Illusions of Love (9 page)

He ran to meet her and took her in his arms.

“Martin … Oh, Martin,” she said breathlessly.

“I’m so proud of you!” Kissing her, he was unaware that his family was watching with approval. Martin, still carried away by the excitement of the day, hugged his mother, also unaware that she had laid a much more serious interpretation to Sylvia’s kiss. She hoped that, in Sylvia, Martin had found a woman who cherished him as much as she did.

Bess’s eyes filled. This was her son, her only child, in cap

and gown.

“Oh, darling,” she said, ‘you’ve made us so very proud. “

Something in his mother’s voice made Martin remember all the years of devotion she had lavished upon him as a child. Today all the resentments of his youth had abated. They had been growing pains at worst, and now he could say with a grateful heart, “Thank you, Mom. I hope I’ll always justify that feeling.”

Julian put an arm around his son’s shoulders.

“I doubt if there is a father here today who is more proud and happy than 1.1 thank God you’re my son. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Dad,” Martin answered softly.

As his father turned away, Martin felt enormous guilt for all the hard words he had exchanged with Julian over the past four years. He vowed to be more understanding in the future.

Dominic and his family came over, and the Roths went out of their way to be pleasant. It was as if they too were trying to turn over a new leaf. Dominic had taken a job with an advertising agency on Madison Avenue, and Martin’s desk waited for him at his father’s brokerage firm. An additional Roth had been added that week to Roth and Seifer, Brokers.

The two friends said goodbye and the next morning Martin was on his way back West. He had some doubts about joining the family business, but this time he decided to at least give his parents’ way a fair trial. He was deter mined, however, to succeed in his own right. The first day he’d gone to the office, his father’s partner had said, “You have a brilliant future ahead of you, Martin. Welcome aboard.”

In the first six months Martin justified their confidence^ He had acquired McMillian Steel Company as an account. Even more impressive was the fact that Martin had taken them away from the prestigious brokerage firm of Townsend Wittier. As of that moment Martin began to feel his potential impact on the business world.

It was ojily a week later that he announced to his parents that he had taken an apartment in San Francisco.

Martin was grown up now, but that seemed a difficult fact for Bess to comprehend. It certainly wasn’t his desire to hurt her. She would just have to understand. She would also have to stop deluding herself that Martin was in love with Sylvia. She had romanticized their friendship to the brink of marriage.

Once faced with Martin’s new apartment, she capitulated gracefully and for a time seemed to divert her energies away from playing Cupid into decorating the perfect bachelor abode. When she’d finished, the apartment was a showplace. The walls of the living room were deep blue. An extraordinary array of modern art hung over the leather sofa, and an enormous glass and brass coffee table sat on a plush carpet the colour of autumn leaves. There were two large chairs in plaid corduroy on either side of the fireplace, and bookshelves with a built-in bar on the remaining wall. The dining room was as impeccably furnished as the rest of the apartment, but the most splendid sight of all was beyond the perimeters of the penthouse walls: the spectacular view of the Golden Gate Bridge extending across the Bay.

Bess was more than rewarded by the look on Martin’s face.

“It’s simply beautiful, Mother. You’re an artistic genius,” he said, smiling. How could he ever be upset with her?

“I’d rather be a magician,” she said.

“If I were, then you’d be getting’ ” Don’t say it, Mother. What is your obsession anyway? I’m only twenty-two. Give me a chance to enjoy myself. “

“I understand. But you must admit that Sylvia is so right for you, Martin. You have so much in common and I know you care a great deal about her. And she about you.”

“Yes I do, but I don’t want to think about anybody right now.”

“Well, you can’t blame me for hoping. What are your plans for tonight?”

Martin smiled.

“I have a date.”

“Really? Is she anybody we know?”

“No. As a matter of fact. Mother, she’s a voluptuous blonde model.”

“A what?”

“A model.”

“Oh, dear me! Well, don’t get too involved, Martin.”

Again he smiled.

“I’ll try not to.”

