Faltering Page 8

  “How do you know?” Her voice was too sharp, cutting into me.

  “What?”

  “How can you be sure she’ll have a better life than you’ve had? She may end up with a family like mine, cold and hard, and that’s if she’s lucky,” Lara explained.

  “Your mother loves you.” She shook her head.

  “When I play my role well she does. Is that what you want for your child? Do you want her to have a family like mine?” she asked.

  I didn’t want to face reality at that moment, or consider the possibilities of the suffering my child might face in a life without me there to protect her. I shook my head feeling familiar panic starting to surface, my thoughts racing. I couldn’t control anything, not even my own body. I never asked to have such responsibility, and I certainly didn’t feel equal to it. I swallowed it back at first, but I was overwhelmed. My eyes stung as I struggled to bury my reaction.

  “Please, don’t cry, Sylvie,” she said gently. I covered my face with my hands and took a deep breath to calm myself, something I’d been doing frequently. She thought I was about to come undone and moved quickly around the coffee table to kneel in front to me, her knees pressed into that filthy stained carpet, her arms around my waist, her head resting in my lap. “It’s going to be okay, baby,” she assured me. “I didn’t mean to be so hard with you. I’m here now. I’ll take care of everything. You’ll be fine. Both of you will be fine. I promise. Just, please, don’t cry.”

  I let my hands fall from my face to the back of her head, into the silken hair my fingertips craved. I pulled one pin from her hair, slowly, and then another, and another, until I was sifting through silk, separating locks of light between my fingers. She stayed pressed against me, holding tightly to my waist, her face against my thigh. I skimmed my hand beneath her jaw and lifted her chin to make her look at me. Her eyes were those of a frightened child, vulnerable and endearing. I couldn’t help but smile. She was as frightened as I was, and yet trying to reassure me.

  “Lara, look at me.” I wanted her to see I wasn’t crying. She gazed up at me but remained on her knees, her arms around my waist. Slowly her hands moved up my body as she shifted to one foot and then stood gracefully. Her hands moved to my shoulders. “What do you want from me?” She eased her hands down my arms to grip both of my hands.

  “What makes you think your child is a girl?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. It’s just a hunch I guess, but I’m usually right. It’s the way I’m carrying her, very high, and I’ve been so sick in the mornings, but it’s getting better. Girls make you sicker, and fatter.”

  “Are you even a little happy I’m here?” she asked softly. She was holding my hands so tightly my fingers hurt.

  “Of course I am,” I answered. “I can’t help that.” A smile started at the corners of her mouth but never reached her eyes.

  “Good,” she said. “Then it’s settled.” She tugged at my hands. “Get up,” she ordered. “We need to pack your things.” I pulled my hands away from her.

  “What? Why?” I asked nervously.

  “I won’t tolerate you living in this squalor. You’ll stay with me at The Drake.” I shook my head. “Come on, baby, I’ll help you pack.”

  “You want me to go with you to a hotel?” I asked, my body tensing, my tone a rebuff far sharper than I intended. She nodded as her eyes skimmed our surroundings in disbelief.

  “It’s not like that, Sylvie, not like before. I’m not trying to seduce you.” She avoided my gaze. “We were friends in the beginning. We still are, I think. And I have a two-bedroom suite. You’ll take one of the rooms until we can figure something out for you. You’ll be safe there, both of you. Now, get up.” She seized one of my hands again, using all of her insubstantial weight to force me to my feet. “I have a car waiting downstairs.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at her determination. She smiled back, only a trace of uncertainty in her beautiful eyes. I stood. I walked back into my bedroom and headed straight for my closet. She hurried to slip past me and began choosing, from my clothes, the ones she preferred.

  “Here,” she offered, handing over a dress she had bought for me. She skimmed my more recently acquired clothing without much interest before landing on that black pantsuit which had sparked our first fight, another gift from her. “I don’t suppose you’ll fit into this now,” she said wistfully, but then she handed it to me anyway. She shrugged as she pushed past me. “There’s not a lot here that’s suitable, so we’ll just have to buy you some new clothes.”

