'Yes. Robbed.'
Silence again. A comfortable quiet. The wind was freshening, cooling. She looked down at him, cupped his pale face in her palms. Their eyes searched.
'But you married,' he said.
'Yes. I did.'
She bent, he craned up. Their soft lips met, pressed, lingered. They kissed. They kissed.
'Oh,' he breathed. 'Oh, oh.'
She traced his face, smiling sadly. She felt his brow, cheeks, nose, lips. He closed his eyes, and lightly, lightly, she touched the velvet eyelids, made gentle circles. Then she leaned again to press her lips softly.
She straightened up. She shivered with a sudden chill.
His eyes opened, he looked at her with concern.
'Cold?'
'A little,' she said. 'Ernie, maybe we should think about leaving.'
'Sure,' he said, scrambling to his feet.
He helped her up, picked twigs from her skirt, brushed bits of bark from the back of her tweed jacket.
'What should we do with the balloon?' he asked.
'Let's turn it loose,' she said. 'Let it fly away.'
'Right,' he said, and untied the string from her purse.
He handed it to her and let her release it. The red balloon rose slowly. Then, caught by the strengthening wind, it went soaring away. They watched it fly up, pulled this way and that, but sailing higher and higher, getting smaller and smaller until it was lost in the sky.
They wandered slowly back to the paved walkway.
'Something I've wanted to ask you, Zoe,' he said, looking at the ground. 'Is Kohler your married name or your maiden name?'
'My married name. It was on all my legal papers and driver's license and so forth. It just seemed too much trouble to change everything. My maiden name is Spencer.'
'Zoe Spencer,' he said. 'That's nice. Zoe is a very unusual name.'
'I think it's Greek,' she said. 'It means ' life.' It was my mother's idea.'
'What's her name?' he asked.
'Irene,' she said.
Dr. Oscar Stark's receptionist had Zoe's home and office telephone numbers in her file. On the afternoon of May 13th, the doctor called Zoe at the Hotel Granger and asked how she was feeling.
She told him she felt better since her period had ended, but sometimes she felt torpid and without energy. She reported nothing about her nausea, the continued loss of weight, the increasing incidents of syncope.
He asked if she was taking the doubled cortisone dosage and the salt tablets. She said she was and, in answer to his questions, told him she suffered no stomach upset from intake of the steroid hormone and experienced no craving for additional salt.
He then said that he had received the results of her latest blood and urine tests. They seemed to indicate a slight cortisol deficiency. Dr. Stark said it was nothing to be concerned about, but nothing to disregard either. He instructed her to take her medication faithfully, and he would reevaluate the situation after her office visit on June 3rd.
Meanwhile, he wanted Zoe to stop by and pick up a new prescription. It would be left with his receptionist, so Zoe would not have to wait.
The prescription would be for two items. The first was an identification bracelet that Stark wanted Zoe to wear at all times. It would give her name and Stark's name and telephone number. It would also state that Zoe Kohler suffered from an adrenal insufficiency, and in case of an emergency such as injury or fainting she was to be injected with hydrocortisone.
The hydrocortisone would be in a small labeled kit that Zoe was to carry in her purse at all times. The solution was contained in a packaged sterile syringe, ready for use.
Dr. Stark repeated all this and asked if Zoe understood. She said she did. He assured her the bracelet and kit were merely a precautionary measure and he doubted if they'd ever be used. He was having them made up at a medical supply house down on Third Avenue. Zoe would have to pay for them, but a check would be acceptable.
She copied the name and address he gave her.
On the following day, during her lunch hour, she picked up the prescription at Dr. Stark's office, then cabbed down to the medical supply house and purchased the bracelet and kit. When she returned to the Hotel Granger, she put them in the back of the bottom drawer of her desk. She never looked at them again. On the night of May 16th, Zoe was alone at home. She had just showered and was wearing her old flannel robe and frayed mules. She was curled on the couch, filing her nails, wondering about the slight discoloration in the folds of her knuckles, and watching Rebecca on TV.
A little before ten o'clock her phone rang and the doorman reported that Mrs. Kurnitz was in the lobby and wanted to come up. Zoe told him to let her in and went to the door to wait.
Maddie came striding down the corridor from the elevator. She had a soiled white raincoat over her shoulders like a cape, empty sleeves flapping out behind her. Her makeup was a mess, smudged and runny. Zoe thought she had been weeping. 'Maddie,' she said, 'what are-'
'You got anything to drink?' Maddie demanded. 'Beer, whiskey, wine? Or cleaning fluid, lye, hemlock? I don't give a good goddamn.'
Zoe got her inside and locked the door. Maddie flung her coat to the floor. Zoe picked it up. Maddie tried to light a cigarette and broke it with trembling fingers. She dropped that on the floor, too, and Zoe picked it up. Maddie finally got a cigarette- lighted and collapsed onto the couch, puffing furiously.
'I have some vodka,' Zoe said, 'and some-'
'Vodka is fine. A biiig vodka. On the rocks. No mix. Just more vodka.'
Zoe went into the kitchen to pour Maddie's drink and a glass of white wine for herself. Because her supply of Valium was getting low, she took two Librium before she went back into the living room.
Maddie drained half the vodka in two throat-wrenching gulps. Zoe turned off the TV set and sat down in an armchair facing her visitor.
'Maddie,' she said, 'what on earth is-'
'That bastard!' Maddie cried. 'That cocksucker! I should have kicked him in the balls.'
'Who?' Zoe said bewilderedly. 'Who are you talking about?'
'Harry. That asshole husband of mine. He's been cheating on me.'
'Oh, Maddie,' Zoe said sorrowfully, 'are you sure?'
'Sure I'm sure. The son of a bitch told me himself.'
She seemed halfway between fury and tears. Zoe had never seen her so defeated. Heavy breasts sagged, fleshy body spread. All of her appeared slack and punished. Chipped fingernails and smeared lipstick. Gaudy had become seedy.
She lighted a new cigarette from the butt of the old. She looked about vaguely.
'First time I've been up here,' she said dully. 'Christ, you're neat. Clean and neat.'
'Yes,' Zoe said. Then, when Maddie finished her vodka, she went into the kitchen again and brought back the bottle. She watched Maddie fill her glass, bottle clinking against the rim.
'It's not the cheating I mind,' Maddie said loudly. 'You know I play around, too. He can screw every woman in New York for all I care. We had this understanding. He could play, and I could play, and neither of us cared, and no one got hurt.'
'Well then?' Zoe said.
'He wants to marry the bitch,' Maddie said with a harsh bark of laughter. 'Some stupid little twist in his office. He wants to divorce me and marry her. Did you ever?'
Zoe was silent.
'I met her,' Maddie went on. 'She was at that party you went to. A washed-out blonde with tits like funnels. A body that doesn't end and a brain that never starts. Maybe that's what Harry wants: a brainless fuck. Maybe I threaten him. Do you think I threaten him?'