Since it was Carey’s sensuality he was taken with rather than her intellect, it was easy for Martin not to become involved. She was a purring kitten who generally fled his thoughts the moment she was out of sight. But this Sunday morning when he woke up and smelled her lingering scent he could not help remembering the night before. He could almost hear the echo of his voice.

“Champagne?”

“Love it.”

He had poured the champagne into the glass, watched as the bubbles danced, then walked out onto the balcony. For a while they watched the moon. Then, after taking the glass from her hand and placing it on the wrought-iron table, he had taken her in his arms, kissing her gently at first, then with more urgency. Once he sensed her response, he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. He set her down in the darkened room and stood for a moment with his hands cupping her face. She was incredibly beautiful. His desire for her heightened as he traced the outline of her nose, eyes, forehead, until his fingers found the first button of the chiffon bodice. He kissed her while his hands slowly inched downward until the front of her dress was open. He slid it from her shoulders until it fell to the floor. He unfastened the lace bra and slipped it off. He stroked her rounded breasts and brushed her nipples first with his fingers and then with his lips and tongue. She gasped at the sensation and from there it was like a kaleidoscope of motion.

When he had finished undressing her he lay facing her, caressing every contour of her body. Without words he guided her hand down to his groin and placed his hand over hers for a moment, moving it slowly up

and down until she felt him harden. His tongue played over her lips, probed to meet hers.

The taste of her was like honey. He heard the sigh of her breathing, the soft moan as his fingers teased down the front of her body and between her legs. Then he moved on top of her and slowly began to put himself inside, pushing deeper and deeper still. She arched her back to receive him as he thrust faster and faster until the explosion inside him erupted.

When it was over, he lay quiet still on top of her. His breathing still heavy, he whispered, “Sweet Carey. Lovely, sweet Carey … He rolled over onto his back. For some reason Carey realized that the magic had gone. Martin dozed off and was in a deep slumber in less than five minutes. An annoyed Carey got out of bed and went to the bathroom feeling more than disgruntled. Martin had surely given her the impression that he was really interested in her. After she dressed, she appraised herself. She was every inch a lady, and no one was going to demean her. Taking out her lipstick, she Scribbled on the bathroom mirror, ” Thanks for nothing. ” For a moment Carey stood there, wanting to say something more vicious, but she couldn’t think of anything. On her way out she slammed the door but Martin just rolled over in his sleep.

The next morning it wasn’t difficult to understand why she had left.

Falling asleep the way he had must have made her feel used. But dammit, she didn’t realize how exhausting she was. Well, he’d call and apologize later. He got out of bed and went to the bathroom. The first thing he saw was what she’d written on the mirror. It made him think of the first girl he’d ever slept with.

It had been at a Vassar sorority party. He’d danced with this one girl, lithe and intense, for most of the evening. And when they weren’t together, wherever he looked she was there staring at him.

Later she took him by the hand and led him to her parked car.

“Let’s get away from this, it’s so boring … ‘

He couldn’t remember what he’d said probabh nothing. They had driven to a quiet street off-campus. stopped the car, and switched off the lights. Before Martir knew it his zipper was down, he was pulled on top of her. and she was kissing his penis. Within seconds he had come and the girl was furious.

“Get out of my car, you yid. You little pipsqueak. Giving me the idea you knew what it was all about … Get out!” She opened the door, pushed him out, and drove away, leaving him standing in the street.

He’d come a long way since then as a Casanova. Girls adored him, and he knew that even though Carey had been angry all he had to do was call to get her back. Still, his mother was right about one thing.

Perhaps Sylvia wasn’t the girl, but he would like to be in love with someone about whom he really cared.

Martin showered and went into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, took out the orange juice, poured himself a glass, and while he drank it, popped the bread into the toaster, then went to the front door and retrieved the Sunday Examiner. He poured himself a cup of coffee, went back into the living room, and settled himself on the couch, but the toast remained uneaten, the coffee untouched once he saw the headlines: pearl harbor bombed!

