Illusions of Love (34 page)

She ran into his arms, but when she stepped back to look at him she saw his face was drawn, his eyes filled with pain. All her delicious sense of anticipation faded. She guided him over to the sofa. To ease the tension, she poured him a glass of scotch. The moment didn’t seem right for champagne. Poor Martin, she thought. Sylvia must have given him a dreadful time. Apparently she wasn’t quite as understanding as he thought she’d be. Well, the worse she behaved the easier it will be for him to leave. And leave he will.

Jenny had no intention of ever being deserted again. This time she would end up Mrs. Martin Roth.

Martin sat staring at his drink, his face drained of colour.

Taking his hand gently, Jenny said, “It must have been terrible for

you. I’m sure these things are never easy, but thank God it’s over with. She knows.”

For some reason Martin resented Jenny’s assumption that Sylvia no longer counted.

“Yes, she knows,” was all he said.

His tone frightened her. Trying to compose herself, she repeated, “It must have been terrible for you, darling. Was she very angry?”

“No, she was very patient.” He took a sip of his drink.

“Tell me, Martin,” Jenny said, suddenly nervous.

“What happened?”

“Sylvia was very understanding. I don’t know any other woman who would have acted so decently.”

Jenny wanted to turn the conversation away from Sylvia, but she had to know where she stood.

“Martin, it’s very gallant of you to defend your wife, but you haven’t told me what you both decided.”

“She thinks you and I should live together so that we are perfectly sure of one another and then she will give me the divorce.

Jenny tried to control her anger. No woman wanted another’s permission to sleep with the man she loved, but she realized Sylvia had acted very wisely. She would have to do the same.

“That is very decent,” she said.

“In fact, her concern for you makes her sound a bit like a Jewish mother.”

Martin thought that was unfair, but he didn’t say anything. Jenny had not had an easy life and it was understandable that she wanted everything to go smoothly.

“Jenny, she was a good wife. I don’t want to hurt her more than I have to.”

“Martin, you have to be honest with me. You don’t still love her?”

“Not in the sense that you mean. But you must understand, Jenny, that Sylvia’s played a major role in my life. She’s borne my children, cared for my home, even been like a daughter to Bess. I can’t just turn my back on her and walk away. I still care for her as a person.”

Jenny knew she was being foolish, but she couldn’t keep

herself from saying, “Maybe you should have searched your soul a little more carefully before you begged me to go away with you. You can’t have it both ways, Martin.”

Martin sat stunned.

“You haven’t listened to one thing I’ve said to you tonight. Jenny .. ” Oh yes I have, Martin. I’ve heard it all too well. Suppose you try to understand me. This time I come first. ” Despite herself her voice rose shrilly.

“If you don’t understand that, you can walk out of that door and forget me.”

Jenny ran into the bedroom, threw herself onto the bed, and sobbed.

She still wasn’t the victor. Sylvia was.

Martin hurried after her and lifted her into his arms. He sat rocking her as though she were a little girl.

“Jenny, darling, please this is just very difficult for both of us. You must know how much I love you. Let’s not do this to one another.”

She took Martin’s handkerchief out of his coat pocket and dried her tears.

“Martin, you must forgive me, but I feel so frightened. I wanted you to ask for an immediate divorce. She’s playing for time.

She isn’t going to let you go that easily, and I’m afraid she may not let you go at all. For all you know she has some plan to separate us.

“

Martin sighed.

“Darling, Sylvia is not like that. She is not a calculating woman. Surely you can understand how upset she must have been tonight.”

Difficult as it was for Jenny, she had to admit that Sylvia had probably behaved better than she would have. No woman gives up her husband without a fight, and Jenny knew that once she married Martin, she’d never let him out of her sight. Quietly, she said, “Of course you’re right. I hope you will forgive me. But insecurity makes us do a lot of things we wish we hadn’t. How long do you think it will be before we can make definite plans?”

“Just let her get used to my moving out. In a few weeks I’ll talk to her again.”

That night Martin fell asleep with Jenny in his arms, but he didn’t try to make love to her and she was too clever to insist.

