Nothing To Lose (A fat girl novel) (5 page)

“Her heart gave out.” She knew it wasn’t a prankster. No prankster would say a thing like that. She and Bernice had reached a new level of understanding. Two or three times in the past year, Bernice had told her she was proud of her. “You have nice things,” she said, “and you’re nice, too. I like how it all turned out. I’m proud of you.”

The idea that her seemingly distant mother was formulating positive ideas about her touched her in a way she would not have thought possible. Her mother approved of her and liked her. Now she was gone.

Besides the flood of grief and regrets, April was left with a persistent irrational fear that others would die around her, that more unspeakable bad news was right around the corner.

It was a few weeks later that Harald’s father, Judge Tierney, again hit the newspapers. It was a custody fight for two small children between an exotically beautiful young mother and her estranged husband, an indicted felon awaiting trial. With any other judge presiding there would not have been a public hearing. Who would favor a felon over a decent mother? In Judge Tierney’s court, however, anything could happen.

The young beautiful mother appeared in some part of the newspaper almost daily. Harald refused to discuss the case and April didn’t bring it up. She wasn’t outraged by the idea of giving the children to the father, not because he deserved them but because the mother wasn’t what she appeared. Somewhere in her heart, April had special information about Melissa Montini. She didn’t really love or want her children. She loved the drama of having the world watch her lose them.

In a decision that brought an audible gasp in the room, Judge Tierney awarded the children to the father. “I have seen these men carrying their children on their shoulders,” he read from his decision. “I have seen them struggling with galosh buckles and tiny buttons.”

“The bastard never struggled with my tiny buttons,” said Harald, breaking his silence on the case.

The Daily News and The New York Post devoted two full pages of pictures to the story showing the mother, the children, the father, the lawyers and the maternal grandmother holding a Snoopy dog and a GI Joe doll while trying to blow her nose.

News reporters brought up all of the judge’s previous controversial decisions – the lesbian mother, the man who had said his boy needed his Daddykins. They mentioned the judge’s only son, Harald, an investment analyst who resided in New York City. Yes, the judge answered when asked, if he had been faced with divorce, he would have fought vigorously for custody of his son. The statement enraged Harald who remembered a very different relationship.

The most remarkable picture of the trial was of Melissa Montini pounding the walls of the judge’s private chambers insisting that he couldn’t take her children away. “Why does he want to do this dreadful thing to me?” she cried helplessly to the reporters. “I’ve never done anything to him.”

A week later, as April and Harald were watching “Laugh-In” on television, the telephone rang but there was no one on the line. This happened repeatedly over the next few days.

Two weeks later, there was a knock at their door and April found a woman there with long, silky hair and a startlingly beautiful face.

“Please, may I come in?” Her voice became more aggressive. “I’m here to see Harald Tierney.” She had no interest in April.

“Whom shall I say is here?”

“I would prefer not to say.” She folded her arms in front of her and looked sideways down the hall.

“Well, come in. Come in.” April saw how silly it was to continue to stand in the open doorway. They entered the living room together and it came to April who the woman was. Her face and expression were so familiar after the many weeks of the trial.

“You’re Melissa Montini.” It came out as an accusation.

The woman glared at her. “Is Harald Tierney here?”

“Yes. Yes, he is. I’m Mrs. Tierney,” she said unconvincingly. “Harald,” she called out. “There’s someone here to see you.”

Harald came to the living room in his stocking feet. He looked at both of them and then exclusively at Melissa Montini. April didn’t blame him. It was hard not to look at her. She had lips that were full and lusciously red, like the lips in ads that sell cosmetics.

“I’m Melissa Montini,” said the woman to Harald. “Your father took my children away. I’ve tried and tried to see him. I’ve written him every day since the hearing but he doesn’t answer my letters or my telephone calls.” Her voice trembled and her chin began to quiver. “If I don’t talk to someone, I’ll go crazy.” Two tears (fat and full, like her lips) rolled down her cheeks. “The press is no help either.” She didn’t try to stop her tears as most people do. They rolled single file down her cheeks, which in itself was riveting. She said that she had tracked Harald down to his Wall Street office and then to the apartment.

“What do you hope to gain from seeing me?” asked Harald in an impersonal but civil voice.

“ I don’t want to gain anything from you,” she said. “But I needed to find you. You see,” her eyes were round and moist, “I have trouble sleeping. I keep seeing my little ones’ faces, especially the baby girl. She’s only four and we were very close. She couldn’t go to sleep without saying good night to me. We would cuddle together on the bed and I’d kiss her tiny dimpled hands and her arm. I’d make believe I was eating her plump, little hands and her arm. I’d make believe I was a hungry giant and couldn’t help myself. She would giggle and say, ‘Go ahead, Mr. Giant, eat the other one.’”

“Maybe you frightened her by doing that,” said Harald.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, children can be frightened and still giggle but if you listen carefully, it’s not a particularly joyous giggle. Sometimes they don’t like those games.”

She looked at him as if he were insane. As if now she could understand the father. “She was crazy about that game, mister.”

April, too, was surprised to hear him say this. She had not thought that he had such definite ideas about children. It made her wish they had a child. She felt suddenly sad and filled with a terrible sense of loss.

The more she thought about what Harald had said, the more agitated Melissa became. “What kind of a crack is that, anyway? You’re just like your father. Why do you both want to punish me?” Her voice broke and she began crying for the third time and also to pummel Harald’s chest. “I want my babies! I want my babies! I can’t live! Why did he take my babies?” She sobbed as if her heart were broken. April didn’t believe her heart was broken but was riveted to the scene. Harald led her to the couch. April seemed to have no part to play.

