An Idol for Others (40 page)

“Ok. Here goes.” He gathered himself together and sprang up and made a dash for his clothes.

The week after that, Clara devoted some time to research and observation and came to a startling conclusion. She immediately prepared for action. One evening when the Makins were doing nothing, there was a phone call for her. Walter heard her voice become brisk and businesslike. She came away from the phone looking preoccupied. “It was Janice, dearest. Something terrible has happened with Bob. I told her I’d come right up.”

“Do you want me?”

“No, it’s girl business. She needs somebody to talk to. If I’m not back by midnight, I’ll call you. What a shame Mark hasn’t dropped in to keep you company.”

“I’ve got plenty to keep me busy. Give her my love.”

He waited for ten minutes after she had left and then leaped up, feeling as if he were being released from prison. He hurried out and around the corner and up to the room. It was empty. The smile with which he was prepared to greet Mark made him feel foolish. This was translated into a sense of being wronged. Why was Mark always out when he turned up unexpectedly? He wondered if he ever stayed out all night. His eye was caught by a volume of poetry he had never seen before. He knew Mark’s books now, all first-rate, indicative of a cultivated taste. He flipped over pages and saw that the verse was erotic and frankly homosexual, lyrical and not remotely pornographic, but after reading a few pages he snapped the book shut with an obscure feeling of distaste. Wasn’t what they were doing enough without Mark’s wanting to read about it?

He wandered about the room thinking about getting undressed and waiting in bed. He resisted the temptation. Something was all wrong. Mark’s absence. The poetry. He had let himself be drawn into a homosexual relationship, and it was turning out as he had always known it must. Furtive meetings. The constant nagging fear of discovery. Doubts about his lover’s fidelity. Why should two men be faithful to each other?

It needn’t be like this
, an inner voice objected. Face the failure of his marriage. Face the fact that he was subject to desires that he could no longer repress. Accept Mark openly as the companion of his life, his lover and mate, around whom the day’s activities would automatically turn. Everything he hated–the constant worry about where Mark was and what he was doing–were all the consequences of his failure to take this simple step. It didn’t involve any extravagant gestures or even any great courage. He had only to divorce his childless wife and sign a lease on an apartment where he and Mark could live comfortably. If anybody wondered what they did in bed, what difference did it make? Nobody could know.

All very well–except that he couldn’t divorce her now. He might have been able to consider it a few weeks ago when she was about to inherit a fortune, but he couldn’t walk out and leave her penniless because of her loyalty to him. He couldn’t afford to set her up on her own. Was it too late for the only alternative? He tried to think dispassionately of not seeing Mark again. His life had been going along smoothly a few weeks ago without his knowing Mark existed. It shouldn’t be too difficult to make a small step backward and start again from there. He sprang up and strode around the room, striking out lightly at the furniture. He should go home and get his mind on other matters and have an early evening. He got as far as the door before he turned back. Mark might arrive at any moment. He could have almost two hours with him. It was a sickness in him. It was sick to allow his whole life to hinge on the hope of a moment with Mark.

He sat and tried to read. He judged he had been waiting more than an hour and a half when he hard Mark’s footsteps and his key in the lock. He wanted to rush to him and throw his arms around him with relief but remained seated. Mark entered and stood, dumbfounded.

“My God. What are you doing here?”

“Not spending the evening with you, obviously.”

Mark hurried to him and dropped to his knees in front of him. “How long have you been here, darling? This is awful.”

His uncomplicated gaze was all the assurance Walter needed that his evening had been innocent. He took Mark’s hand and turned it so he could see the watch. “Since about 9. An hour and three quarters.”

“What happened? How did you get away?”

“Clara had to go out suddenly. I came right over.”

Mark shook his head. “This is awful. What’re we going to do? Should I sit here every evening on the off chance that you might come in unexpectedly? I will if you want me to.”

“Of course not You’ve got to have your own life.”

“You’re angry, and I don’t blame you. There’s nothing worse than waiting for somebody. I know all about it. But you’re right. If you have your life, I’m going to have mine.”

