Alexandra Waring (67 page)

“Because,” she said, sighing, looking down into her lap. “Because I—” She sucked in her breath suddenly, covering her mouth, and then started to cry, holding her face in her hands.

He reached over and pulled her to him, to hold her. “Lexy, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t tell you, I can’t tell you,” she said, holding on to him.

“Yes, you can. What is it? What’s the matter?”

“I just can’t go through with it,” she said. “Not when I’m not sure it can work. I should at least think it will work. I should at least think so, Gordon.”

He held her, stroking her hair. “You’re exhausted, Alexandra—”

“Because it’s not just you anymore,” she said suddenly, pulling back to look at him, wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist. “It’s Christopher too. Even if we didn’t have children—and I know you want children—but even if we didn’t have children, you already have Christopher and you can’t go into another marriage that you’re not sure’s going to work—”

“Christopher?” he said. “Christopher lives with Julie.”

“Christopher is your son,” Alexandra said. “And you want to be a part of his life—”

“But not with you, is that it?” he said. “You mean if we lived in New York and I never saw Christopher, everything would be fine? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“No,” she said, looking miserable. “I mean if you want to be a real part of your son’s life you can’t afford another marriage like your first one—you can’t repeat the same mistake.”

“Mistake?” he said.

“It’s true,” she said. “But it’s not you, Gordon—it’s me. I’m the one who’s so mixed up—I’m the one who’s unstable—unstable for you. And I don’t think I’m good for you—I know I wouldn’t be a good wife for you. I couldn’t be there for you the way you’d want me to be.”

He was looking at her. “There’s somebody else.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

Silence.

“I don’t believe you,” he told her.

Her eyes were searching his. “Can you believe me,” she whispered, tears flooding back into her eyes, “if I told you it’s because I know I’ll make you unhappy—even more unhappy than you already are?”

“I haven’t been—” He stopped, dropping his eyes. It was true. He had been unhappy. And the reasons why would very likely continue.

Alexandra screwed her eyes shut, tears spilling down. “We tried, Gordon.” She opened her eyes, swallowing. “You’ve had one woman use you already. I don’t think Julie meant to do it—but she did. She was confused about her life and she used you to give direction to it by marrying you, and then by leaving you. And I’m scared I’d do the exact same thing.” She lowered her eyes, sighing. “But, unlike Julie, I know how confused I am in my life right now. And there’s no excuse for me to go ahead—not with someone I genuinely care about, genuinely love—when I know, I
know
, Gordon, that there’s no reason to think I’d be good for you.”

She paused, raising her head to look at him. “Not when you’ve changed so much—not when you finally have an idea of what you want, what you’ve always really wanted.” She touched his cheek, closing her eyes, a tear spilling down. “And it’s not something I can give you.” She opened her eyes, swallowed, sniffed and tried to smile. “And you do know—you finally really do know, don’t you, Gordie? Don’t you?” And then she threw her arms around him, hugging him, crying.

They sat there like that for a few minutes, with Alexandra crying and Gordon sitting there, numb, holding her, looking at the wall. And then she sat up, kissed him on the cheek, grabbed her bag and walked to the door. She paused and he looked over. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I love you, Gordie, and I’m sorry to hurt you. And to hurt me.”

And then she was gone.

He heard this. He heard this. He heard this last part and it was starting to register. Alexandra was leaving him.

He wasn’t going to marry Alexandra.

He wasn’t going to marry Alexandra.

He wasn’t going to be talking to Lexy anymore.

David’s kid sister.

The blue-eyed girl from Kansas.

Alexandra.

Gordon closed his eyes and opened his mouth, wide. And he let it hit.

52
Jessica Is a Very Good Friend

Friday morning, at a quarter to nine, Jessica was doing sit-ups in the bedroom, watching Joan Lunden, when she thought she heard something out in the living room. “Mrs. Roberts?” she called on her way down.

Mrs. Roberts was Alexandra’s housekeeper, who still came by a couple days a week to check on things. Mrs. Roberts was very nice but was always saying things to Jessica like, “Alexandra likes her things neat and tidy. Isn’t it interesting how different the two of you are.”

“It’s me,” said a voice.

Jessica stopped her sit—ups and looked around at the door. It was Alexandra.

The last time Jessica had talked to Alexandra had been on Wednesday, at which time Alexandra had stunned her with the news that she and Gordon were probably going to take jobs with Lord Hargrave in London. Now normally, in the old days, Jessica would have reacted to the news—that of a co-worker quitting—in one of three ways.

For example, there had been the time Maria, the coffee cart lady at Group K Productions, had announced she had a new job at Hughes Aircraft. Jessica’s first option as a reaction: drink herself into some greater catastrophe.

(It was very helpful, this if-somebody-is-scaring-me-I’ll-just-do-myself-in-and-take-my-mind-off-it philosophy, because people never understood why the absence of someone like Maria the Coffee Cart Lady was so devastating to Jessica. However, they always did understand Jessica sobbing about having done something awful while drunk. They just didn’t understand that Jessica’s best relationships were with people she didn’t know well enough to drag into the ongoing mess of her life.)

Her second option: get everybody as upset as she was.

(“The sky is falling, the sky is falling!” was always the main message Jessica would try to get across, and Maria the Coffee Cart Lady leaving would be no exception as Jessica would take to the halls, spreading the word. And if she did not see the right spark of panic in people’s eyes after she told them the news, then Jessica would simply keep adding irrelevant details until she hit some kind of a nerve. [“Oh, Jessica—I know he always stares at women, but you don’t think he might have done something to poor Maria, do you? And you think he was the last person to see her before she quit?
Now that I think of it, I once heard him offer to fix the wheel on her wagon
. And as soon as pandemonium broke out, then Jessica would feel enormously better.)

And the third option: amputation. Cut the limb on the spot. If it’s going, it’s going now.

(“Maria’s leaving.” “Oh, that’s too bad—Maria who?” Maria would be
dead
, gone forever, within minutes. And if somehow Maria managed to track Jessica down to say good-bye, Jessica would say, “Goodbye, good luck to you,” thinking about how much she hated Maria for the countless imaginary reasons from the list she always used against anyone who left. Disloyal—not one of us—probably a liar and a cheat
…
)

In the case of Maria the Coffee Cart Lady leaving Group K, Jessica’s response had actually been all three. But Alexandra was not Maria the Coffee Cart Lady. Alexandra was the first close friend Jessica had had in years outside of Denny, and the thought of having made such a friend only to lose her so quickly was—or at least felt—heartbreaking.

And drinking was no longer an option, and so Jessica had hung up the phone after her conversation with Alexandra, having only the other two options to choose from. But there had been no point in running around crying, ‘The sky is falling, the sky is falling!” because, once word got out that Alexandra Waring was leaving DBS, the sky really was going to fall in. And the third option, to cut Alexandra dead while perhaps somewhat apealing (in that simply run-away sense) she could not do because at this point she both owed Alexandra and cared about Alexandra a great deal.

And so Jessica hadn’t reacted at all the way she used to react to such news. She had merely picked up the phone, called Alexandra back and urged her to take the time to really think things through. And then Jessica had wrestled with herself for the rest of the day about whether or not to confide the information to anyone at DBS, but Langley wasn’t in, Cassy was on her way back from London and Jackson had his sister and father with him, and so she didn’t. Besides, as she had kept reminding herself, it was not her news to share.

Finally, late that night, Jessica had called Lisa Connors. And she had a very, very long talk with Lisa Connors about Alexandra. And Jessica had been surprised—no, shocked—by what she finally got Lisa to tell her. And as Lisa told her more about what she thought might be the problem with Alexandra, why she might want to leave DBS, Jessica had started to cry, silently, thanking God that Alexandra had never told her any of this because, if she had, Jessica didn’t think she would have gotten as close to her as she had, and certainly would have used it as an excuse not to stay in her apartment—and certainly then, never would have stopped drinking either.

So it had worked out for the best.

But it just seemed so unbelievable to Jessica, that there was the whole other side to Alexandra’s life evidently almost no one knew of.

“Is she in her early forties, very attractive, blond?” Lisa had said.

“Yeah,” Jessica had said.

“Very bright, warm, funny?”

“Yeah,” Jessica had said.

“And she’s getting divorced?”

“Yeah,” Jessica had said.

“Then that’s her,” Lisa said. “That’s who it must be Cassy Cochran.”

Sitting here, looking at Alexandra standing in the doorway, how very terrible she looked, it seemed more than believable, and for the first time in her life Jessica had no idea what to say. Alexandra apparently didn’t either, because she mumbled something about a glass of water and left.

Feeling a little numb, Jessica turned back around and watched Joan Lunden wrap her interview, thinking that she had to get up and do something, say something. That at least she had to go in and talk to Alexandra. At least she had to act like she hadn’t seen her in weeks and was glad to see her. At least she should ask her what she was doing home and how long she would be here. At least she should offer to leave. At least she should pretend like she was a living, breathing human being and not a shell-shocked snoop who had forced her way into her friend’s private business and now didn’t know what to do with what she had found out. And so Jessica got up, put on her robe (she was in a T-shirt commemorating the 30th Anniversary of The Book Mark in Tucson) and went down the hall.

Alexandra was sitting there with her head down on the kitchen table.

Jessica stood in the doorway a moment, watching her. And then she walked over and gently placed her hand on Alexandra’s back. “I’m glad you came home.”

Silence.

“You okay?” Jessica asked her.

After a long moment, without moving, Alexandra said, “You know, don’t you? I could tell by the look on your face. Lisa told you.”

Jessica hesitated and then said, “Yes. I made her. I was worried about you.”

Pause. “And did you figure out who it was?”

“Yes,’’ Jessica said. A moment later, “It’s no big deal.”

In a moment she felt Alexandra’s back move under her hand. She was laughing—sort of. “It’s no big deal,” Alexandra repeated. Then she sighed, her back stopping. “I’ve failed, you know,” she said, head still down on the table. “I can’t get it right no matter what I do—no matter who it is.” Then suddenly she threw herself back up in her chair, looking up at Jessica. “Cassy doesn’t even know, you know. She doesn’t even know!” The last was said in anger, tears rising. Alexandra turned back to the table, hitting it with her hand, looking away. “God, it’s pathetic. I’m pathetic.”

“No,” Jessica said quietly, sitting down, “that’s one thing you’re not.”

Alexandra turned toward her, eyes miserable. “She and Jackson have been having an affair—for weeks.” She smiled, tears spilling down her face. “She’s in love with him.” She shrugged. “Isn’t that great? Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? If I really cared about her wouldn’t I feel happy for her—happy she has what she wants, happy that the whole wide world will be so damn happy for her? Oh, God,” she added, plunking her elbow on the table and holding her face in her hand.

Jessica watched her. “If I were you, I’d hate her. I’d hate him too.”

Alexandra laughed, still crying, still holding her face in her hand. “I think I hate everybody.”

“I don’t blame you,” Jessica said.

“Jessica,” she said a moment later, her face still in her hand, “I have worked so hard—so very hard all my life—” She paused, catching her breath. “So why is it I can’t make my life work? I never did, I never could. And now I’m beginning to think I’m never going to have anything, anything with anyone else, ever.”

“Well,” Jessica said, shrugging, “with a hundred percent of the population to choose from, I think your chances are better than most myself.”

Alexandra dropped her hand to the table and looked at her. “Well that’s looking on the bright side, isn’t it?”

“The bright side is,” Jessica told her, “the world isn’t over yet, Waring. And maybe there’s something a whole lot better in store for you.” She leaned forward. “Ever think of that, Alexandra Eyes—Miss Smarty Pants? That maybe it would have been an absolute disaster?”

“Try either one of them,” Alexandra said, reaching for a paper napkin.

After a moment Jessica said, “So the wedding’s off?”

Alexandra nodded, wiping her eyes and then blowing her nose.

“You’re not doing something foolish, like trying to punish yourself, are you?” Jessica asked her. “You wouldn’t be the first person to marry her second choice.”

She sighed, looking at Jessica. “I was ready to walk out on him before I even married him.”

Jessica started to laugh. She couldn’t help it.

“I’m glad you think this is so funny,” Alexandra said, smiling a little, wiping her eyes again.

“I don’t,” Jessica said. “It’s just that you’re so—so
sneaky
, I can’t get over it. You have all these different lives going.” She plunked her arms on the table. “You are so
interesting
, Alexandra, I have to tell you that. I really find it quite wonderful to have such a complicated friend.”

Alexandra rolled her eyes, lowering her hand to the table. “But what am I going to do?”

“You’re going to get some sleep and go to work tonight and postpone all major decisions until you get your head straight.” Jessica smiled. “I don’t want to be unkind, Alexandra Eyes, but I think maybe you’re really sort of a mess.”

Jessica swung into West End at eleven o’clock and went straight up to Cassy’s office. “Knock, knock,” she said, walking in.

Cassy held one finger up, talking into the phone. Then, listening into it, she waved Jessica down into a chair, talked for a minute more and then got off. “Hi, how are you?”

“Okay,” Jessica said. “But my friend Alexandra’s not so hot. I just came from home. She’s sleeping and coming in this afternoon.”

Cassy nodded, frowning, taking her glasses off and tossing them down on the desk. “I heard.”

“Did you hear about her and Gordon?”

Cassy nodded.

“See, that’s what I had to talk to you about,” Jessica said. “I can see by your expression what Alexandra means.”

“By my expression?” Cassy said.

“About how much you wanted her to marry Gordon and how upset you’d be that it didn’t work out.”

Cassy winced. “That’s not true, Jessica.”

“But that’s how she feels,” Jessica said. “You know how she is. And I think she feels—irrationally, mind you—that she’s let you down and DBS down by not making it work.”

“That is completely wrong,” Cassy said, enunciating every word.

“Still,” Jessica said, “that’s how she feels.”

“Then I’ll talk to her,” Cassy said.

“Well,” Jessica said, sighing, “that brings me to something else.” She looked at Cassy, closing one eye. “Now how do I say this tactfully?”

Cassy gestured with her hand, indicating that she didn’t know.

“Look,” Jessica said, sitting forward, “I’m very discreet—so please don’t freak when I tell you that I know about you and Jackson.”

Cassy’s face began to rapidly gain color.

“Cassy—excuse me,” Chi Chi said at the door. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Hadley’s finally here.”

“Not yet,” Cassy told her, holding her hand up. “”I’ll be out in a minute.” She returned her attention to Jessica. “Okay,” she said, “so you know about me and Jackson.”

“Right,” Jessica said. “And I just wanted to remind you—not that you don’t already know it—about how difficult it can be for someone who’s just broken up with somebody else to be around couples who’re in love.” She paused. “Particularly when it’s your best friend. Somehow it makes it worse. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes,” Cassy said.

“And so I was hoping that maybe you might make yourself scarce this afternoon,” Jessica said. “It’s just that she’s really down on herself, Cassy, and until she gets some proper sleep there’s not going to be any way of convincing her that you’re not deeply disappointed in her.”

Cassy studied her carefully for several moments. And then she said, very softly, “Is there anything I should know, Jessica?”