Color of Love (19 page)

Jason gave Joe a halfhearted smile. “Thanks.”

“Nora said thanks for the portable CD player. I told her it didn’t fall off the back of a truck.”

Jason looked at Joe and slowly a grin broke out on his tired face.

“Look, Jace,” Joe began softly. “We can’t save the world. We don’t know how. I’m not even sure it’s worth it.”

Jason sighed. “I hope to God you’re wrong.”

Leah and Gail had their tree up and decorated with ornaments collected in their family for almost three generations. All the presents were piled under the tree, a colorful kaleidoscope of paper and ribbons, waiting to be opened.

On the way home from work Leah stopped next door with two small gifts for Joy and Bobby Chen. She stayed to have coffee with Sarah and to gossip. Sarah gave Leah a piece of antique Chinese embroidery of a phoenix on silk fabric, outlined with ornate brocade ribbon. Leah thought it would look wonderful framed for the dining room.

It was almost nine-thirty when Leah headed for home. Music was playing softly from the living room. She came in the front door quietly, and while she stopped to remove her coat she heard voices coming from the den. She knew Gail’s voice at once, but was surprised to recognize Allen’s. The voices were muffled and unintelligible down the length of the hallway, but raised in argument. Leah moved toward the room, thinking to join them, glad that Allen had stopped by before his drive down to Philadelphia. She could give him his gift now. She wouldn’t have to spend more time than necessary with him. She wouldn’t have to be alone with him in the house, with her bedroom just above them. Leah stopped in the hall just outside the entrance when she heard that Gail and Allen were apparently arguing, in part, over her.

“You’re an absolute shit, Allen. Who do you think you’re fooling? All that crap about
your
career and
your
future and
your
image … what about Leah and her future?”

“That’s none of your damned business,” Allen could be heard growling. “Leah and I are doing just fine.”

Gail chuckled. “Oh? Does she know how she fits in with your plans? Do you ever discuss anything with Leah about what she wants? You want to marry her just to make yourself look good. Well, your fantasy sucks because it’s one-sided and it’s built on lies.”

“You forget that Leah loves me.”

“Oh, please … Leah doesn’t know what love is, and I
know
you’re not in love with her. You wish you were.”

“Shut up, Gail. Like I said, it’s between me and Leah. At least it would have been if you hadn’t lied to me. I thought she’d be here and we’d have a chance to be alone and talk.”

“Talk about what? About what happened at Thanksgiving, Allen?”

From the hallway Leah could hear an angry sound from Allen.

“What did she tell you?” he asked Gail.

Leah knew her sister well enough to know Gail would bluff.

“Enough,” Gail answered softly. “Why don’t you tell me your side?”

“Why the hell should you care? You’d already left to spend the night with that—that …”

“Oh, oh. Now I get it,” Gail laughed softly. “This meeting with Leah wasn’t about anything more than protecting yourself. The only person you’ve managed to fool besides yourself is Leah.”

Leah stood rooted, afraid to move or even to breathe normally now that she’d committed herself to eavesdropping. She felt a certain kind of morbid willfulness to stay invisible as secrets were being exchanged.

Her sister’s voice lowered, lost its flippant control and sharpness. It became soft and seductive … and sincere.

“I don’t give a damn about Steven, or any of those guys I dated. I know you think I’ve slept around. But I’ve been waving them under your nose like a carrot to get a reaction out of you. And you know what? You not only took a bite, you swallowed the whole damned thing. I knew that sooner or later it was going to get to you if you thought all those other men had me and you couldn’t. You wanted to convince yourself that I was unworthy of you. You thought it would be so easy to settle for Leah. She wouldn’t give you the hard time that I do, and she’d act the way you wanted. But Leah is not me. You put on your airs and act so superior—who do you think you are? When are you going to stop pretending? You don’t want Leah. You only think you should. And if you really loved her, we never would have had that weekend together last September. Your big mistake was in thinking that two nights would get me out of your system.”

“You acted like a common tramp,” Allen said angrily.