  “How long are you expecting me to stay with you?”

  She turned back to face me and shrugged. “I don’t expect anything from you, Sylvie. It’s easier that way,” was her reply. I nodded as she started opening my drawers, continuing to collect clothes and personal items for me to pack. She continued her perusal, not even glancing in my direction as I dressed. “This neighborhood is unsafe,” she offered. “And, you won’t be back, so don’t leave behind anything you actually want.”

  ****

  A massive black Cadillac waited outside at the curb, with a driver who hopped out and quickly relived Lara of the bags she was carrying. He collected mine as well, after depositing her load in the trunk. The ride to the hotel was made in silence, except for an occasional quick question from Lara about the sights of Chicago. When we passed the high-end boutiques of the Magnificent Mile, Lara sat up in the car and gazed out the window, her attention clearly far away from me. She was dismayed to the point of silence when I told her I’d never stepped foot on Michigan Avenue. At the hotel a rotating door swept us into the entryway. We climbed stairs in silence approaching the lobby, as the carpeted steps gave way to a shiny floor of pale marble. The percussion of Lara’s heels tapping her way across the lobby put an easy smile on my face, despite the tension of the morning. We left her driver to manage all of those paltry bags containing the entirety of my worldly possessions, as she hurriedly ushered me toward the elevators.

  While we were unpacking it began to sink in that I was really with her, and that I was to remain with her, rather than alone in my dismal apartment, for the next few days at least. I’d only moved to that place because I would have to quit my job soon and my savings could only be stretched so far to pay rent during the final months of my pregnancy. That rundown hovel was the best my meager savings could provide for me. Still, they would barely suffice for the next six months. The hotel suite was in extreme contrast to what I’d become accustomed. I appreciated the powdery, floral, scent of our suite of rooms, inhaling deeply, savoring it as I stole a glance toward the doorway to an enormous white marbled bathroom. The height of luxury at that moment was, for me, a long soak in the deep stone tub I spotted in the corner of that bathroom. I kept eyeing the door to the bathroom as I unpacked in the smaller second bedroom. Lara, always the attentive one, perceived my interest.

  “Go ahead,” she said, indicating the bathroom. “Take a bath if you like. I’ll finish putting away your clothes.” I nodded. “Are you getting hungry? It’s almost lunchtime and we haven’t even had breakfast. I could order something from room service, unless you’d rather go out.” I shook my head.

  “I could eat,” I answered. “Whatever you want is fine.” She smiled.

  “All right,” was her reply. She turned away from me and continued arranging my scant selection of clothing in the wardrobe. It was far from full. Leaving her to sort it out, I headed for a hot bath.

  I stripped, trying not to notice the nascent protrusion of my belly. Instead, I glanced around the bathroom, studying my extraordinary surroundings, as the water boisterously filled the tub. A small, round, rose-colored travel case seized my attention. Lara obviously had not been staying in the room long, because her toiletries were still packed. My curiosity aroused, I opened the case to snoop. There was the usual powder, and a little bottle of perfume, Coco Chanel, of course. I lifted off the lid, awaiting her enthralling scent, only to be disappointed. The fragrance was both famili
ar, and empty, lacking that hypnotic complexity that was Lara. I replaced it in the case. As I was about to close the lid, her lipstick caught my eye. I picked it up with two fingers and examined the label on the bottom. Barely Berry, it was called. The name appealed to me so I slid the top open and extended the tube for further examination. I applied her lipstick to my lips with a nervous shudder, imagining her pressing the tip to her delectable mouth, while casually puckering for the mirror. A knock on the bathroom door startled me and I almost dropped her lipstick. I retracted the tube and closed it carefully, returning it to the case before moving to the door. Opening it only a crack, I peeked out at her.

