s affairs—all of which would have to be sorted out before Jack was incapacitated again. It was a good list, and she was glad that she and Melanie had thought of going to Matthew. The time had come for Jack to face facts, and for her to know what they were. She wondered, ironically, whether Jack would wear his new ring to the meeting.

Jack shuffled in from the deck. He had lost so much weight, it was hard to connect this incarnation with His Majesty. But there was no time for sentiment. She went into the kitchen to see what sort of rich meal she could concoct for him.

He stopped at the dining room table, which was in his path, and spied the letter lying on its glossy surface. He picked it up and began to read. Mercedes, who was pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator, watched him inconspicuously from behind the refrigerator’s open door. For so many weeks he’d been unable to read, it was a relief to see his mind working better. Concern crept over his features and he scowled. His face registered a number of emotions, none of them pleasant. He looked outside momentarily, then resumed reading. She could see that some grim realization was dawning on him. When he finished reading, he let the letter fall to the table and left the room.

He stayed out of the kitchen while she cooked and remained withdrawn throughout the evening. They ate dinner in silence. She could see him brooding and was happy, for once, not to know the cause. She was deeply tired from the day, and from the constant battles against clutter, against mystery, against things she didn’t understand and didn’t have enough information to figure out. She savored her food and ate it slowly, staring out at the trees.

Jack ate hungrily for the first time in a long while, then abruptly pushed away from the table without a word.
Fine,
she thought,
be that way.
By the time she was done cleaning up, he’d gone to bed.

When she left for work the next morning, he was still asleep, or pretending to be asleep, his clothes on the floor exactly where he’d dropped them.