“You loved it,” Gail threw back at him. “You’re crazy about me, Allen. What you like about me is that I will do exactly what I feel, exactly what turns you on.” She laughed softly. “You can play at being conventional during the day, but at night you’re no different than other men. I know what you like in bed. If you had any guts, you’d admit it right now and let Leah go.”

“And what makes you think I’d want to marry you instead?”

There was silence for a moment. Leah could imagine her sister moving toward Allen. She could almost see Gail looking up at him with her seductive eyes and smiling mouth. She was probably standing very close to Allen now, her gaze smoldering through thick lashes. Leah had seen Gail do that before. Get close enough to bewitch and beguile. She’d use her heated sensuality to capture and hold fast her prey.

Leah shivered. Why was she just standing there listening? Shouldn’t she burst in or something? When Gail finally answered Allen’s question, her voice was a husky whisper.

“Because I’m your fantasy, Allen. Every time you hold Leah you wish she were me. You and I are one of a kind. We bring out the worst in each other. But think about what it would be like if we brought out the best. We belong together …”

Outside the door Leah felt like a ghost. She wasn’t eavesdropping. She was saving her life. But the effort had opened up a hole right in the middle of her body, and all her bewilderment poured out in silence. There it was. Said out loud and clear. She was not an object of desire. She was, had been, convenient.

“I knew the first time I saw you. I knew that someday … I’d have you,” Gail whispered. “You knew it, too.”

There was a pause, and Leah knew that they were kissing because she could hear their lips separating on moist little sounds. She began to feel embarrassed.

There was another small movement and Allen mumbled.

“You bitch …”

When Leah heard no more sounds she knew precisely what was happening. Allen had grabbed Gail to him and was kissing her passionately.

In a way Leah was glad that it had come to this. It was not unlike what had happened with Ron or Philip, or even her very first crush on Billy. The men in her life had never demonstrated an ability to love her. Perhaps it wasn’t even their fault but her own. She was starting to believe that maybe she didn’t have the stuff of which great love and commitment were born. Didn’t she rate devotion? Didn’t she at least rate honesty? Leah felt numb, but also in that instant surprisingly composed and calm. Like she was floating. Detached and free.

She must have made a sound, for Gail and Allen were suddenly at the den door staring in disbelief at her presence. She was pressed back against the wall. If Leah could have melted into the wallpaper she would have. Instead she stood there facing the truth and letting it burn deeply into her soul.

Gail’s expression was defiant, like that of someone who’d done something wrong but who would still have you believe otherwise. Allen’s expression was remorseful. He also seemed relieved and oddly triumphant. It was that last look that pierced Leah’s heart. It was as though Allen was saying he’d won after all.

The floating sensation quickly drained from Leah and then she felt leaden. All those months, two whole years, and Allen had only been testing her out. Trying her on for size against his own determination to make sure he’d gotten the best.

And she wasn’t the best.

Leah stood with her hands buried deep in the pockets of her wool slacks. Allen and Gail stared back at her, as if expecting a demonstration of outrage. Leah looked from one to the other in the stifling silence.

“Merry Christmas” was all she could think to say.

Leah could tell that Gail thought she was going to create a scene by ranting and raving, crying and pointing an accusing finger. But she merely stared at them both with a puzzled and curious expression on her face. Allen looked appropriately ashamed for just a moment. That was good enough. But he hadn’t humbled himself.

“I guess this would have happened sooner or later,” Leah whispered.

“Leah, I—” Allen began.

“Don’t say anything. Please.”

“What happened was—”

“Shut up, Allen,” Gail ordered sharply, her eyes never leaving her sister’s face.

“Don’t tell me to shut up,” Allen thundered. But when he looked at Leah again, the anger was all gone. “It shouldn’t have happened this way, Leah. You didn’t deserve this.”

Leah curled her lips at him. “I seem to remember you saying the same thing several weeks ago. But it keeps happening, doesn’t it?”

Allen didn’t answer.

“I used to wonder if you would ask me to marry you. I’m not sure I would have been flattered, Allen. Of course, you understand why I’d say no.”

Still there was no answer from Allen, and no more response from Gail.