  “I was planning to order you breakfast, but they’ve moved on to lunch already,” she offered in a casual tone. “I’m having something called a Limburger sandwich. It’s just a cheese sandwich, apparently. Anyway, they have a bunch of different sandwiches, and all kinds of salads. What are you in the mood for?” she asked softly.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I replied honestly.

  “No cravings then?” she quizzed, offering a soft smile. “When I’m pregnant I have the oddest cravings.” I shook my head.

  “I’ll have one of those cheese sandwiches,” I said, changing the subject, and finally answering her. She nodded and stepped back from the door.

  “My lipstick looks nice on you,” she observed as she turned away. My fingertips went to my lips automatically. I closed the door quickly and rubbed the back of my hand across my mouth roughly to wipe her lipstick away.

  My bath was near full, so I stepped into the pool of warm water, and sank down as deeply as I could. My head just above the water level, I let the tub continue to fill until the water was just below my nose. Sitting abruptly, I gazed down at my bloated body, and couldn’t help wondering what Lara could possibly want with me in my present condition. My heart sank as I realized she obviously wasn’t still attracted to me. I used her shampoo to wash my hair as I considered the possibilities. She hardly touched me all morning, with the exception of when she thought I was about to cry. I didn’t blame her. I looked like hell. I was fat, and I hadn’t been sleeping enough, because I was sick constantly, all night, every night, and working as many hours as the hospital would allow me the rest of the time. I needed as much money saved as possible before I had to stop working, but I was at the end of my gauntlet. I’d already given my notice, and was scheduled to finish out the next week before I would be officially unemployed. I was planning to have this baby, give her up for adoption, and then move to either Washington D.C. or Los Angeles. I hadn’t decided yet which. Really, it depended on where I would be able to find a job. I even considered New York, until a patient who grew up in Manhattan, and had moved to Chicago as an adult, told me about the rampant crime and the rats. What I needed was a fresh start, and preferably one without an abundance of criminals and rats.

  The distant knock at the door to her suite caught my attention as I was distractedly lathering my hair. Apparently our lunch had arrived. I knew she was waiting for me, so I hurried to finish my bath. I dried off quickly, wrapping myself in a fluffy white hotel bathrobe. A glance at my reflection in the mirror, specifically at the wild bush growing out of my head, made me decide to take the time to comb through my hair. When I finally emerged from the bathroom Lara was waiting, reading a magazine, and sitting on the sofa. She closed her magazine as she covered a yawn with the back of her hand.

  “Our lunch arrived,” she said as she stood and indicated the table set in the corner of the room, next to the window.

  “This view is incredible,” I offered as I approached the table. “I’ve hardly had the opportunity to appreciate the city. My apartments have been modest and lacking in views. Even at the hospital, I work on a lower floor.” I was mesmerized and a little startled by the beauty of the city from our height. Lara didn’t respond, but just sat down at the table, waiting for me to join her. When I focused back on her, I realized she’d been watching me intently. “What?” I asked self-consciously. She shook her head.

  “Nothing. I’m only tired,” she explained. “And I’m having a hard time getting used to the idea of your condition,” she added. “Have you had any complications, any unusual bleeding or cramping?” I was surprised by the question. It sounded so clinical.

  “No. I had horrendous morning sickness for a couple months, but it’s eased some.”

  “Good. Sit down, Sylvie. You’re making me nervous.”

  I did as I was asked, focusing my attention on lunch, rather than the view. My sandwich was pleasant enough, but I couldn’t seem to find the appetite to really enjoy it. I needed to know what Lara wanted from me, why she’d come all that way to Chicago to track me down. Finally, after I forced the last bite of my sandwich, I’d gathered the courage to ask her. Before I could get the words out of my mouth she was standing up from the table.

  “I’m beat,” she said as she yawned again, an arm reaching over her head as she stretched. “I flew in yesterday morning, after driving to the airport in Monroe, and I hardly slept last night. Will you be too bored if I take a nap?” I shook my head, my heart sinking further. I thought of all the naps I’d taken with her, how she would curl up against me, holding my hand tightly, a leg hooked between mine. She was still standing at the side of the table, waiting. “Are you tired too?” she asked, her voice so soft I could almost have imagined her words. I met her eyes. She’d been watching me again.