“You needn’t sound so pleased about it.”

Resistance came up in Mark’s eyes, sharpened by anger. “Come on, now. This isn’t the way I want it. I’ve told you. We’re going to live together. It’s the only way we’ll make sense with our lives. You’ll see it eventually. Until you do, I’ve got to try to keep from going nuts.”

Walter was immediately conciliatory. “I know. I’m being ridiculous.” He opened his legs and pulled him close and held him. “Oh, God. I’ve been wanting you so desperately, and now I’ve got to go.”

Mark pulled back. “Oh, no. We’re going to bed together. We’ve got to. It’s important.”

“I can’t. I’ve got to get back by 11.”

The protest went out of Mark’s eyes, and his body lost its amorous tensions. “If you’ve got to, you’ve got to.” He glanced at his watch. “You have only five minutes.”

They rose together. Walter told himself that if he managed to leave now, he might find some small tough untouched area in himself on which to start rebuilding his independence. It would be risky to stay out longer, but he could explain it away somehow. Caution urged immediate departure. At least he knew Mark was here now.

Mark put a hand on his arm and headed him for the door. “It’s all right. I know it’s going to be difficult until after Europe. I just can’t bear to think I’ve lost two hours with you.”

“Oh, Christ.” Walter stopped and turned to him and gathered him into his arms. “Shall I say the hell with it and stay all night? That’s what I want to do.”

“I know. That’s why I can let you go. We’ve been so careful. We might as well be careful a little longer to see if it pays off the way you want it to.”

They clung to each other and kissed until they both had trouble breathing, then whispered stricken little farewells and parted. Walter got home shortly before Clara arrived. He congratulated himself on his self-control.

Clara had completed her case. She waited until the end of the week, when Walter was to be out of the office most of the day for important meetings in which Mark wouldn’t be included. She allowed Mark an hour after he had come in for his usual afternoon’s work and then went to Walter’s room and found him installed behind Walter’s desk.

“Hello, darling,” she greeted him breezily.

“Hi.”

“You look frightfully busy, but I’m going to interrupt you,” she said. “I’m going home. I want you to come with me. I have some things to discuss with you.”

“Oh? Well, Walter wanted me to–”

“It’s all right,” she said. “I take full responsibility. He called just before you came in. He’s running late. He told me to ask you to come by our place at 7. He made rather a point about my telling you that he wouldn’t see you before then. I don’t quite know what he meant, unless you were planning to meet him somewhere. He won’t be back here for the rest of the day.”

“He said something about meeting him at Berman’s if he got through early. I guess that’s out. You’re leaving now?”

“Yes, darling. Come along. Let’s go where we can be comfortable. We might even have an illicit drink before the afternoon’s done.”

She kept up a bright line of chatter in the taxi on the way downtown. She had planned it all carefully and wanted to take him by surprise.

“Oh,” he said after she had made good her offer to pay for the taxi. “There’s something I should do. I’ll run home and be right back.”

“Of course, darling. Don’t be long.” She went up and took off all her clothes and put on a voluminous dressing gown. It was a bit hot for the season, but she didn’t want to look as if she were trying to seduce him. She hadn’t decided yet about that part of it. She put her feet into loose slippers. When his familiar identifying buzz sounded, she was ready to let him in.

“I decided to get really comfortable,” she said when he entered. “Why don’t you do the same, darling? Take off your jacket and tie. It’s much warmer today. Summer’s coming.”

She seated herself on the sofa and waited while he did as she suggested. He came around in front of her and sat in a chair near her. The line of his body in shirtsleeves was superb. “Did you leave a note telling him where you are?” she asked.

“What?”

“You needn’t have bothered. I told you, darling, he won’t be free till 7. For once, that was for your information as well as mine.”

“I don’t seem to be following you, Clara.” He couldn’t believe his ears, but he knew that he was suddenly engaged in a fight for his life. All his instincts for survival were immediately alerted. His heart, after a brief flurry, was beating regularly. His fingers tensed and then spread out gracefully on the arms of his chair. “What are you talking about?”

