Sins of the Fathers (78 page)

‘That’s tough,’ I said, ‘but he’ll live.’

‘But I don’t understand why you’ve done this!’

‘Oh Daddy, they were so conservative, so boring, and I think that if one’s got a bit of money, the stock market should be
exciting and interesting! Jake’s recommended a nice go-ahead young broker called Jordan Salomon and I’ve decided to give him
a try.’

‘Jake! What are you doing talking to him? I thought he still held it against you for busting up his daughter’s marriage!’

‘Now Elsa’s remarried he doesn’t care about that any more, and anyway his new mistress is an old schoolfriend of mine. He
was very friendly when I met him at one of her parties the other day.’

‘A party? So you’re going out again! Sweetheart, I’m very pleased to hear it. Maybe you’ll meet someone new.’

‘Oh, I’m always meeting someone new,’ I said. ‘The fortune-hunters, the gigolos, the female-flesh-fanciers, the trite, the
boring and the inane. The world’s full of new people all gasping to meet me. It’s a great life.’

‘Now sweetheart, don’t get too cynical—’

‘And don’t you start talking junk. Good night, Daddy. I hate being interrupted when I’m reading T. S. Eliot. I’ll talk to
you some other time.’

[14]

I awoke and knew at once it was a very special day. Edward John would have been five years old. I watched the sun slanting
through the drapes and pictured him effortlessly, fair-haired and grey-eyed, looking like a little choirboy, not rude and
rowdy like the real children, the ones who had lived, but docile and sweet-natured, gentle and loving.
I had a vivid picture of him running towards me across the rose-garden with his arms outstretched, and suddenly it seemed
unbearable that I had no way of opening the door and rushing into the rose-garden to embrace him.

A bell jangled at my bedside. I reached for the receiver of the phone.

‘I have a call for a Mrs Foxworth from Cambridge, England.’

‘Oh! Yes – yes, speaking.’

‘Go ahead, caller.’

‘Hi, Vicky.’

‘Hi.’ I was sitting bolt upright in bed. ‘How are you?’

‘Okay. I just thought I’d give you a call.’

‘Yes … thanks.’

There was an awkward pause.

‘Made any money lately?’ said Sebastian at last.

‘As a matter of fact I have. I’m giving it to a charity which cares for Vietnamese war orphans. I think I’ve finally found
the kind of charity work I like best.’

‘Great. The market’s on the upswing, isn’t it, enjoying a boom … I get the
Wall Street Journal
airmail.’

‘Oh Sebastian, how homesick you sound!’

‘No, I just like to know what’s going on. Where did you make your killing in the market?’

‘I backed a client of Jake’s. Have you ever heard of a young man called Donald Shine?’

‘Sure. Computer-leasing. Boy, you’re smart, Vicky! Fired any more dumb brokers lately?’

We laughed. I at last began to feel less tense.

‘How’s your book going?’

‘Okay, but I’ll be taking a rest from it soon because I’ve got Alfred coming to stay for two weeks. Elsa’s all sweetness and
light since she remarried. What’s the new husband like, do you know? The man must be some kind of a saint to marry into that
family!’

‘Well, he’s Jewish so he won’t have the problems you had. I haven’t met him but I’ve heard he’s charming. Of course Elsa herself
looks terrific nowadays. I saw her in Tiffany’s the other day – I was slumming around at the back ordering notelets and she
was queening it at the front trying on diamonds. She looked like a movie star.’

‘Christ, isn’t it odd the way things turn out.’

‘Odd, yes.’

We were silent, and I knew we were both thinking of Edward John.

‘Well, thanks for calling, Sebastian—’

‘Found the rose-garden yet?’

‘Not yet. I know it’s there but I can’t find the way. I even think that if I did find the way I might not recognize the rose-garden
when I reached it because I still don’t have a clear idea of what it is.’

‘It’ll be like an elephant. Hard to describe but instantly recognizable.’

‘Maybe.’

‘Don’t give up, Vicky. Just keep on surviving those kids and giving your broker hell and keeping a lot of Vietnamese orphans
in rice. Nobody could ask more of you just now.’

‘Yes. Right. Well …’

‘Okay, so long. Take care. Don’t worry – I won’t start pestering you with transatlantic phone calls. I just wanted to speak
to you today because—’

‘Yes,’ I said as he stopped. My eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m so glad you called. Thank you. ’Bye.’