  “Lara, you never answered me before. Why are you here?” She licked her lips and pressed them together, irritation flickering through her expression.

  “Are you tired, Sylvie?” she asked again. I nodded. “I have so much trouble sleeping. I can’t ever seem to relax enough to doze off, lately. I lay there, turning over constantly, trying to get comfortable. I wind up twisted in the sheets, while my mind spins through every awful thought I can find locked away in my head.” I nodded. “If you’ll lie next to me I think I might be able to sleep. You don’t even need to get under the covers if you prefer. And I won’t touch you.” I nearly laughed at that last statement, but somehow managed to keep a straight face. “I understand if you feel too weird about it. I just thought it would be...”

  Uncharacteristically, she seemed almost self-conscious, or awkward. Nevertheless, I stood up from the table and followed her into the master bedroom. She stripped down to her bra and panties without much thought, her back to me, and then pulled a shimmery gown over her head. I realized I’d been correct in my earlier assessment. Lara truly had lost a good deal of weight. I wanted to ask her about it, but she was in bed so quickly, tucking the covers tightly around herself, her back turned to me. I dropped the hotel robe, and eased into bed with a fatalistic sigh. I had stripped naked next to her, for the first time in almost two years, and she was so unmoved she was falling asleep. There had been a time when she wouldn’t have allowed me to finish getting the robe off before her hands and mouth were moving over me, but she hadn’t even stolen a peek.

  “Sylvie,” she whispered, cutting through my oppressive thoughts.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you naked?”

  “Does it matter?” She eased over slowly to face me.

  “It matters,” was her reply.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, shifting to sit up, and clutching the sheet to my chest, intent on remedying the problem.

  “I assumed you’d wear one of those ratty old granny gowns I helped you pack,” she answered, smiling playfully.

  “Well I’m not,” I said sharply. She didn’t respond for a moment, but stared unflinchingly into my eyes, her smile gone.

  Finally, she spoke calmly. “I know your tastes have changed. You told me so earlier. And you had an affair with that doctor. I’ve tried to connect the dots, to avoid any awkwardness between us, but you’re not making this easy for me.” I didn’t know what to say, and since she wasn’t exactly asking me a question, I remained silent. “You really won’t give me anything, will you?” I shook my head, unaware of what she
was asking for. “Fine.” She sat up in the bed and looked down at me. “I care for you,” she said softly.

  “I know that,” I responded. “That’s why I’m here.”

  “Okay. That didn’t clarify anything I guess,” she said under her breath. She ran her fingers through her pale hair appearing more than a little frustrated. I liked the way her nightgown shimmered in the dimly lit room. She licked her lips and pressed them together.

  “What am I supposed to say?” I asked as my heart started beating faster.

  “Well, not ‘I know that’,” she mimicked in a high voice, rolling her eyes derisively. I’d wondered when her temper would show itself, and smiled inwardly to recognize my Lara immerging from behind that placid mask. “Say something, dammit. Tell me what you want from me,” she demanded. I shook my head solemnly. “All right, fine, I’ll try again.” She pressed a hand against her forehead as if to check for fever. “Jesus,” she murmured. “Sylvie, I travelled across several states with nothing more to go on than the knowledge you work in that hospital,” she said calmly, “but I found you. Doesn’t that mean something?”

  “Who gave you my address?” I asked. The question had popped into my head and before I could think to stop it, the words were out of my mouth.

  “Why?” she snapped. I shook my head. Lara rolled her eyes. “The hospital personnel records listed your old address. A sweet matronly nurse looked it up for me. I went there, to your old apartment. That was a much better neighborhood than the one I found you in, by the way, elegant, and clean. Karen something or other, she lives in your old apartment, she said you left a forwarding address, for your mail.”

  “Oh.”

  “Anyway, as I was saying…” she started again.