Over the next weeks Martin packed most of his winter clothes and moved them into a furnished apartment he and Jenny had rented on Russian Hill. He tried to avoid Sylvia’s tearful gaze when he went downstairs with two heavy suitcases and was gratified that she kept her reproaches to herself. His mother showed no such restraint. She cried and shouted that Martin was crazy leaving a woman like Sylvia for a scheming shiksa.

“She was no good for you when you were in your twenties and she’s no good for you now only in your fifties you should know better.”

Bess railed on and on until in the end Sylvia had to calm her down so Martin could leave. On the whole his wife behaved very well, sometimes better than Jenny over the last few days.

Jenny was angry that Martin insisted their relationship remain a secret. Sylvia hadn’t told the children yet and there would be time enough for their neighbours and friends to gossip when she actually filed for divorce. Jenny also was upset that Martin had only rented a comparatively small apartment. It wasn’t that the rooms were not elegant, but thinking of Sylvia languishing in the opulence of Woodside heightened her annoyance. Nights when Martin came home she was often fretful and demanding. It was as though she wanted him to make up for all she had suffered since he had left her in New York.

Where he had expected bliss he found tension. When he thought he’d regained his youth, he seemed to be overwhelmed with cares. Sometimes the only moments of peace he knew were when he drove out to Woodside to talk things over with Sylvia.

Although they had not told anyone he had moved out, everyone in contact with Martin sensed that he was under terrible stress. He avoided lunch with his partners and snapped at his secretary until she threatened to quit. She was so upset she nearly complained to Sylvia one morning when Sylvia called to speak to Martin, but Mrs. Roth sounded so sad, she decided to keep her problems to

herself.

“Your wife is on the line,” she told Martin.

“May I put her through?”

“Yes, of course.”

He picked up the phone, wondering what she wanted.

“How are you, dear?” she was asking, as if everything were still all right.

“I’m fine,” he said mechanically.

“How are you doing?”

The truth was she was living in limbo. She had almost picked up the receiver a million times to beg Martin to come back. Each time she had stopped herself, knowing there would be time for that later if he still insisted on the divorce. Bess couldn’t understand her.

“Sylvia, you can’t be foolish enough to give Martin up without a struggle. You are just handing him a free rein, giving Jenny McCoy carte blanche so that she can become Mrs. Martin Roth.”

But Sylvia kept her own counsel and didn’t pressure Martin at all. Now she said softly, “Under the circumstances, I’m doing much better than I would have expected. I called to ask if you were free for lunch today.”

“Yes, I’d like that.”

“Where should we meet?” There was no place Sylvia could think of that was not filled with memories. Certainly he wouldn’t suggest the St. Francis.

“Would Doro’s be all right?” Doro’s had no special significance, in spite of the fact they had been there from time to time.

“How’s twelve-thirty?”

“Wonderful. I’ll see you then.”

After hanging up, Martin sat staring at the silent phone for a long time. Then he buzzed the intercom and told his secretary to make the reservation at Doro’s.

At twelve-thirty-five, Sylvia walked into the restaurant looking like a Vogue model. She had spent three hours achieving that effect an hour at the hairdresser, an hour for a facial, and the rest of the time trying on almost every outfit in her closet.

“My dear Mrs. Roth,” said the maitre d’, ‘you look lovely.

I believe Mr. Roth is waiting for you at the bar. “

“Thank you, Alfred.”

Martin was seated at a small table. The dim lights only enhanced Sylvia’s looks. Martin could not remember her ever looking more beautiful, not even on their wedding day. She seemed to have achieved a new serenity. He stood up and awkwardly brushed her cheek with his lips, thinking: / can at least be civil after all, we’ve been married for twenty-five years.

