Scrambled Babies (39 page)

And then the sound of Steve’s footsteps faded away.  She knew he had stopped trying to keep up with her.  But his eyes burned deeper and deeper into her.  How could they always do that? 

Why couldn’t I have never bumped into him?

#

Steve watched Paeton disappear into the crowd.  He wanted to call out “Okay, I’ll marry you, if that’s what it takes.  I’ll do anything, but don’t go—don’t leave me!”

But he didn’t.

A few minutes later he was on his own flight.  Steve felt as if all the blood had been drained from his body as he listened to the whine of the jet engines of the plane winging its way to Chicago.  Everything was flat and black and white, like images on a 1947 television screen.  The airline food was even more tasteless than usual.  He had made the mistake of watching Paeton’s plane to New York disappear into the misty horizon.

He couldn’t believe it!  She was really gone.  He knew he would never see her smile again.  Feel her touch again.  Smell her perfume again.  Hear her laugh or speak his name again. 
Call me Kaselman again!

He knew he would never try to reach her.  Even if he did, she would never respond anyway.

Gone!

Paeton McPhilomy, the most precious thing in his life, had given him a once-in-a-lifetime chance for supreme happiness, and Steve Kaselman, stupid jock that he was, had let the clock run out!

#

Steve groaned audibly as he sat down for breakfast.  He had done the Pirates game and was back in Los Angeles, waiting to go up against Steedly Black. “I’m hearing a lot of bad sounds coming from you lately.”

Steve laughed self-consciously in agreement.  He knew by “lately” Greta meant “A.P.”—after Paeton.  “Yeah, I used to do that only for a few days after a game.”

Greta walked into the room drying her hands on a dish towel.  “I never saw two people more in love and less in sync than you and Paeton.”

“Isn’t that the truth.  She’s on her way to London.”

“What?”

“I didn’t have a chance to tell you.  By accident I saw her off when I was catching my plane to Denver.”

“When is she coming back?”

Steve could feel a huge emptiness closing in on him.  “She says about a year, I guess.  I don’t know.”  He set his coffee cup down with a scowl.  The coffee had no taste, similar to the airline food.

Greta sat down at the table.  “She’s not going to take on Black with you?”

“She says not.”  For a moment he remembered the feeling of Paeton’s hand in his, and he yearned to feel it again.  No woman had ever reached him to his core.  “She wanted to get married.”

Greta leaned forward in confusion.  “So why did she leave?”

Steve was staring into his coffee cup.  “I didn’t.”

“Oh, so you’re the problem.  What’s so bad about getting married?  I thought you were going to marry Crystal.”

“No, I wasn’t.  I was going to avoid ever getting married.”

He knew that sometime, somewhere, somehow, he would eventually have to have this conversation.   He decided that this was the time.  He was lost.  He could trust Greta.

“Why do people who are nuts about each other always have to get married?  Why can’t they just live together?  Marriage always screws everything up!”  He got up and paced aimlessly around the room.  Then he went into the kitchen.  “Are there any more of those deviled eggs?” he called with his head in the refrigerator.

Greta waited patiently at the table.  “Top shelf, back.”

Steve reappeared, feeling Greta’s fierce eyes.  “Don’t look at me like that.  Please tell me.  Why is that?  What does marriage have to do with love?”  He took too big a bite of the stuffed egg as if it might serve as a salve.  It had no taste either.  He sat down wearily across from her.

Greta leaned toward him.   Her words carried an urgency, a sincerity.  “Most women want to be married, Steve.  Marriage is a way of cementing lifelong vows that give a woman a feeling of permanence, of authenticity, about a relationship.”

“Commitment is what you mean, isn’t it?  And I can commit.  I committed to Crystal.  I just don’t want to get married.  My dad told me—”  Steve stopped and put his chin in his hands.

“Your dad told you what?”

“Marriage has a way of making a good relationship go bad.  After he and Mom broke up, we went out and had a few drinks.  I was twenty-five.  He got pretty loaded and started telling me about how marrying Mom messed up their relationship.”

Greta’s knitted brow tipped him to her intensity.  “What did he mean?”

“Well, he said he was nuts about her.  They were in their early twenties when they met.  After about six months, they started living together.  They lived together for about a year, then Mom wanted to get married.  Dad had mixed feelings about it.  Both of their parents were divorced.  He felt that marrying was the first inevitable step to divorce.  Mom told him he was crazy.  That they were different.”

“And?”

“And they got married.  Twenty-five years later they were divorced.  Dad was right.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute.  Twenty-five years later?  Didn’t they have any good times in those married years?  And why did they get a divorce?”

Steve smiled in memory.  “Yeah, I think they had some great times.  But all Mom did was family.  Dad kept telling her the kids would be gone some day, and what would she do without them.  But she never wanted to be anything but a mom.  After my brother and I left, she was lost.  I could tell she and Dad didn’t have that old zing anymore.  He always had his job and sports to keep him happy.  Mom went into a funk.  Especially when neither my brother nor I got married.  There were no grandkids in the offing.  Mom and Dad drifted apart.  Dad was right—marriage inevitably ends in divorce.”