Melissa sobbed into a handkerchief. “What kind of a woman was your mother?” she asked Harald, gulping for air.

“Is my mother,” corrected Harald.

“Is your mother,” she said obediently.

“Very nice. Not so affectionate but nice…nice to my friends. A good cook. Always visited at camp. Always made the extra effort to do the right thing for me.” He was glad to distract her and tried to weave an interesting story. “She’s not a woman who wants to be correct to impress people. She just takes pride in doing the right thing. She’s a very happy person.”

“And your father?”

“I haven’t always agreed with my father,” said Harald carefully.

“That’s a relief,” said Melissa.

“My father wasn’t good to me as a child,” said Harald unexpectedly. “He never played with me or read to me. He never carried me on his shoulders. When I was in my teens, I was unable to call him father. For four years I never called him anything. I would touch his arm to get his attention or make a noise in the room. I became very inventive about not having to call him. It became an elaborate game with one player- me.”

April sat motionless. Harald had never told her any of these things. What’s more, his eyes seemed locked on Melissa’s face.

“I’m sorry,” said Melissa. “I’m truly sorry.”

“And I’m sorry for you,” he answered. “I can imagine it must be hell for you.”

April decided this would be a good time to give them both a drink “I drink my brandy neat,” Melissa said. “Neat,” she repeated. “No ice.”

In the kitchen April made a decision. She would give Harald a sign. One drink and Melissa had to go.

Melissa took the drink, sipped it quickly as though drinking dubious medicine stood up, straightened her skirt, blew her nose and said good-bye.

The next night, about nine, Harald said, “This is about the time she showed up last night.” That was precisely what April was thinking but she was disappointed that Harald was thinking of it, too. The doorbell rang.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she apologized, entering the room as if she already knew it by heart. “I’ve been thinking…what you said about your father never carrying you on his shoulders.” Her beauty gave her great freedom to say and do as she liked.

“There are worse things, I suppose,” said Harald. He seemed satisfied that someone had finally understood the depth of his deprivation.

April thought of all the things she would have preferred that he say: What? You here again? You can’t keep coming here. Instead he seemed happy to see her.

April had a chance to study their guest. Today, her hair was curled at the edges, which coarsened rather than sweetened her looks. Her conversation was crammed with facts; it was hard not to listen to her. Despite herself, April hung on every word.

“It really helps me to talk like this,” she told them with a dreamy, innocent look. “I mean, this man I’ve never met does this terrible thing to my children and now…I get to know his son. It satisfies me somehow. The other way, it was just too cold…too impersonal and random. He changed my whole life and I wasn’t going to see him again. He wasn’t going to see me either, but now…”

April left the room and went into the kitchen. She stood at the sink letting cold water run on her wrists as Harlan had taught her to do when she was too hot. “It cools all the blood running through there, and pretty soon it cools all of you.” She stayed in the kitchen with her arms in the sink until she heard Melissa leave.

The visits continued. Many nights, April turned on herself for not putting her foot down. She fought for righteous anger and set the scene for a confrontation but couldn’t bring it off. Melissa or any number of ills were what she had in store – an inevitable outcome because she had been dumb about her life. She could appreciate the irony involved and was surprised that such an uneducated woman could do such a complicated thing.

Chapter Five

April seemed to need more food to keep her satisfied She wasn’t sleeping well and being tired made her hungrier. She craved sweets and began buying chocolate bars, something she had not done since leaving Queens. She also craved salt, and at times, when she went to the kitchen, she would eat half a bag of Fritos or potato chips before coming out. After that, she needed something wet and squishy and she would stir herself a fruit-flavored yogurt, which she ate in the living room.

Within a week she had gained four pounds. Within two weeks, it was nine. It was not happy eating.

There was less and less to do during the day. She had completed a campaign for Marty Bell and decided against taking on any new work. “We’re going away for a month,” she told him so he would not urge work on her. It was too hard to think about the product he had assigned to her. It was shampoo. Shampoo that was especially formulated to leave the scalp with a healthy acid mantle of protection. She couldn’t think about that. She could only think about Melissa Montini and her visits. What could protect her against that?

Harald was willing to let the visits continue. He said it was the least they could do. He was afraid she might commit suicide if they refused her. He said the visits were a good way of defusing a potentially dangerous situation. April didn’t think Melissa would commit suicide.

She was surprised that he couldn’t see through Melissa. Perhaps what they both saw through was her. She watched them in the living room as if she were watching a foreign film where people waste no time with courtship but get right to it.

Many times it crossed her mind that Melissa Montini reminded her of Bernice. In some ways, one was an emotional dead ringer for the other. Made only to entice and bedevil men. But then she wept for putting her dead mother in such a bad light.

Harald became moody and silent, answering all questions with a yes, a no, or an I don’t know.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Should I fix dinner?”

“I don’t know.”

It was so quiet in the apartment it gave April the creeps. Any noise she made was intrusive. The normal use of dishes and pots and pans made a tremendous clatter.

There were days when she was certain that her marriage was threatened and that Harald was waiting for a good time to tell her. Other times, they would go to the movies or have another couple to dinner and she would tell herself it was all in her imagination. The whole episode was something to relate with careful understatement at a dull dinner.

The private moments between herself and Harald told a less cheerful story. During four years of marriage, they had nurtured their intimacy. She had learned to be provocative in innocent ways…nightgowns that didn’t always contain her breasts. She knew how to be still in the mornings until he awoke to find her disheveled, exposed, touchable. He was continually aroused by her unexpected nakedness. Sometimes she lay there so long and so still and so desirous, she almost came waiting for him and had to calm herself to keep from slamming his hand down over her.