Leah abruptly turned away, murmuring, “I’m going to my room. Good night …”

It seemed like the best thing to do. She was the awkward side of the triangle; only she didn’t have anyone to champion her. Leah began to feel numb and disoriented. She didn’t immediately feel hurt or betrayed, just very foolish.

The Hallelujah Chorus, sung in sweet, wrenching harmony, played all morning and afternoon, mixed with the ringing of the doorbell and the telephone. In between Leah responded to good wishes from neighbors, and tried not to succumb to despair. She drank hot eggnog laced liberally with rum and nutmeg. Or she watched the neighborhood kids from the living room window as they tried out a variety of toys, bikes, trikes, footballs, and rollerblades.

At one point Leah went into the kitchen with the idea of making some sort of dinner. But her heart wasn’t in it, and she didn’t really feel like eating anyway. Gail had talked her into calling their father long-distance, as though their mutual mission to wish him a Merry Christmas would magically bridge the distance between the two of them. Leah succeeded in sounding believably cheerful, but after the call she slipped once more into the privacy of despair. Most of the day she sat in her room staring at the wallpaper. And drinking rum and eggnog.

At least Gail respected her silence. She went about her own celebration, trying to pretend the previous night’s fiasco hadn’t happened. Surely Gail recognized that some of what had happened was her fault. Leah wondered if she had made it harder on all of them by being so blind to what was going on under her very nose. How ignorant could a person be? All the beautifully wrapped presents remained unopened under the tree, an embarrassing reminder of how ill-used this season and all it stood for had been.

They ate dinner in virtual silence. Gail did most of the talking, guilt making her bear the responsibility, as well as a dread of the long silences. While Leah patiently and politely answered any questions, she volunteered nothing, and later she would have no recollection of what was said. Her mind had gone blissfully and protectively blank.

Sarah Chen called late in the afternoon to invite them for drinks. Gail said she’d love to come for a while, inwardly feeling grateful that she had an opportunity to escape the silent house.

Leah was very happy to be left alone. She mixed an eggnog toddy and sat in the living room with nothing but the tree lights for illumination. She listened to the holiday music and felt like a fraud. She couldn’t understand her inability to cry, or even why she felt so little hurt. Nothing. She felt hollow. She didn’t want to talk and didn’t want anyone to talk to her. Leah wished that the holidays were over so she could get back to work. She knew that eventually she’d have to face her sister, adapt to the changes. But right now, right this instant, she was feeling light-headed and sleepy from the rum.

Leah thought of Jason suddenly, and remembered that stupor she’d first seen him in months ago. She understood clearly now how easy it was for a person to get lost and not to care about anything. She could empathize with a need to disconnect and tune out, to put up invisible barriers that would separate her from the things that were destroying her.

“Merry Christmas, Jason,” Leah said softly and raised her glass to the dark room. She hoped he’d had a Merry Christmas. She hoped that someone, somewhere, had had a Merry Christmas. Her eyes wandered to the tree under which were spread the presents she and Gail would have exchanged. Presents from their dad, little things from friends and colleagues; her present to Allen, his to her. She was never going to open it.

God, this had been one hell of a year for holidays and sharing. How could the New Year possibly top the last few months?

Leah knocked on the wood of the coffee table, and a silly laugh escaped her. No point in tempting fate. She felt depression settling in now that the rum had relaxed her body. And she also felt a little sick from all the sweet eggnog. The last thing she needed was to be sick. A little unsteadily she walked to the hallway and slowly made her way up the stairs and fell to sleep across her bed.

It was not until several days after Christmas that Gail and Leah finally sat and talked, and even then only because Gail couldn’t stand the silence any longer. Early in the evening, after she’d smoked herself into a state of anxiety, Gail finally approached Leah. She found her sister in the den sketching caricatures. Upon entering, Gail caught a brief glimpse of images of Allen and herself, Jill and the Chen kids. However, Leah quickly covered them when Gail came into the room.

“Leah. …” Gail began cautiously. “I think we should try to talk this out.”

Leah smiled vacantly. She suddenly remembered Allen wanting to do the exact same thing after Thanksgiving. “Talk what out?”

“Come on, Leah. How can you ask what? This silence. And the whole scene from Christmas. You do remember Christmas Eve, don’t you?”