They sat barely speaking, ordering a second round of drinks before the headwaiter came to escort them to a secluded banquette in the dining room. An enormous French menu was placed in front of them. Martin didn’t bother to look at it because he always ordered a chef salad or broiled chicken. But Sylvia scanned the dishes carefully before ordering oysters, rack of lamb, and a tossed green salad. He was surprised, as she usually ate a very light lunch. He was still more surprised when she ate all the courses, leaving only the most minute portion on her plate. Barely touching his own meal, he stared at her out of the corners of his eyes. She seemed to be wearing her hair slightly differently and he detected a new perfume. It was as though she were subtly telling him that she was doing fine without him and he wasn’t at all happy at the news.

When the waiter brought the dessert cart she asked for an apple tarte and a double espresso. He watched as she took out a compact and powdered her nose. So far neither of them had said anything of importance, but he sensed the moment had come.

Sylvia put down her cup, praying she could maintain her composure. The whole lunch had been a charade. She just didn’t want Martin to think she was beaten. The past two months had been a nightmare. She had decided she had lost, but when she told Martin she was giving up she didn’t want him to feel sorry for her.

“Martin, I guess you’re wondering why I wanted to see you today. I wanted to tell you that I’ve decided to go to Reno now. There seems no point in dragging things out.”

Martin looked down at his hands.

“What made you decide?”

“Martin, you and I have been much more than just husband and wife. We have known each other all of our lives. You’ve been my best friend.

The two months you’ve been gone I’ve had lots of time to think. I could fight you on the divorce, but what would that accomplish? I don’t want to force you to come back. If Jenny was just a passing fancy I could forgive that. But it seems you love her and want to be with her. I’m not looking for revenge. I want to do this quietly, with as much dignity as we can manage. The newspapers will have a field day as it is, and I know that a lot of my friends will lunch out on us for months. Bess tells me that I am stupid to let you off the hook this easily, but what’s over is over. I must say that I think we had an awfully good marriage while it lasted. We had our share of problems and disagreements, of course. Who goes through twenty-five years of marriage without them? And the truth is, I probably took you too much for granted recently. The night you came home from Los Angeles you found me in bed with vaseline all over my face. Would it have made a difference if I tried to maintain a more glamorous image? I doubt it. “

She took a sip of the cold coffee and said, “The truth is, who knows how to make a perfect marriage? I certainly don’t. And I guess we can’t stay friends, but I do wish you the best of everything. You have waited a long time for Jenny McCoy.”

When Sylvia finished, Martin was close to tears. If she had fought he would have defended himself. If she had accused him he could have tried to justify his actions. As it was, he walked out into the cold March sunlight wondering for the first time if Jenny would be able to fill the terrible void that was left by the end of his marriage.

When Martin walked into the apartment that night he put his arms about Jenny and hugged her without speaking. He stood silently embracing her until she moved over to the couch and sat looking up at him, aware that something had

happened. When he remained silent, she pulled him down beside her and said, “Darling, do you have something to tell me?”

“I had lunch with Sylvia today,” he said abruptly.

“She’s going to Reno.”

Jenny felt a surge of excitement: she was going to win. But noting Martin’s serious expression, she concealed her joy and only asked, “When?”

“Some time this week.”

“Oh, Martin, darling, I just love you so. And I hope you have no regrets?”

“None.” He lied, just a little.

“There are no words to tell you how happy I am,” Jenny said.

“Now we can stop sneaking around, take a nice apartment, go to the theatre, the opera.”

“Well,” Martin said, “I’ve been thinking about that all afternoon. It would be very hard on Sylvia if we stayed in San Francisco. She’s lived here all her life and is very active in the cultural community.

Almost all the people we know are really her friends. Wherever we went we’d be running into them. “

Jenny could not believe what she was hearing.

“Are you ashamed of me?”

Martin winced.

“How can you ask me a question like that? Of course not. I just think it would be easier on us and kinder to Sylvia if we considered moving. My family and Sylvia’s do occupy a certain position in this community. I can’t take my happiness and flaunt it at them.

Sylvia’s going to live here. I won’t stay and be a constant embarrassment to her. “

“You mean me. I would be the embarrassment.”

“No for God’s sakes, no. This has nothing to do with you. Jenny. It has to do with decency, dignity. I thought it might be wonderful for us to move to a villa in Rome, or on the Riviera, wherever you like, until this simmers down.”