For a moment Martin thought it had to be a hoax, some stupid, asinine joke. Quickly he got up and turned on the radio.

“Pearl Harbor was bombed this morning in a sneak attack by the Japanese. It occurred while all of He quickly switched to another station: … there’s much confusion here in Hawaii that something the magnitude Martin sat in a state of shock. He shook his head, unable to comprehend it all. Hawaii belonged to the United States, and that meant they were at war. At least it meant that Roosevelt would have to go to the aid of the European Jews. He and his father had remained in agreement on that one issue. America could not turn her back forever on the rumours coming out of Poland and Germany. Now they would have no choice.

The ringing phone startled him. Picking it up, he heard his father’s voice.

“I don’t believe this, Martin! Those damn Japs were in Washington only this week talking peace.”

Martin found his voice.

“Well, at least it looks as if we’re going to get a chance to lick the Nazis.”

Julian swallowed. At twenty-two, Martin would be one of the first to be drafted; or, knowing Martin, be one of the first to enlist.

“I

think you’d better come home, Martin. Your mother’s quite distraught.

“

“Of course, Dad.”

That night Martin couldn’t sleep. Every district in the city was setting up a draft board, and Martin watched as an enlistment office prepared to open across the street. By early morning dozens of volunteers were lined up before its doors. Martin knew before the day was out he would join their numbers. His parents would have to understand. In any case it would only be a matter of months before he was called up. He had joined ROTC his last two years of college and would be going in as an officer, a fact he hoped would prove some consolation to his mother.

Martin shivered as he crossed the street to the draft office. He wouldn’t be human if he didn’t have fears of dying, fears he could not even articulate. Yet when he stood outside the draft office after having been inducted, he felt a strange sense of relief.

The next few days passed in a state of unreality: it was business as usual. Martin went to the office every morning until the time came for him to be inducted as a first lieutenant. It was time to tell his parents.

He would never forget the look of anguish in his mother’s eyes as he stood before her dressed in his uniform. She could not control her emotions. She cursed the war and finally burst into tears saying, “You needn’t have volunteered. Couldn’t you have waited to be called? Maybe your father could have arranged something.”

Martin paused, hearing the echoes from his childhood about honour.

Without it a man had nothing. But he realized that he was her son and honour had nothing to do with it.

“I don’t think you would have really wanted me to

do that. Mother. I did what I had to do. “

As the tears rolled down her cheeks she said, “You’re right, Martin.

You’re right. I apologize. It’s just that’ But she couldn’t finish.

The days flowed on with fearful anticipation while Martin waited for his orders. Finally the waiting ended as Martin read: “Assigned to report to Fort Ord on December 27, 1941.” There’d be six weeks of basic training; beyond that he didn’t know exactly where he would be shipped.

One of the most heavenly spots on earth is the Monterey Peninsula, but Martin was oblivious to the scenery as the army bus sped along the highway towards Fort Ord. He saw neither the windswept pines nor the formidable sea crashing against the enormous boulders. He could not erase the picture of his mother’s anguished face, his father’s look of despair. The only bright spot in the party was Sylvia’s cheerful smile and her promise to look after his parents.

When Martin lay on his bunk bed that night he thought about Sylvia.

She’d been so comforting these past weeks and he felt closer to her than at any other time in his life. Maybe he should marry her after all. She belonged to his world. That is, if there was a world to come back to.

The thought of having a child suddenly became very important to him.

To think of dying without leaving a part of himself behind seemed more than Martin could face. But then, just as quickly, he realized how selfish the thought had been. He didn’t love Sylvia, not in the way she deserved. If he married her, it would be for all the wrong reasons.

As -the days passed the gruelling pace of basic gave him little time to think. At night when he fell into his bunk he was asleep the second his head touched the pillow. In any case, he reasoned, thoughts of Sylvia were academic. In a few short weeks he’d be heading overseas.

But fate had a different plan. When the six weeks were over, Martin was informed that he was being held at Ord to train new recruits. He