From the way Greta was gathering herself, Steve could see he was in for a rebuttal.  “Okay, for the sake of argument, let’s say they didn’t get married.  How would the story have ended any differently?”

“Well, they would have—”  He hesitated.

“Drifted apart anyway?  Whether your parents were married or not had nothing to do with their relationship.  Your mom got too hung up on family.  She never developed any sense of personal worth about herself.  Paeton is a world-famous writer.  You’re a world-famous—”

Steve laughed appreciatively, breaking into her speech.  “Don’t overdo this, Greta.  I’ll give you a raise when I can afford it.”

She laughed too.  “No, wait.  You are world-famous.  Steve, two people can mess up any relationship.  But if one of the partners really feels the need for the comfort of marriage, and they’re going to live as a married couple anyway, that comfort will make the relationship better for both of them.  Splitting up has nothing to do with being married or not being married.  Fidelity is fidelity.  Wanting to be together is just that.  Some of us women would like to have that piece of paper.  Steve, the point is that your marriage doesn’t have to lead to divorce.  Think about it.  I sure would like to hear less groaning around here.”

“Do you think she’d come back if I asked her to marry me?”

“Have you asked her?”

“No.”

Greta put her hands on her hips.  “Then you don’t know yet, do you?  I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

With that Greta walked from the room.  She had obviously made her point.  The rest was up to Steve.

Marriage?  The sound of the word made his hands clammy.  He and Paeton?  Married?  All that spun in his head was that scene with his dad in the bar.  Marriage equals divorce!

But marriage with Paeton?  Was Greta right?  Could it possibly be different?

#

Steve sat on the edge of his bed.  The Monday had arrived to meet Royale Jones to plan the show about Steedly Black’s challenge.  But of course, the show would be gutless without Paeton.  Had Fred or anyone told Royale that Paeton was in London?  Steve thought it was amusing, actually.  The media would be loading both barrels for a target of two, and half the target would be missing.

Steve winced.  Half missing?  His whole life was missing.  He hadn’t realized how much even the possibility of some contact with Paeton had given meaning to his life.  When she was in L.A., the slight chance she might answer or return his calls gave him hope.  But there was no hope now.

He supposed Fred had tried to persuade her to come back for the show.  Or something. 
Oh, what the hell do I care?
  He would go down to the studio as planned and get some perverted enjoyment hearing the gossip-mongers squawk when they heard the news about Paeton.

He checked his watch as he walked out the door of the Alice house.  Maury had offered to fly in for the meeting, but Steve didn’t need any support in the TV arena.

When he got to the studio, he saw Royale’s famous chartreuse Maserati and Fred’s silver XJ6 Jaguar.  Steve felt a pang seeing Fred’s car, knowing Paeton would not be with him as usual.  Black wouldn’t be at the meeting because Steve had demanded that Royale keep the slimeball far away until the show.  Whatever date they set for the show, Black would be there—after all, it was his challenge.

Steve approached the receptionist. 

“Mr. Kaselman.  They’re expecting you.  Third floor, conference room B.”

“Thank you.”  He walked to the elevator.

As he emerged from the elevator into the hallway, he felt something strange and powerful grip him.  His senses intensified as if someone had injected him with a massive shot of vitamin B.  He worked his shoulders to adjust to the rush.  He found himself glancing around to see if there was something he had missed.

He pushed open the door to conference room B.

Ba-zam!

#

Paeton stared at the ceiling in the bedroom of her New York apartment.  The children were sound asleep after the long day’s plane ride from Los Angeles.  She was congratulating herself on narrowly, but successfully, escaping the eyes and wiles of Steve Kaselman.  In a few days she would be on her way to London.  She had taken control of her life again.  No one could change her mind now.  She would start over.  She would leave everything behind that had befallen her beginning with that single moment at JFK.  Of course, there were still a few loose ends, like subletting the apartment and making arrangements for Rosa to follow.  But they could wait until she landed safely in England.  She closed her eyes.  She welcomed the peace of sleep.

#

On the following Wednesday, her preparations concluded for her trip abroad, she and the children piled into a taxi and honked and swerved their way to JFK.  As she stepped from the cab, she felt a niggling.  She looked around.  Had she forgotten something?  She checked her purse.  There were the tickets.  The children looked fine.  She shrugged and watched a porter wrestle with her bags.  All seemed normal.  Still, something was invading her senses.

She headed toward her concourse, once again Kelsey’s seat bopping one hip, her carryall the other, and Madison slightly ahead.  The cloned departure gates flowed monotonously one to the next until she reached her assigned area, which seemed distinctly different from the others.  The niggling became overwhelming.  Then she realized—this was exactly where she and Steve had scrambled the babies!