‘’Bye.’

We replaced our receivers, and I pictured him, thousands of miles away, staring at his phone as I was staring at mine. In
the end I did manage not to cry, but for a long time I remained motionless, thinking of Sebastian, thinking of Edward John,
thinking with unbearable clarity of a world that might have been.

[15]

‘Vicky my dear,’ said Jake Reischman at the cocktail party, ‘allow me to introduce you to my client, Donald Shine.’

I saw a tall rangy young man with long thick sideburns and hair that curled well down on his collar. He wore a pink shirt,
a matching pink flowered tie and a suit which looked as if it had just crossed the Atlantic from Carnaby Street.

‘Hullo,’ I said. ‘Congratulations on your take-over of Syntax Data Processing!’

‘Well, thank you! I hope you made a lot of money out of it – Jake tells me you’ve been following my fortunes!’ He offered
me a warm friendly hand and flashed me a frank winning smile.

I could almost feel his personality wrap itself around me in order to extract every ounce of admiration and salt it away for
future use.

‘I’m certainly curious to know what your next venture’s going to be,’ I said. ‘Or is that a state secret?’

‘Well, everyone must know by now that I’ve got great plans,’ said Donald Shine, masking his arrogance with his buoyant enthusiasm
so that he achieved the impossible and sounded modest. ‘The way I see it, I reckon the corporate financial structure of this
country could use a real vigorous shake-up to bring it all the way into the age of Aquarius—’

I tried not to look too amazed. Could this man be the financial sensation of the year? He seemed to be more like some hip
DJ incapable of discussing any subject beyond Billboard’s Top Hundred, and as I continued to regard him with disbelief I saw
exactly why sober, staid, conservative Wall Street was so appalled and affronted by his success.

‘… so I’ll have to see what opportunities come my way,’ he was saying. ‘Hey, Jake’s a great guy, isn’t he? How did you meet
him?’

‘He’s an old friend of my father’s.’

‘Who’s your father?’

‘Cornelius Van Zale.’

Donald Shine burst out laughing, ‘No kidding!’

‘You know my father?’

‘Sure. He took me to the cleaners once. I was cleaned, pressed, starched, packaged and tossed out into the street in less
than thirty seconds. I’ve never forgotten that,’ said Donald Shine, flashing me his winning smile again, ‘and I’ll bet I never
will.’

I was embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry you don’t have happier memories of my father,’ I said. ‘But no doubt my father’s now busy wishing
he’d made a better impression.’

‘Could be!’ He laughed again and shrugged his shoulders. ‘He’s no different from a lot of other guys I’ve had dealings with.
Never trust anyone over thirty, that’s my motto.’

‘It’s obviously my exit line. If you’ll excuse me—’

‘Hey, don’t get mad just because I’m not a member of your father’s fan club! Are you really over thirty? You look so gorgeous
I figured we were totally, like, contemporary!’

‘Vicky,’ said Jake, swooping back to rescue me, ‘I’d like you to meet another friend of mine – excuse us, Don …’

I escaped thankfully through the throng.

‘What an amazing man!’ I said to Jake. I felt dazed, as if someone had picked me up and shaken me till my teeth rattled.

Jake’s thin aristocratic mouth curled contemptuously at the corners but all he said was: ‘My dear, keep buying his shares.’

[16]

‘I’m very sorry, Jordan, but I can’t go through with this. I thought I could but I can’t. Anyway I’m not sure it’s a good
idea for a woman to sleep with her broker.’

‘Is it because I’m still married? My divorce is coming up very soon—’

‘It’s got nothing to do with your divorce.’

‘Is it because I’m younger than you are?’

‘No, Jordan. Anyway you’re only two years younger. Stop talking as if I were a senior citizen!’

‘Is it because—’

‘Stop! I refuse to let this conversation degenerate into a parody of a day-time quiz show!’

‘But what’s your hang-up?’

‘I’m frigid, of course. Isn’t everyone?’

‘Frigid! Why didn’t you say so? Listen Vicky. I know this really great technique—’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t smoke pot. I have enough trouble with cigarettes and alcohol.’

‘Pot! Vicky, I’m a respectable broker! What I meant was I have this fantastic sex manual—’

‘Jordan darling, could you please get the hell out before I throw up?’

‘You mean you’re not feeling well? Why didn’t you say so? Okay, I’ll give you a call tomorrow.’

