The Last Day

When she lifted her head, he gasped. Anke! She looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed, her fine jaw set in determined anger. She folded her arms and leaned back against the door, closing it.

“Anke,” he whispered, the guilt welling up inside him.

She said nothing, staring at him through steely eyes.

“Please. Come in. Let me take your coat” He approached her, combing his hands through his hair in a haphazard attempt to make himself look more presentable.

She didn't move.

“Anke, I know you're upset with me, and I don't blame you, the way I've neglected you-”

“How understanding of you, Mr. Feldman,” she snapped, and he pulled up short at the unaccustomed sharpness.

He tried again, opening his arms to her, “Sweetheart, I'm not sure what to-”

She wasn't listening and cut him off flat. “I can lose my patience with you, Jon,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “I can lose my temper. My mind, even. But the one thing I never thought I'd lose is my respect for you! If you owed me nothing else, Jon Feldman, you owed me honesty. I would have stood by you through hell itself. But this! This is so, so”-she began to cry-”so cruel of you.”

Feldman was beside himself. “Anke, I never meant to hurt you.” He moved toward her again, but she held him at bay with a fierce glower, her anger cauterizing her tears.

“Since you seem incapable of the truth, let me take the initiative to be straightforward with you.” She closed her eyes tightly, as if squeezing out her response. “I know what's going on, Jon. I–I know there's someone else.”

He sat down numbly and heavily on the couch.

“What I don't know,” she continued, “is why you didn't have the decency to be truthful with me. I just can't walk away without knowing that. After all we shared, after all we meant to each other, why didn't you respect me enough to tell me the truth instead of just letting me hang on like that? How could I have misjudged you so badly?” The tears came again.

“Anke,” he pleaded, “I don't know how to explain this. I do love you. I want to work things out. In my mind, and with you.”

“You have such an incredible ego,” she flashed at him. “There's nothing left to work out. Do you think you're so irresistible? That I have such little self-esteem that I'll just accept this in you? Honesty isn't something I value lightly, Mr. Feldman. You can't just lose and redeem faith with me so casually!”

Feldman was heartstricken. “But Anke, nothing really happened. It was more of a… spiritual thing. I honestly don't know how to explain it. It was so, beguiling.”

“Jon, don't make this any worse, and don't insult my intelligence. I know the two of you spent the night together.”

Feldman was more confused than ever. He shook his head, stood up and tentatively approached her. “Anke, please, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm telling you the truth.”

“And you're going to tell me she was never in your hotel room, I suppose?”

“No, Anke, she wasn't Honest.”

Anke lowered her head in despair. “Jon, for your information, I called your room in Rome Monday night- early Tuesday morning, I should say.” She turned away from him and faced out the window. “After watching you battle that cardinal on TV, I couldn't sleep. I–I just had to talk to you. I wanted to tell you how proud I was of you.” She choked with her emotion. “I was so touched by what you tried to do. You were so, so… gallant.

“I tried to reach you for hours. The international lines were tied up with all the turmoil. And then finally, when I do get through to your room, Erin answers the phone! She was whispering, but I recognized her voice. I couldn't say anything, I just hung up.”

Feldman's mind churned, failing to assimilate this puzzling information.

Anke wheeled back on him with accusing eyes. “I called the front desk to make sure I had the right room. The desk clerk told me that both Mr. and Mrs. Feldman had checked in. Then I had them switch me to the room they had listed for Erin Cross. There was no answer.”

“You're talking about Erin?” It finally sunk into Feldman's head. Taking off his glasses and covering his eyes with his hand, he shook his head. “No Anke, you've got this all wrong.” He collapsed slowly to the couch again. “Please, come here and let me explain everything to you, from the beginning.”

“Why, Jon? So you can spin me more tales and cause me more hurt?”

“No, Anke,” he said sadly, looking her squarely in the eyes. “So I can tell you the whole truth. While you've got a right to be mad at me, it's not for the reasons you think. Please. For everything we've meant to one another, at least hear me out.”

She faltered for a moment, then stiffly took a seat in a chair as far from Feldman as was available. Crossing her arms and legs, she glared distrustfully at him.

“First of all,” Feldman bent toward her, his hands spread imploringly, “let me tell you the whole story about Erin…”

And he started at the beginning, relating the early flirtations and his initial suspicions about the woman. Then he described their trip to Rome. How he purposely declined dinner with Erin after the debate, and went instead to his room to shower and turn in without supper. How in an effort to assuage his frustration over the disastrous telecast he foolishly drank the champagne Erin had sent to his room.

Feldman was exceedingly embarrassed and uncomfortable in recounting the bizarre seduction sequence. He watched Anke drawing herself up in her chair, tucking her legs under her, appalled. When he arrived at the part where Erin confessed how she got a key to his room, Anke began to relax.

“All I can figure,” Feldman explained, “is that you must have called after Erin had entered my room and before she aroused me-” He flinched at the wrong choice of words and hurriedly redressed himself,”-before she woke me. Maybe after drinking all that champagne I was sleeping a little more soundly than usual and she simply got to the phone before I heard it.

“But Anke, I swear, as soon as I recognized her, I made her leave, so help me God! Nothing happened, honest.”

Anke's eyes narrowed at a sudden awareness. “But you just told me Erin was never in your room,” she said, suspiciously. “You can't seem to keep your stories straight, Mr. Feldman!”

Feldman sighed and shook his head. “No,” he said heavily. “You're confusing issues. I wasn't referring to Erin.”

Anke, who had been gravitating toward the edge of her chair, came to an abrupt halt and retreated again, dumbstruck. “You mean there's someone else other than Erin?” She looked crushed.

Feldman nodded his hanging head.

“Please tell me it isn't Cissy!”

“Christ! No, no, it's not Cissy.”

Anke studied him for a moment. And then her eyes grew increasingly large. Softly and slowly she exclaimed, “Oh my God!” She rose to her feet and looked down at the tortured Feldman. “Don't tell me.” She began to amble slowly around the room without direction. “Oh my God!” she cried repeatedly.

Feldman peered up at her from under heavy brows.

At length, she stopped her pacing, sat down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Jon, do you… do you love her?”

He bit his lip and glanced furtively over at Anke, his face contorted with confusion. “I honestly don't know. I feel something very strong for her. But it's, it's not like what I feel for you. I mean, it's- God, I don't know! I feel very loving and protective of her.”

“And you don't feel that way for me?” Anke asked, hurt.

Feldman looked over at her, puzzled, then realized what he'd just said. He scrunched his face. “No, no, that's not what I mean at all.” He shook his head and looked away. “I don't know what I mean anymore. It's not a romantic love I feel for her, I don't think. But-I'm trying to be completely honest with you-I do want to be with her. I do miss her.”