“You know, but I’m perfectly willing to tell you if you think there’s any room for confusion. I’m Walter’s wife. You’re his lover. We have things to talk about.”

“I’m
what
?” he demanded with perfectly expressed incredulity.

“You’re his lover, darling.” His composure was so impressive that for an instant she almost doubted the ironclad case she had assembled. She shrugged the shadow of doubt away. “Or he’s your lover, if I haven’t put it properly. I didn’t mean to get into technicalities. You’re having an affair. That’s all that need concern us.”

“Really, Clara, I’m pretty new to the theater, but you people amaze me sometimes. Do you think everybody is off having sex with everybody else? Are you suggesting that Walter and I are a couple of queers?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way. I’ve always known about Walter’s little tendencies. I dare say you’ve brought them all rushing to the surface. I’m suggesting you’re a queer.”

“Damn it, Clara, I thought we were getting to be friends. You’re making me very angry. What right have you to say a thing like that?”

“Oh, every right.” She sat back, almost regretting the fate she had in store for him. He was splendid. His extraordinary good looks had grown dark and dangerous, his stern brow was almost frightening. She felt a masculine menace in him that she had never felt in any man. “The secretary of war is an old friend of the family. I have your service record. It’s suggestive.”

“All right.” He sighed. There was no point in trying to fight that one. “Kids do things at 18 they’re apparently supposed to go on regretting for the rest of their lives. So what?”

“The present governor of New Jersey is also an old friend of the family. Travere is a fairly unusual name. They’re looking up all births registered in the name of Travere in the last–”

“Oh, come on, Clara. What if I tell you my wife and I weren’t speaking by the time the baby was born and she had it registered in the name of the man she was living with? Never mind. What are you going to do with these startling revelations? Tell Walter? He knows. We thought a few little lies would make me more employable. He’s been wonderful to me. We get along beautifully, but unless you have a photographer under my bed, I don’t see why you think you know what goes on in it.”

“You disappoint me, darling. You’re being tiresome. I thought by now we could agree that I know and go on to something more interesting.” She glanced at the clock. There was still plenty of time. “Do you want me to tell you all of it? Very well. You stayed here with Walter after Herbie had finished the modeling session. A rather private product I use was moved that day. I’ve always kept it in the same place for years. You moved into your room the next day, not months ago. I won’t bother to mention all the hours you can’t account for when you and Walter were supposed to be somewhere on business. The other night a convenient friend in distress called me. I waited outside in a taxi and saw Walter go around to your place. He stayed.”

“Really? Well, as it happens, I wasn’t there that night. I can prove that easily enough. I mean–” From her expression, he knew he had blundered seriously, but for the moment he couldn’t see how.

She enlightened him. “Exactly,” she said with a satisfied smile. “You weren’t there to let him in. He has his own keys to your place. Is that usual with two men who are just good friends?”

There was nothing for him to do but brazen it out. He thought of the years of solitude. He wasn’t going to be beaten easily. He was fighting for Walter as well as for himself. “You’d make a pretty good detective, Clara. I’m still waiting for proof.”

“Do I need any? What would Walter do if I told him that I knew this much? Refuse to see you again. He hasn’t the courage to face this sort of thing.”

“You’re assuming he has something to face. Tell him. He’ll tell you exactly what I have–that we’ve become friends and have a good time together.”

“I thought you knew him better than that It’s the suspicion he can’t bear. He might’ve had affairs with dozens of boys if it weren’t for that. He got rid of another friend of his simply because he was suspect.”

“David. He told me.” Walter had made it clear that it was she who had got rid of David, but that had had nothing to do with being in love. If worse came to worst, Mark thought he might be able to hold him; but he didn’t want to put him to the test. He mustn’t say anything that would give her an even greater hold on them. “What do you want, Clara?” he asked, surrendering ground.

“That’s better. First of all, I want you to get undressed.”

“What are you talking about?” He was briefly incredulous, and then he knew that this was going to be worse somehow than anything he could imagine.

“I want you to take all your clothes off. I want to see you naked.”