grandparents for a dozen years. He did not relish the thought of spending Christmas with Dennis and Robin. Nothing, he felt, had really changed between him and his father. Despite early indications to the contrary, Dennis seemed more withdrawn than ever before. Robin had invited him to have dinner with them several times, and at first Evan had great hopes that he might finally become friends with his dad. The first few meals together were warm and friendly, and there had been moments of closeness and affection.
But lately the invitations had come less frequently, then not at all. It was just as well. Ever since Thanksgiving, a grand and glorious feast cooked magnificently by Sid, Dennis and Robin seemed to be at cross purposes, as though a wide and unbridgeable abyss lay between them. Evan wondered what was wrong, but could gather no hints.
His unease at having to spend Christmas with his uncommunicative father and stepmother was relieved when Dennis visited his suite and told him that he and Robin were flying to London for the holidays. 'I hope you understand,' Dennis said. 'Robin's been working awfully hard the past few weeks, and I think it's important that we have a little time to ourselves. It'll be lonely around here, but at least Sid's staying. I just hope you're not disappointed that we won't have a family Christmas.'
Evan made a gallant effort to show the proper amount of dejection the situation warranted. 'No, I understand. It's fine. I hope you have a great time.'
~* ~
They did not have a great time, nor even a good one. They had first come to London on their honeymoon, and Robin had loved it, entranced by every pub sign, by every plaque on what seemed like every house, by the overwhelming presence of age that hung over every twisted street, each little byway. The churches had awed and inspired her, the shops had delighted and tempted her, and Dennis had pushed her into every temptation. They had eaten in the little out of the way restaurants, most of them ethnic, that Dennis had discovered and cherished on previous trips across the Atlantic, had laughed, enjoyed, loved.
But this visit was the dark side of their first one. They revisited many of the old haunts, but Robin found no joy in them. The happy memories they brought up made the present situation that much more intolerable to her. To her credit, she tried to enjoy herself, tried to act as though nothing were wrong, told herself that she still loved Dennis, and that he had brought her here because he loved her as well. If he had not, wouldn't he have wanted to remain in Kirkland, where he could have continued his clandestine meetings with Ann Deems? Of course he loved her.
And every time she almost convinced herself of it, the image came into her mind of the rumpled bed, and she heard the mocking sound of a woman's laughter, caught the scent of a hated perfume.
She and Dennis slept in a double bed at the Hotel Russell, as always, but little went on in it other than sleep. Throughout their marriage, making love had nearly always been initiated by Robin, though Dennis always delightedly complied with her wishes. The few times she wondered why he was seldom the instigator, she assumed that it was in order to balance the reputation he had earned for being a Don Juan, to present an image to his wife of a man interested but little in sex, and therefore a potential model of fidelity.
But now, when she would have welcomed ardent overtures on Dennis's part, they were not forthcoming, and she felt in no mood to start them herself. Why should she be put in the position of begging for what was rightfully hers? Better, far better to do without than to have to ask, although she knew that Dennis sensed her anger, and that might have a great deal to do with his hesitation to approach her.
So the week passed, with London far more chilly than usual for December. They celebrated Christmas Day at their favorite restaurant. Robin gave Dennis a new Rolex, and he gave her a pair of diamond pendant earrings. When they kissed, it seemed to Robin that Dennis wanted to extend the contact, but Robin pulled quickly away, robbing the exchange of any warmth.
It was with relief that she boarded the plane back to the United States. The one thing to be said for the trip was that Dennis had no more dreams, neither nightmares nor visions more pleasurable. No names were blurted out in sleep. In a way, she wished he would confess, tell her the truth about himself and Ann Deems. Then together they could work something out, and she could find a way to banish the woman from both their lives.
It became an obsession with her. Every time Dennis opened his mouth, she stiffened, as if expecting to hear his words of self-condemnation. But he never mentioned it. He only became more patronizing toward her, agreeing with her most irrational remarks, giving in to her most casual whims without comment.
Damn, she thought, over and over again. Damn, Dennis, talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking, what you're feeling. It doesn't matter, as long as you can tell me. If you can tell me, then there's hope. Just tell me. Please. Tell me.
~* ~
(The scene is the following week in the living room of Dennis and Robin Hamilton's suite in the Venetian Theatre Building. The furnishings are white, black, and sumptuous. On a bookcase, displayed very prominently, are two Tony Awards. Next to the bookcase is a large portrait of Dennis Hamilton as the Emperor Frederick. On the couch, his head buried in his hands, sits THE EMPEROR. He is dressed in a sweater and slacks. His body shakes as if with sobs. ROBIN enters stage left.)
ROBIN
I thought you were out. (Notices him crying) Dennis? Dennis, what is it?
THE EMPEROR
(He looks up at her, shakes, then cries out, as if in torment.) Oh Robin, oh God, Robin! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…
ROBIN
What is it? Tell me what's wrong!
THE EMPEROR
Robin, have you ever… thought about something… had something so strong on your mind that you couldn't get it out… you wanted to, but you couldn't? (He shakes his head) Have you ever had… an obsession like that?
ROBIN
(A sad look of resignation comes over her) Do you mean… (A pause) Ann Deems.
THE EMPEROR
(A brief nod) You knew, you knew all along. I can't get her out of my head, no matter how hard I try. It's as though she forces her way in whether I want her to or not.
ROBIN
(Firmly) Let her go, Dennis. Just let her go and forget about her.
THE EMPEROR
I can't. I can't, darling, don't you think I've tried? But it's impossible. Knowing that she's… that she's alive, that she'd be somewhere not far away – I can't live with that. I couldn't forget her, not for (He seems to oddly stress the next words) as long as she lives.
ROBIN
(Takes his hand) Dennis…
THE EMPEROR
(Lost in thought) If something happened to her… if it did, I would grieve, but it would pass. Like when I lost her once before, years ago, I grieved then. But life went on. I found other people. I found… (He looks into her eyes)… you. (He shakes his head savagely) Oh God, just forget I ever said anything about this. I'm not thinking straight. What's done is done, I can't change it, I'm sorry for it. We'll just… go along, take it from day to day. If you're willing to stay with me.
ROBIN
Of course. But Ann… why can't you just fire her?
THE EMPEROR
I told you. Firing her isn't the answer. Robin, I don't know how I expect you to understand this, but she's got… a part of me. I can't do anything to hurt her. I can't do it by myself. I'm yours, but a part of me is hers. And it will be. (A pause) For as long as she lives.
ROBIN
(She stands for a moment, thinking) I think maybe we both could use a drink.
THE EMPEROR
Yes. That would be good. Let's have a drink and talk about something else. (ROBIN starts to exit stage left)