‘Don’t bother. You’d be wasting your time.’

‘You can’t know that for sure!’

‘I know it,’ I said. ‘Believe me, I know it.’

‘But—’

‘Good night, Jordan.’

I got rid of him and slammed the door.

Then I went to bed and thought of Scott.

I had come a long, long way since the November of 1963 and I was now adept at going through the motions of my new life without
him, but the thought of sharing that life with another man was still intolerable.

It was over three years now since I had seen him. He came to New York three or four times a year but I always took care to
be away from the city during his visits in case I was ever mad enough to give way to my most self-destructive impulse and
rush to the Carlyle to grovel at his feet. When I returned to the city from my enforced
vacations I would always inquire politely about his welfare, and my father would reply equally politely that everything was
just fine. I had conscientiously willed myself to think of him as if he were dead, but every spring I knew he was alive, and
as the trees burst into leaf in the park and the New York skies became that rare pristine spring blue, I would think of him
and live hour after hour with my memories.

It was spring again by this time, the spring of 1967. Eric was seventeen, doing well at Choate, and had started to wear glasses
which transformed him into a younger, very serious version of Sam. Paul refused to cut his hair and was now devoted to the
torrid nihilism of the Rolling Stones, while Samantha, more obsessed with boys than ever, pestered me for lushly padded bras
and kept a poster of Mick Jagger over her bed. Kristin had other problems; she was constantly bottom of her class and cried
daily at the prospect of school. Benjamin continued his career as infant monster; one day I caught him sniffing glue in a
closet and I spanked him so hard he was quiet for two days.

My father told me sternly I should lecture the children about the evils of drugs, but I replied that although I advised I
refused to lecture because lectures might only have the disastrous effect of severing the already slender lines of communication.
During a family discussion of The Younger Generation, Rose told me it was all quite different in the Mid-West where no one
burnt their draft cards and slouched around smoking marijuana, while Lori announced she had complete confidence that none
of her wonderful children would get into trouble, and implied it was a pity I obviously couldn’t say as much for mine. Alicia
commented wanly that we were living in terrible times, and I knew she was thinking of Andrew who, having survived one tour
of duty in Vietnam, had returned for another and was again writing regular letters home about the war.

The grass had grown over John Kennedy’s grave but the blood was still flowing in America and the escalating violence seemed
to permeate the very air we breathed.

‘What’s new?’ I said, arriving at the breakfast table on that pristine spring morning in 1967.

‘Nothing much,’ said Paul, barely glancing up from the
World-Journal-Tribune
. ‘There’s going to be a parade next week to
support
the troops in Vietnam – can you imagine? The body-count’s up again. There’s been another mass-murder inspired by that guy
in Chicago who knocked off eight nurses last year. Oh, and there’s been another
riot somewhere and another black’s called for total revolution. In other words, it’s just the same old daily garbage, nothing
new.’

‘My God,’ I said, ‘sometimes I wake up and think America’s gone mad. Maybe Sebastian was smart to get out and go to England.’

‘England!’ breathed Samantha. ‘The Stones! Mick! Wow!’

‘Oh, cut it out!’ said Paul. ‘It’s so boring living in the same apartment as a sex-crazed twelve-year-old.’

‘You only say that because you’re a spotty lump of fourteen and daren’t ask any girl to go out with you!’

‘Paul – Samantha – please! I can’t take this at breakfast before I’ve had my first cup of coffee!’

The phone rang.

‘I’ll get it!’ shrieked Samantha who had recently run up a phone bill of three hundred dollars talking to a male classmate
who had moved to California.

‘If it’s Billy,’ I shouted after her, ‘you make damn sure he’s not calling collect!’ Billy’s parents had caught on to these
coast-to-coast calls quicker than I had.

There was a pause, a blessed moment of peace while Paul read the sports page in silence and I sipped my coffee. Kristin and
Benjamin were with Nurse somewhere in a remote corner of the duplex. I could hear Benjamin shrieking but I paid no attention.

‘Mom – for you.’ Samantha sounded cross.

‘Okay.’ I levered myself reluctantly to my feet. ‘Who is it, do you know?’

‘I guess it’s Uncle Sebastian. The operator said it was a call from England.’

‘Heavens!’ In great surprise I hurried to my room to take the call. Sebastian never called except on Edward John’s birthday.
I hoped